on that,

Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd.

So far as thou wilt speak it.

[Looking in.

Pray, draw near.

What's the matter, sir?

But that it eats our victuals, I should think

Here were a fairy.

Gui.

Pr'ythee, fair youth, Think us no churls; nor measure our good minds, By this rude place we live in. Well encountered! 'Tis almost night: you shall have better cheer Ere you depart; and thanks, to stay and eat it.Boys, bid him welcome.

Gui.

Were you a woman, youth, I should woo hard, but be your groom.-In honesty, I bid for you, as I'd buy. Arv. I'll make't my comfort, He is a man; I'll love him as my brother :And such a welcome as I'd give to him, After long absence, such is yours:-Most welcome! Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst friends. Imo.

'Mongst friends! If brothers?-'Would it had been so, that they Had been my father's sons! then had my prize Been less; and so more equal ballasting To thee, Posthumus. Bel.

[Aside. He wrings at some distress.

Gui. 'Would, I could free't! Arv.

Or I; whate'er it be,

What pain it cost, what danger! Gods!
Bel.

Imo. Great men,

Hark, boys. [Whispering

That had a court no bigger than this cave,
That did attend themselves, and had the virtue
Which their own conscience seal'd them, (laying by
That nothing gift of differing2 multitudes,)
Could not out-peer these twain. Pardon me, gods!
I'd change my sex to be companion with them,
Since Leonatus false.

Bel.

(1) In, for into.

It shall be so:

(2) Unsteady.

Arv. The night to the owl, and morn to the lark, less welcome.

Imo. Thanks, sir.

Arv.

I pray, draw near. [Exeunt.

SCENE VII-Rome. Enter two Senators and

Tribunes.

1 Sen. This is the tenor of the emperor's writ:
That since the common men are now in action
'Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians;
And that the legions now in Gallia are
Full weak to undertake our wars against
The fallen off Britons; that we do incite
The gentry to this business: He creates
Lucius pro-consul: and to you the tribunes,
For this immediate levy, he commands
His absolute commission. Long live Cæsar!
Tri. Is Lucius general of the forces?
2 Sen.

Tri. Remaining now in Gallia?
I Sen.

Ay.

With those legions Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy Must be supplyant: The words of your commission Will tie you to the numbers, and the time Of their despatch. Tri.

We will discharge our duty. [Exeunt

ACT IV.

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) for3 '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 vain-glory, 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 :4 yet this imperseverant 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.

[Exit. SCENE II.—Before the cave. Enter, from the cave, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, and Imogen.

Bel. You are not well: [To Imogen.] remain here in the cave;

We'll come to you after hunting. Arv.

Are we not brothers? Imo.

Brother, stay here: [To Imogen.

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 am I not well:
But not so citizen a wanton, as

To seem to die, ere sick: So please you leave me ;
Stick to your journal1 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'm not very sick,

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. O noble strain! [Aside. O worthiness of nature! breed of greatness! Cowards father cowards, and base things sire base: Nature hath meal, and bran; contempt, and grace. I am not their father; yet who this should be, Doth miracle itself, lov'd before me.-'Tis the ninth hour o'the morn. Arv.

Brother, farewell.

Imo. I wish ye sport.
Arv.
You health.-So please you, sir.
Imo. [Aside.] These are kind creatures. Gods,
what lies I have heard!

Our courtiers say, all's savage, but at court:
Experience, O, thou disprov'st report!

The imperious2 seas breed monsters; for the dish,
Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish.

I am sick still; heart-sick :-Pisanio,
I'll now taste of thy drug.

Gui.

I could not stir him:

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:-Hence.
Gui. He is but one: You and iny brother search
What companies are near: pray you, away;
Let me alone with him.
Clo.
That fly me thus? some villain mountaineers?
I have heard of such.-What slave art thou?
Gui.

[Ere. Bel. and Arv. Soft! What are you

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

A thing

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?

Clo.
Thou villain base,
Know'st me not by my clothes?
Gui.
No, nor thy tailor, rascal,
Who is thy grandfather: he made those clothes,
Which, as it seems, make thee.

Clo.

