The dream 's here still : even when I wake, it is
Without me, as within me; not imagined, 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-
Murder in heaven ?- How !—'Tis gone. Pisanio,
All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou,
Conspired 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 Pósthumus ! 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 ? 'Tis he and Cloten: malice and lucre in them Have laid this woe here. O, 'tis pregnant, preg
nant!
The drug he gave me, which he said was precious
And cordial to me, have I not found it
Murderous 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 !
[Falls on the body.
315. irregulous, lawless.
311. Jovial face ; cf. Hamlet : 'the front of Jove himnself.'
313. madded, i.e. at the slaying of Hector by Achilles.
325. pregnant, evident, con. vincing.
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 in readiness.
Luc.
But what from Rome?
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 bold Iachimo,
Syenna's brother.
Luc.
When expect you them?
Cap. With the next benefit o' the wind.
Luc.
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 pur
pose? Sooth. Last night the very gods show'd me a
visionI fast and pray'd for their intelligence—thus : I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd From the spongy south to this part of the west, There vanish'd in the sunbeams : which portends— 350 Unless my sins abuse my divinationSuccess to the Roman host.
333. To them, i.e. in addi invasion under Claudius, when tion to the forces already in 'the mariners and men of war' Britain.
were encouraged by seeing 337. confiners, borderers. fierie leme (light] to shoot out
341. Syenna, the ruler of of the east towards the west, Sienna.
which way their course lay' 346 f. This episode was prob (Stone's Holinshed, p. 15). ably suggested by Holinshed's
347. fast, fasted. description of Aulus Plautius'
349. spongy, moist.
Luc.
Dream often so,
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.
Сар.
He's alive, my lord.
Luc. He'll then instruct us of this body.
Young one,
360
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 in-
terest
In this sad wreck ? How came it? Who is it?
What art thou ?
Imo.
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 is 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.
Luc.
'Lack, good youth ! Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining than Thy master in bleeding : say his name, good
friend. Imo. Richard du Champ. [Aside] If I do lie
and do No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope
364. otherwise than noble nature did, to another figure than that which nature painted.
They 'll pardon it.-Say you, sir?
Luc.
Thy name?
Imo.
Fidele, sir.
Luc. Thou dost approve thyself the very same : 380
Thy name well fits thy faith, thy faith thy name.
Wilt take thy chance with me?
Thou shalt be so well master'd, but, be sure,
No less beloved. The Roman emperor's letters,
Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner
Than thine own worth prefer thee i 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 ha' 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.
Luc.
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 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. 399. partisans, halberds. in your arms. 400. arm him, 'take him up
400. preferr'd, committed.
SCENE III. A room in Cymbeline's palace.
Enter CYMBELINE, Lords, PISANIO, and
Attendants. Cym. Again; and bring me word how 'tis with her.
[Exit an Attendant.
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.
Pis.
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
highness,
Hold me your loyal servant.
First Lord.
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.
Сут. .
The time is troublesome. [To Pisanio] We'll slip you for a season; but our
jealousy Does yet depend.
23. depend, hangs over you.
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