To IMOGEN
1     You are not well: remain here in the cave;
2    We'll come to you after hunting.

To IMOGEN
3     Brother, stay here
4    Are we not brothers?

5    So man and man should be;
6    But clay and clay differs in dignity,
7    Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick.

8    Go you to hunting; I'll abide with him.

9    So sick I am not, yet I am not well;
10   But not so citizen a wanton as
11   To seem to die ere sick: so please you, leave me;
12   Stick to your journal course: the breach of custom
13   Is breach of all. I am ill, but your being by me
14   Cannot amend me; society is no comfort
15   To one not sociable: I am not very sick,
16   Since I can reason of it. Pray you, trust me here:
17   I'll rob none but myself; and let me die,
18   Stealing so poorly.

19   I love thee; I have spoke it
20   How much the quantity, the weight as much,
21   As I do love my father.

22   What! how! how!

23   If it be sin to say so, I yoke me
24   In my good brother's fault: I know not why
25   I love this youth; and I have heard you say,
26   Love's reason's without reason: the bier at door,
27   And a demand who is't shall die, I'd say
28   'My father, not this youth.'

Aside
29    O noble strain!
30   O worthiness of nature! breed of greatness!
31   Cowards father cowards and base things sire base:
32   Nature hath meal and bran, contempt and grace.
33   I'm not their father; yet who this should be,
34   Doth miracle itself, loved before me.
35   'Tis the ninth hour o' the morn.

36   Brother, farewell.

37   I wish ye sport.

38   You health. So please you, sir.

Aside
39    These are kind creatures. Gods, what lies
40   I have heard!
41   Our courtiers say all's savage but at court:
42   Experience, O, thou disprovest report!
43   The imperious seas breed monsters, for the dish
44   Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish.
45   I am sick still; heart-sick. Pisanio,
46   I'll now taste of thy drug.

47   I could not stir him:
48   He said he was gentle, but unfortunate;
49   Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest.

50   Thus did he answer me: yet said, hereafter
51   I might know more.

52   To the field, to the field!
53   We'll leave you for this time: go in and rest.

54   We'll not be long away.

55   Pray, be not sick,
56   For you must be our housewife.

57   Well or ill,
58   I am bound to you.

59   And shalt be ever.
Exit IMOGEN, to the cave
60   This youth, how'er distress'd, appears he hath had
61   Good ancestors.

62   How angel-like he sings!

63   But his neat cookery! he cut our roots
64   In characters,
65   And sauced our broths, as Juno had been sick
66   And he her dieter.

67   Nobly he yokes
68   A smiling with a sigh, as if the sigh
69   Was that it was, for not being such a smile;
70   The smile mocking the sigh, that it would fly
71   From so divine a temple, to commix
72   With winds that sailors rail at.

73   I do note
74   That grief and patience, rooted in him both,
75   Mingle their spurs together.

76   Grow, patience!
77   And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine
78   His perishing root with the increasing vine!

79   It is great morning. Come, away!--
80   Who's there?

81   I cannot find those runagates; that villain
82   Hath mock'd me. I am faint.

83   'Those runagates!'
84   Means he not us? I partly know him: 'tis
85   Cloten, the son o' the queen. I fear some ambush.
86   I saw him not these many years, and yet
87   I know 'tis he. We are held as outlaws: hence!

88   He is but one: you and my brother search
89   What companies are near: pray you, away;
90   Let me alone with him.

91   Soft! What are you
92   That fly me thus? some villain mountaineers?
93   I have heard of such. What slave art thou?

94   A thing
95   More slavish did I ne'er than answering
96   A slave without a knock.

97   Thou art a robber,
98   A law-breaker, a villain: yield thee, thief.

99   To who? to thee? What art thou? Have not I
100  An arm as big as thine? a heart as big?
101  Thy words, I grant, are bigger, for I wear not
102  My dagger in my mouth. Say what thou art,
103  Why I should yield to thee?

104  Thou villain base,
105  Know'st me not by my clothes?

106  No, nor thy tailor, rascal,
107  Who is thy grandfather: he made those clothes,
108  Which, as it seems, make thee.

109  Thou precious varlet,
110  My tailor made them not.

111  Hence, then, and thank
112  The man that gave them thee. Thou art some fool;
113  I am loath to beat thee.

114  Thou injurious thief,
115  Hear but my name, and tremble.

116  What's thy name?

117  Cloten, thou villain.

118  Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name,
119  I cannot tremble at it: were it Toad, or
120  Adder, Spider,
121  'Twould move me sooner.

