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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 clothes?

Guid. No, nor thy taylor, rascal,

Who is thy grandfather; he made those clothes, Which, as it seems, make thee.

Clot. Thou precious varlet,

My taylor made them not.

Guid. Hence then, and thank


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

Clot. Thou injurious thief,

Hear but my name, and tremble.

Guid. What's thy name?

Clot. Cloten, thou villain.

Guid. Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name,

I cannot tremble at it; were it toad, adder, spider, Twould move me sooner.

Clot. To thy further fear,

Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know
I am son to the queen.

Guid. I am sorry for't; not seeming

So worthy as thy birth.

Clot. Art not afeard?

Guid. Those that I reverence, those I fear the wise:

At fools I laugh, not fear them.

Clot. Die the death:

30 When I have slain thee with my proper hund,
I'll follow those that even now fled hence,
And on the gates of Lud's town set your heads:
Yield, rustic mountaineer. [Fight, and exeunt:
Enter Belarius, and Arviragus.

Bel. It is great morning. Come; away.-35
Who's there?

Enter Cloten.

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' 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.

Guid. He is but one: You and my brother search What companies are near: pray you, away; Let me alone with him.

[Exeunt Belarius and Arviragus. Clot. Soft! What are you

That fly me thus? some villain mountaineers?
I have heard of such.-What slave art thou?
Guid. A thing

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

Clot. Thou art a robber,

A law-breaker, a villain: Yield thee, thief. Guid. To who? to thee? What art thou?

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Bel. No company's abroad.

Arv. None in the world: You did mistake
himi, sure.

Bel. I cannot tell: Long is it since I saw him,
But time hath nothing blurr'd those lines of favour
40 Which then he wore; the snatches in his voice,
And burst of speaking, were as his: I am absolute,
Twas very

Aro. In this place we left them:

I wish my brother make good time with him, 45 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 judgement
Is oft the cause of fear.-But see, thy brother.
Re-enter Guiderius, with Cloten's head.

Guid. 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

55 My head, as I do his.

Bel. What hast thou done?

Guid. I am perfect, what': cut off one Cloten's


Son to the queen, after his own report;

60 Who call'd me traitor, mountaineer; and swore, With his own single hand he'd take us in,

■ Stir for move. Gentle implies well-born, of birth above the vulgar. word for the fibres of a tree. A Gallicism. Grand-jour. •To take in means, here, to conquer, to subdue.

3 N 2

3 Spurs, an old i. e. well-informed, what. Displace

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I'd let a parish of such Cloten's blood,
And praise myself for charity.

Bel. O thou goddess,

Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st 5 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 rudest wind,
That by the top doth take the mountain pine,
10 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
15 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.

He must have some attendants. Tho' his honour
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 out-laws, and in time
May make some stronger head; the which he 20


(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 Guiderius.

Guid. Where's my brother?

I have sent Cloten's clot-pole down the stream,
In enrbassy to his mother; his body's hostage
For his return.
[Solemn musick.

Bel. My ingenious instrument!

Or they so suffering: then on good ground we fear; 25 Hark, Polydore, it sounds! But what occasion

If we do fear this body hath a tail

More perilous than the head.

Arv. Let ordinance

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Arv. Poor sick Fidele!

I'll willingly to him: To gain his colour,

1 For is here used in the sense of because.

the fashion, which was perpetually changing. the cave tedious.

Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark!
Guid. Is he at home?

Bel. He went hence even now.

Guid. What does he mean? since death of my
dearest 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?

Re-enter Arviragus, with Imogen as dead, bearing
her in his arms.

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

Art. The bird is dead,

That we have made so much on. I had rather
Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty,
And turn'd my leaping time into a crutch,
45 Than have seen this.

Guid. O sweetest, fairest lily!

My brother wears thee not the one half so well,
As when thou grew'st thyself.

Bel. O, melancholy!

50 Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find 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',

55 Thou dy'dst, a most rare boy, of melancholy!— How found you him?

Art. Stark, as you see;

Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled slumber,

2 That is, The only notion he had of honour was i. e. Fidele's sickness made my walk forth from

i. e. such pursuit of vengeance as fell within any possibility of opposition.

A crare is a small trading vessel, called in the Latin of the middle ages crayera. The word often occurs in Holinshed. The incaning is, "Jove knows what man thou night'st have made,

but I know thou dy’dst.”


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[rudeness My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose Answer'd my steps too loud.

Guid. 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.

Arv. With fairest flowers,

Whilst summer lasts, and I live herc, Fidele,


I'll sweeten thy sad grave: Thou shalt not lack 15
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 2|
With charitable bill (O bill, sore-shaming [would, 20
Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie
Without a monument!) bring thee all this; [none,
Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are
To winter-ground thy corse.

Guid. Pry'thee, have done;

And do not pray 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?

Guid. By good Euriphele, our mother.
Arc. Be't so;

And let us, Polydore, though now our voices
Have got the mannish crack,sing him totheground,
As once our mother; use like note, and words, 35
Save that Euriphele 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.

Art. We'll speak it then.


Bel. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less; for Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys; And, though he came our enemy, remember,


Guid. Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the 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 heat o' the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages:
Both 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 cloath, and eat;

To thee the reed is as the oak:
The scepter, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.
Guid. Fear no more the lightning flash,
Arv. Nor all the dreaded thunder-stone;
Guid. Fear not slander, censure rash;
Arv. Thou hast finish'd joy and moan:
Both. All lovers young, all lovers must

Consign' to thee, and come to dust.
Guid. No exorciser harm thee!
Arv. Nor no witch-craft charm thee !
Guid. Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Arv. Nothing ill come near thee!
Both. Quiet consummation have;
And renowned be thy grave!

