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Bel.

Those runagates!

Hence.

Means he not us? I partly know him; 'tis
Cloten, the son o'the queen. I fear some ambush.
I saw him not these many years, and yet
I know 'tis he :- -We are held as outlaws:
Gui. He is but one: You and my brother search
What companies are near: pray you, away;
Let me alone with him.

Clo.

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[Exeunt BELARIUS and ARVIRagus. Soft! What are you

A thing

That fly me thus ? some villain mountaineers?
I have heard of such. - What slave art thou?
Gui.
More slavish did I ne'er, than answering
A slave, without a knock.

Clo.

Thou art a robber,

A law-breaker, a villain: Yield thee, thief.

Gui. To who? to thee? What art thoù? 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?

Clo.

Know'st me not by my

Gui.

Thou villain base,

clothes?

No, nor thy tailor, rascal,

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

Clo.

My tailor made them not.

Gui.

The man that gave them thee.
I am loath to beat thee.

Clo.

Thou precious varlet,

Hence then, and thank

Thou art some fool;

Thou injurious thief,

What's thy name?

Hear but my name, and tremble.

Gui.

Clo. Cloten, thou villain.

Gui. Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name,

I cannot tremble at it; were't toad, or adder, spider, 'Twould move me sooner.

Clo.

Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know

I'm son to the queen.

Gui.

So worthy as thy birth.
Clo.

To thy further fear,

I'm sorry for't; not seeming

Art not afeard?

Gui. Those that I reverence, those I fear; the

wise:

At fools I laugh, not fear them.

Clo. Die the death: When I have slain thee with my proper hand, I'll follow those that even now fled hence,

And on the gates of Lud's town set your heads: Yield, rustick mountaineer. [Exeunt, fighting.

Enter BELARIUS and ARVIragus.

Bel. No company's abroad.

Arv. None in the world: You did mistake him,

sure.

Bel. I cannot tell: Long is it since I saw him, But time hath nothing blurr'd those lines of favour' Which then he wore; the snatches in his voice, And burst of speaking, were as his : I am absolute, 'Twas very Cloten.

Arv.

In this place we left them;
I wish my brother make good time with him,
You say he is so fell.

Bel.
Being scarce made up,
I mean, to man, he had not apprehension
Of roaring terrors; for the effect of judgment
Is oft the cause of fear: But see, thy brother.

Re-enter GUIDERIUS, with CLOTEN'S Head. Gui. This Cloten was a fool; an empty purse, There was no money in't: not Hercules

' Countenance.

Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had none : Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne

My head, as I do his.

Bel.

What hast thou done?

Gui. I am perfect, what: cut off one Cloten's

head,

Son to the queen, after his own report;

Who call'd me traitor, mountaineer; and swore,
With his own single hand he'd take us in 2,

Displace our heads, where (thank the gods!) they

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Bel.

We are all undone. Gui. Why, worthy father, what have we to lose, But, that he swore, to take our lives? The law Protects not us: Then why should we be tender, To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us; Play judge, and executioner, all himself; For we do fear the law? What company Discover you abroad?

Bel.

No single soul

Can we set eye on, but, in all safe reason,

He must have some attendants. Though his humour
Was nothing but mutation; ay, and that

From one bad thing to worse; not frenzy, not
Absolute madness could so far have rav'd,
To bring him here alone: Although, perhaps,
It may be heard at court, that such as we
Cave here, hunt here, are outlaws, and in time
May make some stronger head: the which he hear-
ing,

(As it is like him,) might break out, and swear
He'd fetch us in; yet is't not probable

To come alone, either he so undertaking,

Or they so suffering: then on good ground we fear, If we do fear this body hath a tail

More perilous than the head.

2 Conquer, subdue.

Arv.

Let ordinance

Come as the gods foresay it; howsoe'er,
My brother hath done well.

Bel.

I had no mind

To hunt this day: the boy Fidele's sickness

Did make my way long forth.

With his own sword,

Gui. Which he did wave against my throat, I have ta'en His head from him: I'll throw't into the creek Behind our rock; and let it to the sea,

And tell the fishes, he's the queen's son, Cloten: That's all I reck. 3

Bel.

[Exit. I fear, 'twill be reveng'd: 'Would, Polydore, thou had'st not done't! though

valour

Becomes thee well enough.

Arv. Would I had done't, So the revenge alone pursued me! - Polydore, I love thee brotherly; but envy much,

Thou hast robb'd me of this deed: I would, re

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We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danger Where there's no profit. I pr'ythee, to our rock; You and Fidele play the cooks: I'll stay

Till hasty Polydore return, and bring him

To dinner presently.

Arv.

Poor sick Fidele!

I'll willingly to him: To gain his colour,
I'd let a parish of such Cloten's blood,
And praise myself for charity.

[Exit.

Bel.
O thou goddess,
Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st
In these two princely boys! They are as gentle

3 Care.

As zephyrs, blowing below the violet,

Not wagging his sweet head: and yet as rough,
Their royal blood enchaf'd, 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 instínct should frame them-
To royalty unlearn'd; honour untaught;
Civility not seen from other; valour,

That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop
As if it had been sow'd! Yet still it's strange
What Cloten's being here to us portends;
Or what his death will bring us.

Gui.

Re-enter GUIDerius.

Where's my brother?

I have sent Cloten's clotpoll down the stream,
In embassy to his mother; his body's hostage.
For his return.

[Solemn musick.

Bel.
My ingenious instrument!
Hark, Polydore, it sounds! But what occasion
Hath Cadwal now to give it motion! Hark!
Gui. Is he at home?

Bel.

He went hence even now.

Gui. What does he mean? since death of my dear'st mother

It did not speak before. All solemn things
Should answer solemn accidents. The matter?
Triumphs for nothing, and lamenting toys *,
Is jollity for apes, and grief for boys,

Is Cadwal mad?

Re-enter ARVIRAGUS, bearing IMOGEN as dead, in

Bel.

his Arms.

Look, here he comes,

And brings the dire occasion in his arms,

Of what we blame him for !

4 Trifles.

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