Together, have one dust; yet reverence (That angel of the world) doth make distinction Gui. Pray you, fetch him hither. Thersites' body is as good as Ajax, When neither are alive. If you'll go fetch him, Arv. [Exit BELARIUS. Gui. Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the east; My father hath a reason for't. Arv. 'Tis true. Gui. Come on, then, and remove him. Arv. SONG. So,-begin. Gui. Fear no more the heat o' the sun, Golden lads and girls all must, Arv. 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. Gui. Fear no more the lightning-flash. 1 The Poet's sentiment seems to have been this:-All human excellence is equally subject to the stroke of death: neither the power of kings, nor the science of scholars, nor the art of those whose immediate study is the prolongation of life, can protect them from the final destiny of man. Gui. Fear not slander, censure rash ; Gui. No exorciser 2 harm 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, 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 withered; 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. [Exeunt BEL., GUI., and ARV. Imo. [Awaking.] Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; which is the way? I thank you.-By yon bush ?-Pray, how far thither? 'Ods pitikins! Can it be six miles yet? 3 I have gone all night.-'Faith, I'll lie down and sleep. 1 To "consign to thee" is to "seal the same contract with thee;" i. e. add their names to thine upon the register of death. 2 It has already been observed, that exorciser anciently signified a per son who could raise spirits, not one who lays them. 3 This diminutive adjuration is derived from God's pity, by the addition of kin. In this manner we have also 'Od's bodikins. Good faith, And cook to honest creatures. But 'tis not so; 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.3-How should this be? Pisanio? 1 "Jovial face" here signifies such a face as belongs to Jove. The epithet is frequently so used in the old dramatic writers. 2 Irregulous must mean lawless, licentious, out of rule. The word has not hitherto been met with elsewhere. 3 We must understand by "this head," the head of Posthumus; the head that did belong to this body. 4 i. e. 'tis a ready, apposite conclusion. 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 garrisoned in Gallia, Luc. But what from Rome? Cap. The senate hath stirred up the confiners, 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 mustered; bid the captains look to't.-Now, sir, What have you dreamed, of late, of this war's purpose? Sooth. Last night the very gods showed me a vision, fast, and prayed, for their intelligence,) thus:saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, winged From the spongy south to this part of the west, There vanished in the sunbeams; which portends (Unless my sins abuse my divination) Success to the Roman host. Dream often so, Luc. With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead.— 1 Shakspeare appears to have meant brother to the prince of Sienna. He was not aware that Sienna was a republic, or possibly did not heed it. 2 Fast for fasted, as we have in another place of this play lift for lifted. Similar phraseology will be found in the Bible. Cap. He is alive, my lord. Luc. He'll then instruct us of this body.-Young one, Inform us of thy fortunes; for, it seems, They crave to be demanded; Who is this, Or who was he, That otherwise than noble nature did,1 Hath altered that good picture? What's thy interest 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, That here by mountaineers lies slain.—Alas! Try many, all good, serve truly, never Find such another master. Luc. 'Lack, good youth, Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining, than Luc. [Aside. Thy name? Fidele, sir. Imo. Imo. I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please the gods, I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep 1 Who has altered this picture, so as to make it otherwise than nature did it? 2 Shakspeare was indebted for his modern names (which sometimes are mixed with ancient ones), as well as for his anachronisms, to the fashionable novels of his time. |