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Bel.

Stay, sir king:

This man is better than the man he slew,
As well descended as thyself; and hath
More of thee merited, than a band of Clotens
Had ever scar for.-Let his arms alone;

They were not born for bondage.

Cym.

[To the guard.

Why, old soldier,

Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for,

By tasting of our wrath? How of descent

As good as we?

Aro.

In that he spake too far.

Cym. And thou shalt die for't.
Bel.

We will die all three:

But I will prove, that two of us are as good
As I have given out him.-My sons, I must,
For mine own part, unfold a dangerous speech,
Though, haply, well for you.

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By leave;-Thou hadst, great king, a subject, whe

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Assum'd this age: indeed, a banish'd man;

I know not how, a traitor.

Cym.

Take him hence;

The whole world shall not save him.

Bel.

Not too hot:

First pay me for the nursing of thy sons;
And let it be confiscate all, so soon

As I have receiv'd it.

Cym.

Nursing of my sons?

Bel. I am too blunt, and saucy: Here's my knee; Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons;

Then, spare not the old father. Mighty sir,
These two young gentlemen, that call me father,
And think they are my sons, are none of mine;
They are the issue of your loins, my liege,
And blood of your begetting.

Cym.

How! my issue?

Bel. So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan, Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd: Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd,

Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes
(For such, and so they are,) these twenty years
Have I train'd up: those arts they have, as I
Could put into them; my breeding was, sir, as
Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile,
Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children
Upon my banishment: I mov'd her to't;
Having receiv'd the punishment before,

For that which I did then: Beaten for loyalty
Excited me to treason: Their dear loss,
The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd
Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir,
Here are your sons again; and I must lose

Two of the sweet'st companions in the world :-
The benediction of these covering heavens
Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy
To inlay heaven with stars.

Cym.

73 Thou weep'st, and speak'st.

The service, that you three have done, is more
Unlike than this thou tell'st: I lost my children;

If these be they, I know not how to wish

A pair of worthier sons.

Bel.

Be pleas'd a while.

This gentleman, whom I call Polydore,
Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius:
This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arvirágus,

Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lapp'd
In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand
Of his queen-mother, which, for more probation,
I can with ease produce.

Сут.

Guiderius had Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star;

It was a mark of wonder.

Bel.

This is he;

Who hath upon him still that natural stamp:

It was wise nature's end in the donation,

To be his evidence now.

Cym.

O, what am I

A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother
Rejoic'd deliverance more:-Bless'd may you be,
That, after this strange starting from your orbs,
You may reign in them now!-O Imogen,
Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.

Imo.

No, my lord;

I have got two worlds by't.-O my gentle brothers,
Have we thus met? O never say hereafter,
But I am truest speaker: you call'd me brother,
When I was but your sister; I you brothers,
When you were so indeed.

Cym

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Did you e'er meet?

And at first meeting lov'd;

Continued so, until we thought he died.

Cor. By the queen's dram she swallow'd. Cym. O rare instinct! When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridge

ment

Hath to it circumstantial branches, whicli

Distinction should be rich in.-Where? how liv'd

you?

And when came you to serve our Roman captive? How parted with your brothers? how first met them? Why fled you from the court? and whither? These, And your three motives to the battle, with

I know not how much more, should be demanded;
And all the other by-dependencies,

From chance to chance; but nor the time, nor place,
Will serve our long interrogatories. See,
Posthumus anchors upon Imogen;

eye

And she, like harmless lightning, throws her
On him, her brothers, me, her master; hitting
Each object with a joy; the counterchange

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Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground,
And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.-
Thou art my brother; so we'll hold thee ever.

[To Belarius.

Imo. You are my father too; and did relieve me, To see this gracious season.

Сут.

All o'erjoy'd,

Save these in bonds; let them be joyful too,

For they shall taste our comfort.

Imo.

I will yet do you service.

Luc.

My good master,

Happy be you!

Cym. The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought, He would have well becom'd this place, and grac'd The thankings of a king.

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The soldier that did company these three

In poor beseeming; 'twas a fitment for
The purpose I then follow'd;-That I was he,
Speak, Iachimo; I had you down, and might
Have made you finish.

Iach.

I am down again: [Kneeling.

But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee,

As then your force did. Take that life, 'beseech you,
Which I so often owe: but, your ring first;

And here the bracelet of the truest princess,
That ever swore her faith.

Post.

Kneel not to me;

The power that I have on you, is to spare you;

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