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FOR __ COMPLETE SHAKESPEARE **** +["Small Print" V.12.08.93] + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + + + + +1609 + +CYMBELINE + +by William Shakespeare + + + +Dramatis Personae + + CYMBELINE, King of Britain + CLOTEN, son to the Queen by a former husband + POSTHUMUS LEONATUS, a gentleman, husband to Imogen + BELARIUS, a banished lord, disguised under the name of Morgan + + GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS, sons to Cymbeline, disguised under the + names of POLYDORE and CADWAL, supposed sons to +Belarius + PHILARIO, Italian, friend to Posthumus + IACHIMO, Italian, friend to Philario + A FRENCH GENTLEMAN, friend to Philario + CAIUS LUCIUS, General of the Roman Forces + A ROMAN CAPTAIN + TWO BRITISH CAPTAINS + PISANIO, servant to Posthumus + CORNELIUS, a physician + TWO LORDS of Cymbeline's court + TWO GENTLEMEN of the same + TWO GAOLERS + + QUEEN, wife to Cymbeline + IMOGEN, daughter to Cymbeline by a former queen + HELEN, a lady attending on Imogen + + APPARITIONS + + Lords, Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes, a Soothsayer, a + Dutch Gentleman, a Spanish Gentleman, Musicians, Officers, + Captains, Soldiers, Messengers, and Attendants + + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + + + +SCENE: +Britain; Italy + + + +ACT I. SCENE I. +Britain. The garden of CYMBELINE'S palace + + FIRST GENTLEMAN. You do not meet a man but frowns; our bloods + No more obey the heavens than our courtiers + Still seem as does the King's. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. But what's the matter? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. His daughter, and the heir of's kingdom, whom + He purpos'd to his wife's sole son- a widow + That late he married- hath referr'd herself + Unto a poor but worthy gentleman. She's wedded; + Her husband banish'd; she imprison'd. All + Is outward sorrow, though I think the King + Be touch'd at very heart. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. None but the King? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. He that hath lost her too. So is the Queen, + That most desir'd the match. But not a courtier, + Although they wear their faces to the bent + Of the King's looks, hath a heart that is not + Glad at the thing they scowl at. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. And why so? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. He that hath miss'd the Princess is a thing + Too bad for bad report; and he that hath her- + I mean that married her, alack, good man! + And therefore banish'd- is a creature such + As, to seek through the regions of the earth + For one his like, there would be something failing + In him that should compare. I do not think + So fair an outward and such stuff within + Endows a man but he. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. You speak him far. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. I do extend him, sir, within himself; + Crush him together rather than unfold + His measure duly. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. What's his name and birth? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. I cannot delve him to the root; his father + Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour + Against the Romans with Cassibelan, + But had his titles by Tenantius, whom + He serv'd with glory and admir'd success, + So gain'd the sur-addition Leonatus; + And had, besides this gentleman in question, + Two other sons, who, in the wars o' th' time, + Died with their swords in hand; for which their father, + Then old and fond of issue, took such sorrow + That he quit being; and his gentle lady, + Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceas'd + As he was born. The King he takes the babe + To his protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus, + Breeds him and makes him of his bed-chamber, + Puts to him all the learnings that his time + Could make him the receiver of; which he took, + As we do air, fast as 'twas minist'red, + And in's spring became a harvest, liv'd in court- + Which rare it is to do- most prais'd, most lov'd, + A sample to the youngest; to th' more mature + A glass that feated them; and to the graver + A child that guided dotards. To his mistress, + For whom he now is banish'd- her own price + Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue; + By her election may be truly read + What kind of man he is. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. I honour him + Even out of your report. But pray you tell me, + Is she sole child to th' King? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. His only child. + He had two sons- if this be worth your hearing, + Mark it- the eldest of them at three years old, + I' th' swathing clothes the other, from their nursery + Were stol'n; and to this hour no guess in knowledge + Which way they went. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. How long is this ago? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Some twenty years. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. That a king's children should be so convey'd, + So slackly guarded, and the search so slow + That could not trace them! + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Howsoe'er 'tis strange, + Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at, + Yet is it true, sir. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. I do well believe you. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. We must forbear; here comes the gentleman, + The Queen, and Princess. Exeunt + + + Enter the QUEEN, POSTHUMUS, and IMOGEN + + QUEEN. No, be assur'd you shall not find me, daughter, + After the slander of most stepmothers, + Evil-ey'd unto you. You're my prisoner, but + Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys + That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus, + So soon as I can win th' offended King, + I will be known your advocate. Marry, yet + The fire of rage is in him, and 'twere good + You lean'd unto his sentence with what patience + Your wisdom may inform you. + POSTHUMUS. Please your Highness, + I will from hence to-day. + QUEEN. You know the peril. + I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying + The pangs of barr'd affections, though the King + Hath charg'd you should not speak together. Exit + IMOGEN. O dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant + Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband, + I something fear my father's wrath, but nothing- + Always reserv'd my holy duty- what + His rage can do on me. You must be gone; + And I shall here abide the hourly shot + Of angry eyes, not comforted to live + But that there is this jewel in the world + That I may see again. + POSTHUMUS. My queen! my mistress! + O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause + To be suspected of more tenderness + Than doth become a man. I will remain + The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth; + My residence in Rome at one Philario's, + Who to my father was a friend, to me + Known but by letter; thither write, my queen, + And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send, + Though ink be made of gall. + + Re-enter QUEEN + + QUEEN. Be brief, I pray you. + If the King come, I shall incur I know not + How much of his displeasure. [Aside] Yet I'll move him + To walk this way. I never do him wrong + But he does buy my injuries, to be friends; + Pays dear for my offences. Exit + POSTHUMUS. Should we be taking leave + As long a term as yet we have to live, + The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu! + IMOGEN. Nay, stay a little. + Were you but riding forth to air yourself, + Such parting were too petty. Look here, love: + This diamond was my mother's; take it, heart; + But keep it till you woo another wife, + When Imogen is dead. + POSTHUMUS. How, how? Another? + You gentle gods, give me but this I have, + And sear up my embracements from a next + With bonds of death! Remain, remain thou here + [Puts on the ring] + While sense can keep it on. And, sweetest, fairest, + As I my poor self did exchange for you, + To your so infinite loss, so in our trifles + I still win of you. For my sake wear this; + It is a manacle of love; I'll place it + Upon this fairest prisoner. [Puts a bracelet on her arm] + IMOGEN. O the gods! + When shall we see again? + + Enter CYMBELINE and LORDS + + POSTHUMUS. Alack, the King! + CYMBELINE. Thou basest thing, avoid; hence from my sight + If after this command thou fraught the court + With thy unworthiness, thou diest. Away! + Thou'rt poison to my blood. + POSTHUMUS. The gods protect you, + And bless the good remainders of the court! + I am gone. Exit + + IMOGEN. There cannot be a pinch in death + More sharp than this is. + CYMBELINE. O disloyal thing, + That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap'st + A year's age on me! + IMOGEN. I beseech you, sir, + Harm not yourself with your vexation. + I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare + Subdues all pangs, all fears. + CYMBELINE. Past grace? obedience? + IMOGEN. Past hope, and in despair; that way past grace. + CYMBELINE. That mightst have had the sole son of my queen! + IMOGEN. O blessed that I might not! I chose an eagle, + And did avoid a puttock. + CYMBELINE. Thou took'st a beggar, wouldst have made my throne + A seat for baseness. + IMOGEN. No; I rather added + A lustre to it. + CYMBELINE. O thou vile one! + IMOGEN. Sir, + It is your fault that I have lov'd Posthumus. + You bred him as my playfellow, and he is + A man worth any woman; overbuys me + Almost the sum he pays. + CYMBELINE. What, art thou mad? + IMOGEN. Almost, sir. Heaven restore me! Would I were + A neat-herd's daughter, and my Leonatus + Our neighbour shepherd's son! + + Re-enter QUEEN + + CYMBELINE. Thou foolish thing! + [To the QUEEN] They were again together. You have done + Not after our command. Away with her, + And pen her up. + QUEEN. Beseech your patience.- Peace, + Dear lady daughter, peace!- Sweet sovereign, + Leave us to ourselves, and make yourself some comfort + Out of your best advice. + CYMBELINE. Nay, let her languish + A drop of blood a day and, being aged, + Die of this folly. Exit, with LORDS + + Enter PISANIO + + QUEEN. Fie! you must give way. + Here is your servant. How now, sir! What news? + PISANIO. My lord your son drew on my master. + QUEEN. Ha! + No harm, I trust, is done? + PISANIO. There might have been, + But that my master rather play'd than fought, + And had no help of anger; they were parted + By gentlemen at hand. + QUEEN. I am very glad on't. + IMOGEN. Your son's my father's friend; he takes his part + To draw upon an exile! O brave sir! + I would they were in Afric both together; + Myself by with a needle, that I might prick + The goer-back. Why came you from your master? + PISANIO. On his command. He would not suffer me + To bring him to the haven; left these notes + Of what commands I should be subject to, + When't pleas'd you to employ me. + QUEEN. This hath been + Your faithful servant. I dare lay mine honour + He will remain so. + PISANIO. I humbly thank your Highness. + QUEEN. Pray walk awhile. + IMOGEN. About some half-hour hence, + Pray you speak with me. You shall at least + Go see my lord aboard. For this time leave me. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Britain. A public place + +Enter CLOTEN and two LORDS + + FIRST LORD. Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the +violence + of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice. Where air comes +out, + air comes in; there's none abroad so wholesome as that you +vent. + CLOTEN. If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Have I hurt +him? + SECOND LORD. [Aside] No, faith; not so much as his patience. + FIRST LORD. Hurt him! His body's a passable carcass if he be +not + hurt. It is a throughfare for steel if it be not hurt. + SECOND LORD. [Aside] His steel was in debt; it went o' th' back + side the town. + CLOTEN. The villain would not stand me. + SECOND LORD. [Aside] No; but he fled forward still, toward your + face. + FIRST LORD. Stand you? You have land enough of your own; but he + added to your having, gave you some ground. + SECOND LORD. [Aside] As many inches as you have oceans. + Puppies! + CLOTEN. I would they had not come between us. + SECOND LORD. [Aside] So would I, till you had measur'd how long +a + fool you were upon the ground. + CLOTEN. And that she should love this fellow, and refuse me! + SECOND LORD. [Aside] If it be a sin to make a true election, +she is + damn'd. + FIRST LORD. Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain +go + not together; she's a good sign, but I have seen small +reflection + of her wit. + SECOND LORD. [Aside] She shines not upon fools, lest the +reflection + should hurt her. + CLOTEN. Come, I'll to my chamber. Would there had been some +hurt + done! + SECOND LORD. [Aside] I wish not so; unless it had been the fall +of + an ass, which is no great hurt. + CLOTEN. You'll go with us? + FIRST LORD. I'll attend your lordship. + CLOTEN. Nay, come, let's go together. + SECOND LORD. Well, my lord. