William Shakespeare - William Shakespeare - Complete Works

CLOTEN. 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

Re-enter BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS

BELARIUS. No company's abroad.

ARVIRAGUS. None in the world; you did mistake him, sure.

BELARIUS. 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.

ARVIRAGUS. In this place we left them.

I wish my brother make good time with him,

You say he is so fell.

BELARIUS. Being scarce made up,

I mean to man, he had not apprehension

Or roaring terrors; for defect of judgment

Is oft the cease of fear.

Re-enter GUIDERIUS with CLOTEN'S head

But, see, thy brother.

GUIDERIUS. 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.

BELARIUS. What hast thou done?

GUIDERIUS. I am perfect what: cut off one Cloten's head,

Son to the Queen, after his own report;

Who call'd me traitor, mountaineer, and swore

With his own single hand he'd take us in,

Displace our heads where- thank the gods!- they grow,

And set them on Lud's Town.

BELARIUS. We are all undone.

GUIDERIUS. Why, worthy father, what have we to lose

But that he swore to take, our lives? The law

Protects not us; then why should we be tender

To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us,

Play judge and executioner all himself,

For we do fear the law? What company

Discover you abroad?

BELARIUS. No single soul

Can we set eye on, but in an safe reason

He must have some attendants. Though his humour

Was nothing but mutation- ay, and that

From one bad thing to worse- not frenzy, not

Absolute madness could so far have rav'd,

To bring him here alone. Although perhaps

It may be heard at court that such as we

Cave here, hunt here, are outlaws, and in time

May make some stronger head- the which he hearing,

As it is like him, might break out and swear

He'd fetch us in; yet is't not probable

To come alone, either he so undertaking

Or they so suffering. Then on good ground we fear,

If we do fear this body hath a tail

More perilous than the head.

ARVIRAGUS. Let ordinance

Come as the gods foresay it. Howsoe'er,

My brother hath done well.

BELARIUS. I had no mind

To hunt this day; the boy Fidele's sickness

Did make my way long forth.

GUIDERIUS. With his own sword,

Which he did wave against my throat, I have ta'en

His head from him. I'll throw't into the creek

Behind our rock, and let it to the sea

And tell the fishes he's the Queen's son, Cloten.

That's all I reck. Exit

BELARIUS. I fear'twill be reveng'd.

Would, Polydore, thou hadst not done't! though valour

Becomes thee well enough.

ARVIRAGUS. Would I had done't,

So the revenge alone pursu'd 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.

BELARIUS. Well, 'tis done.

We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danger

Where there's no profit. I prithee to our rock.

You and Fidele play the cooks; I'll stay

Till hasty Polydore return, and bring him

To dinner presently.

ARVIRAGUS. Poor sick Fidele!

I'll willingly to him; to gain his colour

I'd let a parish of such Cloten's blood,

And praise myself for charity. Exit

BELARIUS. O thou goddess,

Thou divine Nature, thou 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 th' 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.

Re-enter GUIDERIUS

GUIDERIUS. Where's my brother?

I have sent Cloten's clotpoll down the stream,

In embassy to his mother; his body's hostage

For his return. [Solemn music]

BELARIUS. My ingenious instrument!

Hark, Polydore, it sounds. But what occasion

Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark!

GUIDERIUS. Is he at home?

BELARIUS. He went hence even now.

GUIDERIUS. What does he mean? Since death of my dear'st mother

It did not speak before. All solemn things

Should answer solemn accidents. The matter?

Triumphs for nothing and lamenting toys

Is jollity for apes and grief for boys.

Is Cadwal mad?

Re-enter ARVIRAGUS, with IMOGEN as dead, bearing

her in his arms

BELARIUS. Look, here he comes,

And brings the dire occasion in his arms

Of what we blame him for!

ARVIRAGUS. The bird is dead

That we have made so much on. I had rather

Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty,

To have turn'd my leaping time into a crutch,

Than have seen this.

GUIDERIUS. O sweetest, fairest lily!

My brother wears thee not the one half so well

As when thou grew'st thyself.

BELARIUS. O melancholy!

Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find

The ooze to show what coast thy sluggish crare

Might'st easiliest harbour in? Thou blessed thing!

Jove knows what man thou mightst have made; but I,

Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy.

How found you him?

ARVIRAGUS. 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.

GUIDERIUS. Where?

ARVIRAGUS. O' th' floor;

His arms thus leagu'd. I thought he slept, and put

My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness

Answer'd my steps too loud.

GUIDERIUS. Why, he but sleeps.

If he be gone he'll make his grave a bed;

With female fairies will his tomb be haunted,

And worms will not come to thee.

ARVIRAGUS. With fairest flowers,

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-sweet'ned 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 flow'rs are none,

To winter-ground thy corse-

GUIDERIUS. Prithee 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 th' grave.

ARVIRAGUS. Say, where shall's lay him?

GUIDERIUS. By good Euriphile, our mother.

ARVIRAGUS. Be't so;

And let us, Polydore, though now our voices

Have got the mannish crack, sing him to th' ground,

As once to our mother; use like note and words,

Save that Euriphile must be Fidele.

GUIDERIUS. Cadwal,