University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

A Palace.
Enter Cloten.
Clot.
I love and hate her; for she's fair and Royal,
I love her; but
Disdaining me, and throwing Favours on
The low Posthumus, slanders so her Judgment,
I will conclude to hate her,
Enter Pisanio.
Who is here? Ah you precious Pander, Villain,
Where is thy Lady? In a word, or else
Thou art straightway with the Friends.

Pis.
Oh, good my Lord.

Clot.
Where is thy Lady? Or, by Jupiter,
I will not ask again. Close Villain,
I'll have this Secret from thy Heart, or rip
Thy Heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus?

Pis.
Alas, my Lord,
How can she be with him? When was she miss'd?

Clot.
Where is she, Sir? satisfy me home,
What is become of her.

Pis.
Oh, my all worthy Lord!

Clot.
All-worthy Villain!
Speak, or thy Silence on the Instant is
Thy Condemnation and thy Death.

Pis.
Then, Sir,
This Paper is the History of my Knowledge
Touching her Flight.

Clot.
Let's see't; I will pursue her
Even to Augustus's Throne.

Pis.
Or this, or perish.
[Aside.
She's far enough, and what he learns by this,
May prove his Travel, not her Danger.

Clot.
Humh.

Pis.
I'll write to my Lord she is dead. Oh, Imogen,
Safe may'st thou wander, safe return again.

Clot.
Sirrah, is this Letter true?

Pis.
Sir, as I think.

Clot.

It is Posthumus's Hand, I know't. Sirrah, if
thou would'st not be a Villain, but to do me true
Service; that is, what Villainy soe'er I bid thee do to
perform it, directly and truly, I would think thee an
honest Man; thou shouldst neither want my means for
thy Relief; nor my Voice for thy Preferment.

Pis.

Well, my good Lord.

Clot.

Give me thy Hand, here's my Purse. Hast
any of thy late Master's Garments in thy Possession?

Pis.

I have, my Lord, one at my Lodging, which he
forgot to take with him, it was a favourite of my
Lady and Mistress.

Clot.

The first Service thou dost me, fetch that Suit
hither?

Pis.

I shall, my Lord.

[Exit.
Clot.

Meet thee at Milford-Haven? even there, thou
Villain, Posthumus, will I kill thee. She said upon a
time, that she held the very Garment of Posthumus,
in more respect, than my Noble and Natural Person;
With that Suit upon my Back will I ravish her; and
when my Lust hath dined, to the Court I'll foot her
home again. My Revenge is now at Milford, would
I had Wings to follow it.

[Exit.

SCENE II.

The Forest and Cave.
Enter Imogen in Boys Cloaths.
Imo.
I see a Man's Life is a tedious one,
I have tired myself; and for two Nights together
Have made the Ground my Bed. I should be sick,
But that my Resolution helps me: Milford,
When from the Mountain Top Pisanio shew'd thee,
Thou wast within a Ken. Oh, Jove, I think
Foundations fly the wretched, such I mean,
Where they should be relieved. Two Beggars told me,
I could not miss my way. Will poor Folks lie
That have Afflictions on them, yet no wonder,
When rich ones scarce tell true. To laspe in Fulness
Is sorer, than to lie for Need; and Falshood
Is worse in Kings, than Beggars. My dear Lord,
Thou art one o'th' false ones; now I think on thee,
My Hunger's gone, but even before, I was
At point to sink for Food. But what is this?
[seeing the Cave.
Here is a Path to't—'tis some Savage hold;
I were best not call; I dare not call; yet Famine
Ere it clean o'er-throw Nature, makes it valiant.
Plenty and Peace breed Cowards, Hardness ever
Of Hardiness is Mother. Ho! who's here?
If any thing that's civil, speak;
No Answer? then I'll enter.
Best draw my Sword; and if mine Enemy
But fear my Sword like me, he'll scarcely look on't.
Such a Foe, good Heav'ns.