122  To thy further fear,
123  Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know
124  I am son to the queen.

125  I am sorry for 't; not seeming
126  So worthy as thy birth.

127  Art not afeard?

128  Those that I reverence those I fear, the wise:
129  At fools I laugh, not fear them.

130  Die the death:
131  When I have slain thee with my proper hand,
132  I'll follow those that even now fled hence,
133  And on the gates of Lud's-town set your heads:
134  Yield, rustic mountaineer.

135  No companies abroad?

136  None in the world: you did mistake him, sure.

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

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

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

149  This Cloten was a fool, an empty purse;
150  There was no money in't: not Hercules
151  Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had none:
152  Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne
153  My head as I do his.

154  What hast thou done?

155  I am perfect what: cut off one Cloten's head,
156  Son to the queen, after his own report;
157  Who call'd me traitor, mountaineer, and swore
158  With his own single hand he'ld take us in
159  Displace our heads where--thank the gods!--they grow,
160  And set them on Lud's-town.

161  We are all undone.

162  Why, worthy father, what have we to lose,
163  But that he swore to take, our lives? The law
164  Protects not us: then why should we be tender
165  To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us,
166  Play judge and executioner all himself,
167  For we do fear the law? What company
168  Discover you abroad?

169  No single soul
170  Can we set eye on; but in all safe reason
171  He must have some attendants. Though his humour
172  Was nothing but mutation, ay, and that
173  From one bad thing to worse; not frenzy, not
174  Absolute madness could so far have raved
175  To bring him here alone; although perhaps
176  It may be heard at court that such as we
177  Cave here, hunt here, are outlaws, and in time
178  May make some stronger head; the which he hearing--
179  As it is like him--might break out, and swear
180  He'ld fetch us in; yet is't not probable
181  To come alone, either he so undertaking,
182  Or they so suffering: then on good ground we fear,
183  If we do fear this body hath a tail
184  More perilous than the head.

185  Let ordinance
186  Come as the gods foresay it: howsoe'er,
187  My brother hath done well.

188  I had no mind
189  To hunt this day: the boy Fidele's sickness
190  Did make my way long forth.

191  With his own sword,
192  Which he did wave against my throat, I have ta'en
193  His head from him: I'll throw't into the creek
194  Behind our rock; and let it to the sea,
195  And tell the fishes he's the queen's son, Cloten:
196  That's all I reck.

197  I fear 'twill be revenged:
198  Would, Polydote, thou hadst not done't! though valour
199  Becomes thee well enough.

200  Would I had done't
201  So the revenge alone pursued me! Polydore,
202  I love thee brotherly, but envy much
203  Thou hast robb'd me of this deed: I would revenges,
204  That possible strength might meet, would seek us through
205  And put us to our answer.

206  Well, 'tis done:
207  We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danger
208  Where there's no profit. I prithee, to our rock;
209  You and Fidele play the cooks: I'll stay
210  Till hasty Polydote return, and bring him
211  To dinner presently.

212  Poor sick Fidele!
213  I'll weringly to him: to gain his colour
214  I'ld let a parish of such Clotens' blood,
215  And praise myself for charity.

216  O thou goddess,
217  Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st
218  In these two princely boys! They are as gentle
219  As zephyrs blowing below the violet,
220  Not wagging his sweet head; and yet as rough,
221  Their royal blood enchafed, as the rudest wind,
222  That by the top doth take the mountain pine,
223  And make him stoop to the vale. 'Tis wonder
224  That an invisible instinct should frame them
225  To royalty unlearn'd, honour untaught,
226  Civility not seen from other, valour
227  That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop
228  As if it had been sow'd. Yet still it's strange
229  What Cloten's being here to us portends,
230  Or what his death will bring us.

231  Where's my brother?
232  I have sent Cloten's clotpoll down the stream,
233  In embassy to his mother: his body's hostage
234  For his return.

235  My ingenious instrument!
236  Hark, Polydore, it sounds! But what occasion
237  Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark!

238  Is he at home?

239  He went hence even now.

240  What does he mean? since death of my dear'st mother
241  it did not speak before. All solemn things
242  Should answer solemn accidents. The matter?
243  Triumphs for nothing and lamenting toys
244  Is jollity for apes and grief for boys.
245  Is Cadwal mad?