Re-enter Belarius, with the body of Cloten.
Guid. We have done our obsequies: Come, lay`

him down.

Bel. Here's a few flowers; but about midnight,



40 The herbs that have on them the cold dew o' the
Are strewings fitt'st for graves.--Upon their faces:--
You were as flowers, now wither'd; even so
These herb'lets shall, which we upon you strow.-
Come on, away: apart upon our knees.

He was paid for that: Though mean and mighty 45 The ground, that gave them first, has them again:

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And though you took his life, as being our foe, 50 I thank you. By yon bush?—Pray, how far

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Clouted brogues are shoes strengthened with clout or hob-nails. In some parts of England, thin plates of iron called clouts are likewise fixed to the shoes of ploughmen. The ruddock is the red3 Paid is here used for punished. breast, to which bird the office of covering the dead is ascribed. Meaning, that reverence, or due regard to subordination, is the power which keeps peace and order in the world. 'To consign to thee, is to seal the same contract with thee, i. e. add their names to thine upon the register of death. This diminutive adjuration is derived from God's my pity.

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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 'tis not so;
'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing,
Which the brain makes of fumes. Our very eyes 5
Are sometimes like our judgements, blind. Good

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 his leg: this is his hand;
His foot Mercurial; his Martial thigh;
The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovial' face-
Murder in heaven?-How?-'Tis gone.-Pisanio,
All curses madded Hecuba gave the Grecks,
And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou,
Conspir'd with that irregulous' devil, Cloten,
Hast here cut off my lord.-To write, and read,
Be henceforth treacherous!Damn'd Pisanio
Hath with his forged letters, damn'd Pisanio-
From this most bravest vessel of the world
Struck the main top!--O, Posthumus! alas,
Where is thy head? where's that? Ay me!

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where's that?

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[From the spungy south to this part of the west,
There vanish'd in the sun-beams: which portends
(Unless my sins abuse my divination)
Success to the Roman host.

Luc. 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:
10 For nature doth abhor to make his bed
With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead.—
Let's see the boy's face.


Cap. He is alive, my lord.


Luc. He'll then instruct us of this body.--Young
Inform us of thy fortunes; for, it seems,
They crave to be demanded: Who is this,
Thou mak'st thy bloody pillow? Or who is he,
That otherwise than noble nature did*,
Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy inte
20 In this sad wreck? How came it? Who is it?
What art thou?



The drug he gave me, which, he said, was pre-
And cordial to me, have I not found it
Murd'rous to the senses? That confirms it home:35
This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's: O!
Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood,
That we the horrider may seem to those
Which chance to find us; O, my

lord! my


Enter Lucius, Captains, &c. and a Soothsayer. Cap, 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.

Luc. But what from Rome?

Cap. The senate hath 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, Syenna's brother,

Luc. When expect you them?

Cap. With the next benefit o' the wind.
Luc. This forwardness


Imo. 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 are 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.

Luc. 'Lack, good youth!

Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining, than
Thy master in bleeding: Say his name, good friend.
Imo. Richard du Champ. If I do lye, and do
No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope

They'll pardon it. Say you, sir?
Luc. Thy name?
Imo. Fidele, sir.


Luc. Thou dost approve thyself the very same:
Thy name well fits thy faith; thy faith, thy name.
Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say,
Thou shalt 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
45 Than thine own worth prefer thee: Go with me.
Imo. I'll follow, sir. But, first, an't please
the gods,

I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep
As these poor pick-axes' can dig: and when
50 With wild wood leaves and weeds I have strew'd
his grave,

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1 forial face signifies in this place, such a face as belongs to Jove. 2 i. e. lawless, licentious. i. e. the gods themselves.

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The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn,
Are landed on your coast; with a supply
Of Roman gentlemen, by the senate sent.
Cym. Now for the counsel of my son, and

I am amaz'd with matter'.

Lord. Good my liege,

Your preparation can affront no less

Than what you hear of; come more, for more
you're ready:

The want is, but to put these powers in motion,
That long to move.

We fear not

Cym. I thank you: Let's withdraw: And meet the time, as it seeks us. What can from Italy annoy us; but We grieve at chances here.-Away.

Bel. Sons,

We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us.
To the king's party there's no going: newness
Of Cloten's death (we being not known, nor

Among the bands) may drive us to a render"
Where we have liv'd; and to extort from us that
30 Which we have done, whose answer' would be
Drawn on with torture.


Guid. This is, sir, a doubt,

In such a time, nothing becoming you,
Nor satisfying us.

Arv. It is not likely,


That when they hear the Roman horses neigh,
Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes
And ears so cloy'd importantly as now,
That they will waste their time upon our note,
40 To know from whence we are.

Bel. O, I am known

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[Exeunt. 55

Pisan. I heard no letter from my master, since I wrote him, Imogen was slain: "Tis strange: Nor hear I from my mistress, who did promise To yield me often tidings: Neither know I What is betid to Cloten; but remain

Guid. Than be so,

Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to the army:
I and my brother are not known; yourself,
So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown,
Cannot be question'd,

Aro. By this sun that shines,

I'll thither: What thing is it, that I never
Did see man die? scarce ever look'd on blood,
But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison ?
60 Never bestrid a horse, save one, that had

1i. e. take him up in your arms. That is, My suspicion is yet undetermined. with variety of business. i. e. can face no less, &c. í. e. observation. account. i. e. The retaliation of the death of Cloten would be death, &c. regularly disposed.

3 N 4


'i. e. confounded Render means an i. e. their fires

A rider

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