[She goes into the Cave.
Enter Bellarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.
Bel.
You Paladour have prov'd best Woodman, and
Are master of the Feast; Cadwall and I
Will play the Cook, and Servant; come, our Stomachs
Will make what's homely, savourly; Weariness
Can snore upon the Flint, when resty Sloth
Finds the Down Pillow hard. Now Peace be here,
Poor House, that keeps thyself.

Guid.
There is cold Meat i'th' Cave, we'll brouze on that
Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd.

Bel.
Stay, come not in—
[Looking in.
But that it eats our Victuals, I should think
He were a Fairy.

Guid.
What's the matter, Sir?

Bel.
By Jupiter an Angel! or if not,
An Earthly Paragon. Behold Diveneness
No elder than a Boy.

Enter Imogen from the Cave.
Imo.
Good Master harm me not;
Before I enter'd here, I call'd and thought
To have begg'd, or bought, what I have took: good troth,
I have stol'n nought, nor would not, though I had found
Gold-strew'd i'th' Floor. Here's Money for my Meat,
I would have left it on the Board so soon
As I had made my Meal. And parted thence
With Prayers for the Provider.

Guid.
Money, Youth?

Arv.
All Gold and Silver rather turn to Dirt,
As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those
Who worship dirty Gods.

Imo.
I see you're angry:
Know, if you kill me for my Fault, I should
Have dy'd, had I not made it.

Bel.
Whither bound?

Imo.
To Milford-Haven.

Bel.
What's your Name?

Imo.
Fidele, Sir; I have a Kinsman, who
Is bound for Italy! He embark'd at Milford,
To whom being going, almost spent with Hunger,
I am fal'n in this Offence.

Bel.
Pr'ythee, fair Youth,
Think us no Churls; nor measure our good Minds
By this rude Place we live in. Well-encounter'd,
'Tis almost Night, you shall have better Chear
Ere you depart, and Thanks to stay and eat it.
Boys, bid him welcome.

Arv.
I'll love him as my Brother:
And such a Welcome as I'd give to him,
After long Absence, such is yours.

Guid.
Most welcome:
Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst Friends.

Imo.
'Mongst Friends,
[Aside.
If Brothers: Would it had been so, that they
Had been my Father's Sons, then had my Prize
Been less, and so more equal to thee my Posthumus.

Bel.
He wrings at some Distress.

Guid.
Would I could free it.

Arv.
Or I, what e'er it be,
What Pain it cost, what Danger.

Bel.
Hark, Boys.

[Whispering.
Imo.
Great Men.
That had a Court no bigger than this Cave,
That did attend themselves, and had the Virtue
Which their own Conscience seal'd them; laying by
That Nothing-gift of different Multitudes
Could not out-piece these twain. Pardon me, Gods,
I'd change my Sex to be Companion with them,
Since Posthumus is false.

Bel.
It shall be so:
Boys, we'll go dress our Hunt. Fair Youth, come in;
Discourse is heavy, fasting; when we have supp'd
We'll mannerly demand thee of thy Story,
So far as thou wilt speak it.

Guid.
Pray draw near.

Arv.
The Night to th'Owl,
And Morn to th'Lark less welcome.

Imo.
Thanks, Sir.

Arv.
I pray draw near.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

The Forest.
Enter Cloten alone.
Clot.

I am near to th'Place where they should meet,
if Pisanio have mapp'd it truly. How fit his Garments
serve me! Posthumus, thy Head, which is now growing
upon thy Shoulders, shall within this Hour be off, thy
Mistress enforc'd; thy Garments cut to Pieces before her
Face, and all this done, spurn her home to her Father,
who may, happily, be a little angry for my so rough
usage; but my Mother having Power of his Testiness,
shall turn all into my Commendations. My Horse is
ty'd up safe, out Sword, and to a sore Purpose; Fortune
put them into my Hand; this is the very Description of
their Meeting place, and the Fellow dares not deceive
me.

[Exit.

SCENE IV.

