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Gui. Hence then, and thank

Gui. Why, worthy father, what have we to The man that gave them thee. Thou art some lose, fool;

But, that he swore to take, our lives? The law I am loath to beat thee.

Protects not us: Then why should we be tender, Clo. Thou injurious thief,

To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us; Hear but my name, and tremble.

Play judge, and executioner, all himself ; Gui. What's thy name?

For we do fear the law? What company Clo. Cloten, thou villain.

Discover you abroad? Gui. Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name, Bel. No single soul I cannot tremble at it; were't toad, or adder, Can we set eye on, but, in all safe reason, spider,

He must have some attendants. Though his 'Twould move me sooner.

humour Clo. To thy further fear,

Was nothing but mutation; ay, and that Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know From one bad thing to worse ; not frenzy, not I'm son to the queen.

Absolute madness could so far have rav'd, Gui. I'm sorry for't ; not seeming

To bring him here alone : Although, perhaps, So worthy as thy birth.

It may be heard at court, that such as we Clo. Art not afear'a ?

Cave here, hunt here, are outlaws, and in time Gui. Those that I reverence, those I fear; May make some stronger head : the which he the wise :

hearing, At fools I laugh, not fear them.

(As it is like him,) might break out, and swear Clo. Die the death :

He'd fetch us in ; yet is't not probable
When I have slain thee with my proper hand, To come alone, either he so undertaking,
I'll follow those that even now fed hence, Or they so suffering: then on good ground we
And on the gates of Lud's town set your heads:
Yield, rustic mountaineer. [Exeunt fighting. If we do fear this body hath a tail

More perilous than the head.
Enter BeLarius and ARVIRAGUS.

Arv. Let ordinance
Bel. No company's abroad.

Come as the gods foresay it: howsoe'er, Arv. None in the world : You did mistake My brother hath done well. him, sure.

Bel. I had no mind Bel. I cannot tell: Long is it since I saw him, To hunt this day: the boy Fidele's sickness But time hath nothing blurr'd those lines of Did make my way long forth. favour,

Gui. With his own sword, Which then he wore; the snatches in his voice, which he did wave against my throat, I have And burst of speaking, were as his: I am abso- ta'en lute,

His head from him: I'll throw it into the creek 'Twas very Cloten.

Behind our rock; and let it to the sea, Arv. In this place we left them:

And tell the fishes, he's the queen's son, Cloten: I wish my brother make good time with him, That's all I reck.

[Erit. You say he is so fell.

Bel. I fear 'twill be reveng'd : Bel. Being scarce made up,

'Would, Polydore, thou had'st not done't! though I mean, to man, he had not apprehension

valour Of roaring terrors; for the effect of judgment Becomes thee well enough. Is oft the cause of fear : But see, thy brother. Arv. 'Would I had done't,

So the revenge alone pursued me!-Polydore, Re-enter GUIDERIUS, with Cloten's head.

I love thee brotherly; but envy much, Gui. This Cloten was a fool; an empty purse, Thou hast robb’d me of this deed : I would, There was no money in't: not Hercules

revenges, Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had That possible strength might meet, would seek none :

us through, Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne And put

us to our answer. My head, as I do his.

Bel. Well, 'tis done: Bel. What hast thou done?

We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danger Gui. I am perfect, what: cut off one Cloten's Where there's no profit. I pry’thee, to our rock; head,

You and Fidele play the cooks : I'll stay Son to the queen, after his own report; Till hasty Polydore return, and bring him Who calls me traitor, mountaineer; and swore, To dinner presently. With his own single hand he'd take us in, Arv. Poor sick Fidele! Displace our heads, where (thank the gods!) I'll willingly to him: To gain his colour,

I'd let a parish of such Clotens blood, And set them on Lud's town.

And praise myself for charity.

[Erit. Bel. We are all undone.

Bel. O thou goddess,

they grow. Lud's


Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st | My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose
In these two princely boys! They are as gentle rudeness
As zephyrs, blowing below the violet,

Answer'd my steps too loud.
Not wagging his sweet head : and yet as rough, Gui. Why, he but sleeps :
Their royal blood enchafod, as the rud'st wind, If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed ;
That by the top doth take the mountain pine, With female fairies will his tomb be haunted,
And make him stoop to the vale. 'Tis wonderful, And worms will not come to thee.
That an invisible instinct should frame them Arv. With fairest flowers,
To royalty unlearn'd; honour untaught; Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele,
Civility not seen from other ; valour,

I'll sweeten thy sad grave: Thou shalt not lack That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose ; As if it had been sow'd ! Yet still it's strange, What Cloten’s being here to us portends; The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor Or what his death will bring us.

