Imatges de pàgina

Thou'st robb'd me of this deed; I would revenges
That possible strength might meet, would seek us thro',
And put us to our answer.

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

Aru. Poor fick Fidele!
I'll willingly to him: To gain his colour
I'd let a s'marih' of such Clotens blood,
And praise my self for charity.

Bel. O thou Goddess,
Thou divine Nature ! how thy self 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 rude wind,
That by the top doth take the mountain pine,
And make him stoop to th' vale. 'Tis wonderful
That an invisible instinct should frame them
To royalty unlearnéd, honour untaught,
Civility not seen from other ; valour,
That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop
As if it had been sowod. Yet still it's strange
What Cloten's being here to us portends,
Or what his death will bring us.

Re-enter Guiderius.
Guid. Where's my brother?
I have sent Cloten's clot-pole down the stream,
In embassie to his mother ; his body's hostage
For his return.

[Solemn mufick.
Bel. My ingenious instrument !
Hark, Paladour, it sounds : but what occasion
Hath Cadwal now to give it motion ? hark.

5 parish ... old edit. Warb. emend.

Guid. Is he at home?
Bel. He went hence even now.

Guid. What does he mean? Since death of my dear mo-
It did not speak before. All solemn things
Should answer folemn accidents. The matter? a


Enter Arviragus, with Imogen dead, bearing ber in

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

Aru. The bird is dead
That we have made so much on! I had rather
Have skipt from sixteen years of age, to fixty ;
And turn'd my leaping-time into a crutch,
Than have seen this.

Guid. Oh sweetest, fairest lilly!
My brother wears thee not one half so well,
As when thou grew'st thy self.

Bel. Oh melancholy !
Who ever yet could found thy bottom ? find
The ooze, to shew what coast thy sluggish 6 /carack
Might eas'lieft harbour in?thou blessed thing!
Jove knows what man thou might'st have made : but ah!
Thou dy'dft, a moft rare boy, of melancholy.
7 'Tell me, how found him ?

Arv. Stark, as you see :
Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled Number,
Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at : his right cheek
Reposing on a cushion.

Guid. Where?
Aru. O'th' floor :

(a) The matter?
Triumphs for nothing, and lamenting toys,
Is jollity for apes, and grief for boys.
Is Cadwal mad i
SCENE V. &c.

6 Care ...old edit. Warb. emend, 7 How found you him?


His arms thus leagu'd; I thought he Nept, and put
My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness
Answer'd my steps too loud.

Guid. Why, he but Neeps' ;
If he be gone he'll make his grave a bed,
With female Fairies will his tomb be haunted,
And worms will not come near 8'him.'

Aru. With faireft Aow'rs,
(Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele,)
I'll sweeten thy sad grave. Thou shalt not lack
The Aow'r that's like thy face, pale Primrose, nor
The azur'd Hare-bell, like thy veins ; no, nor
The leaf of Eglantine, which, not to 9 Nander't,'
Out-sweeten'd not thy breath. The ruddock would
With charitable bill (oh bill fore-shaming
Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lye
Without a monument) bring thee all this,
Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flow'rs are none,
To''winter-gown'thy coarse.

Guid. 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 th' grave.

Arv. Say, where shall's lay him ?
Guid. By good Euriphile, our mother.

Arv. Be't fo:
And let us, Paladour, though now our voices
Have got the mannish crack, fing him to th' ground
As once our mother : use like note, and words,
Save that Euripbile must be Fidele.

Guid. Cadwal,
I cannot sing: I'll weep, and word it with thee;
For notes of sorrow, out of tune, are worse
Than priests and fanes that lie.

Aru. We'll speak it then.
Bel. Great griefs I see med'cine the less. For Cloten

Is & thee.

I winter-ground...old edir, Warb.emind.

9 landet

Is quite forgot. He was a Queen's son, boys,
And though he came our enemy, remember
''He has paid for that: the mean and mighty rotting
Together have one duft; yet reverence,
(The angel of the world,) doch make distinction
Of place 'wixt high and low. Our foe was Princely,
And though you took his life, as being our foe,
Yet bury him, as a Prince.

Guid. Pray fetch him hither.
Therfites' body is as good as Ajax',
When neither are alive.

Arv. If you'll go fetch him,
We'll say our song the whilft : brother, begin.

[Exit. Bellarius. Guid. Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his ch'east; My father hath a reason for’t.

Arv. 'Tis true.
Guid. Come on then, and remove him:
Arv. So, begin.

Guid. Fear no more the beat o'th' fun;

Nor the furious winter's rages;
Tbou thy worldly task haft done,

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

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

To thee the reed is as the oak:
The scepter, learning, physick, must

All follow 's thee, and come to duft.
Guid. Fear no more the lightning-flash.

Arv. Nor tb all dreaded thunder-tone:
Guid. Fear no sander, censure rash!

Arv, Thou baft finish'd joy and moan.
Both. All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and.come to duft.

Guid. 2 Was

3 this

Guid. No exorciser harm thee!
Arv. And no witchcraft charm thee!
Guid. Gbost unlaid forbear thee!
Arv. Nothing ill come near thee!
Both. Quiet consummation bave,

+'Unremoved be thy grave!

Enter Bellarius with the body of Cloten. Guid. We've done our obsequies : come lay him down.

Bel. Here's a few flow'rs, but about midnight more; The herbs that have on them cold dew o'ch' night Are strewings fitt'st for the face You were as flow'rs, now wither'd ; even so These herbelets shall, which we upon you strow. Come on, away, apart upon our knees The ground that gave them first, has them again : Their pleasure here is paft, so is their pain. [Exeunt.


Imogen awakes.
Yes, Sir, to Milford-Haven, which is the way!
I thank you
by yond bush

pray how far thither? 'Ods pittikins can it be fix mile yet? I've gone all night 'faith, I'll lye down and Neep. But loft! no bedfellow: oh Gods, and Goddeffes !

[Seeing the body. The flow'rs are like the pleasures of the world ;

This bloody man the cares on't. I hope I dream; For sure I thought I was a cave-keeper, And cook to honeft creatures. 'Tis not so: 'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing, Which the brain makes of fumes : Our very eyes Are fometimes like our judgments, blind. Good faith,

4. And renowned s Upon their faces

6 care

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