SCENE VI.

A Forest, near the Cave.

Imogen and Cloten discovered, lying on a Bank strewed with Flowers.—Imogen awakes.

Imog. Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; Which is the way?

I thank you. By yon bush?—Pray, how far thither? 'Ods pittikins! can it be six miles yet?

sleep.

I have gone all night : 'Faith, I'll lie down and [Seeing the Body. But, soft! no bedfellow :—O, gods and goddesses! These flowers are like the pleasures of the world; This bloody man, the care on't.—I hope, a dream; For, so, I thought I was a cave-keeper,

And cook to honest creatures.

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, fear'd gods, a part of it!
The dream's here still even when I wake, it is
Without me, as within me; not imagin'd, felt.—
A headless man !—The garments of Posthumus!—
Oh, he is murder'd !—

Pisanio,—

'Tis thou conspiring with that devil, Cloten, Hast here cut off my lord.—

Pisanio?

How should this be?—Pisanio?—

"Tis he;

The drug he gave me, which, he said, was precious

And cordial to me, have I not found it

Murd'rous to the senses? That confirms it home:
This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's: O!—
All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
And mine to boot, be darted on them!-
lord! my lord!

O, my

Enter Caius Lucius, Varus, and Soldiers.

Varus. 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,

Sienna's brother.

Luc. When expect you them?

Varus. With the next benefit o' the wind.
Luc. This forwardness

Makes our hopes fair.—

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.

Varus. 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?

What's thy interest

In this sad wreck? How came it? Who is it?
What art thou?

Imog. 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!

H

Luc. 'Lack, good youth!

Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining, than Thy master in bleeding: Say, thy name, good boy. Imog. Fidele, sir.

Luc. Thy name well fits thy faith:—

Wilt take thy chance with me;

I will not say,

Thou shalt be so well mastered; but, be sure,

No less belov'd.

Go with me.

Imog. I'll follow, sir. But, first, an't please the gods,

I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep

As these poor pick-axes 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

So please you, entertain me.

Luc. Ay, good youth;

you,

And rather father thee, than master thee.—
Mv 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 partizans,
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.

[As the Soldiers are taking up the Body, the
Curtain falls.

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.

The Forest.

Drums, Trumpets, &c.

Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.

Guid. The noise is round about us.
Bel. Let us from it.

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, nor muster'd
Among the bands), may drive us to a render

Where we have liv'd; and so extort from us
That, which we have done, whose answer would b«
death,

Drawn on with torture.

Guid. This is, sir, a doubt,

In such a time, nothing becoming you,

Nor satisfying us.

Arc. It is not likely,

That, when they hear the Roman horses neigh,
Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes

And ears, so cloy'd importantly as now,
That they will waste their time upon our note,
To know from whence we are.

Bel. O, I am known

Of many in the army:

And, besides, the King

Hath not deserv'd my service nor your loves.
Guid. 'Pray, sir, to the army:

I and my brother are not known; yourself,
So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown,
Cannot be question'd.

Arv. By this sun that shines,

I'll thither! What thing is it, that I never
Did see man die! scarce ever look'd on blood,
But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison!
I am asham'd

To look upon the holy sun, to have

The benefit of his bless'd beams, remaining,
So long a poor unknown.

If

Guid. By Heavens, I'll go!

you will bless me, sir, and give me leave,
I'll take the better care; but if you will not,
The hazard therefore due, fall on me, by
The hands of Romans!

Arv. So say I; Amen!

Bel. No reason I, since on your lives So slight a valuation, should reserve

you set

My crack'd one to more care. Have with you, boys! If in your country wars you chance to die,

That is my bed, too, lads, and there I'll lie. [Exeunt. Drums, Trumpets, &c.