The Cave.
Enter Bellarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, and Imogen.
Bel.
You are not well: Remain here in the Cave,
We'll come to you after Hunting.

Arv.
Brother, stay here:
Are we not Brothers?

Imo.
So Man and Man should be,
But Clay and Clay differs in Dignity,
Whose Dust is both alike. I am very sick.

Guid.
Go you to Hunting, I'll abide with him.

Imo.
So sick I am not, yet I am not well.
So please you, leave me,
Stick to your Journal course; the breach of Custom,
Is breach of all. I am ill, but your being by me
Cannot amend me. Society is no Comfort
To one not sociable: I am not very sick,
Since I can reason of it. Pray you trust me here!

Arv.
Brother, farewel.

Imo.
I wish you sport.

Arv.
You health—So please you, Sir.

Imo.
These are kind Creatures Gods, what Lies have I heard!
Our Courtiers say, all's savage, but at Court:
I am sick still, heart-sick—Pisanio,
I'll now taste of thy Drug.

[Drinks out of the Phial.
Guid.
I could not stir him;
He said he was gentle, but unfortunate;
Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest.

Arv.
Thus did he answer me; yet said, hereafter
I might know more.

Bel.
To th'Field, to th'Field:
We'll leave you for this time, go in, and rest.

Arv.
We'll not be long away.

Bel.
Pray be not sick,
For you must be our Housewife.

Imo.
Well or ill,
I am bound to you.

[Exit.
Bel.
This Youth, howe'er distress'd, appears t'have had
Good Ancestors.

Arv.
How Angel-like he sings?
Nobly he yokes a Smiling with a Sigh.

Guid.
Yet I do note,
That Grief and Patience rooted in him both,
Mingle their Spurs together.

Arv.
Grow Patience,
And let the stinking Elder, Grief, untwine
His perishing Root, from the encreasing Vine.

Bel.
It is great Morning. Come away: who's there?

Enter Cloten.
Clot.
I cannot find those Runagates, that Villain
Hath mock'd me.

[Exit.
Bel.
Those Runagates!
Means he not us? I partly know him; 'tis
Cloten, the Son o'th' Queen; I fear some ambush.—

Guid.
He is but one? you, and my Brother search
What Companies are near: pray you away,
Let me alone with him.

Exeunt Bellarius and Arviragus.
Re-enter Cloten.
Clot.
Soft, what are you
That fly me thus? Some Villain-Mountaineers—
I've heard of such. Thou art a Robber,
A Law-breaker, a Villain; yield thee, Thief.

Guid.
To whom? 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?

Clot.
Thou Villain base
Know'st me not by my Clothes?

Guid.
No, nor thy Tailor, who made those Clothes,
Which, as it seems, make thee.

Clot.
Thou injurious Thief,
Hear but my Name, and tremble.

Guid.
What's thy Name?

Clot.
Cloten, thou Villain.

Guid.
Cloten, then double Villain, be thy Name,
I cannot tremble at it; were it Toad, Adder, Spider,
'Twould move me sooner.

Clot.
To thy further Fear,
Nay, to thy mere Confusion, thou shalt know
I am Son to th'Queen.

Guid.
I am sorry for't; not seeming
So worthy as thy Birth.

Clot.
Art not afraid?

Guid.
Those that I reverence, those I fear, the Wife;
At Fools I laugh, not fear them

Clot.
Die the Death:
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 rustick Mountaineer.

[Fight, and Exeunt.
Enter Bellarius and Arviragus.
Bel.
No Company's abroad.

Arv.
None in the World; you did mistake him sure.

Bel.
No, 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. But see thy Brother.

Enter Guiderius.
Guid.
This Cloten was a Fool. Not Hercules
Could have knock'd out his Brains, for he had none.

Bel.
What hast thou done?

Guid.
Cut off one Cloten's Head,
Son to the Queen, after his own report.

Bel.
We are all undone.

Guid.
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 we do fear no 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.
It is not probable he'd come alone.

