BELARIUS
You are not well. Remain here in the cave;
We’ll come to you after hunting.
ARVIRAGUS
Brother, stay here.
Are we not brothers?
IMOGEN
So man and man should be;
But clay and clay differs in dignity,
Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick.
GUIDERIUS
Go you to hunting; I’ll abide with him.
IMOGEN
So sick I am not, yet I am not well;
But not so citizen a wanton as
To seem to die 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.
GUIDERIUS
I love ; I have spoke it.
How much the quantity, the weight as much
As I do love my father.
BELARIUS
What? how? how?
ARVIRAGUS
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.’
BELARIUS
O noble strain!
O worthiness of nature! breed of greatness!
Cowards father cowards and base things sire base.
Nature meal and bran, contempt and grace.
I’m not their father; yet who this should be
miracle itself, lov’d before me.—
the ninth hour o’ th’ morn.
ARVIRAGUS
Brother, farewell.
IMOGEN
I wish sport.
ARVIRAGUS
Your health. So please you, sir.
IMOGEN
These are kind creatures. Gods, what lies I
have heard!
Our courtiers say all’s savage but at court.
Experience, O, disprov’st report!
Th’ 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 drug.
GUIDERIUS
I could not stir him.
He said he was gentle, but unfortunate;
Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest.
ARVIRAGUS
Thus did he answer me; yet said hereafter
I might know more.
BELARIUS
To th’ field, to th’ field!
We’ll leave you for this time. Go in and rest.
ARVIRAGUS
We’ll not be long away.
BELARIUS
Pray be not sick,
For you must be our huswife.
IMOGEN
Well, or ill,
I am bound to you.
BELARIUS
And be ever.
BELARIUS
This youth, howe’er distress’d, appears he had
Good ancestors.
ARVIRAGUS
How angel-like he sings!
GUIDERIUS
But his neat cookery! He cut our roots in characters,
And sauc’d our broths as Juno had been sick,
And he her dieter.
ARVIRAGUS
Nobly he yokes
A smiling with a sigh, as if the sigh
Was that it was for not being such a smile;
The smile mocking the sigh that it would fly
From so divine a temple to commix
With winds that sailors rail at.
GUIDERIUS
I do note
That grief and patience, rooted in him both,
Mingle their spurs together.
ARVIRAGUS
Grow patience!
And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine
His perishing root with the increasing vine!
BELARIUS
It is great morning. Come, away! Who’s there?
CLOTEN
I cannot find those runagates; that villain
mock’d me. I am faint.
BELARIUS
Those runagates?
Means he not us? I partly know him;
Cloten, the son o’ th’ Queen. I fear some ambush.
I saw him not these many years, and yet
I know he. We are held as outlaws. !
GUIDERIUS
He is but one; you and my brother search
What companies are near. Pray you away;
Let me alone with him.
CLOTEN
Soft! What are you
That fly me thus? Some villain mountaineers?
I have heard of such. What slave art ?
GUIDERIUS
A thing
More slavish did I than answering
A slave without a knock.
CLOTEN
art a robber,
A law-breaker, a villain. Yield , thief.
GUIDERIUS
To who? To ? What art ? Have not I
An arm as big as , a heart as big?
words, I grant, are bigger, for I wear not
My dagger in my mouth. Say what art;
Why I should yield to .
CLOTEN
villain base,
Know’st me not by my clothes?
GUIDERIUS
No, nor tailor, rascal,
Who is grandfather; he made those clothes,
Which, as it seems, make .
CLOTEN
precious varlet,
My tailor made them not.
GUIDERIUS
, then, and thank
The man that gave them . art some fool;
I am loath to beat .
CLOTEN
injurious thief,
Hear but my name, and tremble.
GUIDERIUS
What’s name?
CLOTEN
Cloten, villain.
GUIDERIUS
Cloten, double villain, be name,
I cannot tremble at it. Were it Toad, or Adder, Spider,
’Twould move me sooner.
CLOTEN
To further fear,
Nay, to mere confusion, know
I am son to th’ Queen.
GUIDERIUS
I’m sorry for’t; not seeming
So worthy as birth.
CLOTEN
Art not afeard?
GUIDERIUS
Those that I reverence, those I fear—the wise;
At fools I laugh, not fear them.
CLOTEN
Die the death.
When I have slain with my proper hand,
I’ll follow those that even now fled ,
And on the gates of Lud’s Town set your heads.
Yield, rustic mountaineer.
BELARIUS
No company’s abroad?
ARVIRAGUS
None in the world; you did mistake him, sure.
BELARIUS
I cannot tell; long is it since I saw him,
But time 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
very Cloten.
ARVIRAGUS
In this place we left them.
I wish my brother make good time with him,
You say he is so fell.
BELARIUS
Being scarce made up,
I mean to man, he had not apprehension
Or roaring terrors; for defect of judgement
Is the cease of fear.
BELARIUS
But, see, brother.
GUIDERIUS
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.
BELARIUS
What done?
GUIDERIUS
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 grow,
And set them on Lud’s Town.
BELARIUS
We are all undone.
GUIDERIUS
Why, worthy father, what have we to lose
But that he swore to take, our lives? The law
Protects not us; then why should we be tender
To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us,
Play judge and executioner all himself,
For we do fear the law? What company
Discover you abroad?
BELARIUS
No single soul
Can we set eye on, but in all safe reason
He must have some attendants. Though his
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
Or they so suffering. Then on good ground we fear,
If we do fear this body a tail
More perilous than the head.
ARVIRAGUS
Let ordinance
Come as the gods foresay it. Howsoe’er,
My brother done well.
BELARIUS
I had no mind
To hunt this day; the boy Fidele’s sickness
Did make my way long forth.
GUIDERIUS
With his own sword,
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.
BELARIUS
I fear ’twill be reveng’d.
Would, Polydore, hadst not done’t! though valour
Becomes well enough.
ARVIRAGUS
Would I had done’t,
So the revenge alone pursu’d me! Polydore,
I love brotherly, but envy much
robb’d me of this deed. I would revenges,
That possible strength might meet, would seek us through,
And put us to our answer.
BELARIUS
Well, done.
We’ll hunt no more today, nor seek for danger
Where there’s no profit. I to our rock.
You and Fidele play the cooks; I’ll stay
Till hasty Polydore return, and bring him
To dinner .
ARVIRAGUS
Poor sick Fidele!
I’ll willingly to him; to gain his colour
I’d let a parish of such Cloten’s blood,
And praise myself for charity.
BELARIUS
O goddess,
divine Nature, thyself 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 take the mountain pine
And make him stoop to th’ vale. wonder
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.
GUIDERIUS
Where’s my brother?
I have sent Cloten’s clotpoll down the stream,
In embassy to his mother; his body’s hostage
For his return.
BELARIUS
My ingenious instrument!
Hark, Polydore, it sounds. But what occasion
Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark!
GUIDERIUS
Is he at home?
BELARIUS
He went even now.
GUIDERIUS
What does he mean? Since death of my dear’st mother
It did not speak before. All solemn things
Should answer solemn accidents. The matter?
Triumphs for nothing and lamenting toys
Is jollity for apes and grief for boys.
Is Cadwal mad?
BELARIUS
Look, here he comes,
And brings the dire occasion in his arms
Of what we blame him for!
ARVIRAGUS
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.
GUIDERIUS
O sweetest, fairest lily!
My brother wears not the one half so well
As when grew’st thyself.
BELARIUS
O melancholy!
Who ever yet could sound bottom? find
The ooze to show what coast sluggish crare
Might’st easiliest harbour in? blessed thing!
Jove knows what man mightst have made; but I,
diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy.
How found you him?
ARVIRAGUS
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.
GUIDERIUS
Where?
ARVIRAGUS
O’ th’ floor;
His arms thus leagu’d. I thought he slept, and put
My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness
Answer’d my steps too loud.