The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,

Out-sweeten'd not thy breath : the ruddock Re-enter GUIDERIUS.

would, Gui. Where's my brother?

With charitable bill (O bill, sore-shaming I have sent Cloten's clotpole down the stream, Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie In embassy to his mother : his body's hostage Without a monument !) bring thee all this; For his return.

[Solemn music. Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are Bel. My ingenious instrument !

Hark, Polydore, it sounds ! But what occasion To winter-ground thy corse.
Hath Cadwal now to give it motion! Hark ! Gui. Pry'thee have done ;
Gui. Is he at home?

And do not play in wench-like words with that Bel. He went hence even now.

Which is so serious. Let us bury him, Gui. What does he mean? since death of my And not protract with admiration what dear'st mother

Is now due debt.—To the grave.
It did not speak before. All solemn things Arv. Say, where shall's lay him?
Should answer solemn accidents. The matter? Gui. By good Euriphile, our mother.
Triumphs for nothing, and lamenting toys,

Arv. Be't so;
Is jollity for apes, and grief for boys.

And let us, Polydore, though now our voices Is Cadwal mad ?

Have got the mannish crack, sing him to the

ground, Re-enter ARVIRAGUS, bearing Imogen, as As once our mother; use like note, and words, dead, in his arms.

Save that Euriphile must be Fidele. Bel. Look, here he comes,

Gui, Cadwal, And brings the dire occasion in his arms, I cannot sing : I'll weep, and word it with thee : Of what we blame him for !

For notes of sorrow, out of tune, are worse Arv. The bird is dead,

Than priests and fanes that lie. That we have made so much on. I had rather Arv. We'll speak it then. Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty, Bel. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less : To have turn'd my leaping time into a crutch,

for Cloten Than have seen this.

Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys: Gui. O sweetest, fairest lily !

And, though he came our enemy, remember, My brother wears thee not the one half so well, He was paid for that: Though mean and mighty, As when thou grew'st thyself.

rotting Bel. O, melancholy!

Together, have one dust; yet reverence,
Who ever yet could sound thy bottom ? find (That angel of the world,) doth make distinction
The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was
Might easiliest harbour in?- Thou blessed thing! princely;
Jove knows what man thou might'st have made; And though you took his life, as being our foe,
but I,

Yet bury him as a prince.
Thou died'st, a most rare boy, of melancholy ! Gui. Pray you, fetch him hither.
How found you him?

Thersites' body is as good as Ajax,
Arr. Stark, as you see :

When neither are alive. Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled slumber, Arv. If you'll go fetch him, Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at: his right We'll say our song the whilst.-Brother, begin. cheek

[Erit Belarius. Reposing on a cushion.

Gui. Nay, Cadwal, we must Tay his head to Gui. Where?

the east; Arr. O'the floor;

My father hath a reason for't. His arms thus leagu'd : I thought, he slept; and

Arv. 'Tis true. put

Gui. Coine on then, and remove him.

Arv. So,-Begin.

Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good

faith, SONG.

I tremble still with fear : But if there be

Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity Gui. Fear no more the heat o'the sun, As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it! Nor the furious winter's rages ;

The dream's here still: even when I wake, it is Thou thy worldly task hast done, Without me, as within me; not imagin'd, felt.

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages : A headless man !- The garments of Posthumus! Golden lads and girls all must,

I know the shape of his leg: this is his hand; As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. His foot Mercurial ; his Martial thigh ;

The brawns of Hercules : but his Jovial face Arv. Fear no more the frown o'the great, Murder in heaven?-How?-'tisgone.-Pisanio,

Thou art past the tyrant's stroke ; All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks, Care no more to clothe, and eat ;

And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou, To thee the reed is as the oak :

Conspir’d with that irregulous devil, Cloten, The sceptre, learning, physic, must Hast here cut off my lord.—To write, and read, All follow this, and come to dust.

Be henceforth treacherous !-Damn': Pisanio

Hath with his forged letters,— damn'd Pisanio Gui. Fear no more the lightning flash, From this most bravest vessel of the world Arv. Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone ; Struck the main-top !-0 Posthumus! alas, Gui. Fear not slander, censure rash : Where is thy head? where's that? Ah me! Arv. Thou hast finish'd joy and moan :

where's that? Both. All lovers young, all lovers must Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart, Consign to thee, and come to dust. And left this head on.-How should this be?

Pisanio? Gui. No exorciser harm thee!

'Tis he, and Cloten : malice and lucre in them Arv. Nor no witchcraft charm thee ! Have laid this woe here. 0, 'tis pregnant, prega Gui. Ghost unlaid forbear thee !

nant! Arv. Nothing ill come near thee!

