Cymbeline

[Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO,
LORDS, [OFFICERS, and Attendants.]

CYMBELINE.
Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made
Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart
That the poor soldier that so richly fought,
Whose rags sham'd gilded arms, whose naked breast
Stepp'd before targes of proof, cannot be found.
He shall be happy that can find him, if
Our grace can make him so.

BELARIUS.
I never saw
Such noble fury in so poor a thing;
Such precious deeds in one that promis'd nought
But beggary and poor looks.

CYMBELINE.
No tidings of him?

PISANIO.
He hath been search'd among the dead and living,
But no trace of him.

CYMBELINE.
To my grief, I am
The heir of his reward;

[To BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.]

which I will add
To you, the liver, heart, and brain of Britain,
By whom I grant she lives. 'Tis now the time
To ask of whence you are. Report it.

BELARIUS.
Sir,
In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen.
Further to boast were neither true nor modest,
Unless I add, we are honest.

CYMBELINE.
Bow your knees.
Arise my knights o' the battle.  I create you
Companions to our person and will fit you
With dignities becoming your estates.

[Enter CORNELIUS and LADIES.]

There's business in these faces. Why so sadly
Greet you our victory? You look like Romans,
And not o' the court of Britain.

CORNELIUS.
Hail, great King!
To sour your happiness, I must report
The Queen is dead.

CYMBELINE.
Who worse than a physician
Would this report become? But I consider
By medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death
Will seize the doctor too. How ended she?

CORNELIUS.
With horror, madly dying, like her life,
Which, being cruel to the world, concluded
Most cruel to herself. What she confess'd
I will report, so please you.  These her women
Can trip me, if I err; who with wet cheeks
Were present when she finish'd.

CYMBELINE.
Prithee, say.

CORNELIUS.
First, she confess'd she never lov'd you; only
Affected greatness got by you, not you;
Married your royalty, was wife to your place,
Abhorr'd your person.

CYMBELINE.
She alone knew this;
And, but she spoke it dying, I would not
Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.

CORNELIUS.
Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to love
With such integrity, she did confess
Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life,
But that her flight prevented it, she had
Ta'en off by poison.

CYMBELINE.
O most delicate fiend!
Who is't can read a woman? Is there more?

CORNELIUS.
More, sir, and worse. She did confess she had