GUIDERIUS
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 .
ARVIRAGUS
With fairest flowers,
Whilst summer lasts and I live here, Fidele,
I’ll sweeten sad grave. not lack
The flower that’s like face, pale primrose; nor
The azur’d hare-bell, like veins; no, nor
The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,
Out-sweet’ned not breath. The ruddock would,
With charitable bill (O bill, sore shaming
Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie
Without a monument!) bring all this;
Yea, and furr’d moss besides, when flow’rs are none,
To winter-ground corse—
GUIDERIUS
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.
ARVIRAGUS
Say, where shall’s lay him?
GUIDERIUS
By good Euriphile, our mother.
ARVIRAGUS
Be’t so;
And let us, Polydore, though now our voices
Have got the mannish crack, sing him to th’ ground,
As once to our mother; use like note and words,
Save that Euriphile must be Fidele.
GUIDERIUS
Cadwal,
I cannot sing. I’ll weep, and word it with ;
For notes of sorrow out of tune are worse
Than priests and fanes that lie.
ARVIRAGUS
We’ll speak it, then.
BELARIUS
Great griefs, I see, med’cine 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, make distinction
Of place ’tween high and low. Our foe was princely;
And though you took his life, as being our foe,
Yet bury him as a prince.
GUIDERIUS
Pray you fetch him .
Thersites’ body is as good as Ajax’,
When neither are alive.
ARVIRAGUS
If you’ll go fetch him,
We’ll say our song the whilst. Brother, begin.
GUIDERIUS
Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to th’ East;
My father a reason for’t.
ARVIRAGUS
true.
GUIDERIUS
Come on, then, and remove him.
ARVIRAGUS
So. Begin.
GUIDERIUS
Fear no more the heat o’ th’ sun,
Nor the furious winter’s rages;
worldly task done,
Home art gone, and ta’en wages.
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
ARVIRAGUS
Fear no more the frown o’ th’ great;
art past the tyrant’s stroke.
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To the reed is as the oak.
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this and come to dust.
GUIDERIUS
Fear no more the lightning flash.
ARVIRAGUS
Nor th’ all-dreaded thunder-stone.
GUIDERIUS
Fear not slander, censure rash;
ARVIRAGUS
finish’d joy and moan.
BOTH
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to and come to dust.
GUIDERIUS
No exorciser harm !
ARVIRAGUS
Nor no witchcraft charm !
GUIDERIUS
Ghost unlaid forbear !
ARVIRAGUS
Nothing ill come near !
BOTH
Quiet consummation have,
And renowned be grave!
GUIDERIUS
We have done our obsequies. Come, lay him down.
BELARIUS
Here’s a few flowers; but ’bout midnight, more.
The herbs that have on them cold dew o’ th’ night
Are strewings fit’st for graves. Upon their faces.
You were as flow’rs, now wither’d. Even so
These herblets shall which we upon you strew.
Come on, away. Apart upon our knees.
The ground that gave them first has them again.
Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain.
IMOGEN
Yes, sir, to Milford Haven. Which is the way?
I thank you. By yond bush? Pray, how far ?
’Ods pittikins! can it be six mile yet?
I have gone all night. Faith, I’ll lie down and sleep.
But, soft! no bedfellow. O gods and goddesses!
IMOGEN
These flow’rs are like the pleasures of the world;
This bloody man, the care on’t. I hope I dream;
For so I thought I was a cave-keeper,
And cook to honest creatures. But not so;
but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing,
Which the brain makes of fumes. Our very eyes
Are sometimes, like our judgements, blind. Good faith,
I tremble still with fear; but if there be
Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity
As a wren’s eye, fear’d gods, a part of it!
The dream’s here still. Even when I wake it is
Without me, as within me; not imagin’d, felt.
A headless man? The garments of Posthumus?
