And often, to our comfort, fhall we find Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O, this life Guid. Out of your proof you fpeak. We, poor, unfledg❜d, That have a fharper known; well correfponding Arv. What should we speak of, When we are old as you ? when we shall hear prey, Bel. How you speak! Did you but know the city's ufuries, And felt them knowingly; the art o' the Court, As hard to leave as keep; whofe top to climb Is certain falling, or fo flippery that The fear's as bad as falling; the toil of the war, A pain that only feems to feek out danger I' the name of fame and honour; which dies i' the fearch; And hath as As record of fair act; nay, many time, Ofta flanderous epitaph, Firft with the best of note. Cymbeline lov'd me; Whose boughs did bend with fruit; but, in one night, Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, Guid. Uncertain favour! Bel. My fault being nothing, as I have told you oft, But that two villains, whofe falfe oaths prevail'd Before my perfect honour, fwore to Cymbeline, I was confederate with the Romans; fo Follow'd my banishment; and, these twenty years, This rock and thefe demefnes have been my world; Where I have liv'd at honest freedom; paid More pious debts to heaven, than in all The fore-end of my time.-But, up to the mountains! The venifon firft, fhall be the lord o' the feast; And we will fear no poifon which attends In place of greater ftate. I'll meet you in the vallies. [Exeunt Guid, and Arv. How hard it is to hide the fparks of nature! These boys know little they are fons to the king; They think they are mine; and though train'd up thus meanly I' the cave, wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit (Once (Once Arviragus) in as like a figure, Strikes life into my speech, and fhews much more game is rouz'd. Oh, Cymbeline! Heaven and my confcience know, Thou reft'ft me of my lands. Euriphile, Thou waft their nurfe: they take thee for their mother, They take for natural father. The game's up. [Exit. No. XXIII.KING LEA R. ACT III. SCENE II. A Heath. Storm. Enter Lear and Fool. LEAR. LOW winds, and crack your cheeks; rage, blow! You cataracts, and hurricanoes, fpout Till you have drench'd our fteeples, drown'd the cocks! inge my white head! And thou, all-fhaking thunder, Crack nature's mould; all germins fpill at once Fool. O nuncle, court-holy-water in a dry houfe is better than the rain-waters out o'door. Good nuncle, in, and ask thy daughter's bleffing: here's a night that pities neither wife men nor fools. Lear. Rumble thy belly full, fpit fire, fpout rain; But But yet I call you fervile minifters, That have with two pernicious daughters join'd So old and white as this. Oh! oh! 'tis foul. Fool. He that has a house to put's head in, has a good head piece. The codpiece that will house, That man that makes his toe, And turn his fleep to wake. For there was never yet fair woman, but fhe made mouths in a glass. Enter Kent. Lear. No, I will be the pattern of all patience; Ken t Who's there? Fool. Marry, here's grace, and a cod-piece, that's a wise man and a fool. Kent. Alas, Sir, are you here? Things that love night, And make them keep their caves. Since I was man, Lear. Let the great Gods, That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads, Unwhipt of juftice. Hide thee, thou bloody hand, Haft practis'd on man's life!-Close pent-up guilts, Thefe These dreadful fummoners grace.—I am a man, Kent. Alack, bare-headed! Gracious my Lord, hard by here is a hovel; Lear. My wits begin to turn. Come on, my boy. How doft, my boy? art cold? That can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel. Poor fool and knave, I've one part in my heart, That's forry yet for thee. Fool. He that has a little tyny wit, With, heigh ho! the wind and the rain, Lear. True, my good boy. Come, bring us to this hovel.. Fool. "Tis a brave night to cool a courtezan. I'll speak a prophecy ere I go. When priests are more in words than matter; No 'fquire in debt, and no poor knight; Come to great confufion. [Exit. This prophecy Merlin fhall make, for I do live before his time. No. XXIV. |