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O worthiness of nature, breed of greatness ! a
I'm not their father, yet who this should be
Doth miracle it felf, lov'd before me!
'Tis the ninth hour o'th' morn.
Arv. Brother, farewel.
Imo. I wish ye sport.
Arv, Your health so please you, Sir.
Imo. These are kind creatures. Gods, what lies I've heard!
Our Courtiers fay, all's favage, but at Court : 6
I am sick still, heart-fick Pifanio,
I'll now taste of thy drug. [Drinks out of the vial.
Guid. I could not ftir him ;
He said that he was gentle, but unfortunate ;
Dishonestly afflicted, but yet
Arv. Thus did he answer me; yet said, hereafter
I might know more.
Bel. To th' field, to th' field!
We'll leave you for this time ; go in, and rest.
Aru. 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.
Bel. s 'And so shall be ever.
This youth, howe'er distress'd, appears to have had
Arv. How angel-like he sings!
Guid. But his neat cookery!
Arv. He cut our roots in characters,
(a) breed of greatness!
Cowards father cowards, and base things fire the base :
Nature hath meal and bran ; contempt and grace.
I'm not, &c.
(b) — but at Court:
Experience, oh how thou disprov'st report.
Th'imperious feas breed monsters ; for the dish,
Poor tributary rivers, as sweet fith;
I am fick ftill, &c.
5 And shalt
And fauc'd our broth, as Juno had been fick,
And he her dieter.
Arv. Nobly he yokes
A smiling with a sigh. a
Guid. 7 'Yes, I do note,
That grief and patience rooted in him both,
Mingle their spurs together.
Arv. Grow, patience!
And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine
His perishing root? 'from thy increasing vine!
Bel. It is great morning. Come away: who's there?
S CE N E III.
Clot. 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’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
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-mountaineers
I've heard of such. What Nave art thou ?
Guid. A thing
More Navish did I ne'er, than answering
A fave without a knock.
(a) a sigh:
As if the figh
Was that it was, for not being such a sinile :
The smile mocking the figh, that it would fly
From so divine a temple, to commix
With winds that sailors rail at.
Guid. I do note, Gr.
Clot. Thou art a robber,
A law-breaker, å 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 loch 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,
S'Adder, or spider,' it would move me sooner.
Clot. 9 'Then to thy' further fear,
Nay, to thy meer confusion, thou shalt know
I'm fon to th' Queen.
Guid. I'm sorry for't ; not seeming
So worthy as thy birth.
Clot. Art not afraid ?
Guid. Those that I rev'rence, those I fear, the wise : At fools I laugh, not fear them.
Clot. Die the death !
When I have Nain thee with my proper hand,
I'll follow those that even now Aed hence,
And on the gates of Lud's town set your heads ;
[Fight and Exeunt.
SCENE 8 Adder, fpider, 9 To thy 1 Yield, ruftick mountaineer,
S C E N E IV.
Enter Bellarius and Arviragus.
Bel. No company's abroad.
Arv. None in the world; you did miftake 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'm absolute
'Twas very Cloten.
Arv. In this place we left them;
I wish my brother make good time with him,
You say he is so fell.
Bel. Being scarce made up,
I mean, to man, he had not apprehension
Of "'daring terrors ; for defect of judgment
Is oft the 3'cure' of fear. But see thy brother.
Enter Guiderius, with Cloten's bead.
Guid. This Cloten was a fool, an empty purse,
There was no mony in't ; not Hercules
Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had none:
Yet I not doing this, the fool had born
My head, as I do his.
Bel. What haft thou done?
Guid. I'm perfect what; cut off one Cloten's head, Son to the Queen, after his own report, Who calld me traitor, mountaineer, and swore With his own single hand he'd take us in, Displace our heads, where, thanks to th’Gods, they grow, And set them on Lud's town.
Bel. We're all undone!
Guid. Why, worthy father, what have we to lose, But what he swore to take, our lives? the law Protects not us; then why should we be tender, To let an arrogant piece of Aesh threat us?
Play 3 roaring 3 caufe . old edit. Warb. emend.
Play judge, and executioner, all himself?
For we do fear no law. What company
Discover you abroad?
Bel. No fingle soul
Can we set eye on ; but in all safe reason
He must have some attendants. Though his 'humour
Was nothing but mutation, ay and that
From one bad thing to worse; yet not his frenzy,
Nor 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, haunt here, are out-laws, 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 iş't not probable
To come alone, nor he so undertaking,
Nor they so suffering; then on good ground we fear,
If we do fear this body hath a tail
More perilous than the head.
Arv. Let ordinance
Come, as the Gods foresay it: howsoe'er
My brother hath done well,
Bel. I had no mind
To hunt this day: the boy Fidele's sickness
Did make my way long forth.
Guid. With his own sword,
Which he did wave against my throat, I've 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 fon Cloten.
That's all I reck.
Bel. I fear 'cwill be revengʻd :
Would, Paladour, thou hadît not done't! though valour
Becomes thee well enough.
Arv. Would I had donc't,
So the revenge alone pussy'd me! Paladout,
I loye thee brotherly, but envy much
Thou'st 4 honour ..,old edit. Theob, emend,