I know the shape of’s leg; this is his hand,
His foot Mercurial, his Martial thigh,
The brawns of Hercules; but his Jovial face—
Murder in heaven! How! gone. Pisanio,
All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
And mine to boot, be darted on ! ,
Conspir’d with that irregulous devil, Cloten,
here cut off my lord. To write and read
Be henceforth treacherous! Damn’d Pisanio
with his forged letters (damn’d Pisanio)
From this most bravest vessel of the world
Struck the main-top. O Posthumus! alas,
Where is head? Where’s that? Ay me! where’s that?
Pisanio might have kill’d at the heart,
And left this head on. How should this be? Pisanio?
he and Cloten; malice and lucre in them
Have laid this woe here. O, pregnant, pregnant!
The drug he gave me, which he said was precious
And cordial to me, have I not found it
Murd’rous to th’ senses? That confirms it home.
This is Pisanio’s deed, and Cloten. O!
Give colour to my pale cheek with blood,
That we the horrider may seem to those
Which chance to find us. O, my lord, my lord!
CAPTAIN
To them the legions garrison’d in Gallia,
After your will, have cross’d the sea, attending
You here at Milford Haven; with your ships,
They are in readiness.
LUCIUS
But what from Rome?
CAPTAIN
The Senate stirr’d up the confiners
And gentlemen of Italy, most willing spirits,
That promise noble service; and they come
Under the conduct of bold Iachimo,
Sienna’s brother.
LUCIUS
When expect you them?
CAPTAIN
With the next benefit o’ th’ wind.
LUCIUS
This forwardness
Makes our hopes fair. Command our present numbers
Be muster’d; bid the captains look to’t. Now, sir,
What have you dream’d of late of this war’s purpose?
SOOTHSAYER
Last night the very gods show’d me a vision
(I fast and pray’d for their intelligence) thus:
I saw Jove’s bird, the Roman eagle, wing’d
From the spongy south to this part of the west,
There vanish’d in the sunbeams; which portends,
Unless my sins abuse my divination,
Success to th’ Roman host.
LUCIUS
Dream often so,
And never false. Soft, ho! what trunk is here
Without his top? The ruin speaks that sometime
It was a worthy building. How? a page?
Or dead or sleeping on him? But dead, rather;
For nature abhor to make his bed
With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead.
Let’s see the boy’s face.
CAPTAIN
He’s alive, my lord.
LUCIUS
He’ll then instruct us of this body. Young one,
Inform us of fortunes; for it seems
They crave to be demanded. Who is this
mak’st bloody pillow? Or who was he
That, otherwise than noble nature did,
alter’d that good picture? What’s interest
In this sad wreck? How came’t? Who is’t?
What art ?
IMOGEN
I am nothing; or if not,
Nothing to be were better. This was my master,
A very valiant Briton and a good,
That here by mountaineers lies slain. Alas!
There is no more such masters. I may wander
From east to occident; cry out for service;
Try many, all good; serve truly; never
Find such another master.
LUCIUS
’Lack, good youth!
mov’st no less with complaining than
master in bleeding. Say his name, good friend.
IMOGEN
Richard du Champ. If I do lie, and do
No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope
They’ll pardon it.—Say you, sir?
LUCIUS
name?
IMOGEN
Fidele, sir.
LUCIUS
approve thyself the very same;
name well fits faith, faith name.
Wilt take chance with me? I will not say
be so well master’d; but, be sure,
No less belov’d. The Roman Emperor’s letters,
Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner
Than own worth prefer . Go with me.
IMOGEN
I’ll follow, sir. But first, an’t please the gods,
I’ll hide my master from the flies, as deep
As these poor pickaxes can dig; and when
With wild wood-leaves and weeds I ha’ strew’d his grave,
And on it said a century of prayers,
Such as I can, twice , I’ll weep and sigh;
And leaving so his service, follow you,
So please you entertain me.
LUCIUS
Ay, good youth;
And rather father than master .
My friends,
The boy taught us manly duties; let us
Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can,
And make him with our pikes and partisans
A grave. Come, arm him. Boy, he is preferr’d
By to us; and he shall be interr’d
As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe eyes.
Some falls are means the happier to arise.