3.3.11554Enter Belarius [as Morgan], Guiderius [as Polydore], and Arviragus [as Cadwal] A goodly day not to keep house with such
3.3.31556Whose roof's as low as ours. Stoop, boys; this gate
3.3.41557Instructs you how t'adore the heavens and bows you
3.3.51558To a morning's holy office. The gates of monarchs
3.3.61559Are arched so high that giants may jet through
3.3.71560And keep their impious turbans on without
3.3.81561Good morrow to the sun. Hail thou, fair Heaven:
3.3.91562We house i'th' rock yet use thee not so hardly
As prouder livers do. Hail, Heaven.
As prouder livers do. Hail, Heaven. Hail, Heaven.
Now for our mountain sport: up to yond hill;
3.3.131567Your legs are young; I'll tread these flats. Consider,
3.3.151569That it is place which lessens and sets off,
3.3.161570And you may then revolve what tales I have told you
3.3.171571Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war.
3.3.181572This service is not service so being done,
3.3.201574Draws us a profit from all things we see,
3.3.231577Than is the full-winged eagle. Oh, this life
3.3.261580Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk:
3.3.271581Such gain the cap of him that makes him fine
3.3.281582Yet keeps his book uncrossed. No life to ours!
Out of your proof you speak; we poor unfledged
3.3.301584Have never winged from view o'th' nest, nor knows not
3.3.311585What air's from home. Haply this life is best
3.3.331587That have a sharper known, well corresponding
To stride a limit. What should we speak of
3.3.381593When we are old as you, when we shall hear
3.3.391594The rain and wind beat dark December? How
3.3.401595In this our pinching cave shall we discourse
3.3.411596The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing;
3.3.421597We are beastly: subtle as the fox for prey,
3.3.431598Like warlike as the wolf for what we eat.
3.3.441599Our valor is to chase what flies; our cage
3.3.451600We make a choir as doth the prisoned bird,
And sing our bondage freely. How you speak!
3.3.481604And felt them knowingly: the art o'th' court,
3.3.491605As hard to leave as keep, whose top to climb
3.3.511607The fear's as bad as falling; the toil o'th' war,
3.3.521608A pain that only seems to seek out danger
3.3.531609I'th' name of fame and honor which dies i'th' search,
3.3.551611As record of fair act -- nay, many times
3.3.561612Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse,
3.3.571613Must curtsey at the censure. O boys, this story
3.3.581614The world may read in me: my body's marked
3.3.591615With Roman swords, and my report was once
3.3.601616First, with the best of note. Cymbeline loved me,
3.3.611617And when a soldier was the theme, my name
3.3.631619Whose boughs did bend with fruit. But in one night,
3.3.641620A storm or robbery, call it what you will,
3.3.651621Shook down my mellow hangings -- nay, my leaves --
And left me bare to weather. Uncertain favor.
My fault being nothing, as I have told you oft,
3.3.681625But that two villains, whose false oaths prevailed
3.3.691626Before my perfect honor, swore to Cymbeline
3.3.711628Followed my banishment, and this twenty years
3.3.721629This rock and these demesnes have been my world,
3.3.731630Where I have lived at honest freedom, paid
3.3.751632The fore-end of my time. But up to th' mountains!
3.3.761633This is not hunters' language. He that strikes
3.3.771634The venison first shall be the Lord o'th' Feast;
3.3.791636And we will fear no poison, which attends
3.3.82Exeunt [Guiderius and Arviragus] 3.3.831639How hard it is to hide the sparks of Nature!
3.3.841640These boys know little they are sons to th' King,
3.3.851641Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive.
3.3.861642They think they are mine,
1643and though trained up thus meanly
3.3.871644I'th' cave, wherein the bow their thoughts do hit
3.3.881645The roofs of palaces, and Nature prompts them
3.3.891646In simple and low things to prince it much
3.3.901647Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore,
3.3.921649The King his father called Guiderius. Jove!
3.3.931650When on my three-foot stool I sit and tell
3.3.941651The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out
3.3.951652Into my story: say, "Thus mine enemy fell,
3.3.961653And thus I set my foot on's neck," even then
3.3.971654The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats,
3.3.981655Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in posture
3.3.991656That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal,
3.3.1011658Strikes life into my speech and shows much more
3.3.1021659His own conceiving. Hark, the game is roused!
3.3.1051662At three and two years old I stole these babes,
3.3.1081665Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for their mother,
3.3.1111668They take for natural father. The game is up.