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.

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,

Thou mak'st thy bloody pillow? 54 Or who was he,
That, otherwise than noble nature did,

Hath alter'd 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,
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.

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. If I do lie, and do
No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope

[Aside.

They'll pardon it. Say you, sir?

Luc.

Imo.

Thy name?

Fidele.

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

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 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.

Luç.

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.

SCENE III.

A Room in Cymbeline's Palace.

Enter CYMBELINE, Lords, and PISANIO.

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

her.

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.

life is yours,

I humbly set it at your will: But, for my mistress, I nothing know where she remains, why gone, 'Beseech your high

Nor when she purposes return.

ness,

Hold me your loyal servant.

1 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.

Cym. The time's troublesome;

We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy

Does yet depend.

1 Lord.

[To Pisanio.

So please 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 55: 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:
And meet the time, as it seeks us.
What can from Italy annoy us; but
We grieve at chances here.-Away.

Let's withdraw;
We fear not

[Exeunt.

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 To yield me often tidings: Neither know I What is betid to Cloten; but remain

Perplex'd in all. The heavens still must work :

Wherein I am false, I am honest; not true, to be true.

These present wars shall find I love my country,
Even to the note o'the king, or I'll fall in them.
All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd:
Fortune brings in some boats, that are not steer'd.

SCENE IV.

Before the Cave.

[Exit.

Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.

Gui. The noise is round about us.

Bel.

Let us from it.

Arv. What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it

From action and adventure?

Gui.

Nay, what hope

Have we in hiding us? this way, the Romans

Must or for Britons slay us; or receive us

For barbarous and unnatural revolts

During their use, and slay us after.

Sons,

Bel.
We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us.
To the king's party there's no going: newness
Of Cloten's death (we being not known, not muster'd
Among the bands) may drive us to a render

Where we have liv'd 56; and so extort from us that
Which we've done, whose answer would be death
Drawn on with torture.

Gui.

This is, sir, a doubt,

In such a time, nothing becoming you,

Nor satisfying us.