Bel. [To Imogen ^note]
You are not well: remain here in the cave;
We'll come to you after hunting.

Arv. [To Imogen ^note]
Brother, stay here:
Are we not brothers?

Imo.
So man and man should be;
But clay and clay differs in dignity,

Whose dust is both alike. I am ^note very sick.

Gui.
Go you to hunting; I'll abide with him.

Imo.
So sick I am not, yet I am not well;
But not so citizen a wanton as
To seem to die ere sick: so please you, leave me;
Stick to your journal course: the breach of custom
Is breach of all. I am ^note ill, but your being by me
Cannot amend me: society is no comfort
To one not sociable: I am ^note not very sick,
Since I can reason of it ^note. ^note Pray you, trust me here:
I'll rob none but myself; and let me die,
Stealing so poorly.

Gui.
I love thee; I have spoke it:
How ^note much the quantity ^note, the weight as much,
As I do love my father.

Bel.
What! how! how!

Arv.
If it be sin to say so, sir, I yoke me
In my good brother's fault: I know not why
I love this youth; and I have heard you say,
Love's reason's ^note without reason: the bier ^note at door
And a demand who is't shall die, I'ld say
‘My father, not this youth.’

Bel. [Aside ^note]
O noble strain!
O worthiness of nature! breed of greatness!
Cowards father cowards and base things sire base ^note:
Nature hath meal and bran, contempt and grace. ^note
I'm ^note not their father; yet who this should be,
Doth miracle itself, loved before me. ^note
'Tis the ninth hour o' the morn.

Arv.
Brother, farewell.

Imo.
I wish ye sport.

Arv.
You ^note health. So please you, sir. ^note

Imo. [Aside ^note]
These are kind creatures. Gods, what lies I have ^note heard! ^note
Our courtiers say all's savage but at court:
Experience, O, thou ^note disprovest report!
The imperious seas breed ^note monsters; for the dish
Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish. ^note
I am sick still, heart-sick. Pisanio,
I'll now taste of thy drug. [Swallows some. ^note

Gui.
I could not stir him:
He said he was gentle, but unfortunate;
Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest.

Arv.
Thus did he answer me: yet said, hereafter ^note
I might know more.

Bel.
To the field, to the field!
We'll leave you for this time: go in and rest.

Arv.
We'll not be long away:

Bel.
Pray, be not sick,
For you must be our housewife ^note.

Imo.
Well or ill,
I am bound ^note to you.

Bel.
And shalt ^note be ever. ^note [Exit ^note Imogen, to the cave.

This youth, howe'er distress'd, appears he hath ^{note note} had
Good ancestors.

Arv.
How angel-like he sings!

Gui.
But his neat cookery! he cut our roots
In characters; ^note
And sauced ^note our broths ^note, as Juno had been sick,
And he her dieter. ^note

Arv.
Nobly he yokes
A smiling with a sigh, as if the sigh
Was that it was, for not being such a smile;
The smile mocking the sigh, that it would fly
From so divine a temple, to commix
With winds that sailors rail at. ^note

Gui.
I ^note do note
That grief and patience, rooted in him ^note both,
Mingle their spurs ^note together.

Arv.
Grow, patience! ^note
And let the stinking elder ^note, grief, untwine
His perishing root with the ^{note note} increasing vine! ^note

Bel.
It is great morning. Come, away!— ^noteWho's there? ^noteEnter Cloten.

Clo.
I cannot find those runagates; that villain
Hath mock'd me: I am faint.

Bel.
‘Those runagates!’
Means he not us? I partly know him; 'tis

Cloten, the son o' the queen. I fear some ambush.
I saw him not these many years, and yet
I know 'tis he. We are ^note held as outlaws: hence!

Gui.
He is but one: you and my brother search
What companies are ^note near: pray you, away;
Let me alone with him. [Exeunt ^note Belarius and Arviragus.

