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’ th’ 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?