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Cymbeline
Act 4, scene 2

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Characters in the Play

Entire Play

Cymbeline, which takes place in ancient Britain, is filled with hidden identities, extraordinary schemes, and violent acts. Long ago, the…

Act 1, scene 1

At the court of King Cymbeline, the princess, Imogen, has secretly married a gentleman named Posthumus Leonatus. Imogen is the…

Act 1, scene 2

An encounter between Cloten and Posthumus, reported in 1.1, is here discussed by Cloten and two lords.

Act 1, scene 3

Posthumus’s servant, Pisanio, describes to the grieving Imogen the departure of Posthumus toward Rome.

Act 1, scene 4

Posthumus arrives in Rome, where an Italian gentleman, Iachimo, maneuvers him into placing a bet on Imogen’s chastity. Posthumus bets…

Act 1, scene 5

The queen obtains a box that she is told contains poison. (The audience is told that the box actually contains…

Act 1, scene 6

Iachimo arrives in Britain and begins his attempt to seduce Imogen by telling her that Posthumus is betraying her with…

Act 2, scene 1

Cloten and two lords discuss the arrival of Iachimo. The Second Lord, in soliloquy, expresses the hope that Imogen will…

Act 2, scene 2

As Imogen sleeps, the trunk that she is keeping for Iachimo opens, and Iachimo emerges. Before climbing back into it,…

Act 2, scene 3

Cloten serenades Imogen in an attempt to win her love. Imogen enrages Cloten by saying that he is not as…

Act 2, scene 4

Iachimo returns to Rome with his proofs of Imogen’s unfaithfulness: descriptions of her bedroom and of private marks on her…

Act 2, scene 5

Posthumus, in soliloquy, attacks women as the embodiment of all that is vicious.

Act 3, scene 1

Caius Lucius arrives as ambassador from Augustus Caesar, demanding that Cymbeline pay the tribute Britain owes to Rome. With the…

Act 3, scene 2

Pisanio receives two letters from Posthumus—one in which Pisanio is instructed to kill Imogen, and another written to Imogen, telling…

Act 3, scene 3

Three men enter as if from a cave, the two younger men protesting the limitations of their mountain lives. When…

Act 3, scene 4

On the journey to Milford Haven, Pisanio reveals to Imogen that he is supposed to kill her. She is so…

Act 3, scene 5

When Imogen’s absence from court is discovered, Cloten forces Pisanio to tell him where she is. Pisanio shows him the…

Act 3, scene 6

Imogen, disguised as a boy named Fidele, stumbles, exhausted and famished, into the cave of Belarius and the two young…

Act 3, scene 7

A Roman senator announces that the Roman army attacking Britain will be under the control of Caius Lucius and that…

Act 4, scene 1

Cloten, dressed in Posthumus’s garments, arrives at the spot where he plans to cut off Posthumus’s head and rape Imogen.

Act 4, scene 2

Imogen, not feeling well, takes the potion given her by Pisanio, thinking it is a restorative; the potion puts her…

Act 4, scene 3

Cymbeline finds himself alone in the face of the Roman attack, with Imogen and Cloten both missing and the queen…

Act 4, scene 4

The young princes persuade Belarius that the three of them should join with the Britons against Rome.

Act 5, scene 1

Posthumus, in Britain as part of the Roman army, repents Imogen’s (reported) murder and decides to seek death by joining…

Act 5, scene 2

In a series of battles, Posthumus (disguised as a peasant) defeats and disarms Iachimo; the Britons flee and Cymbeline is…

Act 5, scene 3

Posthumus, still seeking death and failing to find it as a poor British soldier, reverts to his earlier role as…

Act 5, scene 4

Posthumus, in chains, falls asleep and is visited by the ghosts of his dead family and by the god Jupiter,…

Act 5, scene 5

Cymbeline knights Belarius and the two young men in gratitude for their valor, and sends in search of the poor…

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Scene 2
Enter Belarius as Morgan, Guiderius as Polydor,
Arviragus as Cadwal, and Imogen as Fidele, from the
cave.


