« AnteriorContinuar »
I cannot tremble at it; were't toad, or adder, spider, 'Twould move me sooner.
Clo. To thy further fear,
Nay, to thy niere confusion, thou shalt know
I'm sou to the queen.
Gui. I'm sorry for't; not seeming
So worthy as thy birth.
Clo. Art not afear'd?
Gui. Those that I reverence, those I fear; the
At fools I laugh, not fear them.
Clo. Die the death : When I have slain thee with my proper hand, I'll follow those that even now fed hence, And on the gates of Lud's town set your heads : Yield, rustic mountaineer. [Exeunt fighting
Enter BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS. Bel. No company's abroad. Arv. None in the world : You did mistake him,
Bel. I cannot tell: Long is it since I saw him,
But time hath nothing blurr'd those lines of favour,
Which then he wore; the snatches in his voice,
And burst of speaking, were as his: I am absolute,
Arv. In this place we left them :
I wish my brother make good time with him,
he is so fell.
Bel. Being scarce made up,
I mean, to man, he had not apprehension
Of roaring terrors; for the effect of judgment
Is oft the cause of fear: But see, thy brother.
Re-enter GUIDERIUS, with Cloten's head.
Gui. This Cloten was a fool; an empty purse,
There was no money in't: not Hercules
Could have knock'd out his brains, for be had none :
Yet I uot doing this, the fool had borne
My head, as I do his.
Bel. What hast thou done?
Gui. I am perfect, what: cut off one : Cloten's
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,
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 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 hear
ing, (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 bath 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’eu
His head from him: I'll throw it 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.
. Bel. I fear 'twill be reveng’d: 'Would, Polydore, thou had'st not done't! though
valour Becomes thee well enough.
Arv. 'Would I had done't, So the revenge alone pursued me!-Polydore, , I love thee brotherly; but envy much, Thou hast robb’d me of this deed: I would, revenges, That possible strength might meet, would seek us
And put us to our answer.
Bel. Well, 'tis done:
We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danger
Where there's no profit. I pr’ythee, to our rock;
You and Fidele play the cooks: I'll stay
Till hasty Polydore return, and bring him
To dinner presently.
Arv. Poor sick Fidele!
I'll willingly to him: To gain bis colour,
I'd let a parish of such Cloten’s blood,
And praise myself for charity.
Bel. () 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.
I have sent Cloten's clotpole down the stream,
In embassy to his mother; his body's hostage
For his return.
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
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 griefs for boys.
Is Cadwal mad ?
Re-enter ARVIRAGUS, bearing IMOGEN as dead, ir
Bel. 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 barbour 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
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 Reposing on a cushion.
Arv. O'the floor; His arms thus leagu'd : I thought, he slept; and put My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rude
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 ruddock would,
With charitable bill (O bill, sore-shaming
Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie