I'll follow thofe that ev'n now fled hence,

And on the Gates of Lud's Town fet your Heads:
Yield Ruftick Mountaineer.

[Fight and Exeunt,

Exeunt Bellarius 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 thofe Lines of Favour
Which then he wore; the fnatches in his Voice,
And burst of speaking were as his: I am abfolute
'Twas very Cloten.

Arv. In this place we left them;

I wish my Brother make good time with him,
You fay he is fo fell.

Bel. Being scarce made up,

I mean to Man; he had not apprehenfion
Of roaring Terrors; For defect of Judgment
Is oft the caufe of fear. But fee thy Brother.
Enter Guiderius.

Guid. This Cloten was a Fool, an empty Purse,

There was no Mony in't; Not Hercules

Could have knock'd out his Brains, for he had none:
Yet I not doing this, the Fool had born

My Head, as I do his.

Bel. What haft thou done?

Guid. 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 Hand he'd take us in,

Difplace our Heads, where, thanks to th' Gods, they grow, And fet them on Lud's Town.

Bel. We are all undone.

Guid. Why, worthy Father, what have we to lofe,
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 no Law. What Company
Difcover you abroad?

Bel. No fingle Soul

Can

Can we fet Eye on ; but in all fafe reason
He must have fome Attendants. Though his Honour
Was nothing but mutation, ay and that
From one bad thing to worfe; Not Frenzy,
Not abfolute Madness could fo far have rav'd
To bring him here alone, although perhaps
It may be heard at Court, that fuch as we
Cave here, haunt here, are Out-laws, and in time
May make fome ftronger 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 fo undertaking,

Or they fo fuffering; then on good ground we fear,
If we do fear this Body hath a Tail
More perilous than the Head.

Arv. Let Ord'nance

Come, as the Gods forefay it, how foc'er
My Brother hath done well.

Bel. I had no mind

To hunt this day: The Boy Fidele's fickness
Did make my way long forth.

Guid. 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 reak.

Bel. I fear 'twill be reveng'd:

[Exit.

Would, Polidore, thou hadst not don't though Valour

Becomes thee well enough.

Arv. Would I had done't,

So the Revenge alone purfu'd me: Polidore,

I love thee Brotherly, but envy much

Thou haft robb'd me of this Deed; I would Revenges That poffible Strength might meet, would feek us through, And put us to our answer.

Bel. Well, 'tis done :

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

Where there's no profit. I prithee to our Rock,
You and Fidele play the Cooks: I'll ftay

Till hafty Polidore return, and bring him

VOL, VI.

L

Το

To Dinner prefently.

Arv. Poor fick Fidele!

I'll willingly to him; to gain his colour
I'd let a Parish of fuch Clotens blood,
And praise my felf for Charity.

Bel. O thou Goddefs,

Thou divine Nature! thy felf thou blazon'ft
In these two Princely Boys: they are as gentle
As Zephyrs blowing below the Violet,

Not wagging his fweet Head; and yet, as rough,
Their Royal Blood enchaf'd, as the rud'ft Wind,
That by the top doth take the Mountain Pine,
And make him ftoop to th' Vail. Tis wonder
That an invifible inftina fhould frame them
To Royalty unlearn'd, Honour untaught,
Civility not feen from other; Valour,

That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop
As if it had been fow'd: yet ftill it's ftrange
What Cloten's being here to us portends,
Or what his death will bring us.

Enter Guiderius.

Guid. Where's my Brother?

I have fent Cloten's Clor-pole down the stream,
In Embaffie to his Mother; his Body's hoftage
For his Return.

Bel. My ingenious Inftrument,

Hark Polidore, it founds: But what occafion
Hath Cadwall now to give it motion? Hark.

Guid. Is he at Home?

Bel. He went hence even now.
Guid. What does he mean?

Since death of my dear'ft Mother

[Exit.

[Solemn Mufick.

It did not fpeak before. All folemn things
Should anfwer folemn Accidents. The matter?
Triumphs for nothing, and lamenting Toys,
Is Jollity for Apes, and Grief for Boys.
Is Cadwall mad?

Enter Arviragus, with Imogen dead, bearing her in his

Arms.

Bel. Look, here he comes,

And brings the dire occafion in his Arms,

of

Of what we blame him for.

Arv. The Bird is dead

That we have made fo much on. I had rather
Have skipt from fixteen Years of Age, to fixty:
To have turn'd my leaping time into a Crutch,
Than have feen this.

Guid. Oh fweeteft, faireft Lilly!

My Brother wears thee not the one half fo well,
As when thou grew'ft thy felf.

Bel. Oh Melancholly,

Who ever yet could found thy bottom? Find
The Ooze, to fhew what Coalt thy fluggish care
Might eafilieft harbour in? Thou bleffed thing.
Jove knows what Man thou might'ft have made but I,
Thou dy'dft, a more rare Boy, of Melancholly.

How found you him?

Arv. Stark, as you fee:

Thus fmiling as fome Fly had tickled Slumber,
Not as Death's Dart being laugh'd at his right Cheek,
Repofing on a Cushion.

Guid. Where?

Arv. O'th' Floor:

His Arms thus leagu'd, I thought he slept, and put
My clouted Brogues from off my Feet, whofe rudeness
Anfwer'd my Steps too loud.

Guid. Why, he but fleeps ;

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 faireft Flow'rs

Whilft Summer lafts, and I live here, Fidele,
I'll sweeten thy fad Grave: thou shalt not lack
The Flow'r 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 flander,
Out-fwetten'd not thy Breath: the Raddock would
With charitable Bill (Oh Bill fore fhaming
Thofe rich-left Heirs, that let their Fathers lye
Without a Monument) bring thee all this,

Yea, and furr'd Mofs befides. When Flow'rs are none
To Winter-ground thy coarfen

L 2

Guid.

Guid. Prithee have done,

And do not play in Wench-like words with that
Which is fo ferious. Let us bury him,
And not protract with admiration, what
Is now due Debt. To th' Grave.

Arv. Say, where fhall's lay him?

Guid. By good Euriphile, our Mother.
Arv. Bet fo:

And let us, Polidore, though now our Voices
Have got the mannifh crack, fing him to th' Ground
As once to our Mother: ufe hike note, and words,
Save that Euriphile must be Fidele.

Guid. Cadwall,

I cannot fing: I'll weep, and word it with thee,
For Notes of Sorrow, out of tune, are worfe
Than Priefts, and Vanes than lie.

Arv. We'll speak it then.

Bel. Great Griefs I fee Med'cine the lefs. For Cloten Is quite forgot. He was a Queen's Son, Boys, And though he came our Enemy, remember

He was paid for that: The Mear, and Mighty, rotting
Together, have one Duft, yet Reverence,

The Angel of the World, doth make diftin&ion
Of place 'twixt high and low. Our Foe was Princely,
And though you took his Life, as being our Foe,
Yet bury him, as a Prince.

Guid. Pray thee fetch him hither.
Therfites Body is as good as Ajax,
When neither are alive.

Arv. If you'll go fetch him,

We'll fay our Song the whilft: Brother begin.

Guid. Nay Cadwall, we muft lay his Head to th'Eaft, My Father bath a reafon for't.

Arv. 'Tis true.

Guid. Come on then, and remove him.

Arv. So, begin.

SONG.

Guid. Fear no more the Heat o'th' Sun,

Nor the furious Winters rages,

Thon thy worldly task haft done,

Home art gone, and take thy Wages.

Golden