The drug he gave me, which, he said, was preBoth. Quiet consummation have ;

And renowned be thy grave !

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!-
Re-enter BelarIUS, with the body of Cloten. Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood,
Gui. We have done our obsequies : Come lay That we the horrider may seem to those
him down.

Which chance to find us: 0, my lord, my lord ! Bel. Here's a few flowers; but about midnight, more:

Enter Lucius, a Captain, and other Officers, The herbs, that have on them cold dew o'the

and a Soothsayer. night,

Cap. To them, the legions garrison'd in Gallia, Are strewings fitt'st for graves.-Upon their After your will, have cross'd the sea ; attending faces :

You here at Milford-Haven, with your ships: You were as flowers, now wither’d: even so They are here in readiness. These herb'lets shall, which we upon you strow.- Luc. But what from Rome? Come on, away: apart upon your knees.

Cap. The senate hath stirr'd up the confiners, The ground, that gave them first, has them again: And gentlemen of Italy; most willing spirits, Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain. That promise noble service; and they come

[Exeunt Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus. Under the conduct of bold Íachimo,
Imo. [Awaking. Í Yes, sir, to Milford-Ila- Sienna's brother.
ven; Which is the way?

Luc. When expect you them?
I thank you.-By yon bush --Pray, how far Cap. With the next benefit o'the wind.

Luc. This forwardness 'Ods pittikins !-can it be six miles yet?- Makes our hopes fair. Command our present I have gone all night ;-'Faith, I'll lie down and numbers sleep.

Be muster’d; bid the captains look to't. Now, But, soft! no bedfellow :-0, gods and goddess

[Seeing the body. What have you dream'd, of late, of this war's These flowers are like the pleasures of the world;

purpose ? This bloody man the care on't. I hope, I dream; Sooth. Last night the very gods show'd me a For, so, I thought I was a cave-keeper,

vision : And cook to honest creatures : But 'tis not so; (I fast, and pray’d, for their intelligence,) 'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing,

Thus:Which the brain makes of fumes; Our very eyes I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd



From the spongy south to this part of the west, | Find out the prettiest daizied plot we can,
There vanish'd in the sunbeams: which portends, and make him with our pikes and partisans
(Unless my sins abuse my divination,) A grave: Come, arm him.Boy, he is prefer'd
Success to the Roman host.

By thee to us; and he shall be intere'd,
Luc. Dream often so,

As soldiers can. Be cheerful ; wipe thine eyes : And never false.-Soft, ho! what trunk is here, Some falls are means the happier to arise. Without his top? The ruin speaks, that some

[Ereunt. time It was a worthy building.--How! a page ! - SCENE III.-A room in CYMBELINE's palace. Or dead, or sleeping on him? But dead, rather : For nature doth abhor to make his bed

Enter CYMBELINE, Lords, and Pisanio. With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead.- Cym. Again ; and bring me word, how 'tis Let's see the boy's face.

with her. Cap. He is alive, my lord.

A fever with the absence of her son ; Luc. He'll then instruct us of this body. A madness, of which her life's in danger :Young one,

Heavens, Inform us of thy fortunes; for it seems, How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen, They crave to be demanded : Who is this, The great part of my comfort, gone : my queen Thou mak'st thy bloody pillow ? Or who was he, Upon a desperate bed; and in a time, That, otherwise than noble nature did,

When fearful wars point at me; her son gone, Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy in- So needful for this present: It strikes me, past terest

The hope of comfort. But for thee, fellow, In this sad wreck ? How came it? Who is it? Who needs must know of her departure, and What art thou?

Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee Imo. I am nothing: or if not,

By a sharp torture.
Nothing to be were better. This was my master, Pis. Sir, my life is yours,
A very valiant Briton, and a good,

I humbly set it at your will: But, for my misThat here by mountaineers lies slain :- Alas !

tress, There are no more such masters: I may wander I nothing know where she remains, why gone, From east to occident, cry out for service, Nor when she purposes return. 'Beseech your Try many, all good, serve truly, never

highness, Find such another master.

Hold me your loyal servant. Luc. 'Lack, good youth !

1 Lord. Good my liege, Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining, than The day that she was missing, he was here: Thy master in bleeding: Say his name, good I dare be bound he's true, and shall perform friend.

All parts of his subjection loyally.
Imo. Richard du Champ. If I do lie, and do For Cloten,
No barm by it, though the gods hear, I hope There wants no diligence in seeking him,

[ Aside. | And will, no doubt, be found. They'll pardon it. Say you, sir?

Cym. The time's troublesome : Luc. Thy name?

We'll slip you for a season ; but our jealousy Imo. Fidele.

