Page 547 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

LUCIUS

’Lack, good youth!
Thou mov’st no less with thy complaining than [375]
Thy master in bleeding: say his name, good friend.

IMOGEN
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
Thy name?

IMOGEN
Fidele, sir.

LUCIUS
Thou dost approve thyself the very same: [380]
Thy name well fits thy faith; thy faith thy name:

Will take thy chance with me? I will not say
Thou shalt be so well master’d, but be sure
No less belov’d. The Roman emperor’s letters

Sent by a consul to me should not sooner [385]
Than thine own worth prefer thee: go with me.

IMOGEN
I’ll follow, sir. But first, an’t please the gods,
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’ strew’d his grave [390]
And on it said a century of prayers
(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;