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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!
Both. Quiet consummation have ; . . . 376
And renowned be thy grave! . . to

Re-enter BE LARIUs, with the Body of Clor EN.

Guid. We have done our obsequies Come, lay him down. Bel. Here's a few flowers; but about midnight, more : The herbs that have on them cold dew o' the night, Are strewings fitt'st for graves.—Upon their faces:– You were as flowers, now wither'd : even so These herbolets 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.

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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, 390 Which the brain makes of fumes: Our very eyes Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good

faith, 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; 4oo 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 damn'd Pisánio— From this most bravest vessel of the world Struck the main-top —O, Posthumus alas, 41o Where is thy head? where's that Aymel 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 l
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, 429

That we the horrider may seem to those
Which chance to find us: O, my lord 1 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.

Iuc. 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 499. Under the condućt of bold Iachimo, Syenna's brother. / Luc. When expećt you them

Cap. With the next benefit o' the wind.

Luc. This forwardness Makes our hopes fair. Command, our present num

bers Re muster'd : bid the captains look to't.-Now, sir, What

what have you dream’d, of late, of this war's pur-
pose 2
Sooth. Last night the very gods shew'd me a vi.
sion
(I fast, and pray'd, for their intelligence): Thus:–
I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd 441
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, hol what trunk is here,
Without his top The ruin speaks, that sometime
It was a worthy building.—How I a page 1 -
Or dead, or sleeping on him But dead, rather:
For nature doth abhor to make his bed 451
With the defunét, or sleep upon the dead.—
Let's see the boy's face.
Cap. He is alive, my lord. - -
Luc. He'll then instruct us of this 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 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? 461
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: I may wander
From east to occident, cry out for service,
Try many, all good, serve truly, never

Find such another master. 470

Luc. 'Lack, good youth ! 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.

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, 481 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, 499 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.

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