[To Pisanio. Luc. Thou dost approve thyself the very same: Does yet depend. Thy name well fits thy faith ; thy faith, thy name. i Lord. So please your majesty, Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say, The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn, Thou shalt be so well master'd ; but be sure, Are landed on your coast; with a supply No less belov'd. The Roman emperor's letters, Of Roman gentlemen, by the senate sent. Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner Cym. Now for the counsel of my son, and Than thine own worth prefer thee: Go with me. Imo. I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please I am amaz’d with matter. the gods,

1 Lord. Good my liege, I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep Your preparation can affront no less As these poor pickaxes can dig: and when Than what you hear of: come more, for more With wild wood-leaves and weeds I have strew'd you're ready:

The want is, but to put those powers in motion, And on it said a century of prayers,

That long to move.
Such as I can, twice o'er, l'il weep, and sigh, Cym. I thank you : Let's withdraw;
And, leaving so his service, follow you,

And meet the time, as it seeks us. We fear not So please you entertain me.

What can from Italy annoy us; but Luc. Ay, good youth;

We grieve at chances here.-Away. [Ereunt. And rather father thee, than master thee. Pis. I heard no letter from my master, since My friends,

I wrote him, Imogen was slain : 'Tis strange: The boy hath taught us many duties : Let us Nor hear I from my mistress, who did promise

queen !

his grave,

To yield me often tidings: Neither know I Bel. O, I am known
What is betid to Cloten ; but remain

Of many in the army: many years,
Perplex'd in all. The heavens still must work : Though Cloten then but young, you see, not
Wherein I am false, am honest; not true, to

wore him be true.

From my remembrance. And, besides, the king These present wars shall find I love my country, Hath not deserv'd my service, nor your loves; Even to the note o'the king, or I'll fall in them. Who find in my exíle the want of breeding, All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd : The certainty of this hard life ; aye hopeless Fortune brings in some boats, that are not To have the courtesy your cradle promis'd, steer'd.

[Exit. But to be still hot summer's tanlings, and

The shrinking slaves of winter.
SCENE IV.-Before the cave.

Gui. Than be so,

Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to the army: Enter BelarIUS, GUIDerius, and ARVIBAGUS. I and my brother are not known ; yourself, Gui. The noise is round about us.

So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown, Bel. Let us from it.

Cannot be question’d. Arv. What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to Arv. By this sun that shines, lock it

I'll thither : What thing is it, that I never From action and adventure!

Did see man die ? scarce ever look'd on blood, Gui. Nay, what hope

But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison? Have we in hiding us? this way, the Romans Never bestrid a horse, save one, that had Must or for Britons slay us, or receive us A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel For barbarous and unnatural revolts

Nor iron on his heel ? I am asham'd During their use, and slay us after.

To look upon the holy sun, to have Bel. Sons,

The benefit of his bless'd beams, remaining We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us. So long a poor unknown. To the king's party there's no going : newness Gui. By heavens, I'll go : Of Cloten's death (we being not known, not mus- If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave, ter'd

I'll take the better care; but if you will not, Among the bands) may drive us to a render The hazard therefore due fall on me, by Where we have liv'd; and so extort from us The hands of Romans ! That which we've done, whose answer would Arv. So say I; Amen. be death

Bel. No reason I, since on your lives you set Drawn on with torture.

So slight a valuation, should reserve Gui. This is, sir, a doubt,

My crack'd one to more care.

Have with you, In such a time, nothing becoming you,

boys: Nor satisfying us.

If in your country wars you chance to die, Arv. It is not likely,

That is my bed too, lads, and there I'll lie: That when they hear the Roman horses neigh, Lead, lead.—The time seems long; their blood Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes

[Aside. And ears so cloyd importantly as now,

Till it fly out, and show them princes born. That they will waste their time upon our note,

[Ezeunt. To know from whence we are.

thinks scorn,


SCENE I.-A field between the British and Should have ta’en vengeance on my faults, I never \Roman camps.

Had liv'd to put on this: so had you saved

The noble Imogen to repent; and struck Enter Posthumus, with a bloody handkerchief. Me, wretch, more worth your vengeance. But, Post. Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee ; for I alack, wish'd

You snatch some hence for little faults; that's Thou should'st be colour'd thus. You married love, ones,

To have them fall no more: you some permit If each of you would take this course, how many To second ills with ills, each elder worse; Must murder wives much better than themselves, And make them dread it to the doer's thrift. For wrying but a little !-0, Pisanio!

But Imogen is your own : Do your best wills, Every good servant does not all commands: And make me bless'd to obey !-I am brought No bond, but to do just ones.-Gods! if you


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