Shakespeare's First Folio Part 683

Arui. Brother, stay heere: Are we not Brothers?

Imo. So man and man should be, But Clay and Clay, differs in dignitie, Whose dust is both alike. I am very sicke, Gui. Go you to Hunting, Ile abide with him

Imo. So sicke I am not, yet I am not well: But not so Citizen a wanton, as To seeme to dye, ere sicke: So please you, leaue me, Sticke to your Iournall course: the breach of Custome, 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 sicke, Since I can reason of it: pray you trust me heere, Ile rob none but my selfe, and let me dye Stealing so poorely

Gui. I loue thee: I haue spoke it, How much the quant.i.ty, the waight as much, As I do loue my Father

Bel. What? How? how?

Arui. If it be sinne to say so (Sir) I yoake mee In my good Brothers fault: I know not why I loue this youth, and I haue heard you say, Loue's reason's, without reason. The Beere at doore, And a demand who is't shall dye, I'ld say My Father, not this youth

Bel. Oh n.o.ble straine!

O worthinesse of Nature, breed of Greatnesse!

''Cowards father Cowards, & Base things Syre Bace; ''Nature hath Meale, and Bran; Contempt, and Grace.

I'me not their Father, yet who this should bee, Doth myracle it selfe, lou'd before mee.

'Tis the ninth houre o'th' Morne

Arui. Brother, farewell

Imo. I wish ye sport

Arui. You health. - So please you Sir

Imo. These are kinde Creatures.

G.o.ds, what lyes I haue heard: Our Courtiers say, all's sauage, but at Court; Experience, oh thou disproou'st Report.

Th' emperious Seas breeds Monsters; for the Dish, Poore Tributary Riuers, as sweet Fish: I am sicke still, heart-sicke; Pisanio, Ile now taste of thy Drugge

Gui. I could not stirre him: He said he was gentle, but vnfortunate; Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest

Arui. Thus did he answer me: yet said heereafter, I might know more

Bel. To'th' Field, to'th' Field: Wee'l leaue you for this time, go in, and rest

Arui. Wee'l not be long away

Bel. Pray be not sicke, For you must be our Huswife

Imo. Well, or ill, I am bound to you.

Enter.

Bel. And shal't be euer.

This youth, how ere distrest, appeares he hath had Good Ancestors

Arui. How Angell-like he sings?

Gui. But his neate Cookerie?

Arui. He cut our Rootes in Charracters, And sawc'st our Brothes, as Iuno had bin sicke, And he her Dieter

Arui. n.o.bly he yoakes A smiling, with a sigh; as if the sighe Was that it was, for not being such a Smile: The Smile, mocking the Sigh, that it would flye From so diuine a Temple, to commix With windes, that Saylors raile at

Gui. I do note, That greefe and patience rooted in them both, Mingle their spurres together

Arui. Grow patient, And let the stinking-Elder (Greefe) vntwine His perishing roote, with the encreasing Vine

Bel. It is great morning. Come away: Who's there?

Enter Cloten.

Clo. I cannot finde those Runnagates, that Villaine Hath mock'd me. I am faint

Bel. Those Runnagates?

Meanes he not vs? I partly know him, 'tis Cloten, the Sonne o'th' Queene. I feare some Ambush: I saw him not these many yeares, and yet I know 'tis he: We are held as Out-Lawes: Hence

Gui. He is but one: you, and my Brother search What Companies are neere: pray you away, Let me alone with him

Clot. Soft, what are you That flye me thus? Some villaine-Mountainers?

I haue heard of such. What Slaue art thou?

Gui. A thing More slauish did I ne're, then answering A Slaue without a knocke

Clot. Thou art a Robber, A Law-breaker, a Villaine: yeeld thee Theefe

Gui. To who? to thee? What art thou? Haue not I An arme as bigge as thine? A heart, as bigge: Thy words I grant are bigger: for I weare not My Dagger in my mouth. Say what thou art: Why I should yeeld to thee?

Clot. Thou Villaine base, Know'st me not by my Cloathes?

Gui. No, nor thy Taylor, Rascall: Who is thy Grandfather? He made those cloathes, Which (as it seemes) make thee

Clo. Thou precious Varlet, My Taylor made them not

Gui. Hence then, and thanke The man that gaue them thee. Thou art some Foole, I am loath to beate thee

Clot. Thou iniurious Theefe, Heare but my name, and tremble

Gui. What's thy name?

Clo. Cloten, thou Villaine

Gui. Cloten, thou double Villaine be thy name, I cannot tremble at it, were it Toad, or Adder, Spider, 'Twould moue me sooner

Clot. To thy further feare, Nay, to thy meere Confusion, thou shalt know I am Sonne to'th' Queene

Gui. I am sorry for't: not seeming So worthy as thy Birth

Clot. Art not afeard?

Gui. Those that I reuerence, those I feare: the Wise: At Fooles I laugh: not feare them

Clot. Dye the death: When I haue slaine thee with my proper hand, Ile follow those that euen now fled hence: And on the Gates of Luds-Towne set your heads: Yeeld Rusticke Mountaineer.

Fight and Exeunt.

Enter Belarius and Aruiragus.

Bel. No Companie's abroad?

Arui. None in the world: you did mistake him sure

Bel. I cannot tell: Long is it since I saw him, But Time hath nothing blurr'd those lines of Fauour Which then he wore: the s.n.a.t.c.hes in his voice, And burst of speaking were as his: I am absolute 'Twas very Cloten