Aro. 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, he'll make his grave a bed; And worms will not come to thee. Arv.. With fairest flowers, Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none, To winter-ground thy corse. Gui. Prythee, have done; And do not play in wench-like words with that Which is so serious. Let us bury him, 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, Gui. Cadwal, I cannot sing: I'll weep, and word it with thee: Than priests 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; 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, We'll say our song the whilst.-Brother, begin. [Exit Belarius. Gui. Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the east; My father hath a reason for't. Arv. 'Tis true. Gui. Come on then, and remove him. So,-Begin. SONG. Gui. Fear no more the heat o'the sun, 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 scepter, learning, physick, must All follow this, and come to dust. Gui. Fear no more the lightning-flash, Gui. No exorciser harm thee ! |