It did not speak before. All solemn things
Should answer solemn accidents. The matter?
Triumphs for nothing, and lamenting toys,7
Is jollity for apes, and grief for boys.

Is Cadwal mad?

Re-enter ARVIRAGUS, bearing IMOGEN as dead, in his

Bel.

Arms.

Look, here he comes,

And brings the dire occasion in his arms,
Of what we blame him for!

Arv.
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.

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

Bel.
O, melancholy!
Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find

8

The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare
Might easiliest harbour in?- Thou blessed thing!
Jove knows what man thou might'st have made; but I,
Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy!

How found you him?

Aro.

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

7

8

lamenting toys,] Toys formerly signified freaks, or frolicks. what coast thy sluggish crare] A crare is a small trading vessel, called in the Latin of the middle ages, crayera.

9 Stark,] i. e. stiff.

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.

With fairest flowers,

Arv.
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 leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,
Out-sweeten'd not thy breath: the ruddock2 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."

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

1

clouted brogues-] are shoes strengthened with clout or hob-nails. In some parts of England, thin plates of iron called clouts, are likewise fixed to the shoes of ploughmen and other rusticks. Brog is the Irish word for a kind of shoe peculiar to that kingdom.

The ruddock is the red-breast, and is so called by Chaucer and Spenser.

3 To winter-ground thy corse.] To winter-ground a plant, is to protect it from the inclemency of the winter-season, by straw, dung, &c. laid over it. This precaution is commonly taken in respect of tender trees or flowers, such as Arviragus, who loved Fidele, represents her to be.

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.

Thersites' body is as good as Ajax,

When neither are alive.

Arv.

Pray you, fetch him hither.

If you'll go fetch him,

[Exit BELARIUS.

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

Gui. Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the east: My father hath a reason for❜t.

Arv.

'Tis true.

Gui. Come on then, and remove him.
Arv.

3 He was paid for that:] Paid is for punished.

So,- Begin.

(That angel of the world,)] Reverence or due regard to subordination, is the power that keeps peace and order in the world.

SONG.

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 must,
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, physick, must
All follow this, and come to dust.

Gui. Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Arv. Nor the 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 !6
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 Consign to thee,] Perhaps to consign to thee, is to seal the same contract with thee, i. e. add their names to thine upon the register of death.

6 No exorciser harm thee!] Shakspeare invariably uses the word exorciser to express a person who can raise spirits, not one who lays them.

7 thy grave!] For the obsequies of Fidele, a song was written by my unhappy friend, Mr. William Collins of Chichester; a man VOL. VII.

Y

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, 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 herb'lets 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 thither?
'Ods pittikins!"-can it be six miles yet?—

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

of uncommon learning and abilities. I shall give it a place at the end, in honour of his memory. JOHNSON.

"'Ods pittikins!] This diminutive adjuration is derived from God's my pity, which likewise occurs in Cymbeline.