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Britain. CYMBELINE'S palace + +Enter IMOGEN and PISANIO + + IMOGEN. I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' th' haven, + And questioned'st every sail; if he should write, + And I not have it, 'twere a paper lost, + As offer'd mercy is. What was the last + That he spake to thee? + PISANIO. It was: his queen, his queen! + IMOGEN. Then wav'd his handkerchief? + PISANIO. And kiss'd it, madam. + IMOGEN. Senseless linen, happier therein than I! + And that was all? + PISANIO. No, madam; for so long + As he could make me with his eye, or care + Distinguish him from others, he did keep + The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief, + Still waving, as the fits and stirs of's mind + Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on, + How swift his ship. + IMOGEN. Thou shouldst have made him + As little as a crow, or less, ere left + To after-eye him. + PISANIO. Madam, so I did. + IMOGEN. I would have broke mine eyestrings, crack'd them but + To look upon him, till the diminution + Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle; + Nay, followed him till he had melted from + The smallness of a gnat to air, and then + Have turn'd mine eye and wept. But, good Pisanio, + When shall we hear from him? + PISANIO. Be assur'd, madam, + With his next vantage. + IMOGEN. I did not take my leave of him, but had + Most pretty things to say. Ere I could tell him + How I would think on him at certain hours + Such thoughts and such; or I could make him swear + The shes of Italy should not betray + Mine interest and his honour; or have charg'd him, + At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight, + T' encounter me with orisons, for then + I am in heaven for him; or ere I could + Give him that parting kiss which I had set + Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father, + And like the tyrannous breathing of the north + Shakes all our buds from growing. + + Enter a LADY + + LADY. The Queen, madam, + Desires your Highness' company. + IMOGEN. Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch'd. + I will attend the Queen. + PISANIO. Madam, I shall. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +Rome. PHILARIO'S house + +Enter PHILARIO, IACHIMO, a FRENCHMAN, a DUTCHMAN, and a SPANIARD + + IACHIMO. Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Britain. He was +then + of a crescent note, expected to prove so worthy as since he +hath + been allowed the name of. But I could then have look'd on him + without the help of admiration, though the catalogue of his + endowments had been tabled by his side, and I to peruse him +by + items. + PHILARIO. You speak of him when he was less furnish'd than now +he + is with that which makes him both without and within. + FRENCHMAN. I have seen him in France; we had very many there +could + behold the sun with as firm eyes as he. + IACHIMO. This matter of marrying his king's daughter, wherein +he + must be weighed rather by her value than his own, words him, +I + doubt not, a great deal from the matter. + FRENCHMAN. And then his banishment. + IACHIMO. Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this +lamentable + divorce under her colours are wonderfully to extend him, be +it + but to fortify her judgment, which else an easy battery might +lay + flat, for taking a beggar, without less quality. But how +comes it + he is to sojourn with you? How creeps acquaintance? + PHILARIO. His father and I were soldiers together, to whom I +have + been often bound for no less than my life. + + Enter POSTHUMUS + + Here comes the Briton. Let him be so entertained amongst you +as + suits with gentlemen of your knowing to a stranger of his + quality. I beseech you all be better known to this gentleman, + whom I commend to you as a noble friend of mine. How worthy +he is + I will leave to appear hereafter, rather than story him in +his + own hearing. + FRENCHMAN. Sir, we have known together in Orleans. + POSTHUMUS. Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies, + which I will be ever to pay and yet pay still. + FRENCHMAN. Sir, you o'errate my poor kindness. I was glad I did + atone my countryman and you; it had been pity you should have + been put together with so mortal a purpose as then each bore, + upon importance of so slight and trivial a nature. + POSTHUMUS. By your pardon, sir. I was then a young traveller; + rather shunn'd to go even with what I heard than in my every + action to be guided by others' experiences; but upon my +mended + judgment- if I offend not to say it is mended- my quarrel was +not + altogether slight. + FRENCHMAN. Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords, +and + by such two that would by all likelihood have confounded one +the + other or have fall'n both. + IACHIMO. Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference? + FRENCHMAN. Safely, I think. 'Twas a contention in public, which + may, without contradiction, suffer the report. It was much +like + an argument that fell out last night, where each of us fell +in + praise of our country mistresses; this gentleman at that time + vouching- and upon warrant of bloody affirmation- his to be +more + fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constant, qualified, and less + attemptable, than any the rarest of our ladies in France. + IACHIMO. That lady is not now living, or this gentleman's +opinion, + by this, worn out. + POSTHUMUS. She holds her virtue still, and I my mind. + IACHIMO. You must not so far prefer her fore ours of Italy. + POSTHUMUS. Being so far provok'd as I was in France, I would +abate + her nothing, though I profess myself her adorer, not her +friend. + IACHIMO. As fair and as good- a kind of hand-in-hand +comparison- + had been something too fair and too good for any lady in +Britain. + If she went before others I have seen as that diamond of +yours + outlustres many I have beheld, I could not but believe she + excelled many; but I have not seen the most precious diamond +that + is, nor you the lady. + POSTHUMUS. I prais'd her as I rated her. So do I my stone. + IACHIMO. What do you esteem it at? + POSTHUMUS. More than the world enjoys. + IACHIMO. Either your unparagon'd mistress is dead, or she's + outpriz'd by a trifle. + POSTHUMUS. You are mistaken: the one may be sold or given, if +there + were wealth enough for the purchase or merit for the gift; +the + other is not a thing for sale, and only the gift of the gods. + IACHIMO. Which the gods have given you? + POSTHUMUS. Which by their graces I will keep. + IACHIMO. You may wear her in title yours; but you know strange +fowl + light upon neighbouring ponds. Your ring may be stol'n too. +So + your brace of unprizable estimations, the one is but frail +and + the other casual; a cunning thief, or a that-way-accomplish'd + courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and last. + POSTHUMUS. Your Italy contains none so accomplish'd a courtier +to + convince the honour of my mistress, if in the holding or loss +of + that you term her frail. I do nothing doubt you have store of + thieves; notwithstanding, I fear not my ring. + PHILARIO. Let us leave here, gentlemen. + POSTHUMUS. Sir, with all my heart. This worthy signior, I thank + him, makes no stranger of me; we are familiar at first. + IACHIMO. With five times so much conversation I should get +ground + of your fair mistress; make her go back even to the yielding, +had + I admittance and opportunity to friend. + POSTHUMUS. No, no. + IACHIMO. I dare thereupon pawn the moiety of my estate to your + ring, which, in my opinion, o'ervalues it something. But I +make + my wager rather against your confidence than her reputation; +and, + to bar your offence herein too, I durst attempt it against +any + lady in the world. + POSTHUMUS. You are a great deal abus'd in too bold a +persuasion, + and I doubt not you sustain what y'are worthy of by your +attempt. + IACHIMO. What's that? + POSTHUMUS. A repulse; though your attempt, as you call it, +deserve + more- a punishment too. + PHILARIO. Gentlemen, enough of this. It came in too suddenly; +let + it die as it was born, and I pray you be better acquainted. + IACHIMO. Would I had put my estate and my neighbour's on th' + approbation of what I have spoke! + POSTHUMUS. What lady would you choose to assail? + IACHIMO. Yours, whom in constancy you think stands so safe. I +will + lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring that, commend me to +the + court where your lady is, with no more advantage than the + opportunity of a second conference, and I will bring from +thence + that honour of hers which you imagine so reserv'd. + POSTHUMUS. I will wage against your gold, gold to it. My ring I + hold dear as my finger; 'tis part of it. + IACHIMO. You are a friend, and therein the wiser. If you buy + ladies' flesh at a million a dram, you cannot preserve it +from + tainting. But I see you have some religion in you, that you +fear. + POSTHUMUS. This is but a custom in your tongue; you bear a +graver + purpose, I hope. + IACHIMO. I am the master of my speeches, and would undergo +what's + spoken, I swear. + POSTHUMUS. Will you? I Shall but lend my diamond till your +return. + Let there be covenants drawn between's. My mistress exceeds +in + goodness the hugeness of your unworthy thinking. I dare you +to + this match: here's my ring. + PHILARIO. I will have it no lay. + IACHIMO. By the gods, it is one. If I bring you no sufficient + testimony that I have enjoy'd the dearest bodily part of your + mistress, my ten thousand ducats are yours; so is your +diamond + too. If I come off, and leave her in such honour as you have + trust in, she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are +yours- + provided I have your commendation for my more free +entertainment. + POSTHUMUS. I embrace these conditions; let us have articles +betwixt + us. Only, thus far you shall answer: if you make your voyage +upon + her, and give me directly to understand you have prevail'd, I +am + no further your enemy- she is not worth our debate; if she +remain + unseduc'd, you not making it appear otherwise, for your ill + opinion and th' assault you have made to her chastity you +shall + answer me with your sword. + IACHIMO. Your hand- a covenant! We will have these things set +down + by lawful counsel, and straight away for Britain, lest the + bargain should catch cold and starve. I will fetch my gold +and + have our two wagers recorded. + POSTHUMUS. Agreed. Exeunt POSTHUMUS and IACHIMO + FRENCHMAN. Will this hold, think you? + PHILARIO. Signior Iachimo will not from it. Pray let us follow +'em. + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE V. +Britain. CYMBELINE'S palace + +Enter QUEEN, LADIES, and CORNELIUS + + QUEEN. Whiles yet the dew's on ground, gather those flowers; + Make haste; who has the note of them? + LADY. I, madam. + QUEEN. Dispatch. Exeunt LADIES + Now, Master Doctor, have you brought those drugs? + CORNELIUS. Pleaseth your Highness, ay. Here they are, madam. + [Presenting a box] + But I beseech your Grace, without offence- + My conscience bids me ask- wherefore you have + Commanded of me these most poisonous compounds + Which are the movers of a languishing death, + But, though slow, deadly? + QUEEN. I wonder, Doctor, + Thou ask'st me such a question. Have I not been + Thy pupil long? Hast thou not learn'd me how + To make perfumes? distil? preserve? yea, so + That our great king himself doth woo me oft + For my confections? Having thus far proceeded- + Unless thou think'st me devilish- is't not meet + That I did amplify my judgment in + Other conclusions? I will try the forces + Of these thy compounds on such creatures as + We count not worth the hanging- but none human- + To try the vigour of them, and apply + Allayments to their act, and by them gather + Their several virtues and effects. + CORNELIUS. Your Highness + Shall from this practice but make hard your heart; + Besides, the seeing these effects will be + Both noisome and infectious. + QUEEN. O, content thee. + + Enter PISANIO + + [Aside] Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him + Will I first work. He's for his master, + An enemy to my son.- How now, Pisanio! + Doctor, your service for this time is ended; + Take your own way. + CORNELIUS. [Aside] I do suspect you, madam; + But you shall do no harm. + QUEEN. [To PISANIO] Hark thee, a word. + CORNELIUS. [Aside] I do not like her. She doth think she has + Strange ling'ring poisons. I do know her spirit, + And will not trust one of her malice with + A drug of such damn'd nature. Those she has + Will stupefy and dull the sense awhile, + Which first perchance she'll prove on cats and dogs, + Then afterward up higher; but there is + No danger in what show of death it makes, + More than the locking up the spirits a time, + To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool'd + With a most false effect; and I the truer + So to be false with her. + QUEEN. No further service, Doctor, + Until I send for thee. + CORNELIUS. I humbly take my leave. Exit + + QUEEN. Weeps she still, say'st thou? Dost thou think in time + She will not quench, and let instructions enter + Where folly now possesses? Do thou work. + When thou shalt bring me word she loves my son, + I'll tell thee on the instant thou art then + As great as is thy master; greater, for + His fortunes all lie speechless, and his name + Is at last gasp. Return he cannot, nor + Continue where he is. To shift his being + Is to exchange one misery with another, + And every day that comes comes to + A day's work in him. What shalt thou expect + To be depender on a thing that leans, + Who cannot be new built, nor has no friends + So much as but to prop him? + [The QUEEN drops the box. PISANIO takes it up] + Thou tak'st up + Thou know'st not what; but take it for thy labour. + It is a thing I made, which hath the King + Five times redeem'd from death. I do not know + What is more cordial. Nay, I prithee take it; + It is an earnest of a further good + That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how + The case stands with her; do't as from thyself. + Think what a chance thou changest on; but think + Thou hast thy mistress still; to boot, my son, + Who shall take notice of thee. I'll move the King + To any shape of thy preferment, such + As thou'lt desire; and then myself, I chiefly, + That set thee on to this desert, am bound + To load thy merit richly. Call my women. + Think on my words. Exit PISANIO + A sly and constant knave, + Not to be shak'd; the agent for his master, + And the remembrancer of her to hold + The hand-fast to her lord. I have given him that + Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her + Of leigers for her sweet; and which she after, + Except she bend her humour, shall be assur'd + To taste of too. + + Re-enter PISANIO and LADIES + + So, so. Well done, well done. + The violets, cowslips, and the primroses, + Bear to my closet. Fare thee well, Pisanio; + Think on my words. Exeunt QUEEN and LADIES + PISANIO. And shall do. + But when to my good lord I prove untrue + I'll choke myself- there's all I'll do for you. Exit + + + + +SCENE VI. +Britain. The palace + +Enter IMOGEN alone + + IMOGEN. A father cruel and a step-dame false; + A foolish suitor to a wedded lady + That hath her husband banish'd. O, that husband! + My supreme crown of grief! and those repeated + Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stol'n, + As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable + Is the desire that's glorious. Blessed be those, + How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills, + Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fie! + + Enter PISANIO and IACHIMO + + PISANIO. Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome + Comes from my lord with letters. + IACHIMO. Change you, madam? + The worthy Leonatus is in safety, + And greets your Highness dearly. [Presents a letter] + + IMOGEN. Thanks, good sir. + You're kindly welcome. + IACHIMO. [Aside] All of her that is out of door most rich! + If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare, + She is alone th' Arabian bird, and I + Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend! + Arm me, audacity, from head to foot! + Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight; + Rather, directly fly. + IMOGEN. [Reads] 'He is one of the noblest note, to whose + kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon him + accordingly, as you value your trust. LEONATUS.' + + So far I read aloud; + But even the very middle of my heart + Is warm'd by th' rest and takes it thankfully. + You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I + Have words to bid you; and shall find it so + In all that I can do. + IACHIMO. Thanks, fairest lady. + What, are men mad? Hath nature given them eyes + To see this vaulted arch and the rich crop + Of sea and land, which can distinguish 'twixt + The fiery orbs above and the twinn'd stones + Upon the number'd beach, and can we not + Partition make with spectacles so precious + 'Twixt fair and foul? + IMOGEN. What makes your admiration? + IACHIMO. It cannot be i' th' eye, for apes and monkeys, + 'Twixt two such shes, would chatter this way and + Contemn with mows the other; nor i' th' judgment, + For idiots in this case of favour would + Be wisely definite; nor i' th' appetite; + Sluttery, to such neat excellence oppos'd, + Should make desire vomit emptiness, + Not so allur'd to feed. + IMOGEN. What is the matter, trow? + IACHIMO. The cloyed will- + That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub + Both fill'd and running- ravening first the lamb, + Longs after for the garbage. + IMOGEN. What, dear sir, + Thus raps you? Are you well? + IACHIMO. Thanks, madam; well.- Beseech you, sir, + Desire my man's abode where I did leave him. + He's strange and peevish. + PISANIO. I was going, sir, + To give him welcome. Exit + IMOGEN. Continues well my lord? His health beseech you? + IACHIMO. Well, madam. + IMOGEN. Is he dispos'd to mirth? I hope he is. + IACHIMO. Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there + So merry and so gamesome. He is call'd + The Britain reveller. + IMOGEN. When he was here + He did incline to sadness, and oft-times + Not knowing why. + IACHIMO. I never saw him sad. + There is a Frenchman his companion, one + An eminent monsieur that, it seems, much loves + A Gallian girl at home. He furnaces + The thick sighs from him; whiles the jolly Briton- + Your lord, I mean- laughs from's free lungs, cries 'O, + Can my sides hold, to think that man- who knows + By history, report, or his own proof, + What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose + But must be- will's free hours languish for + Assured bondage?' + IMOGEN. Will my lord say so? + IACHIMO. Ay, madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter. + It is a recreation to be by + And hear him mock the Frenchman. But heavens know + Some men are much to blame. + IMOGEN. Not he, I hope. + IACHIMO. Not he; but yet heaven's bounty towards him might + Be us'd more thankfully. In himself, 'tis much; + In you, which I account his, beyond all talents. + Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound + To pity too. + IMOGEN. What do you pity, sir? + IACHIMO. Two creatures heartily. + IMOGEN. Am I one, sir? + You look on me: what wreck discern you in me + Deserves your pity? + IACHIMO. Lamentable! What, + To hide me from the radiant sun and solace + I' th' dungeon by a snuff? + IMOGEN. I pray you, sir, + Deliver with more openness your answers + To my demands. Why do you pity me? + IACHIMO. That others do, + I was about to say, enjoy your- But + It is an office of the gods to venge it, + Not mine to speak on't. + IMOGEN. You do seem to know + Something of me, or what concerns me; pray you- + Since doubting things go ill often hurts more + Than to be sure they do; for certainties + Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing, + The remedy then born- discover to me + What both you spur and stop. + IACHIMO. Had I this cheek + To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch, + Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul + To th' oath of loyalty; this object, which + Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye, + Fixing it only here; should I, damn'd then, + Slaver with lips as common as the stairs + That mount the Capitol; join gripes with hands + Made hard with hourly falsehood- falsehood as + With labour; then by-peeping in an eye + Base and illustrious as the smoky light + That's fed with stinking tallow- it were fit + That all the plagues of hell should at one time + Encounter such revolt. + IMOGEN. My lord, I fear, + Has forgot Britain. + IACHIMO. And himself. Not I + Inclin'd to this intelligence pronounce + The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces + That from my mutest conscience to my tongue + Charms this report out. + IMOGEN. Let me hear no more. + IACHIMO. O dearest soul, your cause doth strike my heart + With pity that doth make me sick! A lady + So fair, and fasten'd to an empery, + Would make the great'st king double, to be partner'd + With tomboys hir'd with that self exhibition + Which your own coffers yield! with diseas'd ventures + That play with all infirmities for gold + Which rottenness can lend nature! such boil'd stuff + As well might poison poison! Be reveng'd; + Or she that bore you was no queen, and you + Recoil from your great stock. + IMOGEN. Reveng'd? + How should I be reveng'd? If this be true- + As I have such a heart that both mine ears + Must not in haste abuse- if it be true, + How should I be reveng'd? + IACHIMO. Should he make me + Live like Diana's priest betwixt cold sheets, + Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps, + In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge it. + I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure, + More noble than that runagate to your bed, + And will continue fast to your affection, + Still close as sure. + IMOGEN. What ho, Pisanio! + IACHIMO. Let me my service tender on your lips. + IMOGEN. Away! I do condemn mine ears that have + So long attended thee. If thou wert honourable, + Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, not + For such an end thou seek'st, as base as strange. + Thou wrong'st a gentleman who is as far + From thy report as thou from honour; and + Solicits here a lady that disdains + Thee and the devil alike.- What ho, Pisanio!- + The King my father shall be made acquainted + Of thy assault. If he shall think it fit + A saucy stranger in his court to mart + As in a Romish stew, and to expound + His beastly mind to us, he hath a court + He little cares for, and a daughter who + He not respects at all.- What ho, Pisanio! + IACHIMO. O happy Leonatus! I may say + The credit that thy lady hath of thee + Deserves thy trust, and thy most perfect goodness + Her assur'd credit. Blessed live you long, + A lady to the worthiest sir that ever + Country call'd his! and you his mistress, only + For the most worthiest fit! Give me your pardon. + I have spoke this to know if your affiance + Were deeply rooted, and shall make your lord + That which he is new o'er; and he is one + The truest manner'd, such a holy witch + That he enchants societies into him, + Half all men's hearts are his. + IMOGEN. You make amends. + IACHIMO. He sits 'mongst men like a descended god: + He hath a kind of honour sets him off + More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry, + Most mighty Princess, that I have adventur'd + To try your taking of a false report, which hath + Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment + In the election of a sir so rare, + Which you know cannot err. The love I bear him + Made me to fan you thus; but the gods made you, + Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray your pardon. + IMOGEN. All's well, sir; take my pow'r i' th' court for yours. + IACHIMO. My humble thanks. I had almost forgot + T' entreat your Grace but in a small request, + And yet of moment too, for it concerns + Your lord; myself and other noble friends + Are partners in the business. + IMOGEN. Pray what is't? + IACHIMO. Some dozen Romans of us, and your lord- + The best feather of our wing- have mingled sums + To buy a present for the Emperor; + Which I, the factor for the rest, have done + In France. 'Tis plate of rare device, and jewels + Of rich and exquisite form, their values great; + And I am something curious, being strange, + To have them in safe stowage. May it please you + To take them in protection? + IMOGEN. Willingly; + And pawn mine honour for their safety. Since + My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them + In my bedchamber. + IACHIMO. They are in a trunk, + Attended by my men. I will make bold + To send them to you only for this night; + I must aboard to-morrow. + IMOGEN. O, no, no. + IACHIMO. Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my word + By length'ning my return. From Gallia + I cross'd the seas on purpose and on promise + To see your Grace. + IMOGEN. I thank you for your pains. + But not away to-morrow! + IACHIMO. O, I must, madam. + Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please + To greet your lord with writing, do't to-night. + I have outstood my time, which is material + 'To th' tender of our present. + IMOGEN. I will write. + Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept + And truly yielded you. You're very welcome. Exeunt + + + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + + +ACT II. SCENE I. +Britain. Before CYMBELINE'S palace + +Enter CLOTEN and the two LORDS + + CLOTEN. Was there ever man had such luck! When I kiss'd the +jack, + upon an up-cast to be hit away! I had a hundred pound on't; +and + then a whoreson jackanapes must take me up for swearing, as +if I + borrowed mine oaths of him, and might not spend them at my + pleasure. + FIRST LORD. What got he by that? You have broke his pate with +your + bowl. + SECOND LORD. [Aside] If his wit had been like him that broke +it, it + would have run all out. + CLOTEN. When a gentleman is dispos'd to swear, it is not for +any + standers-by to curtail his oaths. Ha? + SECOND LORD. No, my lord; [Aside] nor crop the ears of them. + CLOTEN. Whoreson dog! I give him satisfaction? Would he had +been + one of my rank! + SECOND LORD. [Aside] To have smell'd like a fool. + CLOTEN. I am not vex'd more at anything in th' earth. A pox +on't! I + had rather not be so noble as I am; they dare not fight with +me, + because of the Queen my mother. Every jackslave hath his +bellyful + of fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that +nobody + can match. + SECOND LORD. [Aside] You are cock and capon too; and you crow, + cock, with your comb on. + CLOTEN. Sayest thou? + SECOND LORD. It is not fit your lordship should undertake every + companion that you give offence to. + CLOTEN. No, I know that; but it is fit I should commit offence +to + my inferiors. + SECOND LORD. Ay, it is fit for your lordship only. + CLOTEN. Why, so I say. + FIRST LORD. Did you hear of a stranger that's come to court + to-night? + CLOTEN. A stranger, and I not known on't? + SECOND LORD. [Aside] He's a strange fellow himself, and knows +it + not. + FIRST LORD. There's an Italian come, and, 'tis thought, one of + Leonatus' friends. + CLOTEN. Leonatus? A banish'd rascal; and he's another, +whatsoever + he be. Who told you of this stranger? + FIRST LORD. One of your lordship's pages. + CLOTEN. Is it fit I went to look upon him? Is there no +derogation + in't? + SECOND LORD. You cannot derogate, my lord. + CLOTEN. Not easily, I think. + SECOND LORD. [Aside] You are a fool granted; therefore your +issues, + being foolish, do not derogate. + CLOTEN. Come, I'll go see this Italian. What I have lost to-day +at + bowls I'll win to-night of him. Come, go. + SECOND LORD. I'll attend your lordship. + Exeunt CLOTEN and FIRST LORD + That such a crafty devil as is his mother + Should yield the world this ass! A woman that + Bears all down with her brain; and this her son + Cannot take two from twenty, for his heart, + And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess, + Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'st, + Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern'd, + A mother hourly coining plots, a wooer + More hateful than the foul expulsion is + Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act + Of the divorce he'd make! The heavens hold firm + The walls of thy dear honour, keep unshak'd + That temple, thy fair mind, that thou mayst stand + T' enjoy thy banish'd lord and this great land! Exit + + + + +SCENE II. +Britain. IMOGEN'S bedchamber in CYMBELINE'S palace; a trunk in +one corner + +Enter IMOGEN in her bed, and a LADY attending + + IMOGEN. Who's there? My woman? Helen? + LADY. Please you, madam. + IMOGEN. What hour is it? + LADY. Almost midnight, madam. + IMOGEN. I have read three hours then. Mine eyes are weak; + Fold down the leaf where I have left. To bed. + Take not away the taper, leave it burning; + And if thou canst awake by four o' th' clock, + I prithee call me. Sleep hath seiz'd me wholly. Exit LADY + To your protection I commend me, gods. + From fairies and the tempters of the night + Guard me, beseech ye! + [Sleeps. IACHIMO comes from the trunk] + IACHIMO. The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd sense + Repairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus + Did softly press the rushes ere he waken'd + The chastity he wounded. Cytherea, + How bravely thou becom'st thy bed! fresh lily, + And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch! + But kiss; one kiss! Rubies unparagon'd, + How dearly they do't! 