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

my

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.

LABOUR.
Weariness
Can snore upon the flint, when restive sloth
Finds the down pillow hard.

HARMLESS INNOCENCE.

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.

With prayers

ACT IV.

BRAGGART.

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.

FOOLHARDINESS.

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.

INBORN ROYALTY.

O thou goddess,
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 invincible 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.

Enter ARVIRAGUS, bearing IMOGEN, as dead, in his

Arms.
Bel.

Look, here he comes,
And brings the dire occasion in his arms,
Of what we blame him for!
Arv.

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.

Where? Arv.

O’ the floor; * A slow-sailing, unwieldy vessel.

+ Stiff.

х

Aru.

T

His arms thus leagu'd: I thought, he slept; and put
My clouted brogues* from off my feet, whose rude-
Answer'd
my steps too loud.

[ness Gui.

Why, he but sleeps:
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.

With fairest flowers,
Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele,
I'll sweeten thy sad grave: Thou shalt not lack
The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose; nor
The azur'd harebell like thy veins; no, nor
The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,
Out-sweeten'd not thy breath; the ruddockt would
With charitable bill (O bill

, 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.

& Punished.

Thersites' body is as good as Ajax,
When neither are alive.

FUNERAL DIRGE.
Gui. Fear no more the heat o' the sun,

Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages :
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers come to dust.
Arv. Fear no more the frown o' the great,

Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
Care no more to clothe and eat;

To thee the reed is as the oak :
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.
Gui. Fear no more the lightning-flash,

Arv, Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Gui. Fear not slander, censure* rash;

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!

IMOGEN, AWAKING.
Yes, sir, to Milford Haven;
Which is the way?
Judgment.

+ Seal the same contract.