Imatges de pÓgina

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 couch
With the defun&t, 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 the fortunes, for it seems
They crave to be demanded: who is this
Thou mak'st thy bloody pillow? 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, and who is it?
What art thou ?

Imo. I am nothing; or if not,
Nothing to be, were better. This was my master,
A very valiant Britain, and a good,
That here by mountaineers Iyes flain : alas!
There are no more such masters: I may wander
From east to occident, cry out for service,
Try many, all good, serve them truly, never
Find such another master.

Luc. 'Lack, good youth!
Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining, than
Thy master bleeding: say his name, good friend.

Imo. Richard du Camp. If I do lye, and do
No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope
They'll pardon it. Say you, Sir ?

Luc. Thy name?
Imo. Fidele, Sir.

Luc. Thou dost approve thy self 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 no 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 pray’rs,
(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 dazied-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 chearful, wipe thine eyes.
Some falls are means the happier to arise.

[Exeunt. SCEN E VIII.

Enter Bellarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.
Guid. 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 ?

Guid. Nay, what hope
Have we in hiding us ? this way the Romans


Must or for Britains slay us, or receive us
For barb'rous and unnatural revolters
During their use, and slay us after.

Bel. Sons,
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 nor muster'd
Among the bands) may drive us to confession
Where we have liv'd: and so extort from us
That which we've done, whose answer would be death
Drawn on with torture.

Guid. This is, Sir, a doubt
(In such a time) nothing becoming you,
Nor satisfying us.

Arv. It is not likely,
That when they hear the Roman horses neigh,
Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes
And ears so cloy'd importantly as now,
That they will waste their time upon our note
To know from whence we are.

Bel. Oh, I am known
Of many in the army; many years,
Though Cloten then but young, (you see,) not wore him
From my remembrance. And besides the King
Hath not deserv'd my service, nor your loves,
Who find in my exile the want of breeding;
The certainty of this hard life, aye hopeless
To have the courtesie your cradle promis’d,
But to be still hot summer's tanlings, and
The shrinking slaves of winter.

Guid. Than be so,
Better to cease to be. Pray, Sir, to th' army;
I and my brother are not known; your self

D d 2


So out of thought, and thereto so o'er-grown,
Cannot be question’d.

Arv. By this sun that shines
I'll thither; what thing is it, that I never
Did see man die, scarce ever look'd on blood,
But that of coward hares hot goats and venison?
Never bestrid a horse save one, that had
A rider like my self who ne'er wore rowel,
Nor iron on his heel? I am asham'd
To look upon the holy fun, to have
The benefit of his blest beams, remaining
So long a poor unknown.

Guid. By heav'ns I'll go;
If you will bless me, Sir, and give me leave,
I'll take the better care; but if you will not,
The hazard therefore due fall on me, by
The hands of Romans.

Arv. So say I, Amen.

Bel. No reason I (lince of your lives you set
So slight a valuation) should reserve
My crack'd one to more care.

Have with you, boys.
If in

your country wars you chance to die, That is my bed too, lads, and there I'll lye. Lead, lead; the time seems long: their blood thinks scorn 'Till it fie out, and shew them princes born.



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A Field between the British and Roman Camps.
Enter Posthumus with a bloody handkerchief.

E A bloody cloth, Pll keep thee; for I wisht

Thou should'st be colour'd thus. You married

If each of you would take this course, how many
Must murther wives much better than themselves

For wrying but a little? oh Pifanio !
Every good servant does not all commands
No bond, but to do just ones. ----Gods! if you
Should have ta’en vengeance on my faults, I never
Had liv'd to put on this; fo had you faved
The noble Imogen to repent, and struck
Me, wretch, more worth your vengeance. But alack
You snatch some hence for little faults ; that's love,
To have them fall no more; you fome permit
To second ills with ills, each worse than other,
And make them dread it, to the doer's thrift.
Bụt Imogen's your own: do your best wills,
And make me blest t'obey! I am brought hither
Among th' Italian gentry, and to fight
Against my lady's kingdom ; 'tis enough
Tbat, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress : Peace,
I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heav'ns,
Hear patiently my purpose. I'll disrobe me


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