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BRU. That you do love me, I am nothing jealous;
I will with patience hear; and find a time.
Than to repute himself a son of Rome
Under fuch hard conditions as this time
Is like to lay upon us.
CAS. I am glad that my weak words
Have ftruck but thus much fhew of fire from Brutus.
CHA P. XV.
BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, AND ARVIRAGUS.
GOODLY day! not to keep house, with fuch
GUID. Hail, Heav'n!
BEL. Now for our mountain fport, up to yond hill, Your legs are young. I'll tread thefe flats. Confider, When you, above, perceive me like a crow,
That it is place which leffens and fets off:
Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war;
GUID. Out of your proof you fpeak; we, poor, unfledg'd,
That have a fharper known; well correfponding
ARV. What should we speak of,
Like warlike as the wolf, for what we eat.
BEL. How you speak!
Did you but know the city's ufuries,
And felt them knowingly; the art o' th' court,
Is certain falling; or fo flipp'ry, that
The fear's as bad as falling; the toil of war;
A pain that only feems to feek out danger
I' th' name of fame and honour; which dies i' th' feareh, And hath as oft a fland'rous epitaph,
As record of fair act; nay, many time,
Doth ill deserve, by doing well: what's worfe
Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves;
And left me bare to weather.
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 perfe&t honour) fwore to Cymbeline, I was confed'rate with the Romans: fo Follow'd my banifhment; and, this twenty years, This rock and thefe demefnes have been my world;
Where I have liv'd at honeft freedom; paid
The fore-end of my time.-But, up to th' mountains!
The venifon firft, fhall be the lord o' th' feast;
And we will fear no poison, which attends
I'll meet you in the valleys.
во ок VII.
EAR Senfibility! fource inexhaufted of all that's precious in our joys, or coftly in our forrows! thou chaineft thy martyr down upon his bed of straw, and it is thou who lifteft him up to Heaven. Eternal Fountain of our feelings! It is here I trace thee, and this is thy divinity which stirs within me not, that in fome fad and fickening moments, C my foul shrinks back upon herself, and startles at deftruction'-mere pomp of words!-but that I feel fome generous joys and generous cares beyond myself-all comes from thee, great, great Senforium of the world! which vibrates, if a hair of our head but falls upon the ground, in the remoteft defert of thy creation. Touched with thee, Eugenius draws my curtain when I languish; hears my tale of fymptoms, and blames the weather for the diforder of his nerves. Thou giveft a portion of it fometimes to the rougheft