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Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst friends.

If brothers?

Had been my father's sons, then had my

Been less; and so more equal ballasting
To thee, Posthumus.

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'Mongst friends! Would it had been so, that


Enter Two Senators and Tribunes.

1 Sen. This is the tenour of the emperor's writ; That since the common men are now in action 'Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians; And that the legions now in Gallia are Full weak to undertake our wars against The fallen-off Britons; that we do incite The gentry to this business: He creates


He wrings at some distress.
Gui. 'Would, I could free't!
Or I; whate'er it be, Lucius pro-consul: and to you the tribunes,
What pain it cost, what danger! Gods!
For this immediate levy, he commands

His absolute commission. Long live Cæsar!
Tri. Is Lucius general of the forces?
2 Sen.


Tri. Remaining now in Gallia ?
1 Sen.

With those legiont
Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy
Must be supplyant: The words of your commission
Will tie you to the numbers, and the time
Of their despatch.


Hark, boys. [Whispering.

Imo. Great men,

That had a court no bigger than this cave,
That did attend themselves, and had the virtue
Which their own conscience seal'd them, (laying by
That nothing gift of differing multitudes,)
Could not out-peer these twain. Pardon me, gods!
I'd change my sex to be companions with them,
Since Leonatus false.


It shall be so :

Boys, we'll go dress our hunt.-Fair youth, come in:
Discourse is heavy, fasting; when we have supp'd,
We'll mannerly demand thee of thy story,
So far as thou wilt speak it.

Pray, draw near.
Arv. The night to the owl, and morn to the lark,
less welcome.
Thanks, sir.

SCENE I. The Forest, near the Cave.



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, who was made by him that made the tailor, not be fit too? the rather (saving reverence of the word) for 'tis said, a woman's fitness comes by fits. 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: 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.

I pray, draw near. [Exeunt.

We will discharge our duty.


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Brother, stay here: [TO IMOGEN.

Are we not brothers?

So man and man should be;
But clay and clay differs in dignity,
Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick.

Gui. Go you to hunting, I'll abide with him.
Imo. So sick I am not ;-yet I am not well:
But not so citizen a wanton, as

To seem to die, ere sick : So please you, leave me;
Stick to your journal course: the breach of custom
Is breach of all. I am ill; but your being by me
Cannot amend me: Society is no comfort
To one not sociable: I'm not very sick,
Since I can reason of it. Pray you, trust me here
I'll rob none but myself; and let me die,
Stealing so poorly.


I love thee; I have spoke it
How much the quantity, the weight as much,
As I do love my father.

What? how? how?
Arv. If it be sin to say so, sir, I yoke me
In my good brother's fault: I know not why
I love this youth; and I have heard you say,

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Gut. I am perfect, what: cut off one Cloten's | Their royal blood enchaf'd, as the rud'st wind, head,

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.


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

And set them on Lud's town.

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?


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 hearing,
(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,

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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 through,

And put us to our answer.


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.

Poor sick Fidele.
I'll willingly to him: To gain his colour,
I'd let a parish of such Clotens' blood,
And praise myself for charity.

O 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,

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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.

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.

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 wcuid,
With charitable bill (O bill, sore-shaming

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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,

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,
Yet bury him as a prince.

Pray you, fetch him hither.
Thersites' body is as good as Ajax,
When neither are alive.


My father hath a reason for't.

If you'll go fetch him,
We'll say our song the whilst. - Brother, begin.
Gui. Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the


'Tis true. Gui. Come on then, and remove him. Arv.


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.

Irv. 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, physick, must
All follow this, and come to dust.

Both. Quiet consummation have;
And renowned be thy grave!

Gui. Fear no more the lightning-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.
Gu. No exorciser harm thee!
Arv. Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Gur. Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Arv. Nothing ill come near thee!

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,


The herbs, that have on them cold dew o'the night,
Are strewings fitt'st for graves. Upon their face·
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.

I thank you.


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-
Murder in heaven? How?-'Tis gone.-Pisanio,

So, Begin. 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 Pisanio
Hath with his forged letters, damn'd Pisanio-
From this most bravest vessel of the world
Struck the main-top! - O, Posthúmus! alas,
Where is thy head? where's that? Ah me! where's


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[Exeunt BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS. Imo. [Awaking.] Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; Which is the way?

By yon bush? - Pray, how far

'Ods pittikins! - can it be six miles yet?

I have gone all night: —'faith, I'll lie down and

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 'tis not so;
'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing,
Which the brain makes of fumes: Our very eyes
Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good

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Pisanio might have kill'd thee the heart,

And left this head on. - how should this be?

'Tis he, and Cloten: malice and lucre in them
Have laid this woe here. O, 'tis 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: 0!—
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

Cap. To them, the legions garrison'd in Gallia,
After your will, have cross'd the sea; attending

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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.


'Lack, good youth! Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining, than Thy master in bleeding; Say his name, good

gods, I'll hide my master from the flies, as deepAs these poor pickaxes can dig: and whe

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.

Ay, good youth;
And rather father thee, than master thee.
My friends,

The boy hath taught us manly duties: Let us
Find out the prettiest daizied 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.


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?

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


Inform us of thy fortunes; for, 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 | Hold me your loyal servant.
In this sad wreck? How came it? Who is it?
What art thou?

1 Lord.

SCENE III.. - A Room in Cymbeline's Palace.

Enter CYMBELINE, Lords, and PISANIO.

Cym. Again; and bring me word, how 'tis with


A fever with the absence of her son;

A madness, of which her life's in danger:

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.


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Sir, my life is yours,

I humbly set it at your will: But, for my mistress,
I nothing know where she remains, why gone,
Nor when she purposes return.
'Beseech your


Good my liege,

The day that she was missing, he was here:
I dare be bound he's true, and shall perform
All parts of his subjection loyally.
For Cloten,-

There wants no diligence in seeking him, And will, no doubt, be found.

Does yet depend.

1 Lord.

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Cym The time's troublesome : We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy [TO PISANIO.

So lease your majesty, The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn, Are landed on your coast; with a supply Of Roman gentlemen, by the senate sent.

Cym. Now for the counsel of my son, and queen! I am amaz'd with matter. 1 Lord. Good my liege, Your preparation can affront no less

Than what you hear of: come more, for more you're ready :

The want is, but to put those powers in motion,
That long to move.

Cym. I thank you: Let's withdraw: And meet the time, as it seeks us. We fear not What can from Italy annoy us; but We grieve at chances here. - A way.


Pis. I heard no letter from my master, since I wrote him, Imogen was slain: 'Tis strange: Nor hear I from my mistress, who did promise

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