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Guid. No exorciser harm thee!
Arv. Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Guid. Ghost unlaid forbear thee!

Arv. Nothing ill come near thee! r

Both. Quiet consummation have;

And renowned be thy grave!

370

Re-enter BELARIUS, with the Body of CLOTEN.

Guid. We have done our obsequies

him down.

Come, lay

Bel. Here's a few flowers; but about midnight,

more :

The herbs that have on them cold dew o' the

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Are strewings fitt'st for graves.-Upon their faces:-
You were as flowers, now wither'd: even so.
These herb'lets shall, which we upon you strow.
Come on, away: apart upon our knees..

The ground, that gave them first, has them again :
Their pleasure here is past, so is their pain. [Exeunt.

IMOGEN, awaking.

Imo. Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; Which is the

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'Ods pittikins!- -can it be six miles yet?

I have gone all night :-'Faith, I'll lie down and

sleep.

But,

But, soft! no bedfellow :-O, gods and goddesses!

[Seeing the Body.

These flowers are like the pleasures of the world;
This bloody man, the care on't.—I hope, I dream;
For, so, I thought I was a cave-keeper;
And cook to honest creatures: But 'tis not so;
'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing,
Which the brain makes of fumes: Our very eyes
Are sometimes like our judgments, blind.

faith,

390

Good

400

I tremble still with fear: But if there be
Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity
As a wren's eye, fear'd 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 Posthumus!
I know the shape of his leg; this is his hand;
His foot Mercurial; his Martial thigh;
The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovial face-
Murder in heaven?-How?-'Tis gone.-Pisanio,
All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou,
Conspir'd with that irregulous devil, Cloten,
Hast here cut off my lord.-To write, and read,
Be henceforth treacherous !-Damn'd Pisanio
Hath with his forged letters-

From this most bravest vessel of the world

-damn'd Pisanio

410

Struck the main-top!-O, Posthumus! alas,

Where is thy head? where's that? Ay me! where's

that?

Pisanio

Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart, And left this head on.-How should this be? Pisanio? 'Tis he, and Cloten: malice and lucre in them

Have lay'd this woe here. O, 'tis pregnant, preg

nant!

The drug he gave me, which, he said, was precious
And cordial to me, have I not found it

Murd'rous to the senses? That confirms it home:
This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's: O-

Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood, 420
That we the horrider may seem to those

Which chance to find us: O, my lord! my lord!

Enter LUCIUS, Captains, &c. and a Soothsayer.

Cap. To them, the legions garrison'd in Gallia, After your will, have cross'd the sea; attending You here at Milford-Haven, with your ships: They are in readiness.

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' the wind.

Luc. This forwardness

430

Makes our hopes fair. Command, our present num

bers

Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't.-Now, sir,

What

What have you dream'd, of late, of this' war's pur

pose?

Sooth. Last night the very gods shew'd me a vi.

sion

441

(I fast, and pray'd, for their intelligence): Thus:I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd From the spungy south to this part of the west, There vanish'd in the sun-beams: which portends (Unless my sins abuse my divination), Success to the Roman host.

Luc. Dream often so,

And never false.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 is alive, my lord.

451

Luc. He'll then instruct us of this body.-Young

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Inform us of thy fortunes; for, it seems,

They crave to be demanded: Who is this,

Thou mak'st thy bloody pillow? Or who was he,
That, otherwise than noble nature did,

Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy interest
In this sad wreck? How came it, Who is it?
What art thou?

Imo. I am nothing or if not,

Nothing to be were better, This was my master,

461

A very valiant Briton, and a good,

That here by mountaineers lies slain :-Alas!
There are no more such masters: I may wander
From east to occident, cry out for service,

Try many, all good, serve truly, never
Find such another master.

Luc. 'Lack, good youth!

470

Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining, than
Thy master in bleeding : Say his name, good friend.
Imo. Richard du Champ. If I do lie, and do
No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope [Aside.
They'll pardon it. Say you, sir?

Luc. Thy name.

Imo. Fidele, sir.

481

Luc. Thou dost approve thyself the very same :
Thy name well fits thy faith; thy faith, thy name.
Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say,
Thou shalt be so well master'd; but, be sure,
No less belov'd. The Roman emperor's letters,
Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner

Than thine own worth prefer thee: Go with me.
Imo. I'll follow, sir. But, first, an't please the gods,
I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep

As these poor pick-axes can dig: and when

With wild wood-leaves and weeds I have 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.

490

Luc.

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