Arv. Fear no more the frown o' the great;
Thou are 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 finished 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 witchcraft 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 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 fit'st for graves.-Upon their faces:
You were as flowers, now withered; 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
I thank you.-By yon bush?- Pray, how far thither? 'Ods pitikins! 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 judgments, blind. Good faith,
I tremble still with fear; but if there be
Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity
As a wren's eye, feared gods, a part of it!
The dream's here still; even when I wake, it is
Without me, as within me; not imagined, 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 brawns 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,
Conspired with that irregulous devil, Cloten,
Hast here cut off my lord.-To write, and read,
Be henceforth treacherous!-Damned Pisanio-
Hath with his forged letters,-damned 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 killed 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
Murderous to the senses? That confirms it home;
This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's! O!—
Give color 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 garrisoned in Gallia,
After your will, have crossed the sea; attending
You here at Milford-Haven, with your ships.
They are here in readiness.
Luc.
Cap. The senate hath stirred 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.
Makes our hopes fair. Command, our present numbers
Be mustered; bid the captains look to't.-Now, sir,
What have you dreamed, of late, of this war's purpose?
Sooth. Last night the very gods showed me a vision,
(I fast, and prayed, for their intelligence,) thus:-
I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, winged
From the spongy south to this part of the west,
There vanished in the sunbeams; 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.
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,
That otherwise than noble nature did,
Hath altered that good picture? What's thy interest In this sad wreck? How came it? Who is it? What art thou?
I am nothing; or if not,
Nothing to be were better. This was my master,
A very valiant Briton, and a good,
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.
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
They'll pardon it. Say you, sir?
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 mastered; but, be sure,
No less beloved. 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 strewed 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.
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 daisied plot we can
And make him with our pikes and partisans
A grave. Come, arm him.-Boy, he is preferred
By thee to us; and he shall be interred,
As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes;
Some falls are means the happier to arise.
SCENE III. A Room in Cymbeline's Palace.
Enter CYMBELINE, Lords, and PISANIO.
Cym. Again; and bring me word how 'tis with her. A fever with the absence of her son;
A madness, of which her life's in danger;-Heavens,
How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen,
The great part of my comfort, gone; my queen
Upon a desperate bed; and in a time
When fearful wars point at me, her son gone,
So needful for this present. It strikes me, past
The hope of comfort.-But for thee, fellow,
Who needs must know of her departure, and
Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee
By a sharp torture.
Pis.
Sir, my life is yours;
I humbly set it at your will. But for my mistress,
I nothing know where she remains, why gone,
Nor when she purposes return.
'Beseech your highness,
Hold me your loyal servant.
1 Lord. Good my liege, The day that she was missing, he was here;
I dare be bound he's true, and shall perform
All parts of his subjection loyally.
There wants no diligence in seeking him,
And will, no doubt, be found.
Cym. The time's troublesome;
We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy. [To PISANIO. Does yet depend.
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 and queen!— I am amazed with matter.
Your preparation can affront no less
Than what you hear of: come more, for more you're ready. The want is, but to put those powers in motion,
Cym.
I thank you. Let's withdraw;
And meet the time, as it seeks us. We fear not
What can from Italy annoy us; but
We grieve at chances here.-Away.
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
What is betid to Cloten; but remain
Perplexed in all. The Heavens still must work:
Wherein I am false, I am honest; not true, to be true.
These present wars shall find I love my country,
Even to the note o' the king, or I'll fall in them.
All other doubts, by time let them be cleared;
Fortune brings in some boats, that are not steered. [Exit.
SCENE IV. Before the Cave.
Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.
Gui. The noise is round about us.
Arv. What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it
From action and adventure?
Have we in hiding us? This way, the Romans
Must, or for Britons slay us; or receive us
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