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

Thou art a robber,
A law-breaker, a villain : yield thee, thief.
Gui. To who? 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?

Thou villain base,
Know'st me not by my clothes ?

No, nor thy tailor, rascal,
Who is thy grandfather : he made those clothes,
Which, as it seems, make thee.

Thou precious varlet,
My tailor made them not.

Hence, then, and thank
The man that gave them thee. Thou art some

I am loath to beat thee.

Thou injurious thief,
Hear but my name, and tremble.

What's thy name?
Clo. Cloten, thou villain.

Gui. Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name,
I cannot tremble at it: were it Toad, or Adder,

'Twould move me sooner.

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

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

Art not afeard ? 86. injurious, insulting.


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 filed hence, And on the gat of Lud's-town set your heads : Yield, rustic mountaineer. [Exeunt, fighting. roc

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Re-enter BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS. Bel. No companies 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 absolute 'Twas very


In this place we left them :
I wish my brother make good time with him,

he is so fell. Bel.

Being scarce made up,
I mean, to man, he had not apprehension
Of roaring terrors; for defect of judgement
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:

101. companies, companions. and gives an excellent sense. 104. lines of favour, features. But the meaning is that Cloten,

108. make good time, come lacking apprehension, is not off well.

subject to the intellectual man's 111. defect, misuse. Theo: foible of ingenious but unnecesbald's th' effect was generally sary suspicion. He is not, in adopted before the Camb. edd., short, a Hamlet. VOL. IV 209



Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne
My head as I do his.

What hast thou done?
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 'ld take us in,
Displace our heads where—thank the gods !--they

And set them on Lud's-town.

We are all undone.
Gui. Why, worthy father, what have we to

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 ?
Discover you abroad?

No single soul
Can we set eye on; but in all safe reason
He must have some attendants. Though his

Was nothing but mutation, ay, and that
From one bad thing to worse ; not frenzy, not
Absolute madness could so far have raved
To bring him here alone ; although perhaps

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

As it is like him—might break out, and swear
He'ld fetch us in ; yet is 't not probable

118. perfect, well assured.
132. humour; Ff (by misprint) honor.

What company


140 150

To come alone, either he so undertaking,
Or they so suffering: then on good ground we

If we do fear this body hath a tail
More perilous than the head.

Let ordinance
Come as the gods foresay it : howsoe'er,
My brother hath done well.

I had no mind
To hunt this day : the boy Fidele's sickness
Did make my way long forth.

With his own sword, 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 revenged : Would, Polydore, thou hadst not done 't! though

valour Becomes thee well enough. Ary.

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 re

venges, That possible strength might meet, would seek'

us through
And put us to our answer.

Well, 'tis done :
We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danger
Where there's no profit. I prithee, to our rock;
You and Fidele play the cooks : I'll stay
Till hasty Polydore return, and bring him
To dinner presently.

160 170


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

[Exit. 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 enchafed, as the rudest wind,
That by the top doth take the mountain pine,
And make him stoop to the vale. 'Tis wonder
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 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 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 ?

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 167. gain, restore.

the object, 'let blood (= bleed)' 168. l'ld let a parish, etc. ; the predicate. a parish of such Clotens' is 179. Civility, breeding.


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