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 enchafed, as the rud'st wind That by the top doth take the mountain pine, And make him stoop to the vale. 'Tis wonderful That an invisible instinct should frame them To royalty unlearned; honour untaught; Civility not seen from other; valour, That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop As if it had been sowed! Yet still it's strange What Cloten's being here to us portends; Or what his death will bring us.
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 azured harebell, like thy veins; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweetened 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 furred moss besides, when flowers are none,
To winter-ground thy corse.
Ghost unlaid forbear thee?
Nothing ill come near thee!
Quiet consummation have; And renownéd be thy grave!
Re-enter BELARIUS, with the body of CLOTEN. Gui. We have done our obsequies: come lay him down.
Bel. Here's a few flowers; but about midnight,
The herbs that have on them cold dew o'the night,
Are strewings fitt'st for graves.-Upon their faces:
You were as flowers, now withered: even so These herblets shall, which we upon you strow.- Come on, away: apart upon our knees. The ground, that gave them first, has them again:
Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain. [Exeunt BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.
Imo. [awaking]. Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; which is the way?—
I thank you. By yon bush? Pray, how far
'Ods pittikens! can it be six miles yet?
I have gone all night.-'Faith, I'll lie down and
But soft! no bedfellow.-O, gods and goddesses! [Seeing the body.
These flowers are like the pleasures of the world; This bloody man the care on 't.-I hope I dream; For so I thought I was a cave-keeper,
And cook to honest creatures: but 't is not so; "I was but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing, Which the brain makes of fumes: our very eyes Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good faith,
I tremble still with fear: but if there be Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity As a wren's eye, feared gods, a part of it! The dream's here still: even when I wake it is Without me, as within me; not imagined, felt. A headless man! The garments of Posthumus! I know the shape of his legs: this is his hand; His foot Mercurial; his Martial thigh; The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovial face- Murder in heaven? How? 't is gone.-Pisanio, All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks, And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou, Conspired with that irregulous devil, Cloten, Hast here cut off my lord.-To write and read Be henceforth treacherous !-Damned Pisanio
Hath with his forgéd letters,-damned Pisanio,- From this most bravest vessel of the world Struck the main-top!—O Posthumus! alas, Where is thy head? where 's that? Ah me! where's that?
Pisanio might have killed thee at the heart, And left this head on.-How should this be? Pisanio?
'Tis he and Cloten: malice and lucre in them Have laid this woe here. O, 't is pregnant, pregnant!
The drug he gave me, which he said was precious
And cordial to me, have I not found it Murderous to the senses? that confirms it home: This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's! O! Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood, That we the horrider may seem to those Which chance to find us. O, my lord, my lord!
Enter Lucius, a Captain, and other Officers, and a Soothsayer.
Cap. To them, the legions garrisoned in Gallia, After your will, have crossed the sea; attending You here at Milford-Haven, with your ships: They are here in readiness.
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