Arv.
Let Ord'nance
Come, as the Gods foresay it, howsoe'er
My Brother hath done well.

Bel.
I had no mind
To hunt this Day: The Boy Fidele's Sickness
Did make my way long forth.

Guid.
With his own Sword,
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 care.

[Exit.
Bel.
I fear it will be reveng'd:
Would, Paladour, thou hadst not done't: though Valour
Becomes thee well enough.

Arv.
Would I had done't.

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 Paladour return, and bring him
To Dinner presently.

Arv.
Poor sick Fidele!
I'll willingly to him; to gain his Colour
I'd let a River of such Clotens Blood,
And praise myself for Charity.

[Exit.
Bel.
O thou Goddess,
Thou divine Nature! how thyself thou blazon'st
In these two princely Boys: they are as gentle
As Zephyrs blowing below the Violet,
Not wagging his sweet Head; and yet, as rough,
(Their Royal Blood enchaf'd,) as the rud'st Wind,
That by the top doth take the Mountain Pine,
And make him stoop to th'Vale. 'Tis wonderful
That an invisible Instinct should frame them
To Royalty unlearn'd, Honour untaught,
Civility not seen from other; Valour,
That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop
As if it had been sow'd: yet still 'tis strange
What Cloten's being here to us portends
Or what his Death will bring us.

Enter Guiderius.
Guid.
Where's my Brother?
I have sent Cloten's Clot-pole down the Stream,
In Embassie to his Mother; his Body's Hostage
For his Return.

[Solemn Musick.
Bel.
My ingenious Instrument,
Hark Paladour, it sounds: But what occasion
Hath Cadwall now to give it motion? Hark.

Guid.
Is he at Home?

Bel.
He went hence even now.

Guid.
What does he mean?
Since death of my dear Mother
It did not speak before. All solemn things
Should answer solemn Accidents.

Enter Arviragus.
Bel.
Look, here he comes;
And brings the dire occasion in his Looks,
Of what we blame him for.

Arv.
The Bird is dead
That we have made so much on. I had rather
Have skipt from sixteen Years of Age, to sixty;
Than have seen this.

Guid.
Oh sweetest, fairest Lilly!
And art thou gone, my poor Fidele.

Bel.
What is he dead, how found you him?

Arv.
Stark—smiling as some Fly had tickled Slumber,
Not as Death's Dart being laugh'd at: his right cheek
Reposing 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.
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.

Arv.
With fairest Flow'rs,
Whilst Summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele,
I'll sweeten thy sad Grave:

Bel.
Great Griefs I see med'cine the less. For Cloten,
Is quite forgot. He was a Queen's Son, Boys,
And though he came our Enemy, remember
He paid for that: Our Foe was princely.
And though you took his Life, as being our Foe,
Yet bury him, as a Prince. Go bring your Lilly.
[Exeunt Guid. and Arv.
Oh! Melancholy!
Who ever yet could found thy Bottom, find
The Ooze, to shew what coast thy sluggish Carrack
Might easiliest harbour in? Thou blessed thing
Jove knows what Man thou might'st have made, but Oh!
Thou dy'dst, a most rare Boy of Melancholy.
Enter Guiderius and Arviragus, with the Body.
Come let us lay the Bodies each by each,
And strew 'em o'er with Flow'rs, and on the Morrow
Shall the Earth receive 'em.

Arv.
Sweet Fidele!
Fear no more th'Heat o'th' Sun,
Nor the furious Winters blast;
Thou thy worldly Task hast done,
And the Dream of Life is past.

Guid.
Monarchs, Sages, Peasants must
Follow thee, and come to Dust.

[Exeunt with the Body.

SCENE IV.

The Palace.
Enter Cymbeline, Lords and Pisanio.
Cym.
Again; and bring me word how tis with her;
A Fever with the Absence of her Son;
Madness, of which her life's in danger; heav'ns!
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
Dost seem so ignorant, we'll inforce it from thee
By a sharp Torture.

