Guid.
This Cloten was a fool; an empty purse,
There was no mony in 't; not Hercules
Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had none.
Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne
My head, as I do his.

Bel.
What hast thou done?

Guid.
^{4 note}
I'm perfect, what; cut off one Cloten's head,
Son to the Queen, after his own report;

Who call'd me traitor, mountaineer, and swore
With his own single hand he'd ^{5 note}take us in;
Displace our heads, where, thanks ye Gods, they grow,
And set them on Lud's town.

Bel.
We're all undone!

Guid.
Why, worthy father, what have we to lose
But what 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?

Bel.
No single soul
Can we set eye on; but, in all safe reason,
He must have some attendants. ^{6 note}

To come alone, nor he so undertaking,
Nor 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.

Bel.
I had no mind
To hunt this day; the boy Fidele's sickness
^{7 note}Did make my way long forth.

Guid.
With his own sword,
Which he did wave against my throat, I've 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.

Bel.
I fear, 'twill be reveng'd.
'Would, Paladour, thou hadst not done 't! though valour
Becomes thee well enough.

Arv.
'Would I had done't,
So the revenge alone pursu'd me! Paladour,
I love thee brotherly, but envy much,
Thou'st robb'd me of this deed; I would, ^{8 note}
revenges
That possible strength might meet would seek us thro',
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 Paladour return, and bring him
To dinner presently.

Arv.
Poor sick Fidele!
I'll willingly to him: To gain his colour,

^{9 note}

Bel.
O thou Goddess,
Thou divine Nature, how thyself 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 th' rudest wind,
That by the top doth take the mountain pine,
And make him stoop to th' vale. 'Tis wonderful.
That an invisible instinct should frame them
To royalty unlearn'd, honour untaught,
Civility not seen from other, valour
That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop
As if it had been sow'd. Yet still it 's strange
What Cloten's being here to us portends,
Or what his death will bring us. Re-enter Guiderius.

Guid.
Where's my brother?
I have sent Cloten's clot-pole down the stream,
In embassy to his mother. His body's hostage
For his return. [Solemn musick.

Bel.
My ingenious instrument!
Hark, Paladour! it sounds: but what occasion
Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? hark!

Guid.
Is he at home?

Bel.
He went hence even now.

Guid.
What does he mean? Since death of my dear'st Mother,
It did not speak before. All solemn things
Should answer solemn accidents. The matter?—
Triumphs for nothing, and lamenting toys,
Is jollity for apes, and grief for boys.
Is Cadwal mad?

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