The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare, Adapted for Family Reading

What's thy name?

Clo. Cloten, thou villain. Gui. Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name, I cannot tremble at it; were 't toad, or adder, 'Twould move me sooner. [spider,

Clo. To thy further fear, Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know I'm son to the queen. Gui. I'm sorry for 't; not seeming So worthy as thy birth. Clo. Art not afeard? [wise: Gui. Those that I reverence, those I fear; the 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 mountaineer. [Exeunt, fighting.

Enter BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS.

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 wore; the snatches in his voice, And burst of speaking, were as his: I am abso'Twas very Cloten. [lute,

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 the effect of judgment 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 [none: Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne My head, as I do his. Bel. What hast thou done? [head, Gui. I am perfect, what: cut off one Cloten's 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,+

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? What company Discover you abroad?

No single soul

Bel.
Can we set eye on, but, in all safe reason,
He must have some attendants. Though his
humour

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 rere alone: Although, perhaps,
It may be heard at court, that such as we
Cave here, hunt 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'd fetch us in; yet is 't not probable

To come alone, either he so undertaking, [fear,
Or they so suffering: then on good ground we
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, [ta'en
Which he did wave against my throat, I have
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: [valour
'Would, Polydore, thou hadst not done 't! though
Becomes thee well enough.

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

Arv.

[Exit.

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. 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 the rud'st wind, That by the top doth take the mountain pine, And make him stoop to the 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 cron 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 clotpoll down the stream,
In embassy to his mother; his body's hostage
For his return.
[Solemn music.
Bel.
My ingenious 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 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.

O, melancholy!
Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find
The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare +
Might easiliest harbour in ?-Thou blessed thing!
Jove knows what man thou might'st have made;
but I,

Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy !—
How found you him?

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

Gui.

[cheek
Where?
Arv.
O' the floor; [put
His arms thus leagu'd: I thought he slept; and
My clouted brogues? from off my feet, whose
Answer'd my steps too loud.
[rudeness
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.

With fairiest flowers,
Arv.
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 ruddock ||
would,

With charitable bill, (O bill, sore-shaming
Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie
Without a monument!) bring thee all this;
Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are
To winter-ground ¶ thy corse.
[none,
Gui.
Pr'ythee, have done;
And do not play in wench-like words with that
Which is so serious. Let us oury him,
And not protract with admiration what
Is now due debt.-To the grave.
Arv.

• Trifles.

Gui. Cadwal,

I cannot sing: I'll weep, and word it with thee.
Arv.
We'll speak it then. [Cloten
Bel. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less: for
Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys:
And, though he came our enemy, remember,
He was paid for that: Though mean and mighty,
rotting

Together, have one dust; yet reverence,
(That angel of the world,) doth make distinction
Of place 'tween 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, fetch him hither.
Thersites' body is as good as Ajax,
When neither are alive.

Arv.
If you '11 go fetch him,
We'll say our song the whilst.-Brother, begin.
[Exit BEL.
Gui. Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the
My father hath a reason for 't.
Arv.
'Tis true.
Gui. Come on then, and remove him.
Arv.

Song.

[east;

So,-Begin.

Gui. Fear no more the heat o' 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 clothe, and eat;

To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.
Gui. Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Arv. Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Gui. Fear not slander, censure** rash;
Arv. Thou hast finished 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 unlaid forbear thee!
Arv. Nothing ill come near thee!
Both. Quiet consummation have;

And renowned be thy grave!
Re-enter BELARIUS, with the Body of CLOTEN.
Gui. We have done our obsequies: Come, lay
him down.
[more:
Bel. Here's a few flowers; but about midnight,
The herbs, that have on them cold dew o' the
night,

Are strewings fitt'st for graves.-Upon their
faces:-

You were as flowers, now wither'd: even so
These herb'lets shall, which we upon you strow.-

Say, where shall's lay him? Come on, away: apart upon our knees.

The ground, that gave them first, has them again:
Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain.
[Exeunt BEL., GUI., and ARV.
Imo. [Awaking.] Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven;
Which is the way?
[ther?
I thank you.-By yon bush ?-Pray, how far thi-
Is't possible it can be six miles yet?-

I have gone all night :-I'll lie down and sleep.
But, soft! no bedfellow:- O, gods and goddesses!
[Seeing the Body.
These flowers are like the pleasures of the world;
This bloody man, the care on 't.-I hope I dream;
For, so, I 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
I tremble still with fear: but if there be [faith,
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.
A headless man !-The garments of Posthúmus!
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-
Murder in heaven?-How?-'Tis gone.-Pisanio,
All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou,
Conspir'd with that irregulous devil, Cloten,
Hast here cut off my lord.-To write, and read,
Be henceforth treacherous !-O Pisanio,
Pisanio with his forged letters hath
From this most bravest vessel of the world
Struck the main-top!-O, Posthúmus! alas,
Where is thy head? where's that? Ah me!
where's that?

Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart,
And left this head on.-How should this be?
Pisanio?

'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
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 to find us: O, my lord, my lord!
Enter 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 here in readiness.
Luc.
But what from Rome?
Cap. The senate hath stirr'd up the confiners,
And gentlemen of Italy; most willing spirits,
That promise noble service: and they come
Under the conduct of bold Iachimo,
Sienna's brother.

| I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd
From the spongy south to this part of the west,
There vanish'd 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,
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, or sleep upon the dead.—
Let's see the boy's face.
Cap.

He is alive, my lord.
Luc. He'll then instruct us of this body.-
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, [terest
Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy in-
In this sad wreck? How came it? Who is it?
What art thou?

Imo.
I am nothing: or if not,
Nothing to be were better. This was my master,
A very valiant Briton, and a good,
That here by mountaineers lies slain :-Alas!
There are no more such masters: I may wander
From east to occident, cry out for service,
Try many, all good, serve truly, never
Find such another master.
Luc.
'Lack, good youth!
Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining, than
Thy master in bleeding: Say thy name.
Imo.

Fidele.

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 daisied plot we can,
And make him with our pikes and partisans
A grave: Come, arm him.-Boy, he is 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.

SCENE III.-A Room in CYMBELINE's Palace.
Enter CYMBELINE, Lords, and PISANIO,
Cym. Again; and bring me word how 'tis with

her.

A fever with the absence of her son; [vens, A madness, of which her life's in danger :-HeaHow deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen, The great part of my comfort, gone: my queen Upon a desperate bed; and in a time

i. e. 'Tis a ready, apposite conclusion. || Her fingers.

That which we've done, whose answer would be Drawn on with torture. [death

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 Roman horses neigh,
Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes
And ears so cloy'd 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, [wore him
Though Cloten then but young, you see, not
From my remembrance. And, besides, the king
Hath not deserv'd my service, nor your loves;
Who find in my exíle the want of breeding,
The certainty of this hard life; aye hopeless
To have the courtesy your cradle promis'a,
But to be still hot summer's tanlings, and
The shrinking slaves of winter.
Gui.
Than be so,
Better 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,

Cym. Now for the counsel of my son, and I'll thither: What thing is it, that I never queen!

I am amaz'd with matter.*

Cym. I thank you : Let's withdraw : And meet the time, as it seeks us. What can from Italy annoy us; but We grieve at chances here.-Away.

[Exeunt.

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

These present wars shall find I love my country, Even to the note to' 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.

SCENE IV. Before the Cave. Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS. Gui. The noise is round about us.

Bel.

Let us from it.

Did see man die? scarce ever look'd on blood,
But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison?
Never bestrid a horse, save one, that had
A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel
Nor iron on his heel? I am asham'd
To look upon the holy sun, to have
The benefit of his bless'd 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 if you will not,
The hazard therefore due fall on me, by
The hands of Romans!

Arv. What pleasure, sir, find we in life to lock A Field between the British and Roman Camps.

From action and adventure?

Nay, what hope

Gui. Have we in hiding us? this way, the Romans Must or for Britons slay us; or receive us For barbarous and unnatural revoits? During their use, and slay us after.

Sons,

[it

Bel.
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

Among the bands) may drive us to a render
Where we have liv'd; and so extort from us

Enter POSTHUMUS, with a bloody Handkerchief.
Post. YEA, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee; for I
wish'd
[ones,

Thou should'st be coloured thus. You married
If each of you would take this course, how many
Must murder wives much better than themselves,
For wrying ** but a little -0, Pisanio !
Every good servant does not all commands:
No bond, but to do just ones.-Gods! if you
Should have ta'en vengeanee on my faults, I never
Had lived to put on ++ this: so had you saved
The noble Imogen to repent; and struck [alack,
Me wretch, more worth your vengeance. But,

You snatch some hence for little faults; that's
love,

To have them fall no more: you some permit
To second ills with ills, each elder worse;
And make them dread it to the doer's thrift.
But Imogen is your own: Do your best wills,
And make me blessed to obey!-I am brought
Among the Italian gentry, and to fight [hither
Against my lady's kingdom: 'Tis enough
That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress! peace!
I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good
heavens,

Hear patiently my purpose: I'll disrobe me
Of these Italian weeds, and suit myself
As does a Briton peasant: so I'll fight
Against the part I come with; so I'll die
For thee, O Imogen, even for whom my life
Is, every breath, a death: and thus, unknown,
Pitied, nor hated, to the face of peril
Myself I'll dedicate. Let me make men know
More valour in me, than my habits show.
Gods, put the strength o' the Leonati in me!
To shame the guise o' the world, I will begin
The fashion, less without, and more within.