Pis.
Sir, my Life is yours, set it at your Will:

2 Lord.
Good my Liege,
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 Lord Cloten,
There wants no diligence in seeking him,
He will no doubt be sound.

Cym.
The time is troublesome;
We'll slip you for a Season, but our Jealousy
Do's yet depend.

2 Lord.
So please your Majesty,
The Roman Legions all from Gallia drawn,
Are landed on your Coast.

Cym.
Now for the Counsel of my Son and Queen:
I am amaz'd with matter, let's withdraw
And meet the Time, as it seeks us: we fear not
What can from Italy annoy us, but
We grieve at Chances here—away,—

[Exeunt.
Pis.
I've had 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 betide to Cloten, but remain
Perplex'd in all. The Heavn's still must work;
Wherein I'm false I'm honest, not true, to be true,
These present Wars shall find I love my Country,
Ev'n to the Note of th'King, or I'll fall in them:
All other doubts by time, let 'em be clear'd,
Fortune brings in some Boats, that are not steer'd.

[Exit.

SCENE V.

A Forest.
Imogen and Cloten, on a Bank strew'd with Flowers.
Imogen
awakes.
Yes, Sir, to Milford-Haven, which is the way?—
I thank you—by yond Bush—pray how far thither?—
'Ods pittikins—can it be fix Mile yet?—
I have gone all Night—'faith, I'll lye down and sleep.
But soft! no Bedfellow!—Oh Gods, and Goddesses!
[Seeing the Body.
The Flow'rs are like the Pleasures of the World;
This bloody Man the Care on't. I hope I dream;
For sure I thought I was a Cave-keeper,
And Cook to honest Creatures.
I tremble still with fear; but if there be
Yet left in Heav'n as small a drop of Pity
As a Wren's Eye: oh, Gods! a part of it!
The Dream's here still; even when I wake, it is
Without me, as within me; not imagin'd, felt.
A headless Man!—The Garments of my Posthumus?
I know them well, this is his Hand—
Murdered—Pisanio!—
'Twas thou conspiring, with that Devil Cloten,
Hast here cut off my Lord. Pisanio!—
How should this be, Pisanio!—Tis he!
The Drug he gave me, which he said was precious
And Cordial to me, have I not found it
Murd'rous to th'Senses? that confirms it home:
This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's Deed,
Oh, my Lord! my Lord!

[Lies down upon the Body.
Enter Lucius, and Captains.
Luc.
But what from Rome?

Cap.
The Senate hath stirr'd up the Confiners,
And Gentlemen of Italy, most willing Spirits,
That promise Noble Service: and they come
Under the Conduct of bold Iachimo,
Syenna's Brother.

Luc.
When expect you them?

Cap.
With the next Benefit o'th' Wind.

Luc.
This Forwardness
Makes our Hopes fair, Soft ho, what Trunk is here?
Without his Top? the Ruin speaks, that sometime
It was a worthy Building. How! a Page!—
Or dead or sleeping on him? but dead rather:
For Nature doth abhor to make his Bed
With the Defunct, or sleep upon the dead.
Let's see the Boy's Face.

Cap.
He's alive, my Lord.

Luc.
He'll then instruct us of his 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? 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:

Luc.
'Lack, good Youth!
Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining, than
Thy Master in bleeding: Say thy Name, good Friend.

Imo.
Fidele, Sir.

Luc.
Thy Name well fits thy Faith;
Will't take thy Chance with me? I will not say,
Thou shalt be so well master'd, but be sure
No less belov'd. Go with me.

Imo.
I'll follow Sir; But first an't please the Gods
I'll hide my Master from the Fowls as deep
As these poor Pickaxes can dig; and when
With wild Wood-leaves, and Weeds, I ha' 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 Partizans,
A Grave, come, take him up; Boy he is preferr'd
By thee to us, and he shall be interr'd
As Soldiers can. Be chearful, wipe thine Eyes,
Some falls, are means the happier to arise.
Bring him a long.

[Exeunt.