ARV. Thou haft finish'd joy and moan:
BOTH. All lovers young, all lovers must
Confign to thee, and come to duft.
GUI. No exorcifer harm thee!
ARV. Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
GUI. Ghoft unlaid forbear thee!
ARV. Nothing ill come near thee!
BOTH. Quiet confummation have
And renowned be thy grave!
Re-enter BELARIUS, with the body of Cloten.
GUI. We have done our obfequies: 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 ftrewings fitt'ft for graves.-Upon their faces:—
You were as flowers, now wither'd: even fo
These herb'lets fhall, which we upon you ftrow.—
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 ARVIRAGUS. IMO. [Awaking.] Yes, fir, to Milford-Haven; Which is
I thank you. By yon bush ?-Pray, how far thither? 'Ods pittikins!-can it be fix miles yet?
I have gone all night :-'Faith, I'll lie down and sleep.
But, foft! no bedfellow :-O, gods and goddeffes!
[Seeing the body.
These flowers are like the pleasures of the world;
This bloody man, the care on't.—I hope, I dream;
For, fo, I thought I was a cave-keeper,
And cook to honeft creatures: But 'tis not fo;
'Twas but a bolt of nothing, fhot at nothing,
Which the brain makes of fumes: Our very eyes
Are fometimes like our judgements, blind. Good faith,
I tremble ftill with fear: But if there be
Yet left in heaven as fmall a drop of pity
As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it!
The dream's here ftill: 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.-Pifanio,
All curfes madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou,
Confpir'd with that irregulous devil, Cloten,
Haft here cut off my lord.-To write, and read,
Be henceforth treacherous !Damn'd Pifanio
Hath with his forged letters, damn'd Pifanio-
From this most bravest veffel of the world
Struck the main-top!-O, Pofthumus! alas,
Where is thy head? where's that! Ah me! where's that?
Pifanio might have kill'd thee at the heart,
And left this head on.-How fhould this be? Pifanio?
'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 fenses? That confirms it home:
This is Pifanio's deed, and Cloten's: O!
Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood,
That we the horrider may feem to those
Which chance to find us: O, my lord, my lord!
Enter LUCIUS, a CAPTAIN, and other Officers, and a
CAP. To them, the legions garrifon'd in Gallia, After your will, have crofs'd the fea; attending You here at Milford-Haven, with
They are here in readiness.
CAP. The fenate hath ftirr'd up the confiners,
And gentlemen of Italy; moft willing fpirits,
That promise noble service: and they come
Under the conduct of bold Iachimo,
Sienna's brother.
Luc. When expect you them?
CAP. With the next benefit o'the wind.
Luc. This forwardness
Makes our hopes fair. Command, our present numbers
Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't.-Now, fir,
What have you dream'd, of late, of this war's purpose ?
SооTн. Last night the very gods fhow'd me a vifion : (I fast, and pray'd, for their intelligence,) Thus :I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd From the spungy fouth to this part of the weft, There vanish'd in the funbeams: which portends, (Unless my fins abuse my divination,) Success to the Roman hoft.
And never falfe.-Soft, ho! what trunk is here,
Without his top? The ruin speaks, that fometime
It was a worthy building.-How! a page!—
Or dead, or fleeping on him? But dead, rather:
For nature doth abhor to make his bed
With the defunct, or fleep upon the dead.-
Let's fee the boy's face
CAP. He is alive, my lord.
Luc. He'll then inftruct us of this body.-Young one, Inform us of thy fortunes; for, it seems,
They crave to be demanded: Who is this,
Thou mak'ft thy bloody pillow? Or who was he,
That, otherwife than noble nature did,
Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy interest
In this fad 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 mafter,
A very valiant Briton, and a good,
That here by mountaineers lies flain :—Alas!
There are no more fuch masters: I may wander
From east to occident, cry out for service,
Try many, all good, ferve truly, never
Find fuch another master.
Luc. 'Lack, good youth!
Thou mov'ft no less with thy complaining, than Thy master in bleeding: Say his name, good friend. IMO. Richard du Champ. If I do lie, and do
No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope [Afide. They'll pardon it. Say you, fir?
Luc. Thy name?
IMO. Fidele.
Luc. Thou doft approve thyself the very fame :
Thy name well fits thy faith; thy faith, thy name.
Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not fay,
Thou shalt be fo well mafter'd; but, be fure,
No lefs belov'd. The Roman emperor's letters,
Sent by a conful to me, fhould not fooner
Than thine own worth prefer thee: Go with me.
IMO. I'll follow, fir. But, firft, 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 ftrew'd his
And on it faid a century of prayers,
Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep, and figh;
And, leaving fo his fervice, follow
So please you entertain me.
Luc. Ay, good youth;
And rather father thee, than mafter thee.-
My friends,
The boy hath taught us manly duties: Let us
Find out the prettieft daizied plot we can,
And make him with our pikes and partifans
grave: Come, arm him.-Boy, he is preferr'd
By thee to us; and he fhall be interr'd,
As foldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes :
Some falls are means the happier to arife.
SCENE III. A Room in CrMBELINE's Palace. Enter CYMBELINE, LORDS, and PISAN 10. Crм. Again; and bring me word, how 'tis with her. A fever with the abfence of her fon;
A madness, of which her life's in danger :-Heavens, How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen,
great part of my comfort, gone: my queen Upon a desperate bed; and in a time
When fearful wars point at me; her fon gone,
So needful for this prefent: It ftrikes me, paft
The hope of comfort.-But for thee, fellow,
Who needs must know of her departure, and
Doft seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee
By a fharp torture.
PIs. Sir, my life is yours,
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