Imatges de pàgina
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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'l 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.

Bel. O, thou goddess,

[Exit, into the Cave.

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 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.

Enter GUIDErius.

Guid. 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.

JSolemn Music in the Cave.

Bel. My ingenious instrument!—

Hark, Polydore! it sounds! But what occasion
Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark!
Guid. Is he at home?

Bel. He went hence even now.

Guid. What does he mean?

Since death of my dear'st mother,

It did not speak before. All solemn things
Should answer solemn accidents.

Enter ARVIRAGUS.

Bel. Look, here he comes!

Aro. The bird is dead,

That we have made so much on. I had rather
Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty,
Than have seen this.

Guid. O sweetest, fairest lily!

And art thou gone, my poor Fidele?

Bel. What! is he dead? How found you him? Arv. Stark :-smiling, as some fly had tickled slumber,

Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at: his right cheek Reposing on a cushion.

Guid. Where?

Arv. O' the floor;

His arms thus leagu'd: I thought, he slept.

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:

Our foe was princely;

And though you took his life, as being our foe,
Yet bury him as a prince. Go, bring your lily.
[Exeunt GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS into the
Cave.

O, melancholy!

Who ever yet could sound thy bottom ?—find
The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare
Might easiliest harbour in?-Thou blessed thing!
Jove knows what man thou mightst have made; but,
ah !

Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy.

SCENE VI.

A Forest, near the Cave.

IMOGEN and CLOTEN discovered, lying on a Bank strewed with Flowers.-IMOGEN awakes.

Imog. 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 miles yet?

sleep.

I have gone all night :-'Faith, I'll lie down and [Seeing the Body. But, soft! no bedfellow :-O, gods and goddesses! These flowers are like the pleasures of the world; This bloody man, the care on't. I hope, a dream; For, so, I thought I was a cave-keeper,

And cook to honest creatures.

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 !-
Oh, he is murder'd !-

Pisanio,

'Tis thou conspiring with that devil, Cloten, Hast here cut off my lord.

Pisanio?

How should this be?-Pisanio ?

"Tis be;

-

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!-
All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
And mine to boot, be darted on them !--
O, my lord! my lord!

Enter CAIUS LUCIUS, VARUS, and SOLDIERS.

Varus. 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?

Varus. With the next benefit o' the wind.
Luc. This forwardness

Makes our hopes fair.

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.

Varus. He is 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?

What's thy interest

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

Imog. 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 are no more such masters!

H

Luc. 'Lack, good youth!

Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining, than Thy master in bleeding: Say, thy name, good boy. Imog. Fidele, sir.

Luc. Thy name well fits thy faith :—

Wilt take thy chance with me; I will not say,
Thou shalt be so well master'd; but, be sure,
No less belov'd.

Go with me.

Imog. I'll follow, sir. But, first, an't please the gods,

I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep

As these poor pick-axes 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,

The boy hath taught us manly duties: Let us
Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can,
And make him, with our pikes and partizans,
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.

[As the SOLDIERS are taking up the Body, the
Curtain falls.

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