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 'bout midnight, more: 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 herblets 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 BEL., GUI., and ARV. Imo. [awaking.] Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; which is the

way?—

I thank you.-By yon bush?-Pray, how far thither?
'Ods pittikins! can it be six mile 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 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 garments 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 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? Ay me! where's that? Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart,

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, pregnant!
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 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 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 numbers
Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't.-Now, sir,
What have you dream'd of late of this war's purpose?
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.

Dream often so,

Luc.
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's 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,

Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy interest

In this sad wreck? How came it? Who is it?
What art thou?

I'mo.

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 is 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 his name, good friend.
Imo. Richard du Champ.-[Aside.] If I do lie, and do
No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope

They'll pardon it.-Say you, sir?

Luc.

Imo.

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 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 ha' 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,

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.-BRITAIN. A Room in CYMBELINE's Palace.

Enter CYMBELINE, Lords, PISANIO, and Attendants.
Cym. Again; and bring me word how 'tis with her.
A fever with the absence of her son; [Exit an Attendant.
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 highness,
Hold me your loyal servant.

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 will no doubt be found.

Cym.

The time is troublesome,

We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy [TO PISANIO. Does 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.

Good my liege,

Your preparation can affront no less

Than what you hear of: come more, for more you're ready: The want is but to put those powers in motion

That long to move.

We fear not

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 all but PISANIO.

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 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.

SCENE IV.-WALES.

[Exit.

Before the Cave.

Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS. Gui. The noise is round about us.

Bel.

Let us from it.

Arv. What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it 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 revolts

Sons,

During their use, and slay us after.
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's

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

Gui.

This is, sir, a doubt

In such a time nothing becoming you

Nor satisfying us.

Arv.

It is not likely