Gui. There is cold meat i'the cave; we'll browze | Boys, we'll go dress our hunt.-Fair youth, come in: on that, Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd. Discourse is heavy, fasting; when we have supp'd, So far as thou wilt speak it. [Looking in. Pray, draw near. Bel. Gui. What's the matter, sir? What is your name? Imo. To Milford-Haven, sir. Pr'ythee, fair youth, Gui. Arv. The night to the owl, and morn to the lark, less welcome. Imo. Thanks, sir. Arv. 1 Sen. This is the tenor of the emperor's writ: Tri. Remaining now in Gallia? Ay. 1 Sen. Tri. We will discharge our duty. [Exeunt. Enter Imo. Fidele, sir: I have a kinsman, who Is bound for Italy; he embark'd at Milford; To whom being going, almost spent with hunger, I am fallen in' this offence. Bel. Think us no churls; nor measure our good minds, By this rude place we live in. Well encountered! 'Tis almost night: you shall have better cheer Ere you depart; and thanks, to stay and eat it.-garments serve me! Why should his mistress, who Boys, bid him welcome. Gui. Were you a woman, youth, Arv. 'Mongst friends! Clo. I am near to the place where they should meet, if Pisanio have mapped it truly. How fit his was made by him that made the tailor, not be fit gen. Bel. You are not well: [To Imogen.] remain here in the cave; (2) Unsteady. 1 We'll come to you after hunting. Are we not brothers? Brother, stay here: So man and man should be; To seem to die, ere sick: So please you leave me ; Clo. I cannot find those runagates; that villain Since I can reason of it. Pray you, trust me here: Means he not us? I partly know him; 'tis Gui. Bel. What? how? how? Brother, farewell. Imo. I wish ye sport. Our courtiers say, all's savage, but at court: The imperious seas breed monsters; for the dish, Gui. I could not stir him: He said, he was gentle,' but unfortunate; For you must be our housewife. I am bound to you. Pray, be not sick, Well, or ill, [Exit Imogen. This youth, howe'er distress'd, appears, he hath had Good ancestors. Arv. How angel-like he sings! Cloten, the son o'the queen. I fear some ambush, I know 'tis he:-We are held as outlaws:-Hence. Clo. (Exe. Bel. and Arv. Soft! What are you That fly me thus? some villain mountaineers? More slavish did I ne'er, than answering A thing Thou art a robber, An arm as big as thine? a heart as big? Thy words, I grant, are bigger; for I wear not Clo. Thou villain base, Gui. But his neat cookery! He cut our roots in When I have slain thee with my proper hand, characters; Bel. I cannot tell: Long is it since I saw him, But time hath nothing blurr'd those lines of favour' Which then he wore; the snatches in his voice, And burst of speaking, were as his: I am absolute, 'Twas very Cloten. Arv. Re-enter Guiderius, with Cloten's head. Gui. This Cloten was a fool; an erapty purse, There was no money in't: Not Hercules Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had none: But I not doing this, the fool had borne My head as I do his. Bel. What hast thou done? Gui. I am perfect, what: cut off one Cloten's Son to the queen, after his own report; And set them on Lud's town. We are all undone. Bel. No single soul Can we set eye on, but, in all safe reason, He must have some attendants. Though his humour Was nothing but mutation; ay, and that From one bad thing to worse; not frenzy, not Absolute madness could so far have rav'd, To bring him here alone: Although, perhaps, It may be heard at court, that such as we Cave here, hunt here, are outlaws, and in time May make some stronger head: the which he hearing (As it is like him,) might break out, and swear He'd fetch us in; yet is't not probable To come alone, either he so undertaking, Arv. 'Would I had done't, So the revenge alone pursued me!-Polydore, And put us to our answer. Arv. Poor sick Fidele! Not wagging his sweat head: and yet as rough, He went hence even now. mean? since death of my It did not speak before. All solemn things Is Cadwal mad? Or they so suffering: then on good ground we fear, Re-enter Arviragus, bearing Imogen as dead in kis If we do fear this body hath a tail More perilous than the head. Arv. Let ordinance I had no mind Come as the gods foresay it: howsoe'er, My brother hath done well. Bel. To hunt this day: the boy Fidele's sickness Bel. [Exit. I fear, 'twill be reveng'd: 'Would, Polydore, thou had'st not done't! though valour Becomes thee well enough. (1) Countenance. (2) I am well-informed what. (8) Conquer, subdue. (4) For, because. (5) Change, alteration. Stark, as you see: Arv. Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy !— Gui. Arv. Where ? O'the floor; His arms thus leagu'd: I thought, he slept; and put My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rude ness Answer'd my steps too loud. Gui. Why, he but sleeps: If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed; With female fairies will his tomb be haunted, And worms will not come to thee. Arv. With fairest flowers, Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave: Thou shalt not lack The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose; nor The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweeten'd not thy breath: the ruddock would, With charitable bill (O bill, sore-shaming Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie Without a monument!) bring thee all this; Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are Gui. Cadwal, I cannot sing: I'll weep, and word it with thee: We'll speak it then. Bel. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less: for Cloten Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys: Together, have one dust; yet reverence (That angel of the world) doth make distinction Arv. If you'll go fetch him, We'll say our song the whilst.-Brother, begin. [Exit Belarius, Gui. Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the east; My father hath a reason for't. SONG. Gui. Fear no more the heat o'the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, So,-Begin. Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages: To thee the reed is as the oak: Consign' to thee, and come to dust. Re-enter Belarius, with the body of Cloten. Gui. We have done our obsequies: Come, lay him down. Bel. Here's a few flowers; but about midnight, more: The herbs, that have on them cold dew o'the night, I [Exeunt Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus. Imo. Awaking.] Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; Which is the way? thank you.-By yon bush?-Pray, how far thither? 'Ods pittikins!-can it be six miles yet? I have gone all night:-'Faith, I'll lie down and sleep. But, soft! no bedfellow :-O, gods and goddesses! [Seeing the body. These flowers are like the pleasures of the world; This bloody man, the care on't.-I hope, I dream; For, so, I thought I was a cave-keeper, And cook to honest creatures: But 'tis not so; I tremble still with fear: But if there be (6) Judgment. (7) Seal the same contract. (8) See W. Collins's song at the end of the Play. (9) This diminutive adjuration is derived from God's my pity. All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks, Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart, And left this head on.-How should this be? Pisanio? 'Tis he, and Cloten: malice and lucre in them Murd'rous to the senses? That confirms it home: Cap. To them the legions garrison'd in Gallia, Luc. When expect you them? Cap. With the next benefit o'the wind. Luc. This forwardness Makes our hopes fair. Command, our present Imo. [Aside. Thy name? Fidele. Luc. Thou dost approve thyself the very same: Thy name well fits thy faith; thy faith, thy name. Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say, Thou shalt be so well master'd; but, be sure, No less belov'd. The Roman emperor's letters, Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner Than thine own worth prefer thee: Go with me. Imo. I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please the gods, I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep As these poor pickaxes can dig: and when With wild wood-leaves and weeds I have strew'd his grave, And on it said a century of prayers, Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep, and sigh; So please you entertain me. Luc. Ay, good youth; The boy hath taught us manly duties: Let us Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can, And make him with our pikes and partisans A grave: Come, arm him.-Boy, he is preferr'd By thee to us; and he shall be interr'd, Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't.-Now, sir, As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes; What have you dream'd, of late, of this war's pur-Some falls are means the happier to arise. [Exeunt. numbers pose? Sooth. Last night the very gods show'd me a vision: (I fast, and pray'd, for their intelligence,) Thus :I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd From the spongy south to this part of the west, There vanish'd in the sunbeams: which portends (Unless my sins abuse my divination,) Success to the Roman host. Luc. Dream often so, And never false.-Soft, ho! what trunk is here, Without his top? The ruin speaks, that sometime It was a worthy building.-How! a page!Or dead, or sleeping on him? But dead, rather: For nature doth abhor to make his bed With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead.Let's see the boy's face. Cap. He is alive, my lord. Luc. He'll then instruct us of this body. Young one, Inform us of thy fortunes; for, it seems, Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy interest : Imo. I am nothing or if not, Nothing to be were better. This was my master, (1) Lawless, licentious. (2) i e. 'Tis a ready, opposite conclusion. SCENE III-A room in Cymbeline's palace. Cym. Again; and bring me word, how 'tis with A fever with the absence of her son; A madness, of which her life's in danger :-Heavens, Pis. Sir, my life is yours, I humbly set it at your will: But, for my mistress, highness, Hold me your loyal servant. 1 Lord. For Cloten, There wants no diligence in seeking him, 'The time's troublesome : |