Clo.
Soft! What are you
That fly me thus? some villain mountaineers ^note?
I have heard of such. What slave art thou?

Gui.
A thing
More ^note slavish did I ne'er than answering
A slave ^note without a knock.

Clo.
Thou art a robber,
A law-breaker, a villain: yield thee, thief.

Gui.
To who ^note? 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, ^note nor thy tailor, rascal, ^note
Who is thy grandfather: ^note he made those clothes,
Which, as it seems, make thee.

Clo.
Thou precious varlet,
My tailor made them not.

Gui.
Hence then, and thank
The man that gave them thee. Thou art some fool;
I am ^note loath to beat thee.

Clo.
Thou injurious thief,

Hear but my name, and tremble.

Gui.
What's thy name?

Clo.
Cloten, thou villain.

Gui.
Cloten, thou double ^note villain, be thy name,
I cannot tremble at it: were it ^note Toad, or Adder, Spider,
'Twould ^note move me sooner.

Clo.
To ^note thy further fear,
Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know
I am son to the queen.

Gui.
I am ^note sorry for't; not seeming
So worthy as thy birth.

Clo.
Art not afeard ^note?

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

Clo.
Die the death:
When I have slain thee with my proper hand,
I'll follow those that even now fled hence,
And on the gates of Lud's town set your heads:
Yield, rustic ^note mountaineer. [Exeunt, fighting. ^note Re-enter ^note Belarius and Arviragus. ^note

Bel.
No companies abroad? ^note

Arv.
None in the world: you did mistake him, sure.

Bel.
I cannot tell: long is it since I saw him,
But 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 ^note absolute
'Twas very Cloten.

Arv.
In this place we left them:
I wish my brother make good time with him,
You say he is so fell.

Bel.
Being scarce made up,
I mean, to man, he had not apprehension
Of roaring ^note terrors: for ^note defect of judgement
Is oft the cause ^note of fear ^note. But see, thy ^note brother. ^note Re-enter ^note Guiderius with Cloten's head.

Gui.
This Cloten was a fool, an empty purse;
There was no money 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?

Gui.
I am ^note 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'ld take us in,
Displace our heads where—thank the gods ^note!—they grow,
And set them on Lud's town ^note.

Bel.
We are ^note 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? ^note What company

Discover you abroad?

Bel.
No single soul
Can we set eye on; but in all safe reason
He must have some attendants. Though his humour ^note
Was nothing but mutation, ay, and that
From one bad thing to worse, not frenzy, not
Absolute ^note madness could so far have raved,
To bring him here alone: ^note although perhaps
It may be heard at court that such as we
Cave here, hunt ^note 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'ld fetch us in; yet is't not probable
To come alone, either he so ^note undertaking,
Or ^note 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
Did make my way long forth.

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

Bel.
I fear 'twill be revenged:

Would, Polydore ^note, thou hadst not done't! though valour
Becomes thee well enough.

Arv.
Would I had done't,
So the revenge alone pursued me! Polydore ^note,
I love thee brotherly, but envy much
Thou hast ^note 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 prithee ^note, to our rock;
You and Fidele play the cooks: I'll stay
Till hasty Polydore ^note return, and bring him
To dinner presently.

Arv.
Poor sick Fidele!
I'll willingly to him: to gain his colour
I'ld ^note let a parish ^note of such Clotens blood,
And praise myself for charity. [Exit.

Bel.
O thou goddess,
Thou divine Nature, how ^note 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 enchafed, as the rudest ^note wind
That by the top doth take the mountain pine
And make him stoop to the vale ^note. 'Tis ^note wonder ^note
That an invisible ^note instinct ^note 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 ^note Guiderius.

Gui.
Where's my brother?
I have sent Cloten's clotpoll ^note down the stream,
In embassy to his mother: his body's ^note hostage
For his return. [Solemn music.

