commendations. My horfe is ty'd up fafe. Out, fword, and to a fore purpose! Fortune, put them into my hand. This is the very defcription of their meeting place, and the fellow dares not deceive me. [Exit.

SCENE II.

Changes to the Front of the Cave.

Enter Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, and Imogen, from the Cave.

Bel. We'll come you after hunting.
Y

OU are not well; remain here in the cave;

Arv. Brother, stay here.

Are we not brothers?

Imo. So man and man fhould be;

But clay and clay differs in dignity,

Whofe dutt is both alike. I'm very fick.

[To Imogen,

Guid, Go you to hunting, I'll abide with him.
Imo. So fick I am not, yet I am not well;

But not fo citizen a wanton, as

To seem to die ere fick so please you, leave me;
5 Stick to your journal courfe; the breach of cuftom
Is breach of all. I'm ill, but your being by me
Cannot amend me. Society is no comfort
To one not fociable. I'm not very fick,
Since I can reafon of it. Pray you, truft me here,
I'll rob none but myself; and let me die,

Stealing fo poorly.

Guid. I love thee, I have spoke it;

How much the quantity, the weight as much,

5 Stick to your journal courfe;

the breach of cuftom

Is breach of all,

1 Keep

broken, nothing follows but confufion.

6 How much the quantity,-]

your daily courfe uninterrupted; I read, if the ftated plan of life is once

As much the quantity,“

As

As I do love my father.

Bel. What? how? how?

Arv. If it be fin to fay fo, Sir, I yoke me

In my good brother's fault;-I know not why

I love this youth, and I have heard you say,

Love's reafon's without reafon. The bier at door,
And a demand who is 't fhall die, I'd fay,
My father, not this youth,

Bel. O noble strain !

O worthiness of nature, breed of greatnefs!
Cowards father cowards, and base things fire the base:
Nature hath meal and bran; contempt and grace.
I'm not their father; yet who this should be,

Doth miracle itself, lov'd before me!

'Tis the ninth hour o' th' morn.

Arv. Brother, farewel.

Imo. I wish ye sport.

Arv. You health- -So please you, Sir.

Imo. [Afide.] These are kind creatures. Gods, what
lies I've heard!

Our courtiers fay, all 's favage, but at court:
Experience, oh, thou difprov'ft report.

Th' imperious feas breed monfters; for the dif
Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish.

I am fick ftill, heart-fick-Pifanio,

I'll now tafte of thy drug.

Guid. "I could not ftir him.

8

[Drinks out of the phial.

He faid, he was gentle, but unfortunate;
Difhoneftly afflicted, but yet honeft.

Arv. Thus did he anfwer me; yet faid, hereafter

I might know more.

Bel. To th' field, to th' field.

-We'll leave you for this time; go in and rest.

Arv. We'll not be long away.

Bel. Pray, be not fick,

7. I could not fir him.] Not move him to tell his story.

8 gentle, but unfortunate;] Gentle, is well-born, of birth above the vulgar.

For

For you must be our housewife.

Imo. Well or ill,

I am bound to you.

Bel. And fhalt be ever.

[Exit Imogen, to the Cave.

This youth, howe'er diftrefs'd, appears to have had

Good ancestors.

Arv. How angel-like he fings!

Guid. But his neat cookery!

Arv. He cut our roots in characters;

And fauc'd our broth, as June had been sick,
And he her dieter.

Arv. Nobly he yokes

A fmiling with a figh, as if the figh

Was that it was, for not being fuch a smile,
The fmile mocking the figh, that it would fly
From fo divine a temple, to commix
With winds that failors rail at.

Guid. I do note,

That grief and patience, rooted in him both, ? Mingle their spurs together.

Arv Grow, patience!

And let the 'ftinking Elder, Grief, untwine

His perishing root, with the encreasing vine!

Bel. It is great morning. Come; away. Who's there?

SCENE III.

Enter Cloten.

Clot. I cannot find thefe runagates: that villain Hath mock'd me.I am faint.

Bel. Those runagates!

Means he not us? I partly know him; 'tis

9 Mingle their Spurs together.] Spurs, an old word for the fibres of a tree.

POPE.

-ftinking Elder,- ShakeSpeare had only feen English vines

which grow against walls, and therefore may be fometimes entangled with the Elder. Perhaps we should read untwine from the vine.

Cloten,

Cloten, the fon o' th' Queen. I fear fome ambush,
I faw him not these many years, and yet

I know, 'tis he, We're held as Out-laws. Hence.
Guid. He is but one; you and my brother search
What companies are near. Pray you, away;
Let me alone with him.

[Exeunt Belarius and Arviragus,

Clot. Soft! what are you,

That fly me thus? fome villain-mountaineer.
I've heard of fuch. What flave art thou?

Guid. A thing

More flavish did I ne'er, than anfwering
A flave without a knock.

Clot. Thou art a robber,

A law-breaker, a villain. Yield thee, thief. Guid. To whom? to thee? What art thou? Have not I

An arm as big as thine? a heart as big?

Thy words, I grant, are bigger: for I wear not
My dagger in my mouth. Say, what thou art,
Why I should yield to thee?

Clot. Thou villain bafe,

Know'ft me not by my clothes?

Guid. No, nor thy tailor, rafcal,

A

Who is thy grandfather; he made those clothes,
Which, as it feems, make thee.

Clot. Thou precious varlet !

My tailor made them not.

Guid. Hence then, and thank

The man that gave them thee. Thou art fome fool; I'm loth to beat thee.

Clot. Thou injurious thief,

Hear but my name, and tremble.

Guid. What's thy name?"

Clot. Cloten, thou villain.

Guid. Cloten, then, double villain, be thy name,

I cannot tremble at it; were it toad, adder, spider,

'Twould

4

"Twould move me fooner.

Clot. To thy further fear,

Nay, to thy meer confufion thou fhalt know
I'm fon to th' Queen.

Guid. I'm forry for 't; not seeming

So worthy as thy birth.

Clot. Art not afraid?

Guid. Thofe that I rev'rence, those I fear, the wife;

At fools I laugh, not fear them.

Clot. Die the death!

When I have flain thee with my proper hand,
I'll follow thofe that even now fled hence,

And on the gates of Lud's town fet your heads.
Yield, ruftick mountaineer.

SCENE

[Fight, and exeunt.

IV.

Enter Belarius and Arviragus.

Bel. No company's abroad.

Arv. None in the world; you did mistake him, fure.

2

Bel. I cannot tell: long is it fince I saw him, But time hath nothing blurr'd thofe lines of favour Which then he wore; the fnatches in his voice, And burst of speaking, were as his: I'm abfolute 'Twas very Cloten.

Arv. In this place we left them;

I wish my brother make good time with him,
You fay, he is fo fell.

2 -the fnatches in his voice, And burst of Speaking,] This is one of our author's ftrokes of obfervation. An abrupt and tu

multuous utterance very frequently accompanies a confufed and cloudy understanding.

Bel.