I'll willingly to him: To gain his colour, I'd let a parish of such Cloten's blood, And praise myself for charity. ́ Bel.. O thou goddess, [Exit. Thou divine Nature, thou thyself thou blazon'st 240 In these two princely boys! They are as gentle As zephyrs, blowing below the violet, Not wagging his sweet head; and yet as rough, That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop Re-enter GUIDERIUS. Guid. Where's my brother? I have sent Cloten's clot-pole down the stream, In embassy to his mother; his body's hostage For his return. Bel. My ingenious instrument ! $50 [Solemn Musick. Hark, Polydore, it sounds! But what occasion Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark! Guid. Is he at home? Bel. He went hence even now, I 260 Guid. Guid. What does he mean? since death of my dear est mother. It did not speak before. All solemn things Is Cadwal mad? Re-enter ARVIRAGUS, with IMOGEN as dead, bearing her in his Arms. Bel. Look, here he comes, And brings the dire occasion in his arms, Of what we blame him for! Aru. The bird is dead, That we have made so much on. I had rather Guid. Oh sweetest, fairest lily! My brother wears thee not the one half so well, Bel. O, melancholy! 270 280 Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find Thou dy'dst, a most rare boy, of melancholy !— Aru. Arv. Stark, as you see; Thus 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' the floor; 290 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. Guid. Why, he but sleeps: If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed; Aru. With fairest flowers, I 300 Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none, To winter-ground thy corse. Guid. Pr'ythee, have done; And do not play in wench-like words with that 311 Which is so serious. Let us bury him, Aru. Say, where shall's lay him? Guid. By good Euriphile, our mother. Arv. Be't so : And let us, Polydore, though now our voices 320 Have got the mannish crack, sing him to the ground, As once our mother; use like note, and words, Save that Euriphile must be Fidele. Guid. Cadwal, I cannot sing: I'll weep, and word it with thee: Aru. We'll speak it then. Bel. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less: for Cloten Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys; 330 And, though he came our enemy, remember, He was paid for that: Though mean and mighty, Together, have one dust; yet reverence (That angel of the world), doth make distinction Guid. Pray you, fetch him hither. Arv. If you'll go fetch him, 840 We'll We'll say our song the whilst. Brother, begin. [Exit BELARIUS. Guid. Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the east; My father hath a reason for't. Aru. 'Tis true. Guid. Come on then, and remove him. Arv. So-Begin. SONG.. Guid. Fear no more the heat o' the sun, Arv. Fear no more the frown o' the great, Care no more to clothe, and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: Guid. Fear no more the lightning-flash, 355 360 Consign to thee, and come to dust. |