I'll follow those that ev'n now fled hence,

And on the Gates of Lud's Town set your Heads:

Yield Rustick Mountaineer.

1

[Fight and Exeunt.

Exeunt Bellarius and Arviragus.

Bel. No Company's abroad.

Arv. None in the World; you did mistake him fure.
Bel. I cannot tell; long is it fince I faw 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 with 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 apprehenfion
Of roaring Terrors; For defect of Judgment
Is oft the cause of fear. But see thy Brother.

Enter Guiderius.

Guid. This Cloten was a Fool, an empty Purse,

There was no Mony in't; Not Hercules
Could have knock'd out his Brains, for he had none :

Yet I not doing this, the Fool had born

My Head, as I do his.

Bel. What hast thou done?

Guid. I am perfect 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 Hand he'd take us in,

Displace our Heads, where, thanks to the Gods, they grow,
And fet them on Lud's Town.

Bel. We are all undone.

Guid. Why, worthy Father, what have we to lofe,

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 no Law. What Company

Difcover you abroad?

Bel. No fingle Soul

Can

Can we fet Eye on; but in all fafe reason
He must have some Attendants. Though his Honour

Was nothing but mutation, ay and that

From one bad thing to worse; Not Frenzy,
Not absolute Madness could fo far have rav'd

To bring him here alone, although perhaps
It may be heard at Court, that such as we
Cave here, haunt here, are Out-laws, 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 fo undertaking,

Or they so suffering; then on good ground we fear,

If we do fear this Body hath a Tail

More perilous than the Head.

Arv. Let Ordinance

Come, as the Gods foresay it, howsoe'er

My Brother hath done well.

Bel. I had no mind

To hunt this day: The Boy Fidele's fickness
Did make my way long forth.

Guid. 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 reak.

Bel. I fear 'twill be reveng'd :

[Exit.

Would, Polidore, thou hadst not don't: though Valour

Becomes thee well enough.

Arv. Would I had done't,

So the Revenge alone pursu'd me: Polidore,

I love thee Brotherly, but envy much

Thou hast robb'd me of this Deed; I would Revenges That poffible Strength might meet, would feek 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 prithee to our Rock,

You and Fidele play the Cooks: I'll stay

'Till hafty Polidore return, and bring him

VOL, VI.

L

To

To Dinner presently.

Arv. Poor fick Fidele!

I'll willingly to him; to gain his colour
I'd let a Parish of such Clotens blood,

And praise my felf for Charity.

Bel. O thou Goddefs,

Thou divine Nature ! thy felf 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'ft Wind,
That by the top doth take the Mountain Pine,
And make him stoop to th' Vail. 'Tis wonder
That an invisible instin should frame them
To Royalty unlearn'd, Honour untaught,
Civility not feen 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 fent Cloten's Clos-pole down the stream,
In Embassie to his Mother; his Body's hostage
For his Return.

Bel. My ingenious Instrument,
Hark Polidore, it founds: But what occafion
Hath Cadwall 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

[Exit.

[Solemn Musick.

It did not speak before. All folemn things
Should answer folemn Accidents. The matter ?

Triumphs for nothing, and lamenting Toys,
Is Jollity for Apes, and Grief for Boys.

Is Cadwall mad?

Enter Arviragus, with Imogen dead, bearing her in his

Arms.

Bel. Look, here he comes,

And brings the dire occasion in his Arms,

Of

Of what we blame him for.
Arv. The Bird is dead

That we have made so much on. I had rather

Have skipt from fixteen Years of Age, to fixty :
To have turn'd my leaping time into a Crutch,
Than have seen this.

Guid. Oh fweereft, faireft Lilly !

My Brother wears thee not the one half fo well,
As when thou grew'st thy felf.
Bel. Oh Melancholly,

Who ever yet could found thy bottom ? Find
The Ooze, to shew what Coast thy fluggish care
Might eafilieft harbour in? Thou blessed thing.
Jove knows what Man thou might'st have made: but I,
Thou dy'dst, a more rare Boy, of Melancholly.
How found you him ?

Arv. Stark, as you fee:

Thus smiling as fome Fly had tickled Slumber,

Not as Death's Dart being laugh'd at: his right Cheek,
Repofing on a Cushion.

Guid. Where?

Arv. O'th' Floor :

His Arms thus leagu'd, I thought he slept, and put

My clouted Brogues from off my Fect, whose rudeness

Answer'd my Steps too loud.

Guid. Why, he but fleeps;

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 Flow'rs

.

Whilst Summer lafts, and I live here, Fidele,
I'll sweeten thy fad Grave: thou shalt not lack
The Flow'r 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 flander,
Out-swesten'd not thy Breath: the Raddock would
With charitable Bill (Oh Bill fore shaming
Those rich-left Heirs, that let their Fathers lye

Without a Monument) bring thee all this,

Yea, and furr'd Moss befides. When Flow'rs are none

To Winter-ground thy coarfe

L2

Guid.

1

Guid. Prithee 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 th' Grave.

Arv. Say, where shall's lay him ?
Guid. By good Euriphile, our Mother.
Arv. Be't so:

And let us, Polidore, though now our Voices
Have got the mannish crack, fing him to the Ground
As once to our Mother: use like note, and words,

Save that Euriphile must be Fidele.

Guid. Caiwall,

I cannot fing: I'll weep, and word it with thee,
For Notes of Sorrow, out of tune, are worfe
Than Priefts, and Vanes than lie.

Arv. We'll speak it then.

Bel. Great Griefs I fee Medicine the lefs. For Cloten

Is quite forgot. He was a Queen's Son, Boys,
And though he came our Enemy, remember
He was paid for that: The Mear, and Mighty, rotting
Together, have one Duft, yet Reverence,
The Angel of the World, doth make distinction
Of place 'twixt high and low. Our Foe was Princely,
And though you took his Life, as being our Foe,
Yet bury him, as a Prince.

Guid. Pray thee fetch him hither.
Therfites Body is as good as Ajax,
When neither are alive.

Arv. If you'll go fetch him,

We'll fay our Song the whilft: Brother begin.

Guid. Nay Cadwall, we must lay his Head to th'East,

My Father hath a reason for'r.

Arv. 'Tis true.

Guid. Come on then, and remove him.

Arv. So, begin.

SONG.

Guid. Fear no more the Heat o'th' Sun,

Nor the furious Winters rages,

Thou thy worldly task haft done,

Home art gone, and take thy Wages.

Golden