My tailor made them not. Gui.

Thou precious varlet,

Hence then, and thank The man that gave them thee. Thou art some fool; I am loath to beat thee.

Clo.

Thou injurious thief,

What's thy name?

Hear but my name, and tremble.
Gui.

Clo. Cloten, thou villain.

Gui. Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name,

I cannot tremble at it; were't toad, or adder, spider, 'Twould move me sooner.

Clo.

To thy further fear,

I'm sorry for't; not seeming

Art not afear'd?

Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know
I'm son to the queen.
Gui.
So worthy as thy birth.

Clo.

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 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.

(4) Spurs are the roots of trees.

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 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 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 Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had none: Bet I not doing this, the fool had borne My head as I do his.

Bel.

What hast thou done?

Gui. I am perfect,2 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,3
Displace our heads, where (thank the gods!) they
grow,

And set them on Lud's town.
Bel.
We are all undone.
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?

Bel.
No single soul
Can we set eye on, but, in all safe reason,
He must have some attendants. Though his humour
Was nothing but mutation ;5 ay, and that
From one bad thing to worse; not 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, 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,

'Would I had done't,

Arv. 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.

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. [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 sweat 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 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.

Gui.

Re-enter Guiderius.

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,9
Is jollity for apes, and grief for boys.
Is Cadwal mad?

More perilous than the head.

Arv.

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

Let ordinance

I had no mind

Bel. To hunt this day: the boy Fidele's sickness Did make my way long forth.6 Gui. With his own sword, Which he did wave against my throat, I have 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 reck.7 [Exit.

Bel. I fear, 'twill be reveng'd: 'Would, Polydore, thou had'st not done't! though valour

Becomes thee well enough.

Bel.

arms.

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 crarel Might easiliest harbour in !-Thou blessed thing! Jove knows what man thou might'st have made; but I,

(6) Did make my walk tedious.

(7) Care. (8) Regain, restore. (9) Trifles. (10) A slow-sailing, unwieldy vessel.

Answer'd my steps too loud.

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. 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 leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweeten'd not thy breath: the ruddock3 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-ground 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.

Be't so:

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, censureɓ rash;
Arv. Thou hast finish'd 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 !8
Re-enter Belarius, with the body of Cloten.
Gui. We have done our obsequies: Come, lay

him down.

Bel. Here's a few flowers; but about midnight,

more :

Gui. Cadwal,

I cannot sing: I'll weep, and word it with thee: For notes of sorrow, out of tune, are worse Than priests and fanes that lie.

Arv.

We'll speak it then. Bel. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less: for Cloten

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'll go fetch him,
We'll say our song the whilst.-Brother, begin.
[Exit Belarius.
Gui. Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the

east;

[Exeunt Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus. Imo. [Awaking] Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; Which is the way?

I thank you. By yon bush ?-Pray, how far thither? Ods pittikins!9 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, so, I thought I was a cave-keeper,

And cook to honest creatures: But 'tis not so;
'Twas but a bolt10 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 garments of Posthumus!
I know the shape of his leg; this is his hand;
His foot Mercurial; his Martial thigh;
The brawns of Hercules: but his Joviall face.--
Murder in heaven?-How?-'Tis gone.-Pisanio,

(6) Judgment. (7) Seal the same contract. (8) See W. Collins's song at the end of the Play. (9) This diminutive adjuration is derived from God's my pity.

(10) An arrow. (11) A face like Jove's.

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!-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
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 wo here. O, 'tis pregnant, pregnant!2
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.

Luc.

When expect you them?

Cap. With the next benefit o'the wind.
Luc.

This forwardness Makes our hopes fair. Command, our present

[Aside.

Thy name? Fidele.

Luc. Thou dost approve thyself the very same:
Thy name well fits thy faith; thy faith, thy name.
Wilt take thy chance with ine? 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
his grave,

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,

numbers

pose?

Sooth. Last night the very gods show'd me a vision:

(I fast, and pray'd, for their intelligence,) Thus: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.

Сар.

He is alive, my lord.

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;

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,

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 he,
That, otherwise than noble nature did,

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

Nor when she purposes return. 'Beseech your high