Page 546 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

From the spongy south to this part of the west,
There vanish’d in the sunbeams, which portends [350]
(Unless my sins abuse my divination)
Success to th’ Roman host.

LUCIUS
Dream often so,

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? [355]

Or dead, or sleeping on him? But dead rather:
For nature doth abhor to make his bed
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, [360]

Inform us of thy fortunes, for it seems
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 alter’d that good picture? What’s thy interest [365]
In this sad wreck? How came’t? Who is’t?
What art thou?

IMOGEN
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! [370]
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.