[Exit.

SCENE II.-The same.
Enter at one side, LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and the
Roman Army; at the other side, the British
Army; LEONATUS POSTHUMUS following it,
like a poor Soldier. They march over, and go
out. Alarums. Then enter again in skirmish,
IACHIMO and POSTHUMUS: he vanquisheth and
disarmeth IACHIMO, and then leaves him.
Iach. The heaviness and guilt within my bosom
Takes off my manhood: I have belied a lady,
The princess of this country, and the air on 't
Revengingly enfeebles me; Or could this carl,*
A very drudge of nature's, have subdu'd me,
In my profession? Knighthoods and honours,
As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn.
If that thy gentry, Britain, go before
This lout, as he exceeds our lords, the odds
Is, that we scarce are men, and you are gods.

[borne,

[Exit. The Battle continues; the Britons fly; CYMBELINE is taken; then enter, to his rescue, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.

Post. No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost,
But that the heavens fought: The king himself
Of his wings destitute, the army broken,
And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying
Through a straight lane; the enemy full-hearted,
Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having
work

More plentiful than tools to do 't, struck down
Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling
Merely through fear; that the straight pass was
damm'd+

With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards living
To die with lengthen'd shame.
Lord.

Where was this lane?

Post. Close by the battle, ditch'd and wall'd
with turf;

Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier,-
An honest one, I warrant; who deserv'd
So long a breeding, as his white beard came to,
In doing this for his country;-athwart the lane,
He, with two striplings, (lads more like to run
The country base, than to commit such slaugh-
With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer [ter;
Than those for preservation cas'd, or shame,)
Made good the passage; cry'd to those that filed,
"Our Britain's harts die flying, not our men :
To darkness fleet, souls that fly backwards! Stand;
Or we are Romans, and will give you that
Like beasts, which you shun beastly; and may
[three,
But to look back in frown: stand, stand!"-These
Three thousand confident, in act as many,
(For three performers are the file, when all.
The rest do nothing,) with this word "stand,
stand!"

save,

Accommodated by the place, more charming,
With their own nobleness, (which could have
A distaff to a lance,) gilded pale looks, [turn'd
Part, shame,-part, spirit renew'd; that some,
turn'd coward

But by example, (O, a sin in war, Foulest in the beginners!) 'gan to look The way that they did, and to grin like lions Upon the pikes o' the hunters. Then began A stop i' the chaser, a retire; anon, Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles; A rout, confusion thick: Forthwith, they fly [cowards The strides they victors made: And now our Bel. Stand, stand! We have the advantage of (Like fragments in hard voyages) became the ground; The life o' the need; having found the back door open [wound! Of the unguarded hearts, Heavens, how they Some, slain before; some, dying; some, their friends

The lane is guarded: nothing routs us, but
The villany of our fears.
Gui., Arv.
Stand, stand, and fight!
Enter POSTHUMUS, and seconds the Britons:
They rescue CYMBELINE, and exeunt. Then,
enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and IMOGEN.

Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and save
thyself:

For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such
As war were hoodwink'd.

Iach.
'Tis their fresh supplies.
Luc. It is a day turn'd strangely: Or betimes
Let's re-enforce, or fly.
[Exeunt.

SCENE III.-Another part of the Field.
Enter POSTHUMUS and a British Lord.
Lord. Cam'st thou from where they made the
Post.
I did: [stand?
Though you, it seems, come from the fliers.
Lord.
I did.

• Clown.

+ Block'd up. A country game called prison-bars, vulgarly prisor.-base. Bugbears, terrors.

slaves,

[one,
Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty:
O'er-borne i' the former wave: ten, chas'd by
Those, that would die or ere resist, are grown
The mortal bugs o' the field.
Lord.
This was strange chance.
A narrow lane! an old man, and two boys!
Post. Nay, do not wonder at it: You are made
Rather to wonder at the things you hear,
Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon 't,
And vent it for a mockery? Here is one:
"Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane,
Preserv'd the Britons, was the Romans' bane."
Lord. Nay, be not angry, sir.
Post.

'Lack, to what end?
Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his friend:
For if he'll do, as he is made to do,
I know, he'll quickly fly my friendship too.
You have put me into rhyme.

Lord. Farewell; you are angry. [Exit.
Post. Still going?-This is a lord! O, nob.e
misery

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