Arv. In this place we left them ; Bel. Being scarce made up, Enter Guiderius, with Cloten's head. Bel. What hast thou done? [grow, Bel. We're all undone ! Guid. Why, worthy father, what have we to lose, Bel. No single soul Nor they so suffering ; then on good ground we fear, Aru. Let ordinance Bel. I had no mind Guid. With his own sword, [Exit. Bel. I fear 'twill be reveng'd : 'Would, Paladour, thou hadít not done't! though valour Becomes thee well enough. Aru. 'Would I had done’t, revenges, That possible strength might meet, would seek us thro', And put us to our answer, Bel. Well, 'tis done : Aru. Poor fick Fidele ! [Exit As zephyrs blowing below the violet, • Not wagging his sweet head; and yet as rough • (Their royal blood enchaf'd) as the rud'ft wind, • 'hat by the top doth take the mountain-pine, And make him loop to th' vale. 'Tis wonderful, "That an invisible * instinct should frame them • To royalty unlearn'd, honour untaught, Civility not seen from other;' valour, Re-enter Guiderius. [Solemn mufic. GuidIs he at home? Guid. What does he mean? Since death of my dear'st It did not speak before. All solemn things (mother, Should answer folemn accidents. The matter? t S C Ε Ν Ε V. Enter Arviragus, with Imogen dead, bearing her in his arms. Bel. Look here he comes ! and brings the dire occafion in his arms, Of what we blame him for. Arv, « The bird is dead "That we have made so much on ! I had rather * Have skipt from fixteen years of age to fixty, "And turn'd my stea ping-time into a crutch, Than have seen this. Guid, Oh sweetelt, fairelt lily! My brother wears thee not one half so well, invisible for blind. + The matter ! Triumphs for nothing, and lamerting toys, Is jollity for apes, and grief for boys. Is Cadwall mad? SCENE, &c. VOL. VII, U • As when thou grew'At thyself. Bel. ' O Melancholy ! • Who ever yet could found thy bottom ! find The ooze, to shew what coast thy fluggish carrack Might eas'liest harbour in ? -Thou blessed thing! Jove knows what man thou might'st have made; but • Thou dy'dit, a most rare boy of melancholy ! [ah! 6 How found you him ? Arv. Stark, as you fee: * Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled Number! * Not as Death's dart, being laugh’dat : bis right cheek • Repofing on a cushion. Guid, : Where? Arv, O'th' floor; * His arms thus leagu'd ; I thought he slept ; and put My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness • Answer'd my steps too loud. Guid. “ Why, he but Deeps; “ If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed ; “ With female fairies will his tomb be haunted And worms will not come near him. Aru. “ With fairest flow'rs, " Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, " I'll sweeten thy sad grave. Thou shalt not lack * The flow'r that's like thy face, Pale Primrose ; nor • The azur'd Hare bell, like thy veins ; no, nor • The leaf of Eglantine, which, not to slander, * Out-sweetep'd not thy breath. The ruddock would, • With charitable bill, (oh bill, fore-shaming 6. Those rich left heirs, that let their fathers lie or Without a monument!) bring thee all this; • Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flow'rs are none, " To winter-gown thy corse. Guid. Pr'ythee have done ; grave. Arv. Be't so: Have got the mannish crack, sing him to th' ground, Guid, Cadwall, Arv. We'll speak it then. Bel. Great griefs I fee med'cine the less. For Eloten. Is quit forgot. He was a Queen's son, boys; And though he came our enemy, remember, He has paid for that : the mean and mighty, rotting Together, have one duft; yet Reverence (That angel of the world) doth make distinction of place 'twixt high and low. Our foe was priacely ;And though you took his life, as being our foca Yet bury him as a prince. Guid. Pray, fetch him hither. Thersites' body is as good as Ajax, When neither are alive. Arv. If you'll go fetch him, We'll say our fong the whilft. Brother, begin. [Exit Beli Guid. Nay, Cadwall, we must lay his head to th'east; My father hath a reason for't. Aku. 'Tis true, S ON G. • Noriche furious winter's rages ; • Home ärt gone, and ta'en thy wagosa: • Thou art past the tyrant's stroke ; . To thee the reed is as the oak, The fceptre, learning, physic, must Ail follow thee, and come to duji. |