SCENE II. Before the cave of Belarius. Cymbeline  Shakespeare homepage  |  Cymbeline  | Act 4, Scene 2 

 Previous scene  |  Next scene  SCENE II. Before the cave of Belarius. 

 Enter, from the cave, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, and IMOGEN  BELARIUS  [To IMOGEN]  You are not well: remain here in the cave; 

 We'll come to you after hunting. 

 ARVIRAGUS  [To IMOGEN]	Brother, stay here 

 Are we not brothers? 

 IMOGEN  So man and man should be; 

 But clay and clay differs in dignity, 

 Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick. 

 GUIDERIUS  Go you to hunting; I'll abide with him. 

 IMOGEN  So sick I am not, yet I am not well; 

 But not so citizen a wanton as 

 To seem to die ere sick: so please you, leave me; 

 Stick to your journal course: the breach of custom 

 Is breach of all. I am ill, but your being by me 

 Cannot amend me; society is no comfort 

 To one not sociable: I am not very sick, 

 Since I can reason of it. Pray you, trust me here: 

 I'll rob none but myself; and let me die, 

 Stealing so poorly. 

 GUIDERIUS  I love thee; I have spoke it 

 How much the quantity, the weight as much, 

 As I do love my father. 

 BELARIUS  What! how! how! 

 ARVIRAGUS  If it be sin to say so, I yoke me 

 In my good brother's fault: I know not why 

 I love this youth; and I have heard you say, 

 Love's reason's without reason: the bier at door, 

 And a demand who is't shall die, I'd say 

 'My father, not this youth.' 

 BELARIUS  [Aside]	O noble strain! 

 O worthiness of nature! breed of greatness! 

 Cowards father cowards and base things sire base: 

 Nature hath meal and bran, contempt and grace. 

 I'm not their father; yet who this should be, 

 Doth miracle itself, loved before me. 

 'Tis the ninth hour o' the morn. 

 ARVIRAGUS  Brother, farewell. 

 IMOGEN  I wish ye sport. 

 ARVIRAGUS  You health. So please you, sir. 

 IMOGEN  [Aside]  These are kind creatures. Gods, what lies 

 I have heard! 

 Our courtiers say all's savage but at court: 

 Experience, O, thou disprovest report! 

 The imperious seas breed monsters, for the dish 

 Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish. 

 I am sick still; heart-sick. Pisanio, 

 I'll now taste of thy drug. 



 Swallows some  GUIDERIUS  I could not stir him: 

 He said he was gentle, but unfortunate; 

 Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest. 

 ARVIRAGUS  Thus did he answer me: yet said, hereafter 

 I might know more. 

 BELARIUS  To the field, to the field! 

 We'll leave you for this time: go in and rest. 

 ARVIRAGUS  We'll not be long away. 

 BELARIUS  Pray, be not sick, 

 For you must be our housewife. 

 IMOGEN  Well or ill, 

 I am bound to you. 

 BELARIUS  And shalt be ever. 



 Exit IMOGEN, to the cave  This youth, how'er distress'd, appears he hath had 

 Good ancestors. 

 ARVIRAGUS  How angel-like he sings! 

 GUIDERIUS  But his neat cookery! he cut our roots 

 In characters, 

 And sauced our broths, as Juno had been sick 

 And he her dieter. 

 ARVIRAGUS  Nobly he yokes 

 A smiling with a sigh, as if the sigh 

 Was that it was, for not being such a smile; 

 The smile mocking the sigh, that it would fly 

 From so divine a temple, to commix 

 With winds that sailors rail at. 

 GUIDERIUS  I do note 

 That grief and patience, rooted in him both, 

 Mingle their spurs together. 

 ARVIRAGUS  Grow, patience! 

 And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine 

 His perishing root with the increasing vine! 

 BELARIUS  It is great morning. Come, away!-- 

 Who's there? 



 Enter CLOTEN  CLOTEN  I cannot find those runagates; that villain 

 Hath mock'd me. I am faint. 

 BELARIUS  'Those runagates!' 

 Means he not us? I partly know him: 'tis 

 Cloten, the son o' the queen. I fear some ambush. 

 I saw him not these many years, and yet 

 I know 'tis he. We are held as outlaws: hence! 

 GUIDERIUS  He is but one: you and my brother search 

 What companies are near: pray you, away; 

 Let me alone with him. 



 Exeunt BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS  CLOTEN  Soft! What are you 

 That fly me thus? some villain mountaineers? 

 I have heard of such. What slave art thou? 

