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’d 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 ord’nance

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.

GUIDERlUS

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 with Cloten’s head

BELARIUS

I fear ’twill be revenged.

Would, Polydore, 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 robbed 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 today, 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 Polydore return, and bring him

To dinner presently.

ARVIRAGUS

Poor sick Fidele!

I’ll willingly to him. To gain his colour

I’d let a parish of such Clotens blood,

And praise myself for charity.

Exit into the cave

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 rud’st wind

That by the top doth take the mountain pine

And make him stoop to th’ vale. ’Tis wonder

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.

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?

Enter from the cave Arviragus with Innogen, dead, bearing her in his arms

BELARIUS

Look, here he comes,

And brings the dire occasion in his arms

Of what we blame him for.

ARVIRAGUS

The bird is dead

That we have made so much on. I had rather

Have skipped from sixteen years of age to sixty,

To have turned my leaping time into a crutch,

Than have seen this.

GUIDERIUS (to Innogen) O sweetest, fairest lily!

My brother wears thee not 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 blessèd thing,

Jove knows what man thou mightst have made;

but I,

Thou diedst a most rare boy, of melancholy.

(To Arviragus) How found you him?

ARVIRAGUS

Stark, as you see,

Thus smiling as some fly had tickled slumber,

Not as death’s dart being laughed at; his right cheek

Reposing on a cushion.

GUIDERIUS

Where?

ARVIRAGUS

O’th’ floor,

His arms thus leagued. I thought he slept, and put

My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness

Answered 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,

(To Innogen) And worms will not come to thee.

ARVIRAGUS (to Innogen) 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