Imatges de pàgina

All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd;
Fortune brings in some boats that are not steer’d.




Enter Cloten alone.

Am near to th' place where they should meet, if Pifanio have mapp'd 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,) because

'tis said, a woman's fitness comes by fits. Therein I must play the workman, I dare speak it to my self, for it is vainglory 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; yet this imperseverant thing loves him in my despight. What mortality is! Pofthumus, thy head which is now growing upon thy shoulders, shall within this hour be off, thy mistress enforc'd, thy garments cut to pieces before thy face; and all this done, spurn her home to her father, who may, happily, 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 tyd 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.



Enter Bellarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, and Imogen,

from the cave.
Bel. You are not well: remain here in the cave,
We'll come t’you after hunting.

Arv. Brother, stay here:
Are we not brothers ?

Imo. So man and man should be,
But clay and clay differs in dignity,
Whose dust is both alike. I'm very sick.

Guid. Go you to hunting, I'll abide with him.

Imo. So sick I am not, yet I am not well,
But not so citizen a wanton, as
To seem to die, ere sick: so please you leave me,
Stick to your journal course; the breach of custom,
Is breach of all. I'm ill, but

I'm ill, but your being by me
Cannot amend me. Society is no comfort
To one not sociable: I'm not very sick,
Since I can reason of it. Pray you trust me here,
I'll rob none but my self, and let me die
Stealing so poorly.

Guid. I love thee: I have spoke it,
How much the quantity, the weight as much,
As I do love


father. Bel. What? how? how?

Aro. If it be fin to say so, Sir, I yoak me lo my good brother's fault: I know not why I love this youth, and I have heard you say, Love reasons without reason. The bier at door, And a demand who is't shall die, I'd say “My father, not this youth.

B b 2

[merged small][ocr errors]
[ocr errors]


[ocr errors][ocr errors]

Bel. Oh noble strain!
O worthiness of nature, breed of greatness! *
I'm not their father, yet who this should be
Doth miracle it self; lov'd before me!
'Tis the ninth hour o'th' morn.

Arv. Brother, farewell,
Imo. I wish ye sport.
Arv. You health so please you, Sir.

Imo. These are kind creatures. Gods, what lies. I've heard!
Our courtiers say, all's savage, but at court:
I am sick still, heart-lick - Pifanio,
I'll now taste of thy drug.

(Drinks out of the viol.
Guid. I could not stir him;
He said that he was gentle, but unfortunate;
Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest,

Arv. Thus did he answer me; yet faid, hereafter
I might know more.

Bel. To th' field, to th’ field:
We'll leave you for this time; go in, and rest.

Arv. We'll not be long away.

Bel. Pray be not sick, For you

must be our housewife. Imo. Well or ill, I am bound to you.

(Exit Imogen.
Bel. And shalt be ever.
This youth, howe’er distress’d, appears to have had

breed of greatness!
“ Cowards father cowads, and base things fire the base:
" Nature hath meal and bran; contempt, and grace.
I'm not, E3C.



but at court:
Experience, oh how thou-disprov'st report.
Th' imperious seas breed monsters; for the dish,
Poor tributary rivers, as sweet fish;
I am fick still, &C.


Good ancestors.

Arv. How angel-like he fings ?
Guid. But his neat cookery?

Arv. He cut our roots in characters,
And sauc'd our broth, as Juno had been fick,
And he her dieter.

Arv. Nobly he yokes
A smiling with a sigh.

Guid. I do note, That grief and patience rooted in him both, Mingle their · pow'rs together. Bel. It is great morning. Come away: who's there?




Enter Cloten.

Clot. Icannot find those runagates: that villain
Hath mock'd me.

I am faint.
Bel. Those runagates!
Means he not us? I partly know him; 'tis
Cloten, the son o'th' queen; I fear some ambush
I saw him not these many years, and yet
I know 'tis he: we are held as out-laws; hence.

Guid. He is but one; you and my brother search

a figh:
As if the sigh
Was that it was, for not being such a smile:
The smile mocking the sigh, that it would fly
From so divine a temple, to commix
With winds that failors rail at.

Guid. I do note, &c.

Arv. Grow patience,
And let the stinking clder, greif, untwine
His perishing root, with the encreasing vine.

Bel. It is, & C.



What companies are near : pray you away,
Let me alone with him. (Exeunt Bellarius and Arviragus.

Clot. Soft, what are you
That fly me thus ? some villain-mountainers ----
I've heard of such. What slave art thou?

Guid. A thing
More slavish did I ne’er, than answering
A slave without a knock.

Clot. Thou art a robber,
A law-breaker, a villain ; yield thee, thief.

Guid. To whom? 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 ?

Clot. Thou villain base,
Know'st me not by my cloaths ?

Guid. No nor thy tailor,
Who is thy grandfather; he made those cloaths,
Which, as it seems, make thee.

Clot. Thou precious varlet !
My tailor made them not.

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

Clot. Thou injurious thief,
Hear but my name, and tremble.

Guid. What's thy name?
Clot. Cloten, thou villain.

Guid. Cloten, then double villain be thy name,
I cannot tremble at it; were it toad, adder, spider,
'Twould move me sooner.
Clot. To thy further fear,


« AnteriorContinua »