Bel.
My ingenious ^note instrument!
Hark, Polydore, it sounds! But what occasion
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 ^note mother ^note
It did not speak before. All solemn things
Should answer solemn accidents. The matter?
Triumphs for nothing and lamenting ^note toys
Is jollity for apes and grief for boys. ^note
Is Cadwal mad? ^note Re-enter ^note Arviragus with Imogen, as dead, ^note bearing her in his arms.

Bel.
Look ^note, here he comes,
And brings the dire occasion in his arms
Of what we blame him for!

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 ^note turn'd my leaping-time ^note into a crutch,
Than have seen this.

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

Bel.
O melancholy!
Who ever yet could sound thy ^note bottom? find
The ooze, to show what ^note coast thy sluggish crare ^note
Might easiliest ^{note note} harbour in? Thou blessed thing!
Jove knows what man thou mightst have made; but I, ^note
Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy.
How ^note 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 cheek ^note
Reposing on a cushion.

Gui.
Where?

Arv.
O' the floor;
His arms thus leagued: ^note I thought he slept, and put
My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness
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 ^note.

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, ^note pale primrose ^note, nor
The azured harebell, like thy veins; no, nor
The leaf of ^note eglantine, whom ^note not to slander, ^note
Out-sweeten'd not thy breath: the ruddock ^note would
With charitable bill—O bill, sore shaming ^note
Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie
Without a monument!—bring thee all this;
Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when ^note flowers are none,
To winter-ground ^note thy corse. ^note

Gui.
Prithee, 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!

Arv.
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,
As once our ^note mother; use like note and words,
Save that ‘Euriphile’ must be ‘Fidele.’

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

Arv.
We'll speak it then.

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 ^note paid for that: though ^note mean and mighty, rotting
Together, have one dust, yet reverence,
That ^note angel of the world, doth make distinction
Of place 'tween ^note 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 ^note, fetch him hither.
Thersites' body is as good as Ajax' ^note,
When neither are ^note alive.

Arv.
If you'll go fetch him,
We'll say our song the whilst. Brother, begin. [Exit Belarius. ^note

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. ^note

Song. Gui.
Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
  Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
  Home art ^note gone and ta'en ^note thy wages: ^note
Golden ^note lads and girls all ^note 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 ^note sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this ^note and come to dust. Gui.
Fear no more the lightning-flash, Arv.
  Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone; Gui.
Fear not ^note slander, censure ^note rash; Arv.
  Thou hast finish'd joy and moan: Both.
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee ^note and come to dust. Gui.
No exorciser harm thee! Arv.
Nor ^note no witchcraft charm thee! Gui.
Ghost unlaid forbear thee! Arv.
Nothing ill come near thee! Both.
Quiet consummation have;
And renowned ^note be thy grave! Re-enter ^note Belarius with the body of Cloten. ^note

Gui.
We have ^note done our obsequies: come, lay him down. ^note

Bel.
Here's a few flowers, but 'bout ^note midnight more:
The herbs that have on them cold dew o' the night
Are strewings fitt'st for graves. Upon their faces. ^note
You were as flowers, now wither'd: even so
These herblets shall, which we upon you strow. ^note
Come on, away: apart upon our knees.
The ground that gave them first has them again:

Their pleasures here are ^note past, so is their pain ^note. [Exeunt Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus. ^{note note}

Imo. [Awaking ^note]
Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; which is the way?—
I thank you.—By yond bush?—Pray, how far thither?
'Ods pittikins! can it be six mile ^note yet?—
I have ^note gone all night:—faith, I'll lie down and sleep.
But, soft! no bedfellow! ^note O gods and goddesses! [Seeing ^note the body of Cloten.
These ^note flowers are like the pleasures of the world;
This bloody man, the care ^note on't. I hope I dream;
For so ^note I thought I was a cave-keeper,
And cook to honest creatures: but ^note '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. 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, fear'd gods, ^note a part ^note of it!
The dream's here still: even when I wake, it is
Without me, as within me; not imagined ^note, felt ^note.
A headless man! The garments of Posthumus!
I know the shape of's leg: this is his hand;
His foot Mercurial; his Martial thigh;
The brawns ^note of Hercules: but his ^note Jovial face—
Murder in heaven? ^note—How!—'Tis gone. Pisanio,
All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,

