Ay, good youth! And rather father thee than master thee. My friends, The boy hath taught us manly duties: let us Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can, And make him with our pikes and partisans A grave: come, arm him. Boy, he is preferr’d By thee to us, and he shall be interr’d As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes Some falls are means the happier to arise.
Yes, good youth! And I’ll treat you more like a father than a master. My friends, This boy has taught us what it means to be a man: let’s Find the most beautiful spot with daisies we can, And with our spears and pikes, Make him a grave: come, help him. Boy, you’re preferred By you to us, and we’ll bury him As soldiers do. Be cheerful; wipe your tears. Some falls are the very means for rising higher.
Caius Lucius · Act 4, Scene 2
Lucius has just found the boy Fidele mourning over what he believes is his master's headless body on the battlefield. He offers to honor the servant's devotion by burying him with military rites and raising him like a son. The moment captures how war strips away rank and teaches victors to recognize virtue in the lowest places.
Fear no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hath done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages: Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Don't be afraid of the sun's heat, Or the furious winter storms; You've done your work on earth, You've gone home, and earned your rest: Young men and women, like chimney-sweepers, Will all eventually return to dust.
Guiderius · Act 4, Scene 2
The brothers sing this dirge over what they believe is Fidele's corpse, and the song's beauty lies in its acceptance of mortality as a universal leveler. The image of chimney-sweepers and princes coming to the same dust is Shakespeare's most eloquent meditation on the equality of death. The song's calm inevitability stands in stark contrast to the play's tumultuous action.
I am nothing: or if not, Nothing to be were better.
I am nobody: or if not, Being nobody would be better.
Imogen · Act 4, Scene 2
Imogen wakes beside what she believes is her husband's headless corpse and is overcome with the annihilation of her identity and purpose. The paradox—being nothing, or wishing she were nothing—captures her absolute loss: she has been slandered, abandoned, and now believes the one person who gave her meaning is dead. This is the play's darkest moment, from which all recovery must begin.