'Tis her breathing that + Perfumes the chamber thus. The flame o' th' taper + Bows toward her and would under-peep her lids + To see th' enclosed lights, now canopied + Under these windows white and azure, lac'd + With blue of heaven's own tinct. But my design + To note the chamber. I will write all down: + Such and such pictures; there the window; such + Th' adornment of her bed; the arras, figures- + Why, such and such; and the contents o' th' story. + Ah, but some natural notes about her body + Above ten thousand meaner movables + Would testify, t' enrich mine inventory. + O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her! + And be her sense but as a monument, + Thus in a chapel lying! Come off, come off; + [Taking off her bracelet] + As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard! + 'Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly, + As strongly as the conscience does within, + To th' madding of her lord. On her left breast + A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops + I' th' bottom of a cowslip. Here's a voucher + Stronger than ever law could make; this secret + Will force him think I have pick'd the lock and ta'en + The treasure of her honour. No more. To what end? + Why should I write this down that's riveted, + Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late + The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's turn'd down + Where Philomel gave up. I have enough. + To th' trunk again, and shut the spring of it. + Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning + May bare the raven's eye! I lodge in fear; + Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. [Clock strikes] + One, two, three. Time, time! Exit into the trunk + + + + +SCENE III. +CYMBELINE'S palace. An ante-chamber adjoining IMOGEN'S apartments + +Enter CLOTEN and LORDS + + FIRST LORD. Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the +most + coldest that ever turn'd up ace. + CLOTEN. It would make any man cold to lose. + FIRST LORD. But not every man patient after the noble temper of + your lordship. You are most hot and furious when you win. + CLOTEN. Winning will put any man into courage. If I could get +this + foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough. It's almost +morning, + is't not? + FIRST LORD. Day, my lord. + CLOTEN. I would this music would come. I am advised to give her + music a mornings; they say it will penetrate. + + Enter musicians + + Come on, tune. If you can penetrate her with your fingering, +so. + We'll try with tongue too. If none will do, let her remain; +but + I'll never give o'er. First, a very excellent good-conceited + thing; after, a wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich +words to + it- and then let her consider. + + SONG + + Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, + And Phoebus 'gins arise, + His steeds to water at those springs + On chalic'd flow'rs that lies; + And winking Mary-buds begin + To ope their golden eyes. + With everything that pretty bin, + My lady sweet, arise; + Arise, arise! + + So, get you gone. If this penetrate, I will consider your +music + the better; if it do not, it is a vice in her ears which + horsehairs and calves' guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch +to + boot, can never amend. Exeunt musicians + + + Enter CYMBELINE and QUEEN + + SECOND LORD. Here comes the King. + CLOTEN. I am glad I was up so late, for that's the reason I was +up + so early. He cannot choose but take this service I have done + fatherly.- Good morrow to your Majesty and to my gracious +mother. + CYMBELINE. Attend you here the door of our stern daughter? + Will she not forth? + CLOTEN. I have assail'd her with musics, but she vouchsafes no + notice. + CYMBELINE. The exile of her minion is too new; + She hath not yet forgot him; some more time + Must wear the print of his remembrance out, + And then she's yours. + QUEEN. You are most bound to th' King, + Who lets go by no vantages that may + Prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself + To orderly soliciting, and be friended + With aptness of the season; make denials + Increase your services; so seem as if + You were inspir'd to do those duties which + You tender to her; that you in all obey her, + Save when command to your dismission tends, + And therein you are senseless. + CLOTEN. Senseless? Not so. + + Enter a MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome; + The one is Caius Lucius. + CYMBELINE. A worthy fellow, + Albeit he comes on angry purpose now; + But that's no fault of his. We must receive him + According to the honour of his sender; + And towards himself, his goodness forespent on us, + We must extend our notice. Our dear son, + When you have given good morning to your mistress, + Attend the Queen and us; we shall have need + T' employ you towards this Roman. Come, our queen. + Exeunt all but CLOTEN + CLOTEN. If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not, + Let her lie still and dream. By your leave, ho! [Knocks] + I know her women are about her; what + If I do line one of their hands? 'Tis gold + Which buys admittance; oft it doth-yea, and makes + Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up + Their deer to th' stand o' th' stealer; and 'tis gold + Which makes the true man kill'd and saves the thief; + Nay, sometime hangs both thief and true man. What + Can it not do and undo? I will make + One of her women lawyer to me, for + I yet not understand the case myself. + By your leave. [Knocks] + + Enter a LADY + + LADY. Who's there that knocks? + CLOTEN. A gentleman. + LADY. No more? + CLOTEN. Yes, and a gentlewoman's son. + LADY. That's more + Than some whose tailors are as dear as yours + Can justly boast of. What's your lordship's pleasure? + CLOTEN. Your lady's person; is she ready? + LADY. Ay, + To keep her chamber. + CLOTEN. There is gold for you; sell me your good report. + LADY. How? My good name? or to report of you + What I shall think is good? The Princess! + + Enter IMOGEN + + CLOTEN. Good morrow, fairest sister. Your sweet hand. + Exit LADY + IMOGEN. Good morrow, sir. You lay out too much pains + For purchasing but trouble. The thanks I give + Is telling you that I am poor of thanks, + And scarce can spare them. + CLOTEN. Still I swear I love you. + IMOGEN. If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me. + If you swear still, your recompense is still + That I regard it not. + CLOTEN. This is no answer. + IMOGEN. But that you shall not say I yield, being silent, + I would not speak. I pray you spare me. Faith, + I shall unfold equal discourtesy + To your best kindness; one of your great knowing + Should learn, being taught, forbearance. + CLOTEN. To leave you in your madness 'twere my sin; + I will not. + IMOGEN. Fools are not mad folks. + CLOTEN. Do you call me fool? + IMOGEN. As I am mad, I do; + If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad; + That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir, + You put me to forget a lady's manners + By being so verbal; and learn now, for all, + That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce, + By th' very truth of it, I care not for you, + And am so near the lack of charity + To accuse myself I hate you; which I had rather + You felt than make't my boast. + CLOTEN. You sin against + Obedience, which you owe your father. For + The contract you pretend with that base wretch, + One bred of alms and foster'd with cold dishes, + With scraps o' th' court- it is no contract, none. + And though it be allowed in meaner parties- + Yet who than he more mean?- to knit their souls- + On whom there is no more dependency + But brats and beggary- in self-figur'd knot, + Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by + The consequence o' th' crown, and must not foil + The precious note of it with a base slave, + A hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth, + A pantler- not so eminent! + IMOGEN. Profane fellow! + Wert thou the son of Jupiter, and no more + But what thou art besides, thou wert too base + To be his groom. Thou wert dignified enough, + Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made + Comparative for your virtues to be styl'd + The under-hangman of his kingdom, and hated + For being preferr'd so well. + CLOTEN. The south fog rot him! + IMOGEN. He never can meet more mischance than come + To be but nam'd of thee. His mean'st garment + That ever hath but clipp'd his body is dearer + In my respect than all the hairs above thee, + Were they all made such men. How now, Pisanio! + + Enter PISANIO + + CLOTEN. 'His garments'! Now the devil- + IMOGEN. To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently. + CLOTEN. 'His garment'! + IMOGEN. I am sprited with a fool; + Frighted, and ang'red worse. Go bid my woman + Search for a jewel that too casually + Hath left mine arm. It was thy master's; shrew me, + If I would lose it for a revenue + Of any king's in Europe! I do think + I saw't this morning; confident I am + Last night 'twas on mine arm; I kiss'd it. + I hope it be not gone to tell my lord + That I kiss aught but he. + PISANIO. 'Twill not be lost. + IMOGEN. I hope so. Go and search. Exit PISANIO + CLOTEN. You have abus'd me. + 'His meanest garment'! + IMOGEN. Ay, I said so, sir. + If you will make 't an action, call witness to 't. + CLOTEN. I will inform your father. + IMOGEN. Your mother too. + She's my good lady and will conceive, I hope, + But the worst of me. So I leave you, sir, + To th' worst of discontent. Exit + CLOTEN. I'll be reveng'd. + 'His mean'st garment'! Well. Exit + + + + +SCENE IV. +Rome. PHILARIO'S house + +Enter POSTHUMUS and PHILARIO + + POSTHUMUS. Fear it not, sir; I would I were so sure + To win the King as I am bold her honour + Will remain hers. + PHILARIO. What means do you make to him? + POSTHUMUS. Not any; but abide the change of time, + Quake in the present winter's state, and wish + That warmer days would come. In these fear'd hopes + I barely gratify your love; they failing, + I must die much your debtor. + PHILARIO. Your very goodness and your company + O'erpays all I can do. By this your king + Hath heard of great Augustus. Caius Lucius + Will do's commission throughly; and I think + He'll grant the tribute, send th' arrearages, + Or look upon our Romans, whose remembrance + Is yet fresh in their grief. + POSTHUMUS. I do believe + Statist though I am none, nor like to be, + That this will prove a war; and you shall hear + The legions now in Gallia sooner landed + In our not-fearing Britain than have tidings + Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen + Are men more order'd than when Julius Caesar + Smil'd at their lack of skill, but found their courage + Worthy his frowning at. Their discipline, + Now mingled with their courages, will make known + To their approvers they are people such + That mend upon the world. + + Enter IACHIMO + + PHILARIO. See! Iachimo! + POSTHUMUS. The swiftest harts have posted you by land, + And winds of all the comers kiss'd your sails, + To make your vessel nimble. + PHILARIO. Welcome, sir. + POSTHUMUS. I hope the briefness of your answer made + The speediness of your return. + IACHIMO. Your lady + Is one of the fairest that I have look'd upon. + POSTHUMUS. And therewithal the best; or let her beauty + Look through a casement to allure false hearts, + And be false with them. + IACHIMO. Here are letters for you. + POSTHUMUS. Their tenour good, I trust. + IACHIMO. 'Tis very like. + PHILARIO. Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court + When you were there? + IACHIMO. He was expected then, + But not approach'd. + POSTHUMUS. All is well yet. + Sparkles this stone as it was wont, or is't not + Too dull for your good wearing? + IACHIMO. If I have lost it, + I should have lost the worth of it in gold. + I'll make a journey twice as far t' enjoy + A second night of such sweet shortness which + Was mine in Britain; for the ring is won. + POSTHUMUS. The stone's too hard to come by. + IACHIMO. Not a whit, + Your lady being so easy. + POSTHUMUS. Make not, sir, + Your loss your sport. I hope you know that we + Must not continue friends. + IACHIMO. Good sir, we must, + If you keep covenant. Had I not brought + The knowledge of your mistress home, I grant + We were to question farther; but I now + Profess myself the winner of her honour, + Together with your ring; and not the wronger + Of her or you, having proceeded but + By both your wills. + POSTHUMUS. If you can make't apparent + That you have tasted her in bed, my hand + And ring is yours. If not, the foul opinion + You had of her pure honour gains or loses + Your sword or mine, or masterless leaves both + To who shall find them. + IACHIMO. Sir, my circumstances, + Being so near the truth as I will make them, + Must first induce you to believe- whose strength + I will confirm with oath; which I doubt not + You'll give me leave to spare when you shall find + You need it not. + POSTHUMUS. Proceed. + IACHIMO. First, her bedchamber, + Where I confess I slept not, but profess + Had that was well worth watching-it was hang'd + With tapestry of silk and silver; the story, + Proud Cleopatra when she met her Roman + And Cydnus swell'd above the banks, or for + The press of boats or pride. A piece of work + So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive + In workmanship and value; which I wonder'd + Could be so rarely and exactly wrought, + Since the true life on't was- + POSTHUMUS. This is true; + And this you might have heard of here, by me + Or by some other. + IACHIMO. More particulars + Must justify my knowledge. + POSTHUMUS. So they must, + Or do your honour injury. + IACHIMO. The chimney + Is south the chamber, and the chimneypiece + Chaste Dian bathing. Never saw I figures + So likely to report themselves. The cutter + Was as another nature, dumb; outwent her, + Motion and breath left out. + POSTHUMUS. This is a thing + Which you might from relation likewise reap, + Being, as it is, much spoke of. + IACHIMO. The roof o' th' chamber + With golden cherubins is fretted; her andirons- + I had forgot them- were two winking Cupids + Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely + Depending on their brands. + POSTHUMUS. This is her honour! + Let it be granted you have seen all this, and praise + Be given to your remembrance; the description + Of what is in her chamber nothing saves + The wager you have laid. + IACHIMO. Then, if you can, [Shows the bracelet] + Be pale. I beg but leave to air this jewel. See! + And now 'tis up again. It must be married + To that your diamond; I'll keep them. + POSTHUMUS. Jove! + Once more let me behold it. Is it that + Which I left with her? + IACHIMO. Sir- I thank her- that. + She stripp'd it from her arm; I see her yet; + Her pretty action did outsell her gift, + And yet enrich'd it too. She gave it me, and said + She priz'd it once. + POSTHUMUS. May be she pluck'd it off + To send it me. + IACHIMO. She writes so to you, doth she? + POSTHUMUS. O, no, no, no! 'tis true. Here, take this too; + [Gives the ring] + It is a basilisk unto mine eye, + Kills me to look on't. Let there be no honour + Where there is beauty; truth where semblance; love + Where there's another man. The vows of women + Of no more bondage be to where they are made + Than they are to their virtues, which is nothing. + O, above measure false! + PHILARIO. Have patience, sir, + And take your ring again; 'tis not yet won. + It may be probable she lost it, or + Who knows if one her women, being corrupted + Hath stol'n it from her? + POSTHUMUS. Very true; + And so I hope he came by't. Back my ring. + Render to me some corporal sign about her, + More evident than this; for this was stol'n. + IACHIMO. By Jupiter, I had it from her arm! + POSTHUMUS. Hark you, he swears; by Jupiter he swears. + 'Tis true- nay, keep the ring, 'tis true. I am sure + She would not lose it. Her attendants are + All sworn and honourable- they induc'd to steal it! + And by a stranger! No, he hath enjoy'd her. + The cognizance of her incontinency + Is this: she hath bought the name of whore thus dearly. + There, take thy hire; and all the fiends of hell + Divide themselves between you! + PHILARIO. Sir, be patient; + This is not strong enough to be believ'd + Of one persuaded well of. + POSTHUMUS. Never talk on't; + She hath been colted by him. + IACHIMO. If you seek + For further satisfying, under her breast- + Worthy the pressing- lies a mole, right proud + Of that most delicate lodging. By my life, + I kiss'd it; and it gave me present hunger + To feed again, though full. You do remember + This stain upon her? + POSTHUMUS. Ay, and it doth confirm + Another stain, as big as hell can hold, + Were there no more but it. + IACHIMO. Will you hear more? + POSTHUMUS. Spare your arithmetic; never count the turns. + Once, and a million! + IACHIMO. I'll be sworn- + POSTHUMUS. No swearing. + If you will swear you have not done't, you lie; + And I will kill thee if thou dost deny + Thou'st made me cuckold. + IACHIMO. I'll deny nothing. + POSTHUMUS. O that I had her here to tear her limb-meal! + I will go there and do't, i' th' court, before + Her father. I'll do something- Exit + PHILARIO. Quite besides + The government of patience! You have won. + Let's follow him and pervert the present wrath + He hath against himself. + IACHIMO. With all my heart. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE V. +Rome. Another room in PHILARIO'S house + +Enter POSTHUMUS + + POSTHUMUS. Is there no way for men to be, but women + Must be half-workers? We are all bastards, + And that most venerable man which I + Did call my father was I know not where + When I was stamp'd. Some coiner with his tools + Made me a counterfeit; yet my mother seem'd + The Dian of that time. So doth my wife + The nonpareil of this. O, vengeance, vengeance! + Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd, + And pray'd me oft forbearance; did it with + A pudency so rosy, the sweet view on't + Might well have warm'd old Saturn; that I thought her + As chaste as unsunn'd snow. O, all the devils! + This yellow Iachimo in an hour- was't not? + Or less!- at first? Perchance he spoke not, but, + Like a full-acorn'd boar, a German one, + Cried "O!' and mounted; found no opposition + But what he look'd for should oppose and she + Should from encounter guard. Could I find out + The woman's part in me! For there's no motion + That tends to vice in man but I affirm + It is the woman's part. Be it lying, note it, + The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers; + Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers; + Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain, + Nice longing, slanders, mutability, + All faults that man may name, nay, that hell knows, + Why, hers, in part or all; but rather all; + For even to vice + They are not constant, but are changing still + One vice but of a minute old for one + Not half so old as that. I'll write against them, + Detest them, curse them. Yet 'tis greater skill + In a true hate to pray they have their will: + The very devils cannot plague them better. Exit + + + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + + +ACT III. SCENE I. +Britain. A hall in CYMBELINE'S palace + +Enter in state, CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN, and LORDS at one door, +and at another CAIUS LUCIUS and attendants + + CYMBELINE. Now say, what would Augustus Caesar with us? + LUCIUS. When Julius Caesar- whose remembrance yet + Lives in men's eyes, and will to ears and tongues + Be theme and hearing ever- was in this Britain, + And conquer'd it, Cassibelan, thine uncle, + Famous in Caesar's praises no whit less + Than in his feats deserving it, for him + And his succession granted Rome a tribute, + Yearly three thousand pounds, which by thee lately + Is left untender'd. + QUEEN. And, to kill the marvel, + Shall be so ever. + CLOTEN. There be many Caesars + Ere such another Julius. Britain is + A world by itself, and we will nothing pay + For wearing our own noses. + QUEEN. That opportunity, + Which then they had to take from 's, to resume + We have again. Remember, sir, my liege, + The kings your ancestors, together with + The natural bravery of your isle, which stands + As Neptune's park, ribb'd and pal'd in + With rocks unscalable and roaring waters, + With sands that will not bear your enemies' boats + But suck them up to th' top-mast. A kind of conquest + Caesar made here; but made not here his brag + Of 'came, and saw, and overcame.' With shame- + The first that ever touch'd him- he was carried + From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping- + Poor ignorant baubles!- on our terrible seas, + Like egg-shells mov'd upon their surges, crack'd + As easily 'gainst our rocks; for joy whereof + The fam'd Cassibelan, who was once at point- + O, giglot fortune!- to master Caesar's sword, + Made Lud's Town with rejoicing fires bright + And Britons strut with courage. + CLOTEN. Come, there's no more tribute to be paid. Our kingdom +is + stronger than it was at that time; and, as I said, there is +no + moe such Caesars. Other of them may have crook'd noses; but +to + owe such straight arms, none. + CYMBELINE. Son, let your mother end. + CLOTEN. We have yet many among us can gripe as hard as +Cassibelan. + I do not say I am one; but I have a hand. Why tribute? Why +should + we pay tribute? If Caesar can hide the sun from us with a +blanket, + or put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for +light; + else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now. + CYMBELINE. You must know, + Till the injurious Romans did extort + This tribute from us, we were free. Caesar's ambition- + Which swell'd so much that it did almost stretch + The sides o' th' world- against all colour here + Did put the yoke upon's; which to shake off + Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon + Ourselves to be. + CLOTEN. We do. + CYMBELINE. Say then to Caesar, + Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which + Ordain'd our laws- whose use the sword of Caesar + Hath too much mangled; whose repair and franchise + Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed, + Though Rome be therefore angry. Mulmutius made our laws, + Who was the first of Britain which did put + His brows within a golden crown, and call'd + Himself a king. + LUCIUS. I am sorry, Cymbeline, + That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar- + Caesar, that hath moe kings his servants than + Thyself domestic officers- thine enemy. + Receive it from me, then: war and confusion + In Caesar's name pronounce I 'gainst thee; look + For fury not to be resisted. Thus defied, + I thank thee for myself. + CYMBELINE. Thou art welcome, Caius. + Thy Caesar knighted me; my youth I spent + Much under him; of him I gather'd honour, + Which he to seek of me again, perforce, + Behoves me keep at utterance. I am perfect + That the Pannonians and Dalmatians for + Their liberties are now in arms, a precedent + Which not to read would show the Britons cold; + So Caesar shall not find them. + LUCIUS. Let proof speak. + CLOTEN. His majesty bids you welcome. Make pastime with us a +day or + two, or longer. If you seek us afterwards in other terms, you + shall find us in our salt-water girdle. If you beat us out of +it, + it is yours; if you fall in the adventure, our crows shall +fare + the better for you; and there's an end. + LUCIUS. So, sir. + CYMBELINE. I know your master's pleasure, and he mine; + All the remain is, welcome. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Britain. Another room in CYMBELINE'S palace + +Enter PISANIO reading of a letter + + PISANIO. How? of adultery? Wherefore write you not + What monsters her accuse? Leonatus! + O master, what a strange infection + Is fall'n into thy ear! What false Italian- + As poisonous-tongu'd as handed- hath prevail'd + On thy too ready hearing? Disloyal? No. + She's punish'd for her truth, and undergoes, + More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults + As would take in some virtue. O my master! + Thy mind to her is now as low as were + Thy fortunes. How? that I should murder her? + Upon the love, and truth, and vows, which I + Have made to thy command? I, her? Her blood? + If it be so to do good service, never + Let me be counted serviceable. How look I + That I should seem to lack humanity + So much as this fact comes to? [Reads] 'Do't. The letter + That I have sent her, by her own command + Shall give thee opportunity.' O damn'd paper, + Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble, + Art thou a fedary for this act, and look'st + So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes. + + Enter IMOGEN + + I am ignorant in what I am commanded. + IMOGEN. How now, Pisanio! + PISANIO. Madam, here is a letter from my lord. + IMOGEN. Who? thy lord? That is my lord- Leonatus? + O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer + That knew the stars as I his characters- + He'd lay the future open. You good gods, + Let what is here contain'd relish of love, + Of my lord's health, of his content; yet not + That we two are asunder- let that grieve him! + Some griefs are med'cinable; that is one of them, + For it doth physic love- of his content, + All but in that. Good wax, thy leave. Blest be + You bees that make these locks of counsel! Lovers + And men in dangerous bonds pray not alike; + Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet + You clasp young Cupid's tables. Good news, gods! + [Reads] + 'Justice and your father's wrath, should he take me in his + dominion, could not be so cruel to me as you, O the dearest +of + creatures, would even renew me with your eyes. Take notice +that I + am in Cambria, at Milford Haven. What your own love will out +of + this advise you, follow. So he wishes you all happiness that + remains loyal to his vow, and your increasing in love + LEONATUS POSTHUMUS.' + + O for a horse with wings! Hear'st thou, Pisanio? + He is at Milford Haven. Read, and tell me + How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs + May plod it in a week, why may not I + Glide thither in a day? Then, true Pisanio- + Who long'st like me to see thy lord, who long'st- + O, let me 'bate!