Ifaw him not thefe many years, and yet Hence. Guid. He is but one; you and my brother fearch What companies are near. Pray you, away; Let me alone with him. [Exeunt Belarius and Arviragus. Clot. Soft! what are you, That fly me thus ? fome villain-mountaineer. I've heard of fuch, Guid. A thing What flave art thou? More flavish did I ne'er, than answering A flave.without a knock. Clot. Thou art a robber, A law-breaker, a villain. Yield thee, thief. Guid. To whom? to thee? What art thou? Have. not I. An arm as big as thine? a heart as big? Thy words, I grant, are bigger: for I wear not My dagger in my mouth. Say what thou art, Why I fhould yield to thee? Clot. Thou villain bafe, Know'ft me not by my cloaths? Guid. No, nor thy tailor, rafcal, Who is thy grandfather; he made those cloaths, Which, as it feems, make thee. Clot. Thou precious varler! My tailor made them not. Guid. Hence then, and thank The man that gave them thee. Thou art fome fool; I'm loth to beat thee. Clot. Thou injurious thief, Hear but my name, and tremble. Guid. What's thy name? Clot, Cloten, thou villain. Guid. Cloten, then double villain be thy name, I cannot tremble at it; were it toad, adder, fpider, 'Twould move me fooner. Clot. To thy further fear, Nay, to thy mere confufion, thou fhalt know. Pm fon to th' Queen. Guid. I'm forry for't; not feeming So worthy as thy birth.. Clot. Art not afraid? Guid. Thofe that I rev'rence, thofe I fear, the At fools I laugh,, not fear them. Glot. Die the death! [wife When I have flain thee with my proper hand, And on the gates of Lud's town fet your heads. SCENE [Fight, and exeunts IV. Enter Belarius and Arviragus. Bel. No company's abroad. -Arv. None in the world; you did mistake him,, fure. Bel. I cannot tell: long is it fince I faw him, But time hath nothing blurr'd those lines of favour Which then he wore; the fnatches in his voice, And burst of speaking,, were as his: I'm abfolute, 'Twas very Cloten. Arv. In this place we left them; I wish my brother make good time with him, Bel. Being fcarce made up, I mean, to man, he had not apprehenfion Guid. This Cloten was a fool; an empty purfe, There was no money in't; not Hercules Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had none. Bel. What hast thou done? Guid. I'm perfect what; cut off one Cloten's Son to the Queen, after his own report; [head, Who call'd me traitor, mountaineer, and swore With his own fingle hand he'd take us in ; Difplace our heads, where, thanks ye Gods, they Bel. We're all undone ! Guid. Why, worthy father, what have we to lofe Bel. No fingle foul Can we fet eye on; but, in all safe reason, To come alone, nor he fo undertaking, Nor they fo fuffering; then on good ground we fear, Arv. Let ordinance Come, as the gods forelay it; howfoe'er, Bel. I had no mind To hunt this day; the boy Fidele's fickness Guid. With his own fword, Which he did wave against my throat, I've ta'en And tell the fifles he's the Queen's fon, Cloten, Bel. I fear 'twill be reveng❜d. [Exit. 'Would, Paladour, thou hadst not done 't! though Becomes thee well enough. Arv. Would I had done 't, [valour So the revenge alone purfu'd me! Paladour,. 32 Thou'ft robb'd me of this deed; I would revenges, Bel Well, 'tis done : [thro', We'll hunt no more to-day, nor feek for danger "Till hafty Paladour return, and bring him Arv. Poor fick Fidele! I'll willingly to him: to gain his colour, And praise myself for charity. Bel. O thou goddess, [Exit Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st Not wagging his sweet head; and yet as rough, That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop Re-enter Guiderius,' Guid. Where's my brother? I have fent Cloten's clot-pole down the stream, For his return. Bel. My ingenious inftrument! Hark, Paladour! it founds: but what occafion Guid. Is he at home? Bel. He went hence even now. Guid. What does he mean? Since death of my dear'ft inother, It did not speak before. All folemn things Enter Arvirargus, with Imogen dead, bearing her in his arms. Bel. Look, here he comes! And brings the dire occafion in his arms, Arv. The bird is dead That we have made fo much on! I had rather Guid. Oh fweetest fairest lily! My brother wears thee not one half so well, Bel. O melancholy! Who ever yet could found thy bottom? find Thou dy'dft, a most rare boy, of melancholy ! Arv. Stark, as you fee, Thus fmiling, as fome fly had tickled slumber, Not as Death's dart, being laugh'd at; his right Repofing on a cushion. [cheek His arms thus leagu'd. I thought he flept, and put My clouted brogues from off my feet, whofe rudeness Anfwer'd my fteps too loud. Guid. Why, he but fleeps; If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed; Sluggish crare. A crare is a small trading vessel. Reviss |