Gui.

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.

Bel.

I fear, 'twill be reveng'd:

Would, Polydore, thou hadst not done't, though valour
Becomes thee well enough.

Arv.

'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,

[Exit.

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.

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

Bel.
Oh 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

· [Exit.

6 - How thyself thou blazon'st] The folio, 1623, introduces "thou" three times into this line,

"Thou divine Nature, thou thyself thou blazon'st."

The folio, 1632, omitted the second thou, to the injury of the metre, and it was followed by the folios of 1664 and 1685; but Malone judiciously substituted "how" for thou, which suits the sound, the sense, and the measure.

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.

Gui.

Re-enter GUIDERIUS.

Where's my brother?

[Solemn music.

I have sent Cloten's clotpoll down the stream,
In embassy to his mother: his body's hostage
For his return.

Bel.
My ingenious instrument!
Hark, Polydore, it sounds; but what occasion
Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark!
Gui. Is he at home?

Bel.

He went hence even now.

Gui. 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, bearing IMOGEN, as dead, in his arms.

Bel.

Look! here he comes,

And brings the dire occasion in his arms

Of what we blame him for.

The bird is dead,

Arv.
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.

Gui.
Oh sweetest, fairest lily!
My brother wears thee not the one half so well,
As when thou grew'st thyself.

Bel.

Oh, melancholy!

Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find

7

The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare
Might easiliest harbour in ?-Thou blessed thing!

7

thy sluggish CRARE] All the folios have care for "crare," a word in frequent use of old for a small vessel called, as Heath tells us, crayera in middleage Latin. Drayton spells it a cray, and crea; and Heywood and others, craier, and crare. Richardson in his Dictionary inserts it under cray.

Jove knows what man thou mightst have made; but I,
Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy.—

How found you him?

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 rudeness
Answer'd my steps too loud.

Gui.

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.

Arv.

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 leafy eglantine', whom not to slander,
Out-sweeten'd not thy breath: the ruddock would,
With charitable bill (Oh 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-guard thy corse'.

8 STARK, as you see:] Stiff, as you see: from the A. S. starc. Sometimes it means strong, as "stark beer" is strong beer; and it is an epithet not unfrequently applied to death, as by Shakespeare in "Romeo and Juliet," A. iv. sc. 1, Vol. v. p. 177:

"Each part, depriv'd of supple government,

Shall, stiff, and stark, and cold, appear, like death." Other examples are as numerous as needless. Our poet has also "stark naked," "stark spoiled," "stark mad," &c.

9 My clouted BROGUES] i. e. My nailed shoes. " Brogue seems to be derived from the Irish brog, a shoe; and, perhaps, because "brogues" were chiefly worn by the Irish, we have, in modern times, applied to their speech what properly belongs to their feet. See "Kilkenny rug" similarly explained, Vol. iii. p. 245.

The LEAFY eglantine,] It is "leaf of eglantine" in the folios, but amended, more than plausibly, to " leafy eglantine" in the corr. fo. 1632. The eglantine particularly claims the epithet "leafy," and we do not doubt that it was Shakespeare's word, misrepresented.

2 To winter-GUARD thy corse.] This is a welcome emendation in the corr. fo. 1632 for "winter-ground" of the early impressions, which has occasioned much VOL. VI.

Z

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.

Arv.

Say, where shall's lay him?

Gui. By good Euriphile, our mother.

Arv.

Be't so:

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'.

dispute among the commentators. Warburton's suggestion, "winter-gown," was any thing but happy; and in the absence of any tolerable emendation, Steevens and Malone set themselves to work to reconcile "winter-ground" to a meaning, viz. the protection of plants from the inclemency of winter. The fact turns out to be that ground was merely a misprint for "guard," two words readily mistaken when written at all carelessly. Nothing can be more appropriate than the compound "winter-guard," and it must surely be accepted by all who, having taste and judgment, are not bigoted to bygone blunders: it is very evident that the poet had in his mind Deloney's ballad of "The Children in the Wood." "The ruddock," five lines above, is the robin-red-breast, formerly a very common name for that bird: Chaucer and Spenser both call it "the ruddock."

3 As once our mother:] i. e. As once we sang our mother: the folio, 1623, reads, "as once to our mother;" the preposition, as Pope thought, having been accidentally introduced from the preceding line.

When neither ARE alive.] "When neither is alive" in the corr. fo. 1632. We make no change, since Shakespeare may very well have written "are alive," though the old annotator, perhaps somewhat pedantically, alters "are" to is.

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.

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 must3,
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 :
Both. All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.

Gui. No exorciser harm thee!
Arv. Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Gui. Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Arv. Nothing ill come near thee!
Both. Quiet consummation have;

And renowned be thy grave!

5 Golden lads and GIRLS ALL must,] The corr. fo. 1632 here offers an emendation, which we do not admit because, though it may represent the song as at one time sung, Shakespeare may have written it differently: the line stands,

"Golden lads and lasses must,"

in the corr. fo. 1632, which seems to read more easily and naturally than the text as supplied by the old editions; but, of course, that is no reason for change.