- but not like me, yet long'st, + But in a fainter kind- O, not like me, + For mine's beyond beyond!-say, and speak thick- + Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing + To th' smothering of the sense- how far it is + To this same blessed Milford. And by th' way + Tell me how Wales was made so happy as + T' inherit such a haven. But first of all, + How we may steal from hence; and for the gap + That we shall make in time from our hence-going + And our return, to excuse. But first, how get hence. + Why should excuse be born or ere begot? + We'll talk of that hereafter. Prithee speak, + How many score of miles may we well ride + 'Twixt hour and hour? + PISANIO. One score 'twixt sun and sun, + Madam, 's enough for you, and too much too. + IMOGEN. Why, one that rode to's execution, man, + Could never go so slow. I have heard of riding wagers + Where horses have been nimbler than the sands + That run i' th' clock's behalf. But this is fool'ry. + Go bid my woman feign a sickness; say + She'll home to her father; and provide me presently + A riding suit, no costlier than would fit + A franklin's huswife. + PISANIO. Madam, you're best consider. + IMOGEN. I see before me, man. Nor here, nor here, + Nor what ensues, but have a fog in them + That I cannot look through. Away, I prithee; + Do as I bid thee. There's no more to say; + Accessible is none but Milford way. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Wales. A mountainous country with a cave + +Enter from the cave BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS + + BELARIUS. A goodly day not to keep house with such + Whose roof's as low as ours! Stoop, boys; this gate + Instructs you how t' adore the heavens, and bows you + To a morning's holy office. The gates of monarchs + Are arch'd so high that giants may jet through + And keep their impious turbans on without + Good morrow to the sun. Hail, thou fair heaven! + We house i' th' rock, yet use thee not so hardly + As prouder livers do. + GUIDERIUS. Hail, heaven! + ARVIRAGUS. Hail, heaven! + BELARIUS. Now for our mountain sport. Up to yond hill, + Your legs are young; I'll tread these flats. Consider, + When you above perceive me like a crow, + That it is place which lessens and sets off; + And you may then revolve what tales I have told you + Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war. + This service is not service so being done, + But being so allow'd. To apprehend thus + Draws us a profit from all things we see, + And often to our comfort shall we find + The sharded beetle in a safer hold + Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O, this life + Is nobler than attending for a check, + Richer than doing nothing for a bribe, + Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk: + Such gain the cap of him that makes him fine, + Yet keeps his book uncross'd. No life to ours! + GUIDERIUS. Out of your proof you speak. We, poor unfledg'd, + Have never wing'd from view o' th' nest, nor know not + What air's from home. Haply this life is best, + If quiet life be best; sweeter to you + That have a sharper known; well corresponding + With your stiff age. But unto us it is + A cell of ignorance, travelling abed, + A prison for a debtor that not dares + To stride a limit. + ARVIRAGUS. What should we speak of + When we are old as you? When we shall hear + The rain and wind beat dark December, how, + In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse. + The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing; + We are beastly: subtle as the fox for prey, + Like warlike as the wolf for what we eat. + Our valour is to chase what flies; our cage + We make a choir, as doth the prison'd bird, + And sing our bondage freely. + BELARIUS. How you speak! + Did you but know the city's usuries, + And felt them knowingly- the art o' th' court, + As hard to leave as keep, whose top to climb + Is certain falling, or so slipp'ry that + The fear's as bad as falling; the toil o' th' war, + A pain that only seems to seek out danger + I' th'name of fame and honour, which dies i' th'search, + And hath as oft a sland'rous epitaph + As record of fair act; nay, many times, + Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse- + Must curtsy at the censure. O, boys, this story + The world may read in me; my body's mark'd + With Roman swords, and my report was once + First with the best of note. Cymbeline lov'd me; + And when a soldier was the theme, my name + Was not far off. Then was I as a tree + Whose boughs did bend with fruit; but in one night + A storm, or robbery, call it what you will, + Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, + And left me bare to weather. + GUIDERIUS. Uncertain favour! + BELARIUS. My fault being nothing- as I have told you oft- + But that two villains, whose false oaths prevail'd + Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline + I was confederate with the Romans. So + Follow'd my banishment, and this twenty years + This rock and these demesnes have been my world, + Where I have liv'd at honest freedom, paid + More pious debts to heaven than in all + The fore-end of my time. But up to th' mountains! + This is not hunters' language. He that strikes + The venison first shall be the lord o' th' feast; + To him the other two shall minister; + And we will fear no poison, which attends + In place of greater state. I'll meet you in the valleys. + Exeunt GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS + How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature! + These boys know little they are sons to th' King, + Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive. + They think they are mine; and though train'd up thus meanly + I' th' cave wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit + The roofs of palaces, and nature prompts them + In simple and low things to prince it much + Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore, + The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, who + The King his father call'd Guiderius- Jove! + When on my three-foot stool I sit and tell + The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out + Into my story; say 'Thus mine enemy fell, + And thus I set my foot on's neck'; even then + The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats, + Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in posture + That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal, + Once Arviragus, in as like a figure + Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more + His own conceiving. Hark, the game is rous'd! + O Cymbeline, heaven and my conscience knows + Thou didst unjustly banish me! Whereon, + At three and two years old, I stole these babes, + Thinking to bar thee of succession as + Thou refts me of my lands. Euriphile, + Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for their mother, + And every day do honour to her grave. + Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call'd, + They take for natural father. The game is up. Exit + + + + +SCENE IV. +Wales, near Milford Haven + +Enter PISANIO and IMOGEN + + IMOGEN. Thou told'st me, when we came from horse, the place + Was near at hand. Ne'er long'd my mother so + To see me first as I have now. Pisanio! Man! + Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind + That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh + From th' inward of thee? One but painted thus + Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd + Beyond self-explication. Put thyself + Into a haviour of less fear, ere wildness + Vanquish my staider senses. What's the matter? + Why tender'st thou that paper to me with + A look untender! If't be summer news, + Smile to't before; if winterly, thou need'st + But keep that count'nance still. My husband's hand? + That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him, + And he's at some hard point. Speak, man; thy tongue + May take off some extremity, which to read + Would be even mortal to me. + PISANIO. Please you read, + And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing + The most disdain'd of fortune. + IMOGEN. [Reads] 'Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath play'd the +strumpet in + my bed, the testimonies whereof lie bleeding in me. I speak +not + out of weak surmises, but from proof as strong as my grief +and as + certain as I expect my revenge. That part thou, Pisanio, must +act + for me, if thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers. +Let + thine own hands take away her life; I shall give thee +opportunity + at Milford Haven; she hath my letter for the purpose; where, +if + thou fear to strike, and to make me certain it is done, thou +art + the pander to her dishonour, and equally to me disloyal.' + PISANIO. What shall I need to draw my sword? The paper + Hath cut her throat already. No, 'tis slander, + Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue + Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose breath + Rides on the posting winds and doth belie + All corners of the world. Kings, queens, and states, + Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave, + This viperous slander enters. What cheer, madam? + IMOGEN. False to his bed? What is it to be false? + To lie in watch there, and to think on him? + To weep twixt clock and clock? If sleep charge nature, + To break it with a fearful dream of him, + And cry myself awake? That's false to's bed, + Is it? + PISANIO. Alas, good lady! + IMOGEN. I false! Thy conscience witness! Iachimo, + Thou didst accuse him of incontinency; + Thou then look'dst like a villain; now, methinks, + Thy favour's good enough. Some jay of Italy, + Whose mother was her painting, hath betray'd him. + Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion, + And for I am richer than to hang by th' walls + I must be ripp'd. To pieces with me! O, + Men's vows are women's traitors! All good seeming, + By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought + Put on for villainy; not born where't grows, + But worn a bait for ladies. + PISANIO. Good madam, hear me. + IMOGEN. True honest men being heard, like false Aeneas, + Were, in his time, thought false; and Sinon's weeping + Did scandal many a holy tear, took pity + From most true wretchedness. So thou, Posthumus, + Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men: + Goodly and gallant shall be false and perjur'd + From thy great fail. Come, fellow, be thou honest; + Do thou thy master's bidding; when thou seest him, + A little witness my obedience. Look! + I draw the sword myself; take it, and hit + The innocent mansion of my love, my heart. + Fear not; 'tis empty of all things but grief; + Thy master is not there, who was indeed + The riches of it. Do his bidding; strike. + Thou mayst be valiant in a better cause, + But now thou seem'st a coward. + PISANIO. Hence, vile instrument! + Thou shalt not damn my hand. + IMOGEN. Why, I must die; + And if I do not by thy hand, thou art + No servant of thy master's. Against self-slaughter + There is a prohibition so divine + That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's my heart- + Something's afore't. Soft, soft! we'll no defence!- + Obedient as the scabbard. What is here? + The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus + All turn'd to heresy? Away, away, + Corrupters of my faith! you shall no more + Be stomachers to my heart. Thus may poor fools + Believe false teachers; though those that are betray'd + Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor + Stands in worse case of woe. And thou, Posthumus, + That didst set up my disobedience 'gainst the King + My father, and make me put into contempt the suits + Of princely fellows, shalt hereafter find + It is no act of common passage but + A strain of rareness; and I grieve myself + To think, when thou shalt be disedg'd by her + That now thou tirest on, how thy memory + Will then be pang'd by me. Prithee dispatch. + The lamp entreats the butcher. Where's thy knife? + Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding, + When I desire it too. + PISANIO. O gracious lady, + Since I receiv'd command to do this busines + I have not slept one wink. + IMOGEN. Do't, and to bed then. + PISANIO. I'll wake mine eyeballs first. + IMOGEN. Wherefore then + Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abus'd + So many miles with a pretence? This place? + Mine action and thine own? our horses' labour? + The time inviting thee? the perturb'd court, + For my being absent?