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.

Answer'd my steps too loud.

Gui.

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 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 rudduck 8 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 9 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.

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.
Arv.
We'll speak it then.
Bel. Great griefs, I see, medicine 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,

8 The red-breast.

9 Probably a corrupt reading, for, wither round thy corse.

Arv. Fear no more the frown o' the great,

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

To thee the reed is as the oak: The scepter, learning, physick, must All follow this, and come to dust.

Gui. Fear no more the lightning flash,
Arv. Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Gui. 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.
Gui. No exorciser harm thee!
Arv. Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Gui. 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. Gui. We have done our obsequies: Come, lay

him down.

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. The ground, that gave them first, has them again; Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain. [Exeunt BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.

Imo. [Awaking.] Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; which is the way?

1

Pray, how far

I thank you.
By yon bush? -
thither?
Is't possible it can be six miles yet?
I have gone all night: - I will lie down and sleep.
But, soft, no bedfellow : O, gods and goddesses!
[Seeing the Body.
These flowers 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 'tis not so;
Twas but a bolt 3 of nothing, shot at nothing,
Which the brain makes of fumes: Our very eyes
Are sometimes like our judgments, blind.

faith,

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 Posthúmus!
I know the shape of his leg: this is his hand;
His foot Mercurial; his martial thigh:
The brawns of Hercules: but his jovial 4 face
Murder in heaven? How?-'Tis gone.

sanio,

Pi

All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou,
Conspir'd with that irregulous 5 devil, Cloten,
Hast here cut off my lord. - To write, and read,
Be henceforth treacherous. O Pisanio,
Pisanio, with his forged letters, hath

3 An arrow.

! Judgment. 2 Seal the same contract. 4 A face like Jove's. 5 Lawless, licentious.

The drug he gave me, which, he said, was precious
And cordial to me, have I not found it
Murd'rous to the senses? That confirms it home:
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 lord!

Enter LUCIUS, a Captain, and other Officers, 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 here 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, Sienna's brother.

Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't. Now, sir, What have you dream'd, of late, of this war's pur pose?

Sooth. 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 the Roman host. Luc.

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
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 pickaxes 7 can dig: and when
With wild wood-leaves and weeds I have strew'd
his grave,

And on it said a century of prayers,

Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep, and sigh;
And, leaving so his service, follow you,
So please you entertain me.
Luc.

Ay, good youth;
And rather father thee, than master thee.
My friends,

The boy hath taught us manly duties: Let us
Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can,
And make him with our pikes and partizans
A grave: Come, arm him. Boy, he is preferr'd
By thee to us; and he shall be interr'd,
As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes:
Some falls are means the happier to arise. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

A Room in Cymbeline's Palace.

Enter CYMBELINE, Lords, and PISANIO. Cym. Again; and bring me word how 'tis with her.

A fever with the absence of her son;

A madness, of which her life's in danger :-
Heavens,

How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen,
The great part of my comfort, gone: my queen
Upon a desperate bed; and in a time
When fearful wars point at me; her son gone,
So needful for this present: It strikes me, past
The hope of comfort. - But for thee, fellow,
Who needs must know of her departure, and
Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee
By a sharp torture.

Pis.

Sir, my life is yours:

ready:

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

Cym. I thank you: Let's withdraw: And meet the time, as it seeks us. We fear not What can from Italy annoy us; but We grieve at chances here. Away. [Exeunt. Pis. 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

Perplex'd in all. The heavens still must work: Wherein I am false, I am honest; not true, to be true. These present wars shall find I love my country, Even to the note ' o'the king, or I'll fall in them. All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd: Fortune brings in some boats, that are not steer'd.

SCENE IV.

[Exit.

Before the Cave.

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, not muster'd
Among the bands) may drive us to a render 3
Where we have liv'd; and so extort from us
That which we've done, whose answer would be
death
Drawn on with torture.

Gui.
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 4,
To know from whence we are.
Bel.

O, I am known Of many in the army: many years, Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore

him

From my remembrance. And, besides, the king
Hath not deserv'd my service, nor your loves;
Who find in my exile the want of breeding,
The certainty of this hard life; aye hopeless
To have the courtesy your cradle promis'd,
But to be still hot summer's tanlings, and
The shrinking slaves of winter.

8 Confounded by a variety of business.
I Notice. 2 Revolters. 3 An account.

9 Encounter.

• Noticing us.

Thou shouldst be colour'd thus. You married ones,
If each of you would take this course, how many
Must murder wives much better than themselves,
For wrying but a little-O, Pisanio!
Every good servant does not all commands:
No bond, but to do just ones. -Gods! if you
Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I never
Had liv'd to put on this: so had you saved
The noble Imogen to repent; and struck
Me, wretch, more worth your vengeance.
alack,

But,

Among the Italian gentry, and to fight
Against my lady's kingdom: 'Tis enough
That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress; peace!
I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heavens,
Hear patiently my purpose: I'll disrobe me
Of these Italian weeds, and suit myself
As does a Briton peasant: so I'll fight
Against the part I come with; so I'll die
For thee, O Imogen, even for whom my life
Is, every breath, a death: and thus, unknown,
Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril
Myself I'll dedicate. Let me make men know
More valour in me, than my habits show.
Gods put the strength o' the Leonati in me!
To shame the guise o' the world, I will begin
The fashion, less without, and more within! [Exit.

SCENE II. The same.

Enter, at one side, LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and the Roman
Army; at the other side, the British Army;
LEONATUS POSTHUMUS following it, like a poor
Soldier. They march over, and go out. Alarums.
Then enter again in skirmish, IACHIMO and POST-
Deviating from the right way.
6 Incite, instigate.