 GUIDERIUS  A thing 

 More slavish did I ne'er than answering 

 A slave without a knock. 

 CLOTEN  Thou art a robber, 

 A law-breaker, a villain: yield thee, thief. 

 GUIDERIUS  To who? 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 should yield to thee? 

 CLOTEN  Thou villain base, 

 Know'st me not by my clothes? 

 GUIDERIUS  No, nor thy tailor, rascal, 

 Who is thy grandfather: he made those clothes, 

 Which, as it seems, make thee. 

 CLOTEN  Thou precious varlet, 

 My tailor made them not. 

 GUIDERIUS  Hence, then, and thank 

 The man that gave them thee. Thou art some fool; 

 I am loath to beat thee. 

 CLOTEN  Thou injurious thief, 

 Hear but my name, and tremble. 

 GUIDERIUS  What's thy name? 

 CLOTEN  Cloten, thou villain. 

 GUIDERIUS  Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name, 

 I cannot tremble at it: were it Toad, or 

 Adder, Spider, 

 'Twould move me sooner. 

 CLOTEN  To thy further fear, 

 Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know 

 I am son to the queen. 

 GUIDERIUS  I am sorry for 't; not seeming 

 So worthy as thy birth. 

 CLOTEN  Art not afeard? 

 GUIDERIUS  Those that I reverence those I fear, the wise: 

 At fools I laugh, not fear them. 

 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 companies 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 

 Of roaring terrors; for the effect of judgment 

 Is oft the cause of fear. But, see, thy brother. 



 Re-enter GUIDERIUS, with CLOTEN'S head  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'ld 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 all 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 raved 

 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'ld 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 revenged: 

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

 Becomes thee well enough. 

 ARVIRAGUS  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, 

 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 Polydote return, and bring him 

 To dinner presently. 

 ARVIRAGUS  Poor sick Fidele! 

 I'll weringly to him: to gain his colour 

 I'ld let a parish of such Clotens' blood, 

 And praise myself for charity. 



 Exit  BELARIUS  O 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 enchafed, as the rudest 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 

 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? 

 BELARIUS  Look, here he comes, 

 And brings the dire occasion in his arms 

 Of what we blame him for. 



 Re-enter ARVIRAGUS, with IMOGEN, as dead, bearing her in his arms  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 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 hid tickled slumber, 

 Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at; his 

 right cheek 

 Reposing on a cushion. 

 GUIDERIUS  Where? 

 ARVIRAGUS  O' the floor; 

 His arms thus leagued: 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 azured harebell, like thy veins, no, nor 

 The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, 

 Out-sweeten'd 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 flowers 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 the 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 the ground, 

 As once our mother; use like note and words, 

 Save that Euriphile must be Fidele. 

 GUIDERIUS  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. 

 ARVIRAGUS  We'll speak it, then. 

 BELARIUS  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. 

 GUIDERIUS  Pray You, fetch him hither. 

 Thersites' body is as good as Ajax', 

 When neither are alive. 

 ARVIRAGUS  If you'll go fetch him, 

 We'll say our song the whilst. Brother, begin. 



 Exit BELARIUS  GUIDERIUS  Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the east; 

 My father hath a reason for't. 

 ARVIRAGUS  'Tis true. 

 GUIDERIUS  Come on then, and remove him. 

 ARVIRAGUS  So. Begin. 



 SONG  GUIDERIUS  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 must, 

 As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. 

 ARVIRAGUS  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. 

 GUIDERIUS  Fear no more the lightning flash, 

 ARVIRAGUS  Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone; 

 GUIDERIUS  Fear not slander, censure rash; 

 ARVIRAGUS  Thou hast finish'd joy and moan: 

 GUIDERIUS  ARVIRAGUS  All lovers young, all lovers must 

 Consign to thee, and come to dust. 

 GUIDERIUS  No exorciser harm thee! 

 ARVIRAGUS  Nor no witchcraft charm thee! 

 GUIDERIUS  Ghost unlaid forbear thee! 

 ARVIRAGUS  Nothing ill come near thee! 

 GUIDERIUS  ARVIRAGUS  Quiet consummation have; 

 And renowned be thy grave! 



 Re-enter BELARIUS, with the body of CLOTEN  GUIDERIUS  We have done our obsequies: come, lay him down. 

 BELARIUS  Here's a few flowers; but 'bout midnight, more: 

 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 wither'd: even so 

 These herblets shall, which we upon you strew. 

