Clo. I am near to the place where they should meet, if Pisanio have mapped it truly. How fit his garments serve me! Why should his mistress, who was made by him that made the tailor, not to be fit too? the rather (saving reverence of the word) for 'tis said, a woman's fitness comes by fits. Therein I must play the workman. I dare speak it to myself, (for it is not vain-glory, for a man and his glass to confer in his own chamber,) I mean, the lines of my body are as well-drawn as his; no less young, more strong, not beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in the advantage of the time, above him in birth, alike conversant in general services, and more remarkable in single oppositions: yet this imperseverant thing loves him in my despite. What mortality is! Posthumus, thy head, which now is growing upon thy shoulders, shall within this hour be off, thy mistress enforced, thy garments cut to pieces before thy face; and all this done, spurn her home to her father, who may, haply, 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 tied 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.

SCENE II.-Before the Cave.

[Exit.

Imo. So man and man should be; But clay and clay differs in dignity, Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick.

Gui. Go you to hunting; I'll abide with him. Imo. So sick I am not,-yet I am not well; But not so citizen a wanton, as

To seem to die, ere sick. 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;

I'll rob none but myself, and let me die,
Stealing so poorly.

Gui.
I love thee; I have spoke it:
How much the quantity, the weight as much,
As I do love my father.

Bel.

What! how? how?

Arv. If it be sin to say so, sir, I yoke me In my good brother's fault: I know not why I love this youth; and I have heard you say, Love's reason's without reason: the bier at door, And a demand who is't shall die, I'd say, My father, not this youth. Bel.

[Aside.] O noble strain! O worthiness of nature! breed of greatness! Cowards father cowards, and base things sire base: Nature hath meal, and bran; contempt and grace. I am not their father; yet who this should be, Doth miracle itself, lov'd before me.'Tis the ninth hour o' the morn. Arv.

Brother, farewell.

I am bound to you. Bel.

Pray, be not sick,

Well, or ill, And shalt be ever.

Clo. I cannot find those runagates: that villain Hath mock'd me.-I am faint.

Bel.
Those runagates!
Means he not us? I partly know him; 'tis
Cloten, the son o' the queen. I fear some ambush.
I saw him not these many years, and yet

I know 'tis he.-We are held as outlaws:-hence.
Gui. He is but one. You and my brother search
What companies are near: pray you, away;
Let me alone with him.

[Exeunt BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS.
Clo.
Soft! What are you
That fly me thus ? some villain mountaineers?
I have heard of such.-What slave art thou?
Gui.

A thing

More slavish did I ne'er, than answering
A slave without a knock.
Clo.

Thou art a robber,

Clo.

Thou precious varlet,

Hence then, and thank

My tailor made them not.
Gui.

The man that gave them thee. Thou art some fool;
I am loath to beat thee.
Clo.

Thou injurious thief,
Hear but my name, and tremble.
Gui.

What's thy name?

At fools I laugh, not fear them.

Clo.

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, rustic, mountaineer. [Exeunt, fighting.

Enter BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS.

Bel. No company's abroad.

Arv. None in the world. You did mistake him,

sure.

Bel. I cannot tell: long is it since I saw him,

But 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:

I wish my brother make good time with him,
You say he is so fell.

Bel.
Being scarce made up,
I mean, to man, he had not apprehension
Of roaring terrors; for defect of judgment
Is oft the cure of fear. But see, thy brother.

Re-enter GUIDERIUS, with CLOTEN's Head.

Gui. This Cloten was a fool, an empty purse, There was no money in't. Not Hercules Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had none; Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne My head, as I do his.

Bel.

What hast thou done?

Would I had done't, So the revenge alone pursued me.-Polydore,

I'll willingly to him: to gain his colour, I'd let a parish of such Clotens blood, And praise myself for charity.

[Eril.

Bel. Ŏ 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 the vale. 'Tis wonder, 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 it's strange, What Cloten's being here to us portends, Or what his death will bring us.

Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find
The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare
Might easiliest harbour in ?-Thou blessed thing!
Jove knows what man thou might'st have made;

but I,

Thou diedst a most rare boy, of melancholy.How found you him?

Arv.

Stark, as you see:

With fairest flowers,

Arv. Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave: thou shalt not lack The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose; nor The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweeten'd not thy breath: the ruddock would, With charitable bill (O bill, sore-shaming Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie Without a monument!) bring thee all this; Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none, To winter-ground thy corse. Gui.

Pr'ythee, have done;

And let us, Polydore, though now our voices 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.

Gui. Cadwal,

I cannot sing: I'll weep, and word it with thee; For notes of sorrow, out of tune, are worse 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;
And, though he came our enemy, remember,
He was paid for that: though mean and mighty,
rotting

Together, have one dust, yet reverence,
(That angel of the world,) doth make distinction
Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely,
And though you took his life, as being our foe,
Yet bury him as a prince.

Gui. Pray you, fetch him hither.
Thersites' body is as good as Ajax,
When neither are alive.

Arv.

If you'll go fetch him, We'll say our song the whilst.-Brother, begin. [Exit BELARIUS.

Gui. Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the

east; My father hath a reason for't.

Arv.

'Tis true. Gui. Come on then, and remove him. Arv.

SONG.

So.-Begin.

Gui. Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages:
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Arv. Fear no more the frown o' the great,
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
Care no more to clothe, and eat;

To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.

Gui. Fear no more the lightning-flash, Arv. Nor th' all-dreaded thunder-stone; Gui. Fear not slander, censure rash; Arv. Thou hast finish'd joy and moan: All lovers young, all lovers must Consign to thee, and come to dust.

Both.