 | Cymbeline |  |
SCENE I.
The Wood and Cavern.Leonatus and Bellarius enter.
Bell.
Where did I leave?—but age is narrative,
And tiresome to your ear.
Leon.
No, father, no—
Could griefs, like mine, admit of consolation,
'Tis in your lenient converse.
Bell.
I have told you,
Of the dark horror that involved my soul
On my return to Britain, when I heard
My Adelaide was lost—yet, how, with smiles
I veil'd my depth of woe, till, on a day,
I seiz'd the bloody hour of studied vengeance,
And left the barbarous Cymbeline for dead.
Thereon, I vainly sought a flight from sorrow,
Through regions most remote—still the barb'd grief
Stuck fast, and rankled inward. Sick, at length,
Sick of the world, and all the busy ways
221
My mortal ashes with the native dust,
From whence they first arose. Ten toilsome years
I spent in travel; and ten lonely years
Have found me here, secluded from the face
Of aught save Heaven, in wishful expectation
Of the last, painful, happy hour, that shall
Strike off the shackles of mortality,
And wing me to my love!
Leon.
But, is there not
A shorter way to peace?
Bell.
O no, my son.
The Power, who gave existence, can, alone,
Have right to take it hence—And who shall warrant
Peace to impatience?
Leon.
Father, about this time, a faithful slave
Attends me, near at hand—a little space
Returns me to you.
Bell.
May the Power I worship,
Restore your hopes, and run before your wishes!
[Exit Leonatus.
| Cymbeline | |