 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  IMOGEN  [Awaking]  Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; which is 

 the way?-- 

 I thank you.--By yond bush?--Pray, how far thither? 

 'Ods pittikins! can it be six mile yet?-- 

 I have gone all night. 'Faith, I'll lie down and sleep. 

 But, soft! no bedfellow!--O god s and goddesses! 



 Seeing the body of CLOTEN  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 'tis not so; 

 'Twas 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 stiff with fear: but if there be 

 Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity 

 As a wren's eye, fear'd 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's leg: this is his hand; 

 His foot Mercurial; his Martial thigh; 

 The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovial face 

 Murder in heaven?--How!--'Tis 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! Damn'd Pisanio 

 Hath with his forged letters,--damn'd Pisanio-- 

 From this most bravest vessel of the world 

 Struck the main-top! O Posthumus! alas, 

 Where is thy head? where's that? Ay me! 

 where's that? 

 Pisanio might have kill'd 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, 'tis 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! 



 Falls on the body 

 Enter LUCIUS, a Captain and other Officers, and a Soothsayer  Captain  To them the legions garrison'd in Gailia, 

 After your will, have cross'd the sea, attending 

 You here at Milford-Haven with your ships: 

 They are in readiness. 

 CAIUS LUCIUS  But what from Rome? 

 Captain  The senate hath stirr'd up the confiners 

 And gentlemen of Italy, most willing spirits, 

 That promise noble service: and they come 

 Under the conduct of bold Iachimo, 

 Syenna's brother. 

 CAIUS LUCIUS  When expect you them? 

 Captain  With the next benefit o' the wind. 

 CAIUS LUCIUS  This forwardness 

 Makes our hopes fair. Command our present numbers 

 Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't. Now, sir, 

 What have you dream'd of late of this war's purpose? 

 Soothsayer  Last night the very gods show'd me a vision-- 

 I fast and pray'd for their intelligence--thus: 

 I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd 

 From the spongy south to this part of the west, 

 There vanish'd in the sunbeams: which portends-- 

 Unless my sins abuse my divination-- 

 Success to the Roman host. 

 CAIUS LUCIUS  Dream often so, 

 And never false. Soft, ho! what trunk is here 

 Without his top? The ruin speaks that sometime 

 It was a worthy building. How! a page! 

 Or dead, or sleeping on him? But dead rather; 

 For nature doth abhor to make his bed 

 With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead. 

 Let's see the boy's face. 

 Captain  He's alive, my lord. 

 CAIUS LUCIUS  He'll then instruct us of this body. Young one, 

 Inform us of thy fortunes, for it seems 

 They crave to be demanded. Who is this 

 Thou makest thy bloody pillow? Or who was he 

 That, otherwise than noble nature did, 

 Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy interest 

 In this sad wreck? How came it? Who is it? 

 What art thou? 

 IMOGEN  I am nothing: or if not, 

 Nothing to be were better. This was my master, 

 A very valiant Briton and a good, 

 That here by mountaineers lies slain. Alas! 

 There is no more such masters: I may wander 

 From east to occident, cry out for service, 

 Try many, all good, serve truly, never 

 Find such another master. 

 CAIUS LUCIUS  'Lack, good youth! 

 Thou movest no less with thy complaining than 

 Thy master in bleeding: say his name, good friend. 

 IMOGEN  Richard du Champ. 



 Aside  If I do lie and do 

 No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope 

 They'll pardon it.--Say you, sir? 

 CAIUS LUCIUS  Thy name? 

 IMOGEN  Fidele, sir. 

 CAIUS LUCIUS  Thou dost approve thyself the very same: 

 Thy name well fits thy faith, thy faith thy name. 

 Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say 

 Thou shalt be so well master'd, but, be sure, 

 No less beloved. The Roman emperor's letters, 

 Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner 

 Than thine own worth prefer thee: go with me. 

 IMOGEN  I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please the gods, 

 I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep 

 As these poor pickaxes can dig; and when 

 With wild wood-leaves and weeds I ha' strew'd his grave, 

 And on it said a century of prayers, 

 Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep and sigh; 

 And leaving so his service, follow you, 

 So please you entertain me. 

 CAIUS LUCIUS  Ay, good youth! 

 And rather father thee than master thee. 

 My friends, 

 The boy hath taught us manly duties: let us 

 Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can, 

 And make him with our pikes and partisans 

 A grave: come, arm him. Boy, he is preferr'd 

 By thee to us, and he shall be interr'd 

 As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes 

 Some falls are means the happier to arise. 



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