Imatges de pàgina
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I see you are angry: Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should

Have died, had I not made it.
Bel.

Imo. To Milford-Haven, sir.
Bel.

Whither bound?

What is your name? Imo. Fidele, sir: I have a kinsman, who Is bound for Italy; he embark'd at Milford; To whom being gone, almost spent with hunger, I am fallen in this offence.

Bel. Pr'ythee, fair youth, Think us no churls; nor measure our good minds Well encounter'd! By this rude place we live in. 'Tis almost night; you shall have better cheer Ere you depart; and thanks, to stay and eat it.Boys, bid him welcome.

Gui. Were you a woman, youth, I should woo hard, but be your groom,-In honesty, I bid for you, as I'd buy. Arv. I'll make't my comfort, He is a man; I'll love him as my brother:And such a welcome as I'd give to him, After long absence, such as yours:-Most welcome! Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst friends. Imo.

'Mongst friends! If brothers ?-Would it had been so, that they [Aside. Had been my father's sons, then had my prize Been less; and so more equal ballasting To thee, Posthumus.

Bel.

He wrings at some distress.

Gui. 'Would, I could free't!
Arv.

Or I; whate'er it be, What pain it cost, what danger! Gods!

Bel. Hark, boys.

Imo. Great men,

[Whispering

That had a court no bigger than this cave,
That did attend themselves, and had the virtue
Which their own conscience seal'd them, (laying by
That nothing gift of differing multitudes,)
Could not out-peer these twain. Pardon me, gods!
I'd change my sex to be companions with them,

Since Leonatus false.

Bel.

It shall be so:
Boys, we'll go dress our hunt.-Fair youth, come in:
Discourse is heavy, fasting; when we have supp'd,
We'll mannerly demand thee of thy story,
So far as thou wilt speak it.
Gui.

Pray, draw near.

Arv. The night to the owl, and morn to the lark, less
Imo. Thanks, sir.

Arv. I pray, draw near.

SCENE VII.-Rome.

Enter Two Senators and Tribunes.

[welcome.
[Exeunt.

1 Sen. This is the tenour of the emperor's writ; That since the common men are now in action 'Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians; And that the legions now in Gallia are Full weak to undertake our wars against The fallen-off Britons; that we do incite The gentry to this business: He creates

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Clo. I am near to the place where they should meet, if Pisanio have mapped 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) for 'tis said, a woman's fitness comes by fits. Therein I must I dare speak it to myself, (for play the workman. it is not vain-glory, 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 despite. What mortality is! Posthumus, thy head, which now is growing upon thy shoulders, shall within this hour be off; thy mistress enforc'd; thy garments cut to pieces before thy face: and alí this done, spurn her home to her father: who may, haply, 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 tied up safe : Out, sword, and to a sore purpose! Fortune, put them into my hand! This is the very description of their and the fellow dares not deceive me. meeting-place; [Exit.

SCENE II. Before the Cave.

Enter, from the Cave, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS,
ARVIRAGUS, and IMOGEN.

Bel. You are not well: [To IMOGEN.] remain here

in the cave;

We'll come to you after hunting.
Arv. Brother, stay here:
Are we not brothers?

Imo.

[To IMOGEN.

So man and man should be; But clay and clay differs in dignity, Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick. Gui. 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 am ill; but your being by me
Cannot amend me: Society is no comfort

To one not sociable: I am not very sick,
Since I can reason of it. Pray you, trust me here:
I'll rob none but myself: and let me die,
Stealing so poorly.

Gui.
I love thee; I have spoke it :
How much the quantity, the weight as much,
As I do love my father.

Bel.

What? how? how? Arv. If it be sin to say so, sir, I yoke me In my good brother's fault: I know not why I love this youth; and I have heard you say, Love's reason's without reason; the bier at door, And a demand who is't shall die, I'd say, My father, not this youth. Bel.

O noble strain! [Aside. O worthiness of nature! breed of greatness! Cowards father cowards, and base things sire base: Nature hath meal, and bran; contempt, and grace. I am not their father; yet who this should be, Doth miracle itself, lov'd before me.'Tis the ninth hour of the morn. Arv.

Imo. I wish ye sport. Arv.

Brother, farewell.

You health. So please you, sir. Imo. [Aside.] These are kind creatures. Gods, what lies I have heard!

Our courtiers say, all's savage, but at court:
Experience, O, thou disprov'st report!
The imperious seas breed monsters; for the dish,
Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish.

I am sick still; heart-sick :-Pisanio,
I'll now taste of thy drug.

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Clo. I cannot 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'the queen. I fear some ambush.
I saw him not these many years, and yet

I know 'tis he:-We are held as outlaws:-Hence.
Gui. He is but one: You and my brother search
What companies are near: pray you, away;
Let me alone with him.
[Exeunt BEL. and ARV.
Clo.
Soft! What are you
That fly me thus ? some villain mountaineers ?
I have heard of such.-What slave art thou?