BELARIUS, as Morgan, to Fidele 
 You are not well. Remain here in the cave.
 We’ll come to you after hunting.
ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal, to Fidele  Brother, stay here.
 Are we not brothers?
IMOGEN, as Fidele 5 So man and man should be,
 But clay and clay differs in dignity,
 Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick.
GUIDERIUS, as Polydor, to Morgan and Cadwal 
 Go you to hunting. I’ll abide with him.
IMOGEN, as Fidele 
 So sick I am not, yet I am not well;
10 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
15 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, as Polydor 
 I love thee—I have spoke it—
20 How much the quantity, the weight as much
 As I do love my father.
BELARIUS, as Morgan  What? How, how?

161
Cymbeline
ACT 4. SC. 2

ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal 
 If it be sin to say so, sir, I yoke me
 In my good brother’s fault. I know not why
25 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!
30 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.—
35 ’Tis the ninth hour o’ th’ morn.
ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal, to Fidele  Brother, farewell.
IMOGEN, as Fidele 
 I wish you sport.
ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal  You health.—So please you, sir.
IMOGEN, aside 
 These are kind creatures. Gods, what lies I have heard!
40 Our courtiers say all’s savage but at court;
 Experience, O, thou disprov’st report!
 Th’ imperious seas breeds monsters; for the dish
 Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish.
 I am sick still, heart-sick. Pisanio,
45 I’ll now taste of thy drug.She swallows the drug.
GUIDERIUS, as Polydor, to Morgan and Cadwal 
 I could not stir him.
 He said he was gentle but unfortunate,
 Dishonestly afflicted but yet honest.
ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal 
 Thus did he answer me, yet said hereafter
50 I might know more.
BELARIUS, as Morgan  To th’ field, to th’ field!

163
Cymbeline
ACT 4. SC. 2

 To Fidele. We’ll leave you for this time. Go in and
 rest.
ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal 
 We’ll not be long away.
BELARIUS, as Morgan 55 Pray, be not sick,
 For you must be our huswife.
IMOGEN, as Fidele  Well or ill,
 I am bound to you.
BELARIUS, as Morgan  And shalt be ever.
Imogen exits as into the cave.
60 This youth, howe’er distressed, appears he hath had
 Good ancestors.
ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal  How angel-like he sings!
GUIDERIUS, as Polydor 
 But his neat cookery! He cut our roots in characters
 And sauced our broths as Juno had been sick
65 And he her dieter.
ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal  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
70 From so divine a temple to commix
 With winds that sailors rail at.
GUIDERIUS, as Polydor  I do note
 That grief and patience, rooted in them both,
 Mingle their spurs together.
ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal 75 Grow, patience,
 And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine
 His perishing root with the increasing vine!
BELARIUS, as Morgan 
 It is great morning. Come, away. Who’s there?

Enter Cloten.

CLOTEN, to himself 
 I cannot find those runagates. That villain
80 Hath mocked me. I am faint.

165
Cymbeline
ACT 4. SC. 2

BELARIUS, as Morgan, to Polydor and Cadwal 
 “Those runagates”?
 Means he not us? I partly know him. ’Tis
 Cloten, the son o’ th’ Queen. I fear some ambush.
 I saw him not these many years, and yet
85 I know ’tis he. We are held as outlaws. Hence.
GUIDERIUS, as Polydor 
 He is but one. You and my brother search
 What companies are near. Pray you, away.
 Let me alone with him.Belarius and Arviragus exit.
CLOTEN  Soft, what are you
90 That fly me thus? Some villain mountaineers?
 I have heard of such.—What slave art thou?
GUIDERIUS, as Polydor  A thing
 More slavish did I ne’er than answering
 A slave without a knock.
CLOTEN 95 Thou art a robber,
 A lawbreaker, a villain. Yield thee, thief.
GUIDERIUS, as Polydor 
 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
100 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, as Polydor  No, nor thy tailor,
105 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, as Polydor 110 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.

167
Cymbeline
ACT 4. SC. 2

GUIDERIUS, as Polydor 115 What’s thy name?
CLOTEN Cloten, thou villain.
GUIDERIUS, as Polydor 
 Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name,
 I cannot tremble at it. Were it Toad, or Adder, Spider,
 ’Twould move me sooner.
CLOTEN 120 To thy further fear,
 Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know
 I am son to th’ Queen.
GUIDERIUS, as Polydor  I am sorry for ’t, not seeming
 So worthy as thy birth.
CLOTEN 125 Art not afeard?
GUIDERIUS, as Polydor 
 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,
130 I’ll follow those that even now fled hence
 And on the gates of Lud’s Town set your heads.
 Yield, rustic mountaineer!
They fight and exit.

