Gui. Come on then, and remove him.
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.
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, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.
Gui. Fear no more the light'ning 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.
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 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 ARVIRAGUS.
Imo. Awaking.] Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; Which is the way?
I thank you.-By yon bush ?-Pray, how far thither? 'Ods pittikins-can it be six miles yet?—
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 't is not so;
'T was but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing,
Which the brain makes of fumes: Our very eyes,
Are sometimes like our judgments, blind.
I tremble still with fear: But if there be
Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity
As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it!
The dream's here still: even when I wake it is
Without me, as within me; not imagin'd, felt.
A headless man!-The garments of Posthumus!
I know the shape of his leg: this is his hand;
His foot Mercurial: his Martial thigh;
The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovial face-
Murther in heaven ?-How?-T is gone.-Pisanio,
All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou,
Conspir'd with that irregulous' devil, Cloten,
Hast here cut off my lord.-To write and read
Be henceforth treacherous!-Damn'd Pisani
Hath with his forged letters,-damn'd Pisanio-
From this most bravest vessel of the world
Struck the main-top!-O, Posthumus! alas,
Where is thy head? where's that? Ah me! where's that?
Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart,
And left this head on.-How should this be? Pisanio? "T is he, and Cloten: malice and lucre in them
a Irregulous-irregular-disorderly, The word is only found in this passage of Shakspere.
Have laid this woe here. O, 't is 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 You here at Milford-Haven, with your ships: They are here in readiness.
Cap. The senate hath stirr'd up the confiners, And gentlemen of Italy; most willing spirits That promise noble service: and they come Under the conduct of boid Iachimo,
When expect you them? Cap. With the next benefit o' the wind.
This forwardness Makes our hopes fair. Command, our present numbers Be muster'd; bid the captains look to 't.---Now, sir, What have you dream'd, of late, of this war's purpose? Sooth. Last night the very gods show'd me a vision : (I fast, and pray'd, for their intelligence,) Thus — I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd From the spungy south to this part of the west, There vanish'd in the sunbeams: which portends (Unless my sins abuse my divination)
Success to the Roman host.
And never false.-Soft, ho! what trunk is here
Without his top? The ruin speaks that sometime
It was a worthy building.-How! a page!
Or dead, or sleeping on him? But dead, rather:
For nature doth abhor to make his bed
With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead.-
Let's see the boy's face.
Luc. He'll then instruct us of this body.-Young
Inform us of thy fortunes; for, it seems
They crave to be demanded: Who is this
Thou mak'st thy bloody pillow? Or who was he,
That, otherwise than noble nature did,
Hath alter'd that good picture? What 's thy interest
In this sad wreck? How came it? Who is it?
What art thou?
I am nothing or if not,
Nothing to be were better. This was my master.
A very valiant Briton, and a good,
That here by mountaineers lies slain :-Alas!
There are no more such masters: I may wander
From east to occident, cry out for service,
Try many, all good, serve truly, never
Find such another master.
Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining, than
Thy master in bleeding; Say his name, good friend.
Imo. Richard du Champ. If I do lie, and do
No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope
They 'll pardon it. [Aside.] Say you, sir?
Thy name?
Fidele, sii.
Luc. Thou dost approve thyself the very same.
Thy name well fits thy faith; thy faith thy name.
Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say
Thou shalt be so well master'd; but, be sure,
No less belov'd. The Roman emperor's letters,
Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner
Than thine own worth prefer thee. Go with me.
Imo. I'll follow, sir. But first, an 't please the gods,
I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep
As these poor pickaxes can dig: and when
With wild wood-leaves and weeds I have strew'd his grave,
And on it said a century of prayers,
Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep, and sigh;
And, leaving so his service, follow you,
So please you entertain me.
And rather father thee than master thee.-
My friends,
The boy hath taught us manly duties: Let us
Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can,
And make him with our pikes and partisans
A grave: Come; arm him."-Boy, he is preferr'd
By thee to us; and he shall be interr'd
As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes:
Some falls are means the happier to arise. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.-A Room in Cymbeline's Palace.
Enter CYMBELINE, Lords, and PISANIO.
Cym. Again; and bring me word how 't is with her. 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.
I humbly set it at your will: But for my mistress,
I nothing know where she remains, why gone,
a Arm him-take him in your arms.
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