I cannot tremble at it; were't toad, or adder, 'Twould move me sooner. Clo. To thy further fear, Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know Gui. I'm sorry for't; not seeming So worthy as thy birth. Clo. Art not afeard? Gui. Those that I reverence, those I fear; At fools I laugh, not fear them. When I have slain thee with my proper hand, Yield, rustic mountaineer. [Exeunt, fighting. Are. None in the world: You did mistake Bel. I cannot tell: Long is it since I saw him, [favour But time hath nothing blurr'd those lines of Which then he wore; the snatches in his voice, [solute, And burst of speaking, were as his : I am ab'Twas very Cloten. Arv. In this place we left them: I wish my brother make good time with him, Clo. I cannot find those runagates; that vil-You say he is so fell. Hath mock'd me:-I am faint. Bel. Those runagates! [lain Means he not us? I partly know him; 'tis bush. I saw him not these many years, and yet Hence. Gui. He is but one: You and my brother What companies are near: pray you, away; [Exeunt BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS. More slavish did I ne'er, than answering Clo. Thou art a robber, A law-breaker, a villain: Yield thee, thief. An arm as big as thine? a heart as big? Clo. Thou villain base, Know'st me not by my clothes? Bel. Being scarce made up, I mean, to man, he had not apprehension Re-enter GUIDERIUS, with CLOTEN'S Head. Gui. This Cloten was a fool; an empty There was no money in't: not Hercules With his own single hand he'd take us in,t And set them on Lud's town. Gui. Why, worthy father, what have we to But, that he swore, to take our lives? The law Protects not us: Then why should we be tender, Who is thy grandfather; he made those clothes, To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us; Which, as it seems, make thee. Clo. Thou precious varlet, My tailor made them not. Gui. Hence then, and thank [fool; The man that gave them thee. Thou art some 1 am loath to beat thee. Play judge, and executioner, all himself; Bel. No single soul Can we set eye on, but, in all safe reason, He must have some attendants. Though his | Hark, Polydore, it sounds! But what occasion humour Was nothing but mutation;* ay, and that (As it is like him,) might break out, and swear Arv. Let ordinance Come as the gods foresay it: howsoe'er, My brother hath done well. Bel. I had no mind [fear, [ta'en To hunt this day: the boy Fidele's sickness Bel. I fear, 'twill be reveng'd: 'Would, Polydore, thou had'st not done't! though valour Becomes thee well enough. Arv. 'Would I had done't, So the revenge alone pursued me!-Polydore, We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danWhere there's no profit. I pr'ythee, to our rock; You and Fidéle play the cooks: I'll stay Arv. Poor sick Fidele! I'll willingly to him: To gains his colour, Bel. O thou goddess, [Exit. Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st That an invisible instinct should frame them Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark! Gui. Is he at home? Bel. He went hence even now. Gui. What does he mean? since death of my dear'st mother It did not speak before. All solemn things Re-enter ARVIRAGUS, bearing IMOGEN, as dead, in his Arms. Bel. Look, here he comes, Arv. The bird is dead, 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! (well, My brother wears thee not the one half so 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 craret [thing! Might easiliest harbour in ?-Thou blessed Jove knows what man thou might'st have made; but I, [ly! Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melanchoHow found you him? Arv. Stark, as you see: Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled slumber, Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at: his right Reposing on a cushion. Gui. Where? [cheek His arms thus leagu'd: I thought, he slept; and put [rudeness My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose 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 To winter-ground¶ thy corse. [none, Gui. Pr'ythee, have done; And do not play in wench-like words with that Which is so serious. Let us bury him, And not protract with admiration what Is now due debt.-To the grave. Art. Say, where shall's lay him? Gui. By good Euriphile, our mother. Arv. Be't so: And let us, Polydore, though now our voices Have got the mannish crack, sing him to the ground, * Trifles. + A slow-sailing, unwieldy vessel. As once our mother; use like note, and words, Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain. [thee: I cannot sing: I'll weep, and word it with 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, He was paid for that: Though mean and mighty, rotting Together, have one dust; yet reverence, (That angel of the world,) doth make distinction [princely; Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was 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. Ary. 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. Arv. "Tis true. Gui. Come on then, and remove him. Arv. So,-begin. SONG. 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, To thee the reed is as the oak: Arv. Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone; Arv. Thou hast finish'd joy and moan: Consign to thee, and come to dust. Gui. No exorciser harm thee! And renowned be thy grave!§ Bel. Here's a few flowers, but about midnight more: [night, The herbs, that have on them cold dew o'the 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 strew. Come on, away: apart upon our knees. again; • Punished. + Judgement. + Seal the same contract. See W. Collins' song at the end of the Play. [Exeunt BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS. 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 :-0. gods, and goddesses! [Seeing the Body. These flowers are like the pleasures of the world; [dream; This bloody man, the care on't.-I hope, I 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. I tremble still with fear: But if there be I know the shape of his leg: this is his hand; 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!|| [cious The drug he gave me, which, he said, was preAnd 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: O!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! Enter LUCIUS, a CAPTAIN, and other OFFICERS, and a SOOTHSAYER. Cap. To them the legions garrison'd in GalAfter your will, have cross'd the sea: attendlia, [ing 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 * This diminutive adjuration is derived from God's my pity. † An arrow. A face like Jove's. Lawless, licentious. || I. e. "Tis a ready, apposite conclusion. Under the conduct of bold Iachimo, Sienna's brother. Luc. When expect you them? numbers Makes our hopes fair. Command, our present [Sir, Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't.-Now, What have you dream'd, of late, of this war's purpose? vision: And on it said a century of prayers, Luc. Ay, good youth; And rather father thee, than master thee.- The boy hath taught us manly duties: Let us Sooth. Last night the very gods show'd me a [Thus :(I fast, and pray'd, for their intelligence,) 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 por- Some falls are means the happier to arise. tends, (Unless my sins abuse my divination,) Success to the Roman host. Luc. Dream often so, [here, And never false.-Soft, ho! what trunk is Without his top? The ruin speaks, that some time 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. Cup. He is alive, my lord. Luc. He'll then instruct us of this body. Inform us of thy fortunes; for, it seems, interest In this sad wreck? How came it? Who is it? What art thou? Imo. I am nothing or if not, From east to occident,* cry out for service, Luc. 'Lack, good youth! [than Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining; 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 They'll pardon it.-Say you, Sir? Imo. Fidele. [Aside. By thee to us; and he shall be interr'd, As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes: [Exeunt. SCENE III-A Room in CYMBELINE'S Enter CYMBELINE, LORDS, and PISANIO. Cym. Again; and bring me word, how 'tis with her. A fever with the absence of her son; How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen. The hope of comfort.-But for thee, fellow, [tress, I humbly set it at your will: But, for my mis- 1 Lord. Good my liege, There wants no diligence in seeking him, We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy 1 Lord. So please your majesty, The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn, Are landed on your coast; with a supply Of Roman gentlemen, by the senate sent. Cym. Now for the counsel of my son, queen! and I am amaz'd with matter.* The want is, but to put those powers; in mo- Pis. I heard no letter from my master, since I wrote him, Imogen was slain: 'Tis strange: Nor hear I from my mistress, who did promise To yield me often tidings; Neither know I Confounded by a variety of business. + Encounter. * Forces. Bel. Let us from it. Arv. What pleasure, Sir, find we in life, to Enter POSTHUMUS, with a bloody Handkerchief. lock it From action and adventure? Gui. Nay, what hope Have we in hiding us? this way, the Romans Bel. Sons, We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us. To the king's party there's no going; newness Of Cloten's death (we being not known, not muster'd Among the bands) may drive us to a render Where we have liv'd; and so extort from us That which we have done, whose answer would be death You snatch some hence for little faults; that's To have them fall no more: you some permit To second ills with ills, each elder worse; And make them dread it to the doer's thrift. But Imogen is your own: Do your best wills, And make me bless'd to obey!-I am brought hither Among the Italian gentry, and to fight Against my lady's kingdom: 'Tis enough That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress; [heavens, peace! I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good SCENE II.-The same. Enter at one side, LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and the Roman Army; at the other side, the British Army; LEONATUS POSTHUMUS following it, like a poor Soldier. They march over, and go put. Alarums. Then enter again in skirmish, IACHIMO and POSTHUMUS: he vanquisheth and disarmeth IACHIMO, and then leaves him. Iach. This heaviness and guilt within my bosom Takes off my manhood: I have belied a lady, The princess of this country, and the air on't Revengingly enfeebles me; Or could this carl,‡ A very drudge of nature's, have subdu'd me, In my profession? Knighthoods and honours, borne |