Bel.

To the field, to the field.—

We'll leave you for this time; go in, and rest.

Arv. We'll not be long away.

Bel.

For you must be our housewife.

Imo.

I am bound to you.
Bel.

Pray, be not sick,

Well, or ill,

And shalt be ever.

[Exit IMOGEN.

This youth, howe'er distressed, appears, he hath had

Good ancestors.

Arv.

How angel-like he sings!

Gui. But his neat cookery! He cut our roots in

characters;

And sauced our broths, as Juno had been sick,

A smiling with a sigh; as if the sigh

Was that it was, for not being such a smile;
The smile mocking the sigh, that it would fly
From so divine a temple, to commix

With winds that sailors rail at.

Gui.

I do note,

That grief and patience, rooted in him both,
Mingle their spurs1 together.

Arv.

Grow, patience!

And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine

His perishing root, with the increasing vine!?

Bel. It is great morning.3 Come; away.-Who's there?

Enter CLOTEN.

Clo. I cannot find those runagates; that villain Hath mocked me. I am faint.

Bel.

Those runagates!

1 Spurs are the longest and largest leading roots of trees.

2 "Let patience grow, and let the stinking elder, grief, untwine his perishing root from those of the increasing vine, patience." With, from, and by, are almost always convertible words.

3 The same phrase occurs in Troilus and Cressida, Act iv. Sc. 3. It is a Gallicism:-"Il est grand matin."

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.-Hence.
Gui. He is but one. You and my brother search.
What companies are near: pray you away;
Let me alone with him.

[Exeunt BELARIUS and ARVIRAgus.
Soft! what are you

Clo.
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.1

Clo.

A thing

Thou art a robber,

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

Gui. To who? to thee? What art thou? 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 clothes?

Gui.

Thou villain base,

No, nor thy tailor, rascal,

Thou precious varlet,

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

Clo.

My tailor made them not.

Gui.

Hence, then, and thank

The man that gave them thee. Thou art some fool; I am loath to beat thee.

Gui. Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name, I cannot tremble at it; were't toad, or adder, spider, "Twould move me sooner.

1 i. e. than answering that abusive word slave.

VOL. VI.

37

Clo.

To thy further fear,

Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know

I'm son to the queen.
Gui.

So worthy as thy birth.

Clo.

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.

Die the death.

Clo.
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, rustic 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 blurred those lines of favor 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.
I mean, to man, he had not apprehension
Of roaring terrors; for defect of judgment

Is oft the cure of fear.

Being scarce made up,

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

1 The old copy reads, "Is oft the cause of fear; " but Belarius is assigning a reason for Cloten's foolhardy desperation, not accounting for his cowardice. The emendation adopted is Hanmer's.

Could have knocked 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 called me traitor, mountaineer; and swore,
With his own single hand he'd take us in,2

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

grow,

And set them on Lud's town.

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 3 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 humor1
Was nothing but mutation; ay, and that
From one bad thing to worse; not frenzy, not
Absolute madness could so far have raved,
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 hearing,
(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.

1 "I am well informed what."

2 i. e. conquer, subdue us.

3 For again in the sense of cause.

4 The old copy reads, "his honor." The emendation is Theobald's.

Arv.

Let ordinance

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

I had no mind

Bel.
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.

Bel.

I fear 'twill be revenged;

[Exit.

'Would, Polydore, thou had'st not done't! though

valor

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 robbed me of this deed. I would revenges, That possible strength might meet, would seek us through,

And put us to our answer.

Bel. Well, 'tis done ;

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 color,
I'd let a parish of such Clotens blood,3
And praise myself for charity.

Bel.

O thou goddess,

[Exit.

1 "Fidele's sickness made my walk forth from the cave tedious." 2 "Such pursuit of vengeance as fell within any possibility of opposition."

3 "To restore Fidele to the bloom of health, to recall the color into his cheeks, I would let out the blood of a whole parish, or any number of such fellows as Cloten." A parish is a common phrase for a great

number.