When from the mountain top Pisanio show'd thee, Two beggars told me, I could not miss my way: Will poor folks lie, A punishment, or trial? Yes: no wonder, My dear lord! Thou art one o' the false ones: Now I think on thee, At point to sink for food.-But what is this? I were best not call: I dare not call: yet famine, Ho! No answer? then I'll enter. Best draw my sword; and if mine enemy But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look on't. Such a foe, good Heavens! [She goes into the Cave Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS. Bel. You, Polydore, have prov'd best woodman, and Are master of the feast: Cadwal, and I, Will play the cook, and servant : Come, our stomachs Will make what's homely, savoury: Weariness Can snore upon the flint, when restive sloth Finds the down pillow hard.-Now, peace be here, Poor house, that keep'st thyself! [Goes towards the Cave. Guid. I am throughly weary. Aro. I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite. Guid. There's cold meat i'the cave; we'll browse on that, Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd. |