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,
Their royal blood enchafed, as the rud'st wind
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 unlearned; honour untaught;
Civility not seen from other; valour,
That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop
As if it had been sowed! Yet still it's strange
What Cloten's being here to us portends;
Or what his death will bring us.
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 azured harebell, like thy veins; no, nor
The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,
Out-sweetened 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;
Yea, and furred moss besides, when flowers are
none,
To winter-ground thy corse.
Ghost unlaid forbear thee?
Nothing ill come near thee!
Quiet consummation have; And renownéd 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,
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 withered: even so
These herblets 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
'Ods pittikens! 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 't is not so;
"I 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, feared gods, a part of it!
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 his legs: this is his hand;
His foot Mercurial; his Martial thigh;
The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovial face-
Murder in heaven? How? 't is 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 !-Damned Pisanio
Hath with his forgéd letters,-damned 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 killed 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, 't is pregnant, pregnant!
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!
Enter Lucius, a Captain, and other Officers, and a Soothsayer.
Cap. To them, the legions garrisoned in Gallia, After your will, have crossed the sea; attending You here at Milford-Haven, with your ships: They are here in readiness.
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