Bel.
You are not well: [to Imo.] remain here in the cave;
We'll come to you after hunting,

Arv.
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 very sick.

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

Imo.
So sick I am not;14Q1284 yet I am not well:
But not so citizen a wanton, as

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

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

Bel.
What? how? how?

Arv.
If it be sin to say so, sir, I yoak 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 without reason; the bier at door,
And a demand who is't shall dye, I'd say,
My father, not this youth.

&clquo;Bel.
&clquo;O noble strain!&crquo;
&clquo;O worthiness of nature! breed of greatness!&crquo;
&clquo;Cowards father cowards, and base things sire base:&crquo;
&clquo;Nature hath meal, and bran; contempt, and grace.&crquo;
&clquo;I am not their father; yet who this should be,&crquo;
&clquo;Doth miracle itself, lov'd before me.&crquo;
'Tis the ninth hour o'the morn.

Arv.
Brother, farewell.

Imo.
I wish ye sport.

Arv.
You health.—So please you, sir.

&clquo;Imo.
&clquo;These are kind creatures. Gods, what lyes I have heard!&crquo;
&clquo;Our courtiers say, all's savage, but at court:&crquo;
&clquo;Experience, o, thou disprov'st report!&crquo;

&clquo;The imperious seas breed ^note monsters; for the dish,&crquo;
&clquo;Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish.
&clquo;I am sick still; heart-sick: Pisanio,
&clquo;I'll now taste of thy drug.

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

Arv.
So did he answer me: yet said, hereafter
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 huswife.

Imo.
Well, or ill,
I am still bound to you.

Bel.
And shalt be ever.— [Exit Imogen.
This youth, howe'er distress'd, appears, he hath had
Good ancestors.

Arv.
How angel-like he sings!

Gui.
But his neat cookery! He ^note cut our roots in characters;
And sauc'd our broths, as Juno had been sick,
And he her dieter.

Arv.
Nobly he yoaks
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.

Gui.
I do note,
That grief and patience, rooted in him both ^note,

Mingle their spurs together.

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

Bel.
It is great morning: Come, away.—Who's there? Enter Cloten.

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

&clquo;Bel.
&clquo;Those runagates!&crquo;
&clquo;Means he not us? I partly know him; 'tis&crquo;
&clquo;Cloten, the son o'the queen. I fear some ambush.&crquo;
&clquo;I saw him not these many years, and yet&crquo;
&clquo;I know 'tis he: We are held as outlaws; Hence.&crquo;

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

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

Gui.
A thing
More slavish did I ne'er, than answering
A slave 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 cloaths?

Gui.
No, nor thy tailor, rascal,
Who is thy grandfather; he made those cloaths,
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 loth to beat thee.

Clo.
Thou injurious thief,
Hear but my name, and tremble, ^note

Gui.
What's thy name?

Clo.
Cloten, thou villain.

Gui.
Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name,
I cannot tremble at it; were it toad, ^note
'Twould move me sooner.

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

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

Clo.
Art not afeard?

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

Clo.
Dye 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, rustick mountaineer. [Exeunt, fighting. Re-enter Belarius, and Arviragus.

Bel.
No company's 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 blur'd those lines of favour
Which then he wore; the snatches in his voice,
And burst of speaking, were as his: I am 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 terrors: For defect of judgment14Q1285
Is oft the cause of fear,—But see, thy brother. Re-enter 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 born
My head, as I do his.

Bel.
What hast thou done?

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

Bel.
We are 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 no 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 madness could so far have rav'd,
To bring him here alone: Although, perhaps,
It may be heard at court, that such as we
Cave here, hunt here, are out-laws, and in time
May make some stronger head; the which he hearing,
(As it is like him) might break out, and swear
He'd fetch us in; yet is't not probable
To come alone, either he so undertaking,
Or 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 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 Guiderius.

Bel.
I fear, 'twill be reveng'd:
'Would, Paladour, thou had'st not don't! though valour
Becomes thee well enough.

Arv.
'Would I had don't,

So the revenge alone pursu'd me!—Paladour,
I love thee brotherly; but envy much,
Thou hast rob'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 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,
I'd let a parish of such Clotens blood,
And praise myself for charity. [Exit Arviragus.

Bel.
O thou goddess,
Thou divine nature, how thyself ^{note note} thou blazon'st
In these two princely boys! They are as gentle
As zephyrs, blowing below the violet,
Not waging his sweet head; and yet as rough,
Their royal blood enchaf'd, as the rud'st wind,
That by the top doth take the mountain pine,
And make him stoop to the vale. ^note 'Tis wonderful,
That an invisible instínct 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.

Gui.
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 ^note instrument!
Hark, Paladour, 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 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? Re-enter Arviragus, bearing Imogen, as dead, in his Arms.

Bel.
Look, 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 skip'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 lilly!
My brother wears thee not the one half so well,
As when thou grew'st thyself.