Enter Belarius as Morgan and Arviragus as
Cadwal.


BELARIUS, as Morgan No company’s abroad?
ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal 
 None in the world. You did mistake him sure.
BELARIUS, as Morgan 
135 I cannot tell. Long is it since I saw him,
 But time hath nothing blurred those lines of favor
 Which then he wore. The snatches in his voice
 And burst of speaking were as his. I am absolute
 ’Twas very Cloten.
ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal 140 In this place we left them.
 I wish my brother make good time with him,
 You say he is so fell.

169
Cymbeline
ACT 4. SC. 2

BELARIUS, as Morgan  Being scarce made up,
 I mean to man, he had not apprehension
145 Of roaring terrors; for defect of judgment
 Is oft the cause of fear.

Enter Guiderius as Polydor, carrying Cloten’s head.

 But see, thy brother.
GUIDERIUS, as Polydor 
 This Cloten was a fool, an empty purse;
 There was no money in ’t. Not Hercules
150 Could have knocked out his brains, for he had none.
 Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne
 My head as I do his.
BELARIUS, as Morgan  What hast thou done?
GUIDERIUS, as Polydor 
 I am perfect what: cut off one Cloten’s head,
155 Son to the Queen, after his own report,
 Who called me traitor mountaineer, and swore
 With his own single hand he’d take us in,
 Displace our heads where, thank the gods, they
 grow,
160 And set them on Lud’s Town.
BELARIUS, as Morgan  We are all undone.
GUIDERIUS, as Polydor 
 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
165 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, as Morgan  No single soul
170 Can we set eye on, but in all safe reason
 He must have some attendants. Though his humor
 Was nothing but mutation—ay, and that
 From one bad thing to worse—not frenzy,

171
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ACT 4. SC. 2

 Not absolute madness could so far have raved
175 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—
180 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
185 More perilous than the head.
ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal  Let ord’nance
 Come as the gods foresay it. Howsoe’er,
 My brother hath done well.
BELARIUS, as Morgan  I had no mind
190 To hunt this day. The boy Fidele’s sickness
 Did make my way long forth.
GUIDERIUS, as Polydor  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
195 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.He exits.
BELARIUS, as Morgan  I fear ’twill be revenged.
 Would, Polydor, thou hadst not done ’t, though valor
200 Becomes thee well enough.
ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal  Would I had done ’t,
 So the revenge alone pursued me. Polydor,
 I love thee brotherly, but envy much
 Thou hast robbed me of this deed. I would revenges
205 That possible strength might meet would seek us
 through
 And put us to our answer.
BELARIUS, as Morgan  Well, ’tis done.
 We’ll hunt no more today, nor seek for danger

173
Cymbeline
ACT 4. SC. 2

210 Where there’s no profit. I prithee, to our rock.
 You and Fidele play the cooks. I’ll stay
 Till hasty Polydor return, and bring him
 To dinner presently.
ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal  Poor sick Fidele.
215 I’ll willingly to him. To gain his color
 I’d let a parish of such Clotens blood,
 And praise myself for charity.He exits.
BELARIUS  O thou goddess,
 Thou divine Nature, thou thyself thou blazon’st
220 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
225 And make him stoop to th’ vale. ’Tis wonder
 That an invisible instinct should frame them
 To royalty unlearned, honor untaught,
 Civility not seen from other, valor
 That wildly grows in them but yields a crop
230 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 as Polydor.

GUIDERIUS, as Polydor  Where’s my brother?
 I have sent Cloten’s clotpole down the stream
235 In embassy to his mother. His body’s hostage
 For his return.Solemn music.
BELARIUS, as Morgan  My ingenious instrument!
 Hark, Polydor, it sounds! But what occasion
 Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark.
GUIDERIUS, as Polydor 
240 Is he at home?
BELARIUS, as Morgan  He went hence even now.