- whereunto I never + Purpose return. Why hast thou gone so far + To be unbent when thou hast ta'en thy stand, + Th' elected deer before thee? + PISANIO. But to win time + To lose so bad employment, in the which + I have consider'd of a course. Good lady, + Hear me with patience. + IMOGEN. Talk thy tongue weary- speak. + I have heard I am a strumpet, and mine ear, + Therein false struck, can take no greater wound, + Nor tent to bottom that. But speak. + PISANIO. Then, madam, + I thought you would not back again. + IMOGEN. Most like- + Bringing me here to kill me. + PISANIO. Not so, neither; + But if I were as wise as honest, then + My purpose would prove well. It cannot be + But that my master is abus'd. Some villain, + Ay, and singular in his art, hath done you both + This cursed injury. + IMOGEN. Some Roman courtezan! + PISANIO. No, on my life! + I'll give but notice you are dead, and send him + Some bloody sign of it, for 'tis commanded + I should do so. You shall be miss'd at court, + And that will well confirm it. + IMOGEN. Why, good fellow, + What shall I do the while? where bide? how live? + Or in my life what comfort, when I am + Dead to my husband? + PISANIO. If you'll back to th' court- + IMOGEN. No court, no father, nor no more ado + With that harsh, noble, simple nothing- + That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me + As fearful as a siege. + PISANIO. If not at court, + Then not in Britain must you bide. + IMOGEN. Where then? + Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night, + Are they not but in Britain? I' th' world's volume + Our Britain seems as of it, but not in't; + In a great pool a swan's nest. Prithee think + There's livers out of Britain. + PISANIO. I am most glad + You think of other place. Th' ambassador, + Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford Haven + To-morrow. Now, if you could wear a mind + Dark as your fortune is, and but disguise + That which t' appear itself must not yet be + But by self-danger, you should tread a course + Pretty and full of view; yea, happily, near + The residence of Posthumus; so nigh, at least, + That though his actions were not visible, yet + Report should render him hourly to your ear + As truly as he moves. + IMOGEN. O! for such means, + Though peril to my modesty, not death on't, + I would adventure. + PISANIO. Well then, here's the point: + You must forget to be a woman; change + Command into obedience; fear and niceness- + The handmaids of all women, or, more truly, + Woman it pretty self- into a waggish courage; + Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy, and + As quarrelous as the weasel. Nay, you must + Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek, + Exposing it- but, O, the harder heart! + Alack, no remedy!- to the greedy touch + Of common-kissing Titan, and forget + Your laboursome and dainty trims wherein + You made great Juno angry. + IMOGEN. Nay, be brief; + I see into thy end, and am almost + A man already. + PISANIO. First, make yourself but like one. + Fore-thinking this, I have already fit- + 'Tis in my cloak-bag- doublet, hat, hose, all + That answer to them. Would you, in their serving, + And with what imitation you can borrow + From youth of such a season, fore noble Lucius + Present yourself, desire his service, tell him + Wherein you're happy- which will make him know + If that his head have ear in music; doubtless + With joy he will embrace you; for he's honourable, + And, doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad- + You have me, rich; and I will never fail + Beginning nor supplyment. + IMOGEN. Thou art all the comfort + The gods will diet me with. Prithee away! + There's more to be consider'd; but we'll even + All that good time will give us. This attempt + I am soldier to, and will abide it with + A prince's courage. Away, I prithee. + PISANIO. Well, madam, we must take a short farewell, + Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of + Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress, + Here is a box; I had it from the Queen. + What's in't is precious. If you are sick at sea + Or stomach-qualm'd at land, a dram of this + Will drive away distemper. To some shade, + And fit you to your manhood. May the gods + Direct you to the best! + IMOGEN. Amen. I thank thee. Exeunt severally + + + + +SCENE V. +Britain. CYMBELINE'S palace + +Enter CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN, LUCIUS, and LORDS + + CYMBELINE. Thus far; and so farewell. + LUCIUS. Thanks, royal sir. + My emperor hath wrote; I must from hence, + And am right sorry that I must report ye + My master's enemy. + CYMBELINE. Our subjects, sir, + Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself + To show less sovereignty than they, must needs + Appear unkinglike. + LUCIUS. So, sir. I desire of you + A conduct overland to Milford Haven. + Madam, all joy befall your Grace, and you! + CYMBELINE. My lords, you are appointed for that office; + The due of honour in no point omit. + So farewell, noble Lucius. + LUCIUS. Your hand, my lord. + CLOTEN. Receive it friendly; but from this time forth + I wear it as your enemy. + LUCIUS. Sir, the event + Is yet to name the winner. Fare you well. + CYMBELINE. Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords, + Till he have cross'd the Severn. Happiness! + Exeunt LUCIUS and LORDS + QUEEN. He goes hence frowning; but it honours us + That we have given him cause. + CLOTEN. 'Tis all the better; + Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it. + CYMBELINE. Lucius hath wrote already to the Emperor + How it goes here. It fits us therefore ripely + Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness. + The pow'rs that he already hath in Gallia + Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves + His war for Britain. + QUEEN. 'Tis not sleepy business, + But must be look'd to speedily and strongly. + CYMBELINE. Our expectation that it would be thus + Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen, + Where is our daughter? She hath not appear'd + Before the Roman, nor to us hath tender'd + The duty of the day. She looks us like + A thing more made of malice than of duty; + We have noted it. Call her before us, for + We have been too slight in sufferance. Exit a MESSENGER + QUEEN. Royal sir, + Since the exile of Posthumus, most retir'd + Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord, + 'Tis time must do. Beseech your Majesty, + Forbear sharp speeches to her; she's a lady + So tender of rebukes that words are strokes, + And strokes death to her. + + Re-enter MESSENGER + + CYMBELINE. Where is she, sir? How + Can her contempt be answer'd? + MESSENGER. Please you, sir, + Her chambers are all lock'd, and there's no answer + That will be given to th' loud of noise we make. + QUEEN. My lord, when last I went to visit her, + She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close; + Whereto constrain'd by her infirmity + She should that duty leave unpaid to you + Which daily she was bound to proffer. This + She wish'd me to make known; but our great court + Made me to blame in memory. + CYMBELINE. Her doors lock'd? + Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that which I fear + Prove false! Exit + QUEEN. Son, I say, follow the King. + CLOTEN. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant, + I have not seen these two days. + QUEEN. Go, look after. Exit CLOTEN + Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus! + He hath a drug of mine. I pray his absence + Proceed by swallowing that; for he believes + It is a thing most precious. But for her, + Where is she gone? Haply despair hath seiz'd her; + Or, wing'd with fervour of her love, she's flown + To her desir'd Posthumus. Gone she is + To death or to dishonour, and my end + Can make good use of either. She being down, + I have the placing of the British crown. + + Re-enter CLOTEN + + How now, my son? + CLOTEN. 'Tis certain she is fled. + Go in and cheer the King. He rages; none + Dare come about him. + QUEEN. All the better. May + This night forestall him of the coming day! Exit + CLOTEN. I love and hate her; for she's fair and royal, + And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite + Than lady, ladies, woman. From every one + The best she hath, and she, of all compounded, + Outsells them all. I love her therefore; but + Disdaining me and throwing favours on + The low Posthumus slanders so her judgment + That what's else rare is chok'd; and in that point + I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed, + To be reveng'd upon her. For when fools + Shall- + + Enter PISANIO + + Who is here? What, are you packing, sirrah? + Come hither. Ah, you precious pander! Villain, + Where is thy lady? In a word, or else + Thou art straightway with the fiends. + PISANIO. O good my lord! + CLOTEN. Where is thy lady? or, by Jupiter- + I will not ask again. Close villain, + I'll have this secret from thy heart, or rip + Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus? + From whose so many weights of baseness cannot + A dram of worth be drawn. + PISANIO. Alas, my lord, + How can she be with him? When was she miss'd? + He is in Rome. + CLOTEN. Where is she, sir? Come nearer. + No farther halting! Satisfy me home + What is become of her. + PISANIO. O my all-worthy lord! + CLOTEN. All-worthy villain! + Discover where thy mistress is at once, + At the next word. No more of 'worthy lord'! + Speak, or thy silence on the instant is + Thy condemnation and thy death. + PISANIO. Then, sir, + This paper is the history of my knowledge + Touching her flight. [Presenting a letter] + CLOTEN. Let's see't. I will pursue her + Even to Augustus' throne. + PISANIO. [Aside] Or this or perish. + She's far enough; and what he learns by this + May prove his travel, not her danger. + CLOTEN. Humh! + PISANIO. [Aside] I'll write to my lord she's dead. O Imogen, + Safe mayst thou wander, safe return again! + CLOTEN. Sirrah, is this letter true? + PISANIO. Sir, as I think. + CLOTEN. It is Posthumus' hand; I know't. Sirrah, if thou +wouldst + not be a villain, but do me true service, undergo those + employments wherein I should have cause to use thee with a + serious industry- that is, what villainy soe'er I bid thee +do, to + perform it directly and truly- I would think thee an honest +man; + thou shouldst neither want my means for thy relief nor my +voice + for thy preferment. + PISANIO. Well, my good lord. + CLOTEN. Wilt thou serve me? For since patiently and constantly +thou + hast stuck to the bare fortune of that beggar Posthumus, thou + canst not, in the course of gratitude, but be a diligent +follower + of mine. Wilt thou serve me? + PISANIO. Sir, I will. + CLOTEN. Give me thy hand; here's my purse. Hast any of thy late + master's garments in thy possession? + PISANIO. I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same suit he wore +when + he took leave of my lady and mistress. + CLOTEN. The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit hither. +Let + it be thy first service; go. + PISANIO. I shall, my lord. Exit + CLOTEN. Meet thee at Milford Haven! I forgot to ask him one +thing; + I'll remember't anon. Even there, thou villain Posthumus, +will I + kill thee. I would these garments were come. She said upon a + time- the bitterness of it I now belch from my heart- that +she + held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect than my +noble + and natural person, together with the adornment of my +qualities. + With that suit upon my back will I ravish her; first kill +him, + and in her eyes. There shall she see my valour, which will +then + be a torment to her contempt. He on the ground, my speech of + insultment ended on his dead body, and when my lust hath +dined- + which, as I say, to vex her I will execute in the clothes +that + she so prais'd- to the court I'll knock her back, foot her +home + again. She hath despis'd me rejoicingly, and I'll be merry in +my + revenge. + + Re-enter PISANIO, with the clothes + + Be those the garments? + PISANIO. Ay, my noble lord. + CLOTEN. How long is't since she went to Milford Haven? + PISANIO. She can scarce be there yet. + CLOTEN. Bring this apparel to my chamber; that is the second +thing + that I have commanded thee. The third is that thou wilt be a + voluntary mute to my design. Be but duteous and true, +preferment + shall tender itself to thee. My revenge is now at Milford, +would + I had wings to follow it! Come, and be true. Exit + PISANIO. Thou bid'st me to my loss; for true to thee + Were to prove false, which I will never be, + To him that is most true. To Milford go, + And find not her whom thou pursuest. Flow, flow, + You heavenly blessings, on her! This fool's speed + Be cross'd with slowness! Labour be his meed! Exit + + + + +SCENE VI. +Wales. Before the cave of BELARIUS + +Enter IMOGEN alone, in boy's clothes + + IMOGEN. I see a man's life is a tedious one. + I have tir'd myself, and for two nights together + Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick + But that my resolution helps me. Milford, + When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd thee, + Thou wast within a ken. O Jove! I think + Foundations fly the wretched; such, I mean, + Where they should be reliev'd. Two beggars told me + I could not miss my way. Will poor folks lie, + That have afflictions on them, knowing 'tis + A punishment or trial? Yes; no wonder, + When rich ones scarce tell true. To lapse in fulness + Is sorer than to lie for need; and falsehood + Is worse in kings than beggars. My dear lord! + Thou art one o' th' false ones. Now I think on thee + My hunger's gone; but even before, I was + At point to sink for food. But what is this? + Here is a path to't; 'tis some savage hold. + I were best not call; I dare not call. Yet famine, + Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant. + Plenty and peace breeds cowards; hardness ever + Of hardiness is mother. Ho! who's here? + If anything that's civil, speak; if savage, + Take or lend. Ho! No answer? Then I'll enter. + Best draw my sword; and if mine enemy + But fear the sword, like me, he'll scarcely look on't. + Such a foe, good heavens! Exit into the cave + + Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS + + BELARIUS. You, Polydore, have prov'd best woodman and + Are master of the feast. Cadwal and I + Will play the cook and servant; 'tis our match. + The sweat of industry would dry and die + But for the end it works to. Come, our stomachs + Will make what's homely savoury; weariness + Can snore upon the flint, when resty sloth + Finds the down pillow hard. Now, peace be here, + Poor house, that keep'st thyself! + GUIDERIUS. I am thoroughly weary. + ARVIRAGUS. I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite. + GUIDERIUS. There is cold meat i' th' cave; we'll browse on that + Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd. + BELARIUS. [Looking into the cave] Stay, come not in. + But that it eats our victuals, I should think + Here were a fairy. + GUIDERIUS. What's the matter, sir? + BELARIUS.. By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not, + An earthly paragon! Behold divineness + No elder than a boy! + + Re-enter IMOGEN + + IMOGEN. Good masters, harm me not. + Before I enter'd here I call'd, and thought + To have begg'd or bought what I have took. Good troth, + I have stol'n nought; nor would not though I had found + Gold strew'd i' th' floor. Here's money for my meat. + I would have left it on the board, so soon + As I had made my meal, and parted + With pray'rs for the provider. + GUIDERIUS. Money, youth? + ARVIRAGUS. All gold and silver rather turn to dirt, + As 'tis no better reckon'd but of those + Who worship dirty gods. + IMOGEN. I see you're angry. + Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should + Have died had I not made it. + BELARIUS. Whither bound? + IMOGEN. To Milford Haven. + BELARIUS. What's your name? + IMOGEN. Fidele, sir. I have a kinsman who + Is bound for Italy; he embark'd at Milford; + To whom being going, almost spent with hunger, + I am fall'n in this offence. + BELARIUS. Prithee, fair youth, + Think us no churls, nor measure our good minds + By this rude place we live in. Well encounter'd! + 'Tis almost night; you shall have better cheer + Ere you depart, and thanks to stay and eat it. + Boys, bid him welcome. + GUIDERIUS. Were you a woman, youth, + I should woo hard but be your groom. In honesty + I bid for you as I'd buy. + ARVIRAGUS. I'll make't my comfort + He is a man. I'll love him as my brother; + And such a welcome as I'd give to him + After long absence, such is yours. Most welcome! + Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst friends. + IMOGEN. 