valour 'Would, Polydore, thou had'st not done't! though Becomes thee well enough. Aro. 'Would I had done't, ` So the revenge alone pursued me!-Polydore, I love thee brotherly; but envy much, 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 Where there's no profit. I pr'ythee, to our rock; You and Fidele play the cooks: I'll stay Till hasty Polydore return, and bring him To dinner presently. Aro. Poor sick Fidele! I'll willingly to him: To gain his colour, [Exit. Bel. That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop * Regain, restore. Gui. Re-enter Guiderius. Where's my brother? I have sent Cloten's clotpoll down the stream, Bel. [Solemn musick. My ingenious instrument! Hark, Polydore, it sounds! But what occasion Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark! Gui. Is he at home? Bel. Gui. What does he dear'st mother He went hence even now. mean? since death of my It did not speak before. All solemn things Is Cadwal mad? Re-enter Arviragus, bearing Imogen as dead in his Bel. arms. Look, here he comes, The bird is dead, And brings the dire occasion in his arms, Of what we blame him for! Aro. That we have made so much on. I had rather Gui. Bel. O, melancholy! Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find * Trifles. A slow-sailing, unwieldy vessel. Jove knows what man thou might'st have made; but I, Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy !— 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. Gui. Arv. Where? 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; With fairest flowers, Arv. Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none, Gui. Pr'ythee, have done; And do not play in wench-like words with that Which is so serious. Let us bury him, And not protract with admiration what Is now due debt.-To the grave. * Stiff. + Shoes plated with iron. The red-breast. Probably a corrupt reading, for, wither round thy corse. Arv. Say, where shall's lay him? Gui. By good Euriphile, our mother. Art. Be't so : And let us, Polydore, though now our voices Gui. Cadwal, I cannot sing: I'll weep, and word it with thee: Than priests and fanes that lie. Arv. 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; He was paid for that: Though mean and mighty, rotting Together, have one dust; yet reverence (That augel of the world) doth make distinction Pray you, fetch him hither. Gui. Aro. If you'll go fetch him, [Exit Belarius. Gui. Nay, Cadwai, we must lay his head to the east; My father hath a reason for't. Aro. Gui. Come on theu, and remove him. Arv. • Punished. "Tis true. So,-Begin, SONG. Gui. Fear no more the heat o'the sun, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages: Arv. Fear no more the frown o'the great, Gui. Fear no more the lightning-flash, Gui. No exorciser harm thee! And renowned be thy gravet! Re-enter Belarius, with the body of Cloten. Gui. We have done our obsequies: Come, lay him down. Bel. Here's a few flowers; but about midnight, more : • Judgement. † Seal the same contract. See W. Collins's song at the end of the Play. |