SCENE I. Wales. The Forest, near the Cave. | In my good brother's fault: I know not why Enter CLOTEN. Clo. I am near to the place where they should meet, if Pisanio have mapped it truly. How fit his garments serve me! Why should his mistress not fit too? Therein I must play the workman. I dare speak it to myself, (for it is not vain-glory, for a man and his glass to confer,-in his own chamber, I mean,) the lines of my body are as well drawn as his; no less young, more strong, not beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in the advantage of the time, above him in birth, alike conversant in general services, and more remarkable in single oppositions 5 yet this imperseverant thing loves him in my despite. What mortality is! Posthumus, thy head, which now is growing upon thy shoulders, shall within this hour be off; thy mistress enforced; thy garments cut to pieces before thy face: and all this done, spurn her home to her father: who may, haply, be a little angry for my so rough usage; but my mother, having power of his testiness, shall turn all into my commendations. My horse is tied up safe: Out sword, and to a sore purpose! Fortune! put them into my hand! This is the very description of their meeting-place; and the fellow dares not deceive me. [Exit. Bel. You are not well: [To IMOGEN.] remain For you must be our housewife. here in the cave; We'll come to you after hunting. Arv. Are we not brothers? Imo. Brother, stay here: Imo. I am bound to you. Bel. Pray, be not sick, Well, or ill, And so shalt be ever. This youth, howe'er distress'd, appears, he hath had Arv. So man and man should be; Good ancestors. How angel-like he sings! Arv. Nobly he yokes To seem to die, ere sick: So please you leave me ; A smiling with a sigh: as if the sigh Arv. In this place we left them; I wish my brother made good time with him, Bel. Being scarce made up, Re-enter GUIDERIUS with CLOTEN'S Head. Bel. What hast thou done? Gui. 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 o, Displace our heads, where (thank the gods!) they grow, And set them on Lud's town. Bel. We are all undone. Gui. 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? Bel. No single soul To come alone, either he so undertaking, Arv. Let ordinance howsoe'er, Come as the gods foresay it: Gui. Bel. I fear 'twill be reveng'd: 'Would, Polydore, thou hadst not done't! though valour Becomes thee well enough. Arv. 'Would I had done't, Polydore, So the revenge alone pursued me! I'll willingly to him: To gain his colour, [Erit. Gui. Re-enter GUIDERIUS. Where's my brother? I have sent Cloten's clot-poll 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 If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed; Arv. 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. - To the grave. Arv. 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. We'll speak it then. Bel. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less: for Arv. Cloten Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys: Together, have one dust; yet reverence, Re-enter ARVIRAGUS, bearing IMOGEN as dead, in (That angel of the world,) doth make distinction Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely Gui. Arv. 'Pray you, fetch him hither. If you'll go fetch him, [Erit BELARIUS. We'll say our song the whilst. - Brother, begin. Gui. Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the A slow-sailing, unwieldy vessel. 6 Stiff. 8 The red-breast. 9 Probably a corrupt reading, for, wither round thy corse. |