1

Pis. She can scarce be there yet.

Clo. Bring this apparel to my chamber; that is the second thing that I have commanded thee; the third is, that thou shalt be a voluntary mute to my design. Be but duteous, and true preferment shall tender itself to thee.-My revenge is now at Milford; 'Would I had wings to follow it !-Come, and be true. [Exit. Pis. Thou bidd'st me to my loss: for, true to thee, Were to prove false, which I will never be, To him that is most true.-To Milford go, And find not her whom thou pursu'st. Flow, flow, You heavenly blessings, on her! This fool's speed Be cross'd with slowness; labour be his meed! [Exit.

SCENE VI.-Before the Cave of Belarius. Enter Imogen, in Boy's Clothes.

Imo. I see, a man's life is a tedious one: I have tir'd myself; and for two nights together Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick, But that my resolution helps me.-Milford, When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd thee, Thou wast within a ken: O Jove! I think, Foundations fly the wretched: such, I mean, Where they should be reliev'd. Two beggars told me, I could not miss my way: Will poor folks lie, That have afflictions on them; knowing 'tis A punishment, or trial? Yes: no wonder, When rich ones scarce tell true: To lapse in fullness Is sorer, than to lie for need; and falsehood Is worse in kings than beggars.-My dear lord! Thou art one o' the false ones: Now I think on thee, My hunger's gone; but even before, I was At point to sink for food.-But what is this? Here is a path to it: 'Tis some savage hold: I were best not call; I dare not call: yet famine, Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant. Plenty, and peace, breeds cowards; hardness ever Of hardiness is mother.-Ho! who's here? If any thing that's civil, speak; if savage, Take, or lend.-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; 'tis our match:
The sweat of industry would dry, and die,

But for the end it works too. 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 keeps't thyself!
Gui.

I am throughly weary.
Arv. I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite.
Gui. There is cold meat i'the cave; we'll brouze
on that,

Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd.

Bel.

Stay; come not in:[Looking in.

But that it eats our victuals, I should think
Here were a fairy.
Gui.

What's the matter, sir? Bel. By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not,

An earthly paragon !-Behold divineness No elder than a boy!

To have begg'd, or bought, what I have took: good troth,

I have stolen nought; nor would not, though I had found

Gold strew'd o'the floor. Here's money for my meat:
I would have left it on the board, so soon
As I had made my meal; and parted
With prayers for the provider.

Gui.

Money, youth? Arv. All gold and silver rather turn to dirt! As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those Who worship dirty gods.

Imo.
I see, you are angry
Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should
Have died, had I not made it.
Bel.

Imo. To Milford-Haven, sir.
Bel.

Whither bound?

What is your name? 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. Pr'ythee, fair youth, Think us no churls; nor measure our good minds By this rude place we live in. Well encounter'd! 'Tis almost night: you shall have better cheer Ere you depart; and thanks, to stay and eat it.Boys, bid him welcome. Gui. Were you a woman, youth, I should woo hard, but be your groom.-In honesty I bid for you, as I'd buy. Arv.

I'll make't my comfort, He is a man ; I'll love him as my brother:And such a welcome as I'd give to him, After long absence, such is yours:-Most welcome! Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst friends. Imo.

'Mongst friends!

1 Sen. This is the tenor of the emperor's writ; That since the common men are now in action 'Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians;

Gui. To who? to thee? What art thou? Have not I An arm as big as thine? a heart as big?

Thy words, I grant, are bigger; for I wear not
My dagger in my mouth. Say, what thou art;
Why I should yield to thee?

Clo.
Thou villain base,
Know'st me not by my clothes?
Gui.
No, nor thy tailor, rascal,
Who is thy grandfather; he made those clothes,
Which as it seems, make thee."
Clo.

My tailor made them not. Gui.

Thou precious varlet,

Hence then, and thank

Clo. Gui. Those that I reverence, those I fear; the wise: it fools I laugh, not fear them.

Die the death:

Clo. When I have slain thee with my proper hand, 'll follow those that even now fled hence,

and on the gates of Lud's town set your heads : ield, rustick mountaineer.

[Exeunt, fighting. Enter Belarius and Arviragus.

Bel. No company's abroad.

Are. None in the world: You did mistake him, sure. Bel. I cannot tell: Long is it since I saw him, ut 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, [was very Cloten.

Arv.

my

In this place we left them: wish brother make good time with him, ou say he is so fell. Bel. Being scarce made up, mean, to man, he had not apprehension f roaring terrors; for the effect of judgement soft the cause of fear: But see, thy brother. Re-enter Guiderius, with Cloten's Head.

Gui. This Cloten was a fool; an empty purse, There was no money in't: not Hercules

ould have knock'd out his brains, for he had none: Et I not doing this, the fool had borne

Who call'd me traitor, mountaineer; and swore,
With his own single hand he'd take us in,
Displace our heads, where (thank the gods!) they grow,
And set them on Lud's town.

Bel.

We are all undone. Gui. Why, worthy father, what have we to lose, But, that he swore to take, our lives? The law Protects not us: Then why should we be tender, To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us; Play judge, and executioner, all himself; For we do fear the law? What company Discover you abroad?

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,

Or they so suffering: then on good ground we fear,
If we do fear this body hath a tail
More perilous than the head.

Arv.

Let ordinance

Come as the gods foresay it: howsoe'er,

My brother hath done well.

I had no mind

Bel.
To hunt this day: the boy Fidele's sickness
Did make my way long forth.