And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou,
Conspired with that irregulous ^note devil, Cloten, ^note
Hast ^note 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 ^note vessel of the world
Struck ^note the main-top! O Posthumus! ^note alas,
Where is thy head? where's that? Ay me ^note! where's ^note that?
Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart,
And left this head ^note on. How should this be? Pisanio? ^note
'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 ^note: O!
Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood,
That we the horrider may seem to those
Which chance ^note to find us: O, my lord, my lord! [Falls on the body. ^note Enter ^note Lucius, a Captain and other Officers, and a Soothsayer. ^note

Cap.
To them ^note the legions garrison'd in Gallia
After your will have cross'd the sea, attending
You here at Milford-Haven with your ^note ships:

They are ^note in readiness.

Luc.
But what from Rome?

Cap.
The senate hath stirr'd up the confiners
And gentlemen of Italy, most ^note willing spirits
That promise noble service: and they come
Under the conduct of bold Iachimo,
Syenna's brother.

Luc.
When expect you them?

Cap.
With the next benefit o' ^note the wind.

Luc.
This forwardness
Makes our hopes fair. Command our present numbers ^note
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 ^{note note} show'd me a vision—
I fast and pray'd ^note for their intelligence—thus: ^note
I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd ^note
From the spongy south to this part of the west,
There vanish'd ^note in the sunbeams: which portends—
Unless my sins abuse my divination—
Success to the Roman host.

Luc.
Dream often so,
And never false. Soft, ho! what trunk is here ^note
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 ^note
With the defunct, or sleep ^note upon the dead.
Let's see the boy's face.

Cap.
He's alive, my lord.

Luc.
He'll then instruct us of this ^note body. Young one,
Inform us of thy fortunes, for it seems
They crave to be demanded. Who is this
Thou makest thy bloody pillow? Or who was he
That, otherwise than noble nature did ^note,
Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy interest
In this sad wreck ^note? How came it? Who is it? ^note
What art thou?

Imo.
I am nothing: or if not,
Nothing to be were better. This was my master,
A very valiant Briton ^note and a good,
That here by mountaineers ^note lies slain. Alas!
There is ^note no more such ^note masters: I may wander
From east to occident, cry out for service,
Try many, all ^note good, serve ^note truly, never ^note
Find such another master.

Luc.
'Lack, good youth!
Thou movest no less with thy complaining than
Thy master in ^note bleeding: say his name, good friend.

Imo.
Richard du Champ. [Aside ^note] If I do lie, and do
No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope
They'll pardon it. ^note Say you, sir?

Luc.
Thy name?

Imo.
Fidele, sir ^note.

Luc.
Thou dost approve thyself the very same:
Thy name well fits thy faith, thy faith thy name.
Wilt take thy chance ^note with me? I will not say

Thou shalt be so well master'd, but be sure,
No less beloved. The Roman emperor's letters
Sent by a consul to me should not ^note sooner
Than thine own worth prefer thee: go with me.

Imo.
I'll follow, sir. But first, an't ^note 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 ^note and weeds I ha' ^note 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 ^note than master thee.
My friends, ^note
The boy hath taught us manly duties: let us
Find out the prettiest daisied plot ^note we can,
And make him with our pikes and partisans
A grave: come, arm him. Boy, he is ^note preferr'd
By thee to us, and he shall be interr'd
As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes:
Some falls are means the happier to arise. [Exeunt.