Bel.
O, melancholy!14Q1286
Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find
The ooze? or shew what ^note coast thou, sluggish ^note care,
Might'st ^note easil'est harbour in?—Thou blessed thing!
Jove knows what man thou might'st have made; but, ah ^note!

Thou dy'dst, a most rare boy, of melancholy!—
How found you him?

Arv.
Stark, as you see;
Thus smiling, as some fly had tickl'd slumber,
Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at: his right cheek
Reposing on a cushion.

Gui.
Where?

Arv.
O'the floor;
His arms thus leagu'd: 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: ^note
If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed;
With female fairies will his tomb be haunted,
And worms will not come there. ^note14Q1287

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 raddock would,
With charitable bill, (o bill, sore-shaming
Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lye
Without a monument!) bring thee all this;
Yea, and fur'd moss besides, when flowers are none,
To winter-gown ^note thy corse.

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.

Arv.
Say, where shall's lay him?

Gui.
By good Euriphile, our mother.

Arv.
Be't so:
And let us, Paladour, though now our voices
Have got the manish 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 lye.

Arv.
We'll speak it then.

Bel.
Great griefs, I see, medicine ^note the less: for Cloten
Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys;
And, though he came our enemy, remember,
He has pay'd ^note for that: Though mean and mighty, rotting
Together, have one dust; yet reverence
(That angel of the world14Q1288) doth make distinction
Of place 'twixt ^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 alive.

Arv.
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 of the sun,
  nor the furious winter's rages;
thou thy worldly task hast done,
  home art gone, and ta'en thy wages:
golden lads and girls all 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 cloath, and eat;
  to thee the reed is as the oak:
the scepter, learning, physick, must
all follow this, and come to dust. Gui.
Fear no more the light'ning-flash, Arv.
  Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone; Gui.
Fear no slander, ^note censure rash; Arv.
  Thou hast finish'd 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 unlay'd forbear thee! Arv.

  Nothing ill come near thee! both.
  Quiet consummation have;
  and renowned ^note be thy grave! Re enter Belarius, with Cloten's Body.

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:14Q1289—
You were as flowers, now wither'd: 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 ^note pain. [Exeunt Bel. Gui. and Arv.

Imo. [waking.]
Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; Which is the way?
I thank you. By yond' bush? Pray, how far thither?
Od's-pitikins! can it be six mile yet?
I have gone all night: 'Faith, I'll lye down, and sleep.
But, soft; no bedfellow:—O gods, and goddesses!
These flowers are like the pleasures of the world;
This bloody man, the care on't. I hope, I dream;
For, sure, I ^note 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, fear'd gods, a part of it!
The dream's here still: even when I wake, it is
Without me, as within me; not imagin'd, felt. ^note

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—
Murther in heaven? ^note How?—'Tis gone.—Pisanio,
All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou,
Conspir'd with14Q1290 that irregulous devil, Cloten,
Hast here ^note 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 vessel of the world
Strook the main-top.—O Posthumus! alas,
Where is thy head? where's that? Ay me! where's that?
Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart,
And left thy head ^note on.—How should this be? Pisanio?
'Tis he, and Cloten: malice and lucre in them
Have lay'd 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
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 ^note to find us: O, my lord, my lord! Enter, as in March, Lucius, a Captain, and other Officers, and a Soothsayer.

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

Luc.
But what from Rome?

Cap.
The senate hath stir'd up the cónfiners,
And gentlemen of Italy; willing ^note spirits,
That promise noble service; and they come
Under the conduct of bold Jachimo,
Syenna's brother.

Luc.
When expect you them?

Cap.
With the next benefit of the wind.

Luc.
This forwardness
Makes our hopes fair. Command, our present numbers
Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't.—Now, sir,
What have you dream'd, of late, of this war's purpose?

Soo.
Last night, the very gods14Q1291 shew'd me a vision:
(I fast, ^note and pray'd, for their intelligence) Thus:—
I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing ^note
From the spungy south to this part of the west,
There vanish'd ^note in the sun-beams: 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,
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, to 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 body. ^note—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 it,

Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy interest
In this sad wreck? How came it? and 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 Britain, and a good,
That here by mountaineers lyes slain:—Alas!
There are no ^note more such masters: I may wander
From east to occident, cry out for service,
Try many, and all good, serve truly, never
Find such another master.

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

&clquo;Imo.
Richard du Champ. &clquo;If I do lye, and do&crquo;
&clquo;No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope&crquo;
&clquo;They'll pardon it&crquo; Say you, sir?

Luc.
Thy name?

Imo.
Fidele, 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 master'd; but, be sure,
No less belov'd. The Roman emperor's letters,
Sent by a consul to me, should no sooner ^note
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 pick-axes can dig: and when
With wild wood-leaves and weeds I have 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, than master thee.—
My friends,
The boy hath taught us manly duties: Let us
Find out the prettiest daizy'd plot we can,
And make him with our pikes and partizans
A grave: Come, arm him.—Boy, he is prefer'd
By thee to us; and he shall be inter'd,
As soldiers can. Be chearful; wipe thine eyes:
Some falls are means the happier to arise. [Exeunt.

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