Arv.

Poor sick Fidele !
I'll willingly to him: To gain his colour,
I'd let a parish of such Clotens blood,
And praise myself for charity.

Bel.

[Erit.
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 hin 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.

Gui.

Re-enter 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.
[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?

Bel.

He went hence even now. Gui. 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,
1s Cadwal mad?

would,

Out-sweeten'd not thy breath; the ruddock
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 thy corse.
Gui.
And do not play in wench like words with that
'Pr'ythee, have done
Which is so serious. Let us bury him,
And not protract with admiration what
Is now due debt.-To the grave.
Avr.

Arv.

Say, where shall's lay him Gui. By good Euriphile, our mother. 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
For notes of sorrow, out of tune, are worse
Than priest and fanes that lie

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
(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,

Re-enter Arviragus, bearing Imogen, as dead, Yet bury him as a prince.

Bel.

in his Arms.

Look, here he comes,

And brings the dire occasion in his arms,
Of what we blame him for!

Arv.
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.

Gui.
O sweetest, fairest lily!
My brother wears thee not the one half so well,
As when thou grew'st thyself.

Bel.

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|

cheek

Gui. 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.
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 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 lover's 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.

Bel. Here's a few flowers, but abou. midnight, (Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't—Now,

'Tis he, and Cloten: malice and lucre in them Have laid this wo here. O, 'tis pregnant, preg-Than thine own worth prefer thee: Go with me

A madness, of which her life's in danger :-Nor satisfying us.
Heavens,
Arv.

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 iny mistress,
I nothing know where she remains, why gone,
Nor when she purposes return. 'Beseech your
highness,

Hold me your loyal servant.
1 Lord.

Good, my liege,
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.
Cym
The time's troublesome:
'We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy

Does yet depend. 1 Lord.

[To Pisanio. So please your majesty, 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, queen;

I am aina:'d with matter.

1 Lord.

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,
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.
Than be so,

Gui.
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 questioned.

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 ?
Never bestrid a horse, save one, that had
A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel
Nor iron on his heel? I am asham'd
To look upon the holy sun, to have
The benefit of his bless'd beams, remaining
and So long a poor unknown.
Gui.
By heavens, I'll go:
If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave,
I'll take the better care; but if you will not,
The hazard therefore due fall on me, by
The hands of Romans!

Good my liege,
Your preparation can affront no less
Than what you hear of: come more, for more
you're ready:

Arv.

So say I; Amen.
Bel. No reason I, since on your lives you set
So slight a valuation, should reserve
My crack'd one to more care. Have with yon,
boys;

If in your country wars you chance to die,
That is my bed too, lads, and there I'll lie
Lead, lead.-The time seems long; their blood
thinks scorn,
[Aside.

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 iny 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 SCENE L. A Field between the British and

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.
[Exit.

SCENE IV. Before the Cave.
Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.
Gui. The noise is round about us.
Bel.

Let us from it.
Arv. What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it
From action and adventure?

Gui.
Nay, what hope
Have we in hiding us? this way, the Romans
Must or for Britons slay us; or receive us
For barbarous and unnatural revolts
During their use, and slay us after.
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, not
muster'd

Among the bands) may drive us to a render
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,

Till it fly out, and show them princes born.

ACT V.

Roman Camps.

[Exeunt.

Enter Posthumus, with a bloody Handkerchief. Post. Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee; for I wish'd

Thou should'st 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 ?-0, 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. But,
alack,

You snatch some hence for little faults; that's
love,

To have them fall no more: you some permit
To second ills with ills, each elder worse;
And make them dread it to the doer's shrift.
But Imogen is your own: Do your best wills,
And make me bless'd to obey !-I am brought
hither

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.

In doing this for his country;-athwart the lane,
He, with two striplings (lads more like to run
The country base, 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,

A distaff to a lance,) gilded pale looks,
Part, shame, part, spirit renew'd; that some,
turn'd coward

Enter at one side Lucius, Iachimo, and the Ro-Three thousand confident, in act as many man Army; at the other side, the British Ar- (For three performers are the file, when all any Leonatus Posthumus following it, like a The rest do nothing,) with this word, stand, - stand, poor Soldier. They march over, and go out. Alarums. Then enter again ir skirmish, Accommodated by the place, more charming, Iachimo, and Posthumus: he vanquisheth and With their own nobleness, (which could have turn'd disarmeth lachimo, 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, A very drudge of nature's, have subdu'd me, In my profession? Knighthoods and honours, 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.

borne

[Exit.

But by example (0, a sin in war,
Damn'd in the first 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

The Battle continues! the Britons fly; Cymbe- (Like fragments in hard voyages,) became line is taken: then enter to his rescue, Bela-The life of the need; having found the back-door rius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.

open

Bel. Stand, stand! We have the advantage of Of the unguarded hearts, Heavens, how they

the ground;

The lane is guarded: nothing routs us, but
The villany of our fears.
Gui. Arv.
Stand, stand, and fight!
Enter Posthumus, and seconds the Britons:
They rescue Cymbeline, and exeunt. Then,
enter Lucius, Iachimo, and Imogen.
Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and
thyself:

save

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 er betimes
Let's reinforce, or fly.

[Exeunt.

More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling

Merely through fear; that the strait pass was
damm'd

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;

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,
'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 de,

Post.

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

Farewell, you are angry. [Erit
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 ho-

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 slaugh er is Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier,-Here made by the Roman; great the answer he An honest one, I warrant; who deserv'd

Britons must take: For me, my ransome's denua;

So long a breeding, as his white beard came to, On either side I come to spend my breath;

"Tis thought, the old man and his sons were an-Thou should'st have been, and shielded him gels.

2 Cup. There was a fourth man, in a silly habit, That gave the affront with them.

So 'tis reported:

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

Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds
Had answer'd him.

2 Cap.
Lay hands on him! a dog!
A leg of Rome shall not return to tell
What crows have peck'd them here. He brags
his service
As if he were of note: bring him to the king.
Enter Cymbeline, attended: Belarius, Guide-
rius, Arviragus, Pisanio, and Roman Captives.
The Captains present Posthumus to Cymbeline,
who delivers him over to a Gaoler: after which,
all go out.

SCENE IV. A Prison.

Enter Posthumus, and Two Gaolers.

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