I'll sweeten thy sad grave: Thou shalt not lack Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none, Gui. Pr'ythee, have done; And do not play in wench-like words with that · Arv. Say, where shall's lay him? Gui. By good Euriphile, our mother. Be 't so: And let us, Polydore, though now our voices Have got the mannish crack, sing him to the ground, Gui. Cadwal, I cannot sing: I'll weep, and word it with thee: Than priests and fanes that lie. Arv. 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: And, though he came our enemy, remember, (That angel of the world) doth make distinction Gui. Pray you, fetch him hither. Thersites' body is as good as Ajax, Arv. If you '11 go fetch him, H We'll say our song the whilst.-Brother, begin. [Exit BEL. Gui. Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the east; My father hath a reason for 't. Arv. 'Tis true. Gui. Come on then, and remove him. Arv. SONG. So, begin. Gui. Fear no more the heat o' the sun, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages: Arv. Fear no more the frown o' the great, Care no more to clothe, and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: 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, Are strewings fitt'st for graves.-Upon their faces : You were as flowers, now wither'd: even so The ground, that gave them first, has them again : [Exeunt BEL. GUI. and ARV. Imo. [awaking] Yes sir, to Milford-Haven; Which is the way? I thank you. By yon bush ?-Pray, how far thither? And cook to honest creatures: But 'tis not so; The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovial face- And left this head on.-How should this be? Pisanio? Which chance to find us: O, my lord, my lord! Cap. To them the legions garrison'd in Gallia. After your will, have cross'd the sea; attending You here at Milford-Haven, with your ships: They are here in readiness. Luc. But what from Rome? Cap. The senate hath stirr'd up the confiners, And gentlemen of Italy; most willing spirits, That promise noble service: and they come Under the conduct of bold Iachimo, Sienna's brother. Luc. When expect you them? Cap. With the next benefit o' the wind. Luc. This forwardness Makes our hopes fair. Command, our present numbers Be muster'd; bid the captain look to 't.-Now sir, What have you dream'd, of late, of this war's purpose? 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. Dream often so, Luc. For nature doth abhor to make his bed 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, They crave to be demanded: Who is this, Thou mak'st thy bloody pillow? Or who was he, Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy interest Imo. I am nothing: or if not, That here by mountaineers lies slain:-Alas! Try many, all good, serve truly, never Find such another master. Luc. 'Lack, good youth! Thou mov'st no less, with thy complaining, than Luc. Imo.. Thy name?: [Aside.. 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, |