HUMUS; he vanquisheth and disarmeth IACHIMO, and then leaves him.

Iach. The heaviness and guilt within my bosom Takes off my manhood: I have belied a lady, The princess of this country, and the air on't Revengingly enfeebles me; Or could this carl 7, A very drudge of nature's, have subdu'd me, In my profession? Knighthoods and honours, borne As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn. If that thy gentry, Britain, go before This lout, as he exceeds our lords, the odds Is, that we scarce are men, and you are gods. [Exit. The Battle continues, the Britons fly; CYMBELINE is taken then enter to his rescue, BELArius, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.

Bel. Stand, stand! We have the advantage of the ground;

The lane is guarded: nothing routs us, but
The villainy of our fears.

Gui. Arv.

Stand, stand, and fight!

Enter POSTHUMUS, and seconds the Britons. They rescue CYMBELINE, and exeunt. Then, enter LUCIUS, LACHIMO, and IMOGEN.

Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself: For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such As war were hood-wink'd.

Iach. 'Tis their fresh supplies. Luc. It is a day turn'd strangely or betimes Let's reinforce, or fly. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

I did.

Another Part of the Field. Enter POSTHUMUS and a British Lord. Lord. Cam'st thou from where they made the stand? Post. I did: Though you, it seems, come from the fliers. Lord. Post. No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost, But that the heavens fought: The king himself Of his wings destitute, the army broken, And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying Through a strait lane; the enemy full-hearted, Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having work More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling

7 Clown.

Merely through fear; that the strait path was

damm'd 8

With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards living
To die with lengthen'd shame.
Lord.
Where was this lane?
Post. Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd
with turf;

Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier, —
An honest one, I warrant; who deserv'd

So long a breeding, as his white beard came to,
In doing this for his country; -athwart the lane,
He, with two striplings, (lads more like to run
The country base 9, than to commit such slaughter;
With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer
Than those for preservation cas'd, or shame,)
Made good the passage; cry'd to those that fled,
Our Britain's harts die flying, not our men:
To darkness fleet, souls that fly backwards! Stand;
Or we are Romans, and will give you that

Like beasts, which you shun beastly; and may save, But to look back in frown: stand, stand. - These three,

Three thousand confident, in act as many,
(For three performers are the file, when all
The rest do nothing,) with this word, Stand, stand,
Accommodated by the place, more charming,
With their own nobleness, (which could have turn'd
A distaff to a lance,) gilded pale looks,
Part, shame, part, spirit renew'd; that some, turn'd

coward

But by example (O, a sin in war,
Foulest in the beginners!) 'gan to look

The way that they did, and to grin like lions
Upon the pikes o' the hunters.
Then began

A stop i' the chaser, a retire; anon,
A rout, confusion thick: Forthwith they fly
Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles; slaves,
The strides they victors made: and now our cowards
(Like fragments in hard voyages,) became

The life o' the need; having found the back-door open
Of the unguarded hearts, heavens, how they wound!
Some, slain before; some, dying; some, their friends
O'erborne i' the former wave: ten, chas'd by one,
Are now each one, the slaughter-man of twenty:
Those, that would die or ere resist, are grown
The mortal bugs o' the field.

Lord.
This was strange chance:
A narrow lane! an old man, and two boys!
Post. Nay, do not wonder at it: You are made
Rather to wonder at the things you hear,
Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon't,
And vent it for a mockery? Here is one :
Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane,
Preserv'd the Britons, was the Romans' bane.
Lord. Nay, be not angry, sir.
Post.

'Lack, to what end? Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his friend:

For if he'll do, as he is made to do,

I know, he'll quickly fly my friendship too.
You have put me into rhyme.
Lord.

Farewell, you are angry. [Exit. Post. Still going? - This is a lord! O noble misery!

To be i' the field, and ask, what news of me!
To-day, how many would have given their honours
To have sav'd their carcasses? took heel to do't,

And yet died too? I, in mine own woe charm'd, Could not find death, where I did hear him groan; Nor feel him, where he struck: Being an ugly monster,

'Tis strange, he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds,
Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we
That draw his knives i' the war. — Well, I will find
him:

For being now a favourer to the Roman,
No more a Briton, I have resum'd again
The part I came in: Fight I will no more,
But yield me to the veriest hind, that shall
Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is
Here made by the Roman; great the answer be
Britons must take; For me, my ransom's death;
On either side I come to spend my breath;
Which neither here I'll keep, nor bear again,
But end it by some means for Imogen.

Enter two British Captains, and Soldiers.

1 Cap. Great Jupiter be prais'd! Lucius is taken: 'Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels. 2 Cap. There was a fourth man, in a silly habit, That gave the affront with them. 1 Cap. So 'tis reported:

But none of them can be found. - Stand! who is there?

1 Gaol. You shall not now be stolen, you have locks upon you;

So, graze, as you find pasture. 2 Gaol.

Ay, or a stomach. [Exeunt Gaolers. Post. Most welcome bondage! for thou art a way, I think, to liberty: Yet am I better Than one that's sick o' the gout; since he had rather Groan so in perpetuity, than be cur'd

By the sure physician, death; who is the key To unbar these locks. My conscience! thou art fetter'd

More than my shanks, and wrists: You good gods, give me

The penitent instrument, to pick that bolt,
Then free for ever! Is't enough, I am sorry?
So children temporal fathers do appease ;
Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent?
I cannot do it better than in gyves 3,
Desir'd, more than constrain'd: to satisfy,
If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take
No stricter render of me than my all.
I know, you are more clement than vile men,
Who of their broken debtors take a third,
A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again
On their abatement; that's not my desire:
Encounter.
> Fetters.