246  Look, here he comes,
247  And brings the dire occasion in his arms
248  Of what we blame him for.

249  The bird is dead
250  That we have made so much on. I had rather
251  Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty,
252  To have turn'd my leaping-time into a crutch,
253  Than have seen this.

254  O sweetest, fairest lily!
255  My brother wears thee not the one half so well
256  As when thou grew'st thyself.

257  O melancholy!
258  Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find
259  The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare
260  Might easiliest harbour in? Thou blessed thing!
261  Jove knows what man thou mightst have made; but I,
262  Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy.
263  How found you him?

264  Stark, as you see:
265  Thus smiling, as some fly hid tickled slumber,
266  Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at; his
267  right cheek
268  Reposing on a cushion.

269  Where?

270  O' the floor;
271  His arms thus leagued: I thought he slept, and put
272  My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness
273  Answer'd my steps too loud.

274  Why, he but sleeps:
275  If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed;
276  With female fairies will his tomb be haunted,
277  And worms will not come to thee.

278  With fairest flowers
279  Whilst summer lasts and I live here, Fidele,
280  I'll sweeten thy sad grave: thou shalt not lack
281  The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose, nor
282  The azured harebell, like thy veins, no, nor
283  The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,
284  Out-sweeten'd not thy breath: the ruddock would,
285  With charitable bill,--O bill, sore-shaming
286  Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie
287  Without a monument!--bring thee all this;
288  Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none,
289  To winter-ground thy corse.

290  Prithee, have done;
291  And do not play in wench-like words with that
292  Which is so serious. Let us bury him,
293  And not protract with admiration what
294  Is now due debt. To the grave!

295  Say, where shall's lay him?

296  By good Euriphile, our mother.

297  Be't so:
298  And let us, Polydore, though now our voices
299  Have got the mannish crack, sing him to the ground,
300  As once our mother; use like note and words,
301  Save that Euriphile must be Fidele.

302  Cadwal,
303  I cannot sing: I'll weep, and word it with thee;
304  For notes of sorrow out of tune are worse
305  Than priests and fanes that lie.

306  We'll speak it, then.

307  Great griefs, I see, medicine the less; for Cloten
308  Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys;
309  And though he came our enemy, remember
310  He was paid for that: though mean and
311  mighty, rotting
312  Together, have one dust, yet reverence,
313  That angel of the world, doth make distinction
314  Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely
315  And though you took his life, as being our foe,
316  Yet bury him as a prince.

317  Pray You, fetch him hither.
318  Thersites' body is as good as Ajax',
319  When neither are alive.

320  If you'll go fetch him,
321  We'll say our song the whilst. Brother, begin.

322  Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the east;
323  My father hath a reason for't.

324  'Tis true.

325  Come on then, and remove him.

326  So. Begin.

327  Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
328  Nor the furious winter's rages;
329  Thou thy worldly task hast done,
330  Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages:
331  Golden lads and girls all must,
332  As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

333  Fear no more the frown o' the great;
334  Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
335  Care no more to clothe and eat;
336  To thee the reed is as the oak:
337  The sceptre, learning, physic, must
338  All follow this, and come to dust.

339  Fear no more the lightning flash,

340  Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;

341  Fear not slander, censure rash;

342  Thou hast finish'd joy and moan:

343  All lovers young, all lovers must
344  Consign to thee, and come to dust.

345  No exorciser harm thee!

346  Nor no witchcraft charm thee!

347  Ghost unlaid forbear thee!

348  Nothing ill come near thee!

349  Quiet consummation have;
350  And renowned be thy grave!

351  We have done our obsequies: come, lay him down.

352  Here's a few flowers; but 'bout midnight, more:
353  The herbs that have on them cold dew o' the night
354  Are strewings fitt'st for graves. Upon their faces.
355  You were as flowers, now wither'd: even so
356  These herblets shall, which we upon you strew.
357  Come on, away: apart upon our knees.
358  The ground that gave them first has them again:
359  Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain.

Awaking
360   Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; which is
361  the way?--
362  I thank you.--By yond bush?--Pray, how far thither?
363  'Ods pittikins! can it be six mile yet?--
364  I have gone all night. 'Faith, I'll lie down and sleep.
365  But, soft! no bedfellow!--O gods and goddesses!
Seeing the body of CLOTEN
366  These flowers are like the pleasures of the world;
367  This bloody man, the care on't. I hope I dream;
368  For so I thought I was a cave-keeper,
369  And cook to honest creatures: but 'tis not so;
370  'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing,
371  Which the brain makes of fumes: our very eyes
372  Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good faith,
373  I tremble stiff with fear: but if there be
374  Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity
375  As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it!
376  The dream's here still: even when I wake, it is
377  Without me, as within me; not imagined, felt.
378  A headless man! The garments of Posthumus!
379  I know the shape of's leg: this is his hand;
380  His foot Mercurial; his Martial thigh;
381  The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovial face
382  Murder in heaven?--How!--'Tis gone. Pisanio,
383  All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
384  And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou,
385  Conspired with that irregulous devil, Cloten,
386  Hast here cut off my lord. To write and read
387  Be henceforth treacherous! Damn'd Pisanio
388  Hath with his forged letters,--damn'd Pisanio--
389  From this most bravest vessel of the world
390  Struck the main-top! O Posthumus! alas,
391  Where is thy head? where's that? Ay me!
392  where's that?
393  Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart,
394  And left this head on. How should this be? Pisanio?
395  'Tis he and Cloten: malice and lucre in them
396  Have laid this woe here. O, 'tis pregnant, pregnant!
397  The drug he gave me, which he said was precious
398  And cordial to me, have I not found it
399  Murderous to the senses? That confirms it home:
400  This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's: O!
401  Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood,
402  That we the horrider may seem to those
403  Which chance to find us: O, my lord, my lord!

404  To them the legions garrison'd in Gailia,
405  After your will, have cross'd the sea, attending
406  You here at Milford-Haven with your ships:
407  They are in readiness.

408  But what from Rome?

409  The senate hath stirr'd up the confiners
410  And gentlemen of Italy, most willing spirits,
411  That promise noble service: and they come
412  Under the conduct of bold Iachimo,
413  Syenna's brother.

414  When expect you them?

415  With the next benefit o' the wind.

416  This forwardness
417  Makes our hopes fair. Command our present numbers
418  Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't. Now, sir,
419  What have you dream'd of late of this war's purpose?

420  Last night the very gods show'd me a vision--
421  I fast and pray'd for their intelligence--thus:
422  I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd
423  From the spongy south to this part of the west,
424  There vanish'd in the sunbeams: which portends--
425  Unless my sins abuse my divination--
426  Success to the Roman host.

427  Dream often so,
428  And never false. Soft, ho! what trunk is here
429  Without his top? The ruin speaks that sometime
430  It was a worthy building. How! a page!
431  Or dead, or sleeping on him? But dead rather;
432  For nature doth abhor to make his bed
433  With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead.
434  Let's see the boy's face.

435  He's alive, my lord.

436  He'll then instruct us of this body. Young one,
437  Inform us of thy fortunes, for it seems
438  They crave to be demanded. Who is this
439  Thou makest thy bloody pillow? Or who was he
440  That, otherwise than noble nature did,
441  Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy interest
442  In this sad wreck? How came it? Who is it?
443  What art thou?

444  I am nothing: or if not,
445  Nothing to be were better. This was my master,
446  A very valiant Briton and a good,
447  That here by mountaineers lies slain. Alas!
448  There is no more such masters: I may wander
449  From east to occident, cry out for service,
450  Try many, all good, serve truly, never
451  Find such another master.

452  'Lack, good youth!
453  Thou movest no less with thy complaining than
454  Thy master in bleeding: say his name, good friend.

455  Richard du Champ.
Aside
456  If I do lie and do
457  No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope
458  They'll pardon it.--Say you, sir?

459  Thy name?

460  Fidele, sir.

461  Thou dost approve thyself the very same:
462  Thy name well fits thy faith, thy faith thy name.
463  Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say
464  Thou shalt be so well master'd, but, be sure,
465  No less beloved. The Roman emperor's letters,
466  Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner
467  Than thine own worth prefer thee: go with me.

468  I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please the gods,
469  I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep
470  As these poor pickaxes can dig; and when
471  With wild wood-leaves and weeds I ha' strew'd his grave,
472  And on it said a century of prayers,
473  Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep and sigh;
474  And leaving so his service, follow you,
475  So please you entertain me.

476  Ay, good youth!
477  And rather father thee than master thee.
478  My friends,
479  The boy hath taught us manly duties: let us
480  Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can,
481  And make him with our pikes and partisans
482  A grave: come, arm him. Boy, he is preferr'd
483  By thee to us, and he shall be interr'd
484  As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes
485  Some falls are means the happier to arise.