^note Scene III. [Footnote: A room ^note in Cymbeline's palace. Enter Cymbeline, Lords, Pisanio, and Attendants. ^note

Cym.
Again; and bring me word how 'tis with her. [Exit ^note an Attendant.
A fever with the absence of her son;
A madness ^note, of which her life's in danger. Heavens,
How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen,
The great ^note 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 ^note present: it strikes me, ^note past
The hope of comfort. But for thee ^note, fellow,
Who needs must know of her departure and
Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce ^note it from thee
By a sharp torture.

Pis.
Sir, my life is yours,
I humbly ^note 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 ^note,
Hold me your loyal servant.

First Lord. ^note
Good my liege,
The day that she was missing he was here:
I dare be bound he's true and shall ^note perform
All parts of his subjection loyally. For Cloten, ^note
There wants no diligence in seeking him,

And will ^note, no doubt, be found.

Cym.
The time is troublesome. [To Pisanio ^note]
We'll slip you for a season; but our ^note jealousy
Does ^note yet depend.

First Lord. ^note
So please your majesty,
The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn,
Are landed on your coast, with a supply ^note
Of Roman gentlemen by the senate sent.

Cym.
Now for the counsel of my son and queen! ^note
I am amazed with matter.

First Lord. ^note
Good my liege,
Your preparation can affront no less
Than what you hear of: come more, for more you're ready: ^note
The want is but to put those ^note powers in motion
That long to move.

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 ^note! [Exeunt ^note all but Pisanio.

Pis.
I heard ^note no letter ^note 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 ^note to Cloten ^note, but remain
Perplex'd in all. The heavens still must work.
Wherein I am false I am ^note honest; not true, to be true ^note.

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 clear'd:
Fortune brings in some boats that are not steer'd. [Exit. ^note Scene IV. [Footnote: Wales. Before the cave of Belarius. ^note Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.

Gui.
The noise is round about us.

Bel.
Let us from it.

Arv.
What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it
From action and adventure? ^note

Gui.
Nay, what hope
Have we in hiding us? This way, the Romans
Must or for Britons slay us or receive us
For barbarous and unnatural revolts ^note
During their ^note use, and slay us after.

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 ^note
Among the bands—may drive us to a render
Where we have lived, and so extort from 's that
Which we have ^note done, whose answer would be death
Drawn on with torture ^note.

Gui.
This is, sir, a doubt
In such a time nothing becoming you,

Nor satisfying us.

Arv.
It is not likely
That when they hear the ^note Roman horses neigh,
Behold their quarter'd fires ^note, have both their eyes
And ears so cloy'd ^note importantly as now,
That they will waste their time upon our note,
To know from whence we are.

Bel.
O, I am known
Of many in the army: many years,
Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore him
From my remembrance. And besides, the king
Hath not deserved my service nor your loves;
Who find in my exile the want of breeding,
The certainty of this hard ^note life; aye hopeless
To have the courtesy your cradle promised,
But to be still hot summer's tanlings and
The shrinking slaves of winter.

Gui.
Than be so
Better ^note to cease to be. Pray, sir, to the army:
I and my brother are not known; yourself
So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown,
Cannot be question'd.

Arv.
By this sun that shines,
I'll thither ^note: what thing is it ^note that I never
Did see man die! scarce ever look'd on blood,
But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison! ^note
Never bestrid a horse, save one that had
A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel
Nor iron on his heel! I am ashamed
To look upon the holy sun, to have
The benefit of his blest ^note beams, remaining
So long a poor unknown.

Gui.
By heavens, I'll go:
If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave,
I'll take the better care, but ^note if you will not,
The hazard therefore due fall on me by
The hands of Romans!

Arv.
So say I: amen.

Bel.
No reason I, since of ^note your lives you set
So slight a valuation, should reserve
My crack'd one to more care. Have with you, boys!
If in your country wars you chance to die,
That is my bed too, lads, and there I'll lie:
Lead, lead. [Aside ^note] The time seems long; their blood thinks scorn,
Till it fly out and show them princes born. [Exeunt.

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