Gui.

More slavish did I ne'er, than answering
A slave without a knock.
Clo.

Thou art a robber,

A thing

A law-breaker, a villain: Yield thee, thief.
Gui. 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. Say, what thou art;
Why I should yield to thee?
Clo.
Thou villain base,

Know'st me not by my clothes?
Gui.

No, nor thy tailor, rascal,
Who is thy grandfather; he made those clothes,
Which, as it seems, make thee.
Clo.

My tailor made them not. Gui.

Thou precious varlet,

Hence then, and thank

The man that gave them thee. Thou art some fool;
I am loath to beat thee.
Clo.

Thou injurious thief,

Hear but my name, and tremble. Gui.

Clo. Cloten, thou villain.

What's thy name?

Gui. Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name, I cannot tremble at it; were't toad, or adder, spider,

"Twould move me sooner.

Clo.
To thy further fear,
Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know
I'm son to the queen.

Gui.

So worthy as thy birth.

Clo.

I'm sorry for't; not seeming

Art not afeard?

Gui. Those that I reverence, those I fear; the wise. At fools I laugh, not fear them.

Clo. Die the death: When I have slain thee with my proper hand, I'll follow those that even now fled hence, And on the gates of Lud's town set your heads: Yield, rustic mountaineer. [Exeunt, fighting.

Enter BELARIUS and ARViragus.

Bel. No company's abroad. Arv. None in the world: You did mistake him, sure. Bel. I cannot tell: Long is it since I saw 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 wish my brother made good time with him, You say he is so fell.

Bel.

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: But see, thy brother.

Re-enter GUIDERIUS, with CLOTEN's head.
Gui. This Cloten was a fool; an empty purse,
There was no money in't: not Hercules
Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had none:
Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne
My head, as I do his.

Bel. What hast thou done? Gui. 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 single hand he'd take us in, Displace our heads, where (thank the gods!) they And set them on Lud's town. [grow,

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Bel. Can we set eye on, but in all safe reason,

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Gui. Is he at home?

Bel. He went hence even now.

[mother my dear'st Should answer solemn accidents. The matter? Triumphs for nothing, and lamenting toys, Is jollity for apes, and grief for boys. Is Cadwal mad?

Gui. What does he mean? since death of
All solemn things

He must have some attendants. Though his humour It did not speak before.
Was nothing but mutation; ay, and that
From one bad thing to worse; not frenzy, not
Absolute madness could so far have rav'd,
To bring him here alone: Although, perhaps,
It may be heard at court, that such as we
Cave here, hunt here, are outlaws, 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 he so undertaking,

Re-enter ARVIRAGUS, bearing IMOGEN as dead. Bel. Look, here he comes, And brings the dire occasion in his arms, Of what we blame him for! Arv.

The bird is dead,

Or they so suffering: then on good ground we fear, That we have made so much on. I had rather If we do fear this body hath a tail

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Bel. To hunt this day: the boy Fidele's sickness Did make my way long forth. Gui.

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 one-half so well, As when thou grew'st thyself.

Bel.

O, melancholy!
Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find
With his own sword,The ooze, to shew what coast thy sluggish crare
Might easiliest harbour in ?-Thou blessed thing!
Jove knows what man thou might'st have made; but I,
Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy!
How found you him?
Arv.
Stark, 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.
Where?

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 reck. [Exit. Bel. I fear, 'twill be reveng'd: 'Would, Polydore, thou had'st not done't! though Becomes thee well enough. [valour Arv. 'Would I had done't, So the revenge alone pursued me!--Polydore, I love thee brotherly; but envy much, Thou hast robb'd me of this deed: I would, revenges, That possible strength might meet, would seek us And put us to our answer. [through,

Bel. Well, 'tis done : We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danger Where there's no profit. I pr'ythee, to our rock; You and Fidele play the cooks: I'll stay Till hasty Polydore return, and bring him To dinner presently.

Arv.

Poor sick Fidele !

I'll willingly to him: To gain his colour, I'd let a parish of such Clotens' blood, And praise myself for charity.

[Exit.

Bel.
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 invisible 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! Yet still it's strange,
What Cloten's being here to us portends;
Or what his death will bring us.
Re-enter Guiderius.

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Gui. Arv.

O'the floor;

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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 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 hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor
The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,
Out-sweeten'd not thy breath: the ruddock 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 thy corse.

Gui. Pr'ythee, 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 the grave.

Arv. Say, where shall's lay him? Gui. By good Euriphile, our mother. Arv. Be't so. And let us, Polydore, though now our voices Have got the mannish crack, sing him to the ground, As once our mother; use like note, and words, Save that Euriphile must be Fidele.

Gui. Cadwal,

I cannot sing: I'll weep, and word it with thee:

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