Gui.
With his own sword,
Which he did wave against my throat, I have ta'en
His head from him: I'll throw't into the creek
Behind our rock; and let it to the sea,
And tell the fishes, he's the queen's son, Cloten:
That's all I reck

[Exit.

So the revenge alone pursued me !-Polydore,
I love thee brotherly; but envy much,
Thou hast robb'd me of this deed: I would, revenges,
That possible strength might meet, would seek us
through,
And put us to our answer.

Bel.
Well, 'tis done:-
We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danger
Where there's no profit. I pr'ythee, to our rock;
You and Fidele play the cooks: I'll stay
Till hasty Polydore return, and bring him
To dinner presently.
Aro.

Poor sick Fidele!
I'll willingly to him: To gain his colour,
I'd let a parish of such Ciotens blood,
And praise myself for charity.

[Eriti

Bel. O thou goddess, Thou divine Nature, how thy self thou blazon'st In these two princely boys! They are as gentle As zephyrs, blowing below the violet, Not wagging his sweet head: and yet as rough, Their royal blood enchaf ̃d, as the rud'st wind, That by the top doth take the mountain pine, And make him stoop to the vaie. 'Tis wonderful, That an invisible instinct should frame them

The bird is dead,

Arv.
That we have made so much on. I had rather
Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty,
To have turn'd my leaping time into a crutch,
Than have seen this.

Gui.
O sweetest, fairest lily!
My brother wears thee not the one half so well,
As when thou grew'st thyself.

Bel.
O, melancholy!
Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find
The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare
Might easiliest harbour in ?-Thou blessed thing!
Jove knows what man thou might'st have made; but I,
Thou died'st, a most rare boy, of melancholy !-
How found you him?

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 ruddoc 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 none,
To winter-ground thyorse.

Gui. Pr'ythee, have done ;

I cannot sing: I'll weep, and word it with thee: For notes of sorrow, out of tune, are worse Than priests and fanes that lie.

Arv.

We'll speak it then.
Bel. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less: for Clotea
Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys:
And, though he came our enemy, remember,
He was paid for that: though mean and mighty, rot
ting

Together, have one dust; yet reverence,
(That angel of the world) doth make distinction
Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely
And though you took his life, as being our foe,
Yet bury him as a prince.

Gui.

Pray you, fetch him hither. Thersites' body is as good as Ajax, When neither are alive.

Arv.

If you'll go fetch him,

[Exit Belarias

We'll say our song the whilst.-Brother, begin.

Gui. Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the east ; My father hath a reason for't.

Arv.

'Tis true.

Gui. Fear no more the heat o'the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages:
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Arv. Fear no more the frown o'the great,

Thou art past the tyrant's stroke ;
Care no more to clothe, and eat;

To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.
Gui. Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Arv. Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Gui. Fear not slander, censure rash;

Arv. Thou hast finish'd joy and moan.
Both. All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.
Gui. No exorciser harm thee!
Arv. Nor no withcraft charm thee!
Gui. Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Arv. Nothing ill come near thee!
Both. Quiet consummation have;

And renowned be thy grave!
Re-enter Belarius, with the body of Cloten
Gui. We have done our obsequies: Come, lay lin

down.

Bel. Here's a few flowers; but about midnight, mare 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
These herb'lets shall, which we upon you strow.-
Come on, away: apart upon our knees.

The ground, that gave them first, has them again :
Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain.
[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? '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;
'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing,
Which the brain makes of fumes: Our very eyes
Are sometimes like our judgements, blind.

faith,

Good

I tremble still with fear: But if there be
Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity
As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it!
The dream's here still: even when I wake, it is
Without me. as within me; not imagin'd, felt.
A headless man!-The garments of Posthumus!
I know the shape of his leg: this is his hand;
His foot Mercurial; his Martial thigh;
The brawus of Hercules; but his Jovial face.-
Murder in heaven?-how ?-Tis gone.-Pisanio,
All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou,
Conspir'd with that irregulous devil, Cloten,
Hast here cut off my lord.-To write, and read,
Be henceforth treacherous !-Damn'd Pisanio
Hath with his forged letters,-damn'd Pisanio-
From this most bravest vessel of the world
Struck the main top!-O, Posthumus! alas,
Where is thy head? where's that? Ah me! where's
that?

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
Have laid this woe here. O, 'tis pregnant, pregnant!
The drug he gave me, which, he said, was precious
And cordial to me, have I not found it
Murd'rous to the senses? That confirms it home:
This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's: 0!-
Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood,
That we the horrider may seem to those
Which chance to find us: O, my lord, my lord!

Makes our hopes fair. Command, our present num. bers

Be muster'd; bid the captains 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 sun-beams: which portends,
(Unless my sins abuse my divination,)
Success to the Roman host.
Luc..
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.

Dream often so,

He is alive, my lord.

Nothing to be were better. This was my master,
A very valiant Briton, and a good, 2

That here by mountaineers lies slain:-Alas!
There are no more such masters: I may wander
From east to occident, cry out for service,

Try many, all good, serve truly, never
Find such another master.

Luc.
'Lack, good youth!
Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining, than
Thy master in bleeding: Say his name, good friend.
Imo. Richard du Champ.-If I do lie, and do
No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope [Aside.
They'll pardon it.-Say you, sir?

Luc.

Imo.

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;

And, leaving so his service, follow you,

So please you entertain me.

Luc.

Ay, good youth;
And rather father thee, than master thee.-
My friends,

The boy hath taught us manly duties: Let us
Find out the prettiest daizied plot we can,
And make him with our pikes and partizans
A grave: Come, arm him.-Boy, he is preferr'd
By thee to us; and he shall be interr'd,
As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes: