I cannot tremble at it; were't toad, or adder, spider, "Twould move me sooner. Clo. To thy further fear, Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know I'm son to the queen. Gui. I'm sorry for't; not seeming So worthy as thy birth. Clo. Art not afear'd? 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, And on the gates of Lud's town set your heads: [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, I Bel. Being scarce made up, mean, to man, he had not apprehension Of roaring terrors; for the effect of judgment Re-enter GUIDERIUS, with Cloten's head. 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, 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 exécutioner, 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 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. Arv. Let ordinance Come as the gods foresay it: howsoe'er, Bel. I had no mind To hunt this day: the boy Fidele's sickness Gui. With his own sword, Which he did wave against my throat, I have ta'en His head from him: I'll throw it 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 reveng'd: [Exit. '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, Thou hast robb'd 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 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, Bel. O thou goddess, [Exit. Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st Not wagging his sweet head: and yet as rough, Re-enter GUIDErius. Gui. Where's my brother? I have sent Cloten's clotpole down the stream, Bel. My ingenious instrument! [Solemn music. Hark, Polydore, it sounds! But what occasion 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 Is jollity for apes, and griefs for boys. Is Cadwal mad? Re-enter ARVIRAGUS, bearing IMOGEN as dead, in his arms. Bel. Look, here he comes, And brings the dire occasion 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 skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty, Gui. O sweetest, fairest lily! My brother wears thee not the one half so well, Bel. O, melancholy! Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy !--- Arv. Stark, as you see: Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled slumber, Gui. Where? Arv. O'the floor; His arms thus leagu'd: I thought, he slept; and put My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rude ness Answer'd my steps too loud. Gui. Why, he but sleeps: If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed; Arv. With fairest flowers, nor Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, |