'Mongst friends, + If brothers. [Aside] Would it had been so that they + Had been my father's sons! Then had my prize + Been less, and so more equal ballasting + To thee, Posthumus. + BELARIUS. He wrings at some distress. + GUIDERIUS. Would I could free't! + ARVIRAGUS. Or I, whate'er it be, + What pain it cost, what danger! Gods! + BELARIUS. [Whispering] Hark, boys. + IMOGEN. [Aside] Great men, + That had a court no bigger than this cave, + That did attend themselves, and had the virtue + Which their own conscience seal'd them, laying by + That nothing-gift of differing multitudes, + Could not out-peer these twain. Pardon me, gods! + I'd change my sex to be companion with them, + Since Leonatus' false. + BELARIUS. It shall be so. + Boys, we'll go dress our hunt. Fair youth, come in. + Discourse is heavy, fasting; when we have supp'd, + We'll mannerly demand thee of thy story, + So far as thou wilt speak it. + GUIDERIUS. Pray draw near. + ARVIRAGUS. The night to th' owl and morn to th' lark less +welcome. + IMOGEN. Thanks, sir. + ARVIRAGUS. I pray draw near. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE VII. +Rome. A public place + +Enter two ROMAN SENATORS and TRIBUNES + + FIRST SENATOR. This is the tenour of the Emperor's writ: + That since the common men are now in action + 'Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians, + And that the legions now in Gallia are + Full weak to undertake our wars against + The fall'n-off Britons, that we do incite + The gentry to this business. He creates + Lucius proconsul; and to you, the tribunes, + For this immediate levy, he commands + His absolute commission. Long live Caesar! + TRIBUNE. Is Lucius general of the forces? + SECOND SENATOR. Ay. + TRIBUNE. Remaining now in Gallia? + FIRST SENATOR. With those legions + Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy + Must be supplyant. The words of your commission + Will tie you to the numbers and the time + Of their dispatch. + TRIBUNE. We will discharge our duty. Exeunt + + + + +ACT IV. SCENE I. +Wales. Near the cave of BELARIUS + +Enter CLOTEN alone + + CLOTEN. I am near to th' place where they should meet, if +Pisanio + have mapp'd it truly. How fit his garments serve me! Why +should + his mistress, who was made by him that made the tailor, not +be + fit too? The rather- saving reverence of the word- for 'tis +said + a woman's fitness comes by fits. Therein I must play the +workman. + I dare speak it to myself, for it is not vain-glory for a man +and + his glass to confer in his own chamber- I mean, the lines of +my + body are as well drawn as his; no less young, more strong, +not + beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in the advantage of the +time, + above him in birth, alike conversant in general services, and + more remarkable in single oppositions. Yet this +imperceiverant + thing loves him in my despite. What mortality is! Posthumus, +thy + head, which now is growing upon thy shoulders, shall within +this + hour be off; thy mistress enforced; thy garments cut to +pieces + before her face; and all this done, spurn her home to her +father, + who may, haply, be a little angry for my so rough usage; but +my + mother, having power of his testiness, shall turn all into my + + + commendations. My horse is tied up safe. Out, sword, and to a + sore purpose! Fortune, put them into my hand. This is the +very + description of their meeting-place; and the fellow dares not + deceive me. Exit + + + + +SCENE II. +Wales. Before the cave of BELARIUS + +Enter, from the cave, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, and IMOGEN + + BELARIUS. [To IMOGEN] You are not well. Remain here in the +cave; + We'll come to you after hunting. + ARVIRAGUS. [To IMOGEN] Brother, stay here. + Are we not brothers? + IMOGEN. So man and man should be; + But clay and clay differs in dignity, + Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick. + GUIDERIUS. Go you to hunting; I'll abide with him. + IMOGEN. So sick I am not, yet I am not well; + But not so citizen a wanton as + To seem to die ere sick. So please you, leave me; + Stick to your journal course. The breach of custom + Is breach of all. I am ill, but your being by me + Cannot amend me; society is no comfort + To one not sociable. I am not very sick, + Since I can reason of it. Pray you trust me here. + I'll rob none but myself; and let me die, + Stealing so poorly. + GUIDERIUS. I love thee; I have spoke it. + How much the quantity, the weight as much + As I do love my father. + BELARIUS. What? how? how? + ARVIRAGUS. If it be sin to say so, sir, I yoke me + In my good brother's fault. I know not why + I love this youth, and I have heard you say + Love's reason's without reason. The bier at door, + And a demand who is't shall die, I'd say + 'My father, not this youth.' + BELARIUS. [Aside] O noble strain! + O worthiness of nature! breed of greatness! + Cowards father cowards and base things sire base. + Nature hath meal and bran, contempt and grace. + I'm not their father; yet who this should be + Doth miracle itself, lov'd before me.- + 'Tis the ninth hour o' th' morn. + ARVIRAGUS. Brother, farewell. + IMOGEN. I wish ye sport. + ARVIRAGUS. Your health. [To BELARIUS] So please you, sir. + IMOGEN. [Aside] These are kind creatures. Gods, what lies I +have + heard! + Our courtiers say all's savage but at court. + Experience, O, thou disprov'st report! + Th' imperious seas breed monsters; for the dish, + Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish. + I am sick still; heart-sick. Pisanio, + I'll now taste of thy drug. [Swallows some] + GUIDERIUS. I could not stir him. + He said he was gentle, but unfortunate; + Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest. + ARVIRAGUS. Thus did he answer me; yet said hereafter + I might know more. + BELARIUS. To th' field, to th' field! + We'll leave you for this time. Go in and rest. + ARVIRAGUS. We'll not be long away. + BELARIUS. Pray be not sick, + For you must be our huswife. + IMOGEN. Well, or ill, + I am bound to you. + BELARIUS. And shalt be ever. Exit IMOGEN into the cave + This youth, howe'er distress'd, appears he hath had + Good ancestors. + ARVIRAGUS. How angel-like he sings! + GUIDERIUS. But his neat cookery! He cut our roots in +characters, + And sauc'd our broths as Juno had been sick, + And he her dieter. + 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? + GUIDERIUS. A thing + More slavish did I ne'er than answering + 'A slave' without a knock. + CLOTEN. Thou art a robber, + A law-breaker, a villain. Yield thee, thief. + GUIDERIUS. To who? To thee? What art thou? Have not I + An arm as big as thine, a heart as big? + Thy words, I grant, are bigger, for I wear not + My dagger in my mouth. Say what thou art; + Why I should yield to thee. + CLOTEN. Thou villain base, + Know'st me not by my clothes? + GUIDERIUS. No, nor thy tailor, rascal, + Who is thy grandfather; he made those clothes, + Which, as it seems, make thee. + CLOTEN. Thou precious varlet, + My tailor made them not. + GUIDERIUS. Hence, then, and thank + The man that gave them thee. Thou art some fool; + I am loath to beat thee. + CLOTEN. Thou injurious thief, + Hear but my name, and tremble. + GUIDERIUS. What's thy name? + CLOTEN. Cloten, thou villain. + GUIDERIUS. Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name, + I cannot tremble at it. Were it toad, or adder, spider, + 'Twould move me sooner. + CLOTEN. To thy further fear, + Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know + I am son to th' Queen. + GUIDERIUS. I'm sorry for't; not seeming + So worthy as thy birth. + CLOTEN. Art not afeard? + GUIDERIUS. Those that I reverence, those I fear- the wise: + At fools I laugh, not fear them. + CLOTEN. Die the death. + When I have slain thee with my proper hand, + I'll follow those that even now fled hence, + And on the gates of Lud's Town set your heads. + Yield, rustic mountaineer. Exeunt, fighting + + Re-enter BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS + + BELARIUS. No company's abroad. + ARVIRAGUS. None in the world; you did mistake him, sure. + BELARIUS. I cannot tell; long is it since I saw him, + But time hath nothing blurr'd those lines of favour + Which then he wore; the snatches in his voice, + And burst of speaking, were as his. I am absolute + 'Twas very Cloten. + ARVIRAGUS. In this place we left them. + I wish my brother make good time with him, + You say he is so fell. + BELARIUS. Being scarce made up, + I mean to man, he had not apprehension + Or roaring terrors; for defect of judgment + Is oft the cease of fear. + + Re-enter GUIDERIUS with CLOTEN'S head + + But, see, thy brother. + GUIDERIUS. This Cloten was a fool, an empty purse; + There was no money in't. Not Hercules + Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had none; + Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne + My head as I do his. + BELARIUS. What hast thou done? + GUIDERIUS. I am perfect what: cut off one Cloten's head, + Son to the Queen, after his own report; + Who call'd me traitor, mountaineer, and swore + With his own single hand he'd take us in, + Displace our heads where- thank the gods!- they grow, + And set them on Lud's Town. + BELARIUS. We are all undone. + GUIDERIUS. Why, worthy father, what have we to lose + But that he swore to take, our lives? The law + Protects not us; then why should we be tender + To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us, + Play judge and executioner all himself, + For we do fear the law? What company + Discover you abroad? + BELARIUS. No single soul + Can we set eye on, but in all safe reason + He must have some attendants. Though his humour + Was nothing but mutation- ay, and that + From one bad thing to worse- not frenzy, not + Absolute madness could so far have rav'd, + To bring him here alone. Although perhaps + It may be heard at court that such as we + Cave here, hunt here, are outlaws, and in time + May make some stronger head- the which he hearing, + As it is like him, might break out and swear + He'd fetch us in; yet is't not probable + To come alone, either he so undertaking + Or they so suffering. Then on good ground we fear, + If we do fear this body hath a tail + More perilous than the head. + ARVIRAGUS. Let ordinance + Come as the gods foresay it. Howsoe'er, + My brother hath done well. + BELARIUS. I had no mind + To hunt this day; the boy Fidele's sickness + Did make my way long forth. + GUIDERIUS. With his own sword, + Which he did wave against my throat, I have ta'en + His head from him. I'll throw't into the creek + Behind our rock, and let it to the sea + And tell the fishes he's the Queen's son, Cloten. + That's all I reck. Exit + BELARIUS. I fear 'twill be reveng'd. + Would, Polydore, thou hadst not done't! though valour + Becomes thee well enough. + ARVIRAGUS. Would I had done't, + So the revenge alone pursu'd me! Polydore, + I love thee brotherly, but envy much + Thou hast robb'd me of this deed. I would revenges, + That possible strength might meet, would seek us through, + And put us to our answer. + BELARIUS. Well, 'tis done. + We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danger + Where there's no profit. I prithee to our rock. + You and Fidele play the cooks; I'll stay + Till hasty Polydore return, and bring him + To dinner presently. + ARVIRAGUS. Poor sick Fidele! + I'll willingly to him; to gain his colour + I'd let a parish of such Cloten's blood, + And praise myself for charity. Exit + BELARIUS. O thou goddess, + Thou divine Nature, thou thyself thou blazon'st + In these two princely boys! They are as gentle + As zephyrs blowing below the violet, + Not wagging his sweet head; and yet as rough, + Their royal blood enchaf'd, as the rud'st wind + That by the top