175
Cymbeline
ACT 4. SC. 2

GUIDERIUS, as Polydor 
 What does he mean? Since death of my dear’st
 mother
 It did not speak before. All solemn things
245 Should answer solemn accidents. The matter?
 Triumphs for nothing and lamenting toys
 Is jollity for apes and grief for boys.
 Is Cadwal mad?

Enter Arviragus as Cadwal, with Imogen as dead,
bearing her in his arms.


BELARIUS, as Morgan Look, here he comes,
250 And brings the dire occasion in his arms
 Of what we blame him for.
ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal  The bird is dead
 That we have made so much on. I had rather
 Have skipped from sixteen years of age to sixty,
255 To have turned my leaping time into a crutch,
 Than have seen this.
GUIDERIUS, as Polydor  O sweetest, fairest lily!
 My brother wears thee not the one half so well
 As when thou grew’st thyself.
BELARIUS, as Morgan 260 O melancholy,
 Whoever yet could sound thy bottom, find
 The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare
 Might eas’liest harbor in?—Thou blessèd thing,
 Jove knows what man thou mightst have made; but I,
265 Thou died’st, a most rare boy, of melancholy.—
 How found you him?
ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal Stark, as you see;
 Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled slumber,
 Not as Death’s dart being laughed at; his right cheek
270 Reposing on a cushion.
GUIDERIUS, as Polydor  Where?
ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal  O’ th’ floor,
 His arms thus leagued. I thought he slept, and put

177
Cymbeline
ACT 4. SC. 2

 My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness
275 Answered my steps too loud.
GUIDERIUS, as Polydor  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, as Cadwal 280 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
285 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,
290 Yea, and furred moss besides, when flowers are none
 To winter-ground thy corse.
GUIDERIUS, as Polydor  Prithee, have done,
 And do not play in wench-like words with that
 Which is so serious. Let us bury him
295 And not protract with admiration what
 Is now due debt. To th’ grave.
ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal  Say, where shall ’s lay
 him?
GUIDERIUS, as Polydor 
 By good Euriphile, our mother.
ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal 300 Be ’t so.
 And let us, Polydor, though now our voices
 Have got the mannish crack, sing him to th’ ground
 As once to our mother; use like note and words,
 Save that “Euriphile” must be “Fidele.”
GUIDERIUS, as Polydor 305Cadwal,
 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, as Cadwal  We’ll speak it then.

179
Cymbeline
ACT 4. SC. 2

BELARIUS, as Morgan 
310 Great griefs, I see, med’cine 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,
315 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, as Polydor, to Morgan Pray you fetch him
320 hither.
 Thersites’ body is as good as Ajax’
 When neither are alive.
ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal, to Morgan  If you’ll go fetch
 him,
325 We’ll say our song the whilst.—Brother, begin.
Belarius exits.
GUIDERIUS, as Polydor 
 Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to th’ east;
 My father hath a reason for ’t.
ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal  ’Tis true.
GUIDERIUS, as Polydor 
 Come on then, and remove him.
They move Imogen’s body.
ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal 330 So, begin.

Song.

GUIDERIUS, as Polydor 
 Fear no more the heat o’ th’ sun,
  Nor the furious winter’s rages;
 Thou thy worldly task hast done,
  Home art gone and ta’en thy wages.
335 Golden lads and girls all must,
 As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal 
 Fear no more the frown o’ th’ great;
  Thou art past the tyrant’s stroke.

181
Cymbeline
ACT 4. SC. 2

 Care no more to clothe and eat;
340  To thee the reed is as the oak.
 The scepter, learning, physic must
 All follow this and come to dust.

GUIDERIUS, as Polydor 
 Fear no more the lightning flash.
ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal 
  Nor th’ all-dreaded thunderstone.
GUIDERIUS, as Polydor 
345 Fear not slander, censure rash;
ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal 
  Thou hast finished joy and moan.
BOTH  All lovers young, all lovers must
 Consign to thee and come to dust.

GUIDERIUS, as Polydor 
 No exorciser harm thee,
ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal 
350 Nor no witchcraft charm thee.
GUIDERIUS, as Polydor 
 Ghost unlaid forbear thee.
ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal 
 Nothing ill come near thee.
BOTH  Quiet consummation have,
 And renownèd be thy grave.


