CYMBELINE.
Ay, with all my heart,
And lend my best attention. What’s thy name?
IMOGEN.
Fidele, sir.
CYMBELINE.
Thou’rt my good youth, my page;
I’ll be thy master. Walk with me; speak freely.
[Cymbeline and Imogen converse apart.]
BELARIUS.
Is not this boy reviv’d from death?
ARVIRAGUS.
One sand another
Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad
Who died and was Fidele. What think you?
GUIDERIUS.
The same dead thing alive.
BELARIUS.
Peace, peace! see further. He eyes us not; forbear.
Creatures may be alike; were’t he, I am sure
He would have spoke to us.
GUIDERIUS.
But we see him dead.
BELARIUS.
Be silent; let’s see further.