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? 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
They'll pardon it. [Aside.] 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

"Fidele, sir."-MALONE.

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.

Luc.

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

5

6

these poor pickaxes] Meaning her fingers.
arm him.] That is, Take him up in

your arms.

Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee
By a sharp torture.

Pis.

Sir, my life is yours,

I humbly set it at your will: But, for my mistress,
I nothing know where she remains, why gone,
Nor when she purposes return.

ness,

Hold me your loyal servant.

'Beseech your high

Good my liege,

1 Lord.
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

[TO PISANIO.

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

Does yet depend. 1 Lord.

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: come more, for more you're

ready:

The want is, but to put those powers in motion,

7 I am amaz'd with matter.] i. e. confounded by a variety of business.

8 Your preparation can affront, &c.] Your forces are able to face such an army as we hear the enemy will bring against us.

What can from Italy annoy us; but
We grieve at chances here.-Away.

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

[Exeunt.

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.

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 1

During their use, and slay us after.

1

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

9

to the note o'the king,] I will so distinguish myself, the king shall remark my valour.

1

revolts] i. e. revolters.

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

That when they hear the Roman horses neigh,
Behold their quarter'd fires3, 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: many years,

Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore him
From my remembrance. And, besides, the king

Hath not deserv'd my service, nor your loves;
Who find in my exíle the want of breeding,
The certainty of this hard life; aye hopeless
To have the courtesy your cradle promis'd,
But to be still hot summer's tanlings, and
The shrinking slaves of winter.

Gui.

Than be so,

Better to cease to be. 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.
I'll thither: What thing is it, that I never

By this sun that shines,

Did see man die? scarce ever look'd on blood,

But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison ?
Never bestrid a horse, save one, that had

Where we have liv'd;] An account of our place of abode. This dialogue is a just representation of the superfluous caution of an old man.

3

their quarter'd fires,] Quarter'd fires, probably means no more than fires in the respective quarters of the Roman army.