Enter Belarius as Morgan, with the body of Cloten.

GUIDERIUS, as Polydor 
355 We have done our obsequies. Come, lay him down.
Cloten’s body is placed by Imogen’s.
BELARIUS, as Morgan 
 Here’s a few flowers, but ’bout midnight more.
 The herbs that have on them cold dew o’ th’ night
 Are strewings fitt’st for graves. Upon their faces.—
 You were as flowers, now withered. Even so

183
Cymbeline
ACT 4. SC. 2

360 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.
They exit.

Imogen awakes.

IMOGEN 
 Yes, sir, to Milford Haven. Which is the way?
365 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.
She sees Cloten’s headless body.
 But soft! No bedfellow? O gods and goddesses!
 These flowers are like the pleasures of the world,
370 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
375 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
380 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—
385 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,
 Hath here cut off my lord. To write and read

185
Cymbeline
ACT 4. SC. 2

390 Be henceforth treacherous. Damned Pisanio
 Hath with his forgèd letters—damned Pisanio—
 From this most bravest vessel of the world
 Struck the maintop. O Posthumus, alas,
 Where is thy head? Where’s that? Ay me, where’s that?
395 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, ’tis pregnant, pregnant!
 The drug he gave me, which he said was precious
400 And cordial to me, have I not found it
 Murd’rous to th’ senses? That confirms it home.
 This is Pisanio’s deed, and Cloten. O,
 Give color to my pale cheek with thy blood,
 That we the horrider may seem to those
405 Which chance to find us. O my lord! My lord!

Enter Lucius, Captains, Soldiers, and a Soothsayer.

CAPTAIN 
 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.
LUCIUS 410 But what from Rome?
CAPTAIN 
 The Senate hath stirred up the confiners
 And gentlemen of Italy, most willing spirits
 That promise noble service, and they come
 Under the conduct of bold Iachimo,
415 Siena’s brother.
LUCIUS  When expect you them?
CAPTAIN 
 With the next benefit o’ th’ wind.
LUCIUS  This forwardness
 Makes our hopes fair. Command our present numbers

187
Cymbeline
ACT 4. SC. 2

420 Be mustered; bid the Captains look to ’t.—Now, sir,
 What have you dreamed of late of this war’s purpose?
SOOTHSAYER 
 Last night the very gods showed me a vision—
 I fast and prayed for their intelligence—thus:
 I saw Jove’s bird, the Roman eagle, winged
425 From the spongy south to this part of the west,
 There vanished in the sunbeams, which portends—
 Unless my sins abuse my divination—
 Success to th’ Roman host.
LUCIUS  Dream often so,
430 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
435 With the defunct or sleep upon the dead.
 Let’s see the boy’s face.
CAPTAIN  He’s alive, my lord.
LUCIUS 
 He’ll then instruct us of this body.—Young one,
 Inform us of thy fortunes, for it seems
440 They crave to be demanded. Who is this
 Thou mak’st thy bloody pillow? Or who was he
 That, otherwise than noble nature did,
 Hath altered that good picture? What’s thy interest
 In this sad wrack? How came ’t? Who is ’t?
445 What art thou?
IMOGEN, as Fidele  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,
450 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.

189
Cymbeline
ACT 4. SC. 2


LUCIUS  ’Lack, good youth,
455 Thou mov’st no less with thy complaining than
 Thy master in bleeding. Say his name, good friend.
IMOGEN, as Fidele 
 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?
LUCIUS 460 Thy name?
IMOGEN, as Fidele  Fidele, sir.
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
465 Thou shalt be so well mastered, 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, as Fidele 
 I’ll follow, sir. But first, an ’t please the gods,
470 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’ strewed his
 grave
 And on it said a century of prayers,
475 Such as I can, twice o’er, I’ll weep and sigh,
 And leaving so his service, follow you,
 So please you entertain me.
LUCIUS  Ay, good youth,
 And rather father thee than master thee.—My friends,
480 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’s preferred
 By thee to us, and he shall be interred
485 As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes.
 Some falls are means the happier to arise.
They exit, the Soldiers carrying Cloten’s body.