Bel.
No company's abroad.

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 wrote; the snatches in his voice,
And burst of speaking, were as his: I'm 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 judgment
Is oft the cause of fear. But see thy brother. Enter Guiderius.

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 born
My head, as I do his.

Bel.
What hast thou done?

Guid.
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 take us in,
Displace our heads, where, thanks to th' 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 no 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. Though his honour
Was nothing but mutation, ay and that
From one bad thing to worse; yet not his 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, haunt 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, 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
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 † ^notereck. [Exit.

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

Arv.
Would I had done't,
So the revenge alone pursu'd me! Polidore,
I love thee brotherly, but envy much
Thou'st robb'd me of this deed; I would 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. Pr'ythee to our rock,
You and Fidele play the cooks: I'll stay
'Till hasty Polidore 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 my self for charity. [Exit.

Bel.
O thou goddess,
Thou divine nature! how thy self thou blazon'st
&plquo;In these two princely boys? they are as gentle
&plquo;As Zephyrs blowing below the violet,
&plquo;Not wagging his sweet head; and yet as rough,
&plquo;(Their royal blood enchaf'd,) as the rude wind,
&plquo;That by the top doth take the mountain pine,
&plquo;And make him stoop to th' vale. 'Tis wonderful
&plquo;That an invisible instinct should frame them
&plquo;To royalty unlearn'd, honour untaught,
&plquo;Civility not seen from other; valour,
&plquo;That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop
&plquo;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 embassie to his mother; his body's hostage
For his return. [Solemn musick.

Bel.
My ingenious instrument!
Hark Polidore, it sounds: but what occasion
Hath Cadwall 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 mother
It did not speak before. All solemn things
Should answer solemn accidents. The matter?* ^note

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