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SCENE. Before the Cave of Belarius.
Enter IMOGEN, in Boy's Clothes. Imo. I see, a man's life is a tedious one: I have tir'd myself; and for two nights together Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick, But that
resolution helps me.—Milford, When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd thee, Thou wast within a ken: 0 Jove! I think, Foundations fly the wretched: such, I mean, Where they should be reliev'd. Two beggars told I could not miss my way: Will poor folks lie, [me, That have afflictions on them; knowing 'tis A punishment, or trial? Yes; no wonder, When rich ones scarce tell true: To lapse in fulness Is sorer, than to lie for need; and falsehood Is worse in kings than beggars.—My dear lord ! Thou art one o' the false ones: Now I think on thee, My hunger's gone; but even before, I was At point to sink for food.—But what is this? Here is a path to it: 'Tis some savage hold : I were best not call; I dare not call: yet famine, Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant. Plenty, and peace, breeds cowards; hardness ever Of hardiness is mother.
Imo. Good masters, harm me not: Before I enter'd here, I callid; and thought
To have begg’d, or bought, what I have took: Good
troth, I have stolen nought; nor would not, though I had
found Gold strew'd o' the floor. Here's money for my
meat : I would have left it on the board, so soon As I had made my meal; and parted
for the provider. Gui.
Money, youth? Arv. All gold and silver rather turn to dirt! As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those Who worship dirty gods.
To who? 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.
Being scarce made up, I
mean, to man, he had not apprehension Of roaring terrors; for the effect of judgment Is oft the cause of fear.
O thou goddess,
That by the top doth take the mountain pine,
Enter ARVIRAGUS, bearing IMOGEN, as dead, in his
Look, here he comes,
The bird is dead, That we have made so much on. I had rather Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty, To have turn'd my leaping time into a crutch, Than have seen this. Gui.
O sweetest, fairest lily! My brother wears thee not the one half so well, As when thou grew'st thyself. Bel.
0, 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 Thou diedst a most rare boy of melancholy!— [I, How found you him? Arv.
Starkt, as you see: Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled slumber, Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at: his right cheek Reposing on a cushion. Gui.
O’ the floor; * A slow-sailing, unwieldy vessel.
His arms thus leagu'd: I thought, he slept; and put
Why, he but sleeps:
With fairest flowers,
, sore-shaming Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie Without a monument:) bring thee all this; Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none, To winter-ground I thy corse.
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: Though mean and mighty,
rotting Together, have one dust; yet reverence (That angel of the world), doth make distinction Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princeAnd though you took his life, as being our foe, [ly; Yet bury him as a prince. Gui.
Pray you, fetch him hither. * Shoes plated with iron.
+ The red-breast. # Probably a corrupt reading for wither round thy corso.
Thersites' body is as good as Ajax,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages :
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
To thee the reed is as the oak :
Arv, Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Arv. Thou hast finish'd joy and moan: Both. All lovers young, all lovers must
Conisgnt to thee, and come to dust. Gui. No exorciser harm thee!
Arv. Nor no witchcraft charm thee! Gui. Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Arv. Nothing ill come near thee! Both. Quiet consummation have;
And renowned be thy grave!
+ Seal the same contract.