To have turn'd my leaping-time into a crutch,
Than have seen this.

Guiderius.

O sweetest, fairest lily!

My brother wears thee not the one half so well

As when thou grew'st thyself.

Belarius.

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 mightst have made; but I,
Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy.—

How found you him?

Arviragus.

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.

Guiderius.

Arviragus.

Where?

O' the floor,

His arms thus leagued; I thought he slept, and put
My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness
Answer'd my steps too loud.

Guiderius.

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.

Arviragus.

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 harebell, 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
Without a monument!-bring thee all this;

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220

Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none,

To winter-ground thy corse.

Guiderius.

Prithee, 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!

Arviragus.

230

Say, where shall 's lay him?

Guiderius. By good Euriphile, our mother.
Arviragus.

And let us, Polydore, though now our voices

Be 't so;

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.

Guiderius. Cadwal,

I cannot sing: I'll weep, and word it with thee;
For notes of sorrow out of tune are worse

Than priests and fanes that lie.

Arviragus.

We'll speak it, then.

240

Belarius. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less; for Clo

ten

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,

We'll say our song the whilst.-Brother, begin.

250

[Exit Belarius.

Guiderius. Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the east ; My father hath a reason for 't.

Arviragus.

'T is true.

Guiderius. Come on then, and remove him.

Arviragus.

Song.

Guiderius. Fear no more the heat o' the sun,

Nor the furious winter's rages;

So, begin.

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.

Arviragus. 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.

Guiderius. Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Arviragus. Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Guiderius. Fear not slander, censure rash;
Arviragus. Thou hast finish'd joy and moan:
Both.
All lovers young, all lovers must

Consign to thee, and come to dust.

Guiderius. No exorciser harm thee!

Arviragus. Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Guiderius. Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Arviragus. Nothing ill come near thee!
Quiet consummation have;

Both.

And renowned be thy grave!

260

270

280

Re-enter BELARIUS, with the body of CLOTEN. Guiderius. We have done our obsequies. Come, lay him

down.

Belarius. Here's a few flowers; but 'bout 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 herblets shall, which we upon you strew.
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.

290

[Exeunt Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus. Imogen. [Awaking] Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; which is the way?

I thank you. By yond bush?-Pray, how far thither?
'Ods pittikins! can it be six mile yet?—

I have gone all night. Faith, I'll lie down and sleep.
But, soft! no bedfellow!—O gods and goddesses!

[Seeing the body of Cloten.

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. Good faith,
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 's 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,

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310

Conspir'd with that irregulous devil, Cloten,
Hast here cut off my lord.—To write and read
Be henceforth treacherous!-Damn'd Pisanio
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? Ay 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
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

Murtherous 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!

320

330

[Falls on the body.

Enter LUCIUS, a Captain and other Officers, and a Soothsayer.

Captain. 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 in readiness.

Lucius.

But what from Rome?

Captain. 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 bold Iachimo,

Sienna's brother.

Lucius.

When expect you them?

Captain. With the next benefit o' the wind.

Lucius.

340

This forwardness

Makes our hopes fair. Command our present numbers