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,

No single 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; 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 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.
Gui.
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.
[Exit.
I fear, 'twill be reveng'd:
'Would, Polydore, thou had'st not done't! though

Bel.

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.

I have sent Cloten's clotpoll down the stream,
In embassy to his mother; his body's hostage
For his return.
[Solemn musick.
Bel.
My ingenious instrument!
Hark, Polydore, it sounds! But what occasion
Hath Cadwal now to give it motion! Hark!
Gui. Is he at home?

O, melancholy! Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare Might easiliest harbour in?- Thou blessed thing! Jove knows what man thou might'st have made; but I, Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy ! How found you him?

Arv.

Stark, as you see:

Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled slumber,
Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at: his right check
Reposing on a cushion.

Gui.

Arv.

Where?

O'the 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.

Gui.

Why, he but sleeps: If he be gone, ne'll make his grave a bed; With female fairies will his tomb be haunted, And worms will not come to thee.

With fairest flowers,

Arv. 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 ruddock wcuid, With charitable bill (O bill, sore-shaming

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,
otting

Together, have one dust; yet reverence,
(That angel of the world,) doth 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.

Gui.
Pray you, fetch him hither.
Thersites' body is as good as Ajax,
When neither are alive.

Arv.
We'll say our song the whilst.

If you'll go fetch him, Brother, begin. [Exit BELARIUS. lay his head to the

Gu. Nay, Cadwal, we must

Gut. 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: Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

Irv. 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 sceptre, 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. Gu. No exorciser harm thee! Arv. Nor no witchcraft charm thee! Gur. 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.

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

more:

The herbs, that have on them cold dew o'the night,
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.
The ground, that gave them first, has them again ·
Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain.
[Exeunt BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ÁRVIRAGUS.
Imo. [Awaking.] Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven;
Which is the way?

I thank you. - By yon bush? - Pray, how far thither?

-can it be six miles yet?.

'Ods pittikins! I have gone all night: -'faith, I'll 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 of nothing, shot at nothing,
Which the brain makes of fumes: Our very eyes
Are sometimes like our judgments, blind.
faith,

Good

From this most bravest vessel of the world
Struck the main-top! - - O, Posthúmus! alas,
Where is thy head? where's that? Ah me! where's

that?

Pisanio might have kill'd thee the heart,
And left this head on. how should this be?

Pisanio?

'Tis he, and Cloten: malice and lucre in them
Have laid this woe here. O, 'tis pregnant, pregnant
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

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.
Sir, my life is yours,

Pis.

I humbly set it at your will: But, for my mistress,
I nothing know where she remains, why gone,
Nor when she purposes return.
'Beseech your

highness,

Good my liege,

1 Lord.
The day that she was missing, he was here:
I dare be bound he's true, and shall perform
All parts of his subjection loyally.
For Cloten,-

There wants no diligence in seeking him,
And will, no doubt, be found.

The time's troublesome :

Cym We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy [TO PISANIO.