ACT IV.

SCENE I.-The Forest, near the Cave.

Enter CLOTEN.

Clo. I am near to the place where they should meet, if Pisanio have mapped it truly. How fit his garments serve me! Why should his mistress, who was made by him that made the tailor, not be fit too? the rather (saving reverence of the word) for 'tis said, a woman's fitness comes by fits. Therein I must play the workman. I dare speak it to myself, (for it is not vainglory for a man and his glass to confer in his own chamber) I mean, the lines of my body are as well-drawn as his; no less young, more strong, not beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in the advantage of the time, above him in birth, alike conversant in general services, and more remarkable in single oppositions; yet this perverse errant thing loves him in my despite. What mortality is! Posthumus, thy head, which now is growing upon thy shoulders, shall within this hour be off, thy mistress enforced, thy garments cut to pieces before thy face; and all this done, spurn her home to her father, who may, haply, be a little angry for my so rough usage, but my mother, having power of his testiness, shall turn all into my commendations. My horse is tied up safe: out, sword, and to a sore purpose. Fortune, put them into my hand! This is the very description of their meeting-place, and the fellow dares not deceive me.

b

SCENE 11.-Before the Cave.

[Exit.

Enter, from the Cave, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS,

ARVIRAGUS, and IMOGEN.

here in the cave:

We'll come to yon after hunting.

Arv. Brother, stay here: [To IMOGEN. 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,-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 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 die,
Stealing so poorly.

Gui.
I love thee; I have spoke it:
How much 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 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 without reason: the bier at door, And a demand who is't shall die, I'd say, My father, not this youth. Bel. [Aside.] O noble strain! O worthiness of nature! breed of greatness! Cowards father cowards, and base things sire base: Nature hath meal and bran; contempt and grace.

"For," i. e., because.-b"In single oppositions," i. e., in single combat." Journal," i. e., daily. That is, 'An infraction of the order of daily life leads to disorder in all things."Strain," i. e., race generation.

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 held as outlaws: herre!
Gui. He is but one. You and my brother search
What companies are near: pray you, away;
Let me alone with him.

[Exeunt BELARIUS and ARVIEAGUS.
Clo.
Soft! what are you
That fly me thus? some villain mountaineers?
I have heard of such.-What slave art thou?
Gui.

More slavish did I ne'er, than answering
A slave without a knock.
Clo.

A law-breaker, a villain.

A thing

Thou art a robber, Yield thee, thief.

"Doth miracle itself," 1. e., doth appear wonderf "Gentle," i. e., wellborn.-Spurs," ie., roo is used here, probably, for from."Great morning" (F grand matin), a Gallicism.

For his return.
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?

Bel.

as dead.

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 skipp'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 lily!
My brother wears thee not the one half so well,
As when thou grew'st thyself.

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

but I,

His arms thus leagu'd: I thought he slept, and put
My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rude-
Answer'd my steps too loud.
[ness.
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.

Gui.

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 leafy 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 none, To winter-guard 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.

(That angel of the world) doth make distinction Of place 'twixt 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 3 is 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 bead to the My father hath a reason for't. [east; 'Tis true. Gui. Come on then, and remove him. Arv.

Arv.

SONG.

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 lasses 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, earning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.

i

Gui. Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Arv. Nor th' all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Gui. Fear not slander, censure rash;
Arv. Thou hast finish'd joy and moan:
Both. All lovers young, all lovers must

k 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 kave;

And renowned be thy grave.
Re-enter BELARIUS, with the body of CLOTES.
Gui. We have done our obsequies. Come,
him down. [They place him beside IMOGEN
Bel. Here's a few flowers, but about midnig

more:

Gui. By good Euriphile, our mother. Arv.

Be't so:

And let us, Polydore, though now our voices

Toys for trifles. A crare was a small vessel of burden. -"Stark," i. e., cold and stiff-d As for as if-" Clouted brogues," are wooden shoes with clout or hob nails. The ruddock is the redbreast.-8" To winter-guard," i. e., to guard during winter.

These herb'lets shall, which we upon you strew.
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 BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGOS,

"Paid," i. e., punished.-"Censure," i, e., judgment"Consign to thee," i. e., seal the same contract with the An exorciser, anciently, was one who could raise spirit

Imo. [ Awaking.] Yes, sir, to Milford Haven; which
is the way?-
[thither?
I thank you. By yond' bush ?-Pray, how far
'Ods pittikins!-can it be six miles yet?-
I have gone all night :-'faith, 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 lo! 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 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.
A headless man!-The garment of Posthumus!
I know the shape of's 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 hoot, 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 !-Damn'd Pisanio
Hath with his forged letters,-damn'd Pisanio-
From this most bravest vessel of the world
Struck the main-top!-O, Posthumus! alas!
Where is thy head? where's that? Ah me! where's
Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart, [that?
And left thy head on.-How should this be? Pisanio!
'Tis he, and Cloten: malice and lucre in them
Have laid this woe here. O! 'tis pregnant, preg-

nant.

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: O!-
Give color 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 in readiness.

3

Luc.

But what from Rome?

From the spungy 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
Inform us of thy fortunes; for, it seems, [one,
They crave to be demanded. Who is this,
Thou mak'st thy bloody pillow? Or who was he,
That, otherwise than noble nature 5 did,

Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy interest In this sad wreck! How came it? Who is it? What art thou?

No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope They'll pardon.-Say you, sir?

Luc.

Imo.

Thy name? 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 not sooner, 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 pickaxes can dig: and when With wild wood-leaves and weeds I have strew'd And on it said a 'century of prayers, [his grave, Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep, and sigh; And, leaving so his service, follow you,

So please you entertain me.

Ay, good youth;

Luc. And rather father thee, than master thee.-My

friends,

A madness, of which her life's in danger.-Heavens,
How 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
When fearful wars point at me; her son gone,
So needful for this present: it strikes me past
The hope of comfort.-But for thee, fellow,
Who needs must know of her departure, and
Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee
By a sharp torture.

Pis.

Sir, my life is yours,

I humbly set it at your will; but, for my mistress,
I nothing know where she remains, why gone,
Nor when she purposes return.
Beseech your high-
Hold me your loyal servant.
[ness,
1 Lord.
Good my liege,
The day that she was missing he was here:
I dare be bound he's true, and shall perform
All parts of his subjection loyally. For Cloten,
There wants no diligence in seeking him,
And a will, no doubt, be found.
Cym.
The time is troublesome:
We'll slip you for a season; but with jealousy
[TO PISANIO.

2 You yet depend.
1 Lord.
So please your majesty,
The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn,
Are landed on your coast, with a supply
Of Roman gentlemen by the senate sent.
Cym. Now for the counsel of my son and queen!-
I am amaz'd with matter.

1 Lord.

с

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

Сут. 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!

[Exeunt.

Pis. I had 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 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.

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,
Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore him
From my remembrance: and, besides, the king
Hath not deserv'd my service, nor your loves,
Who find in my exile the want of breeding,
The certainty of this hard life: aye, hopeless
To have the courtesy your cradle promis'd,
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, I'll thither. What thing is't, that I never 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.

Aro.

So say I. Amen. Bel. No reason I, since of 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! The time seems long; their blood thinks scorn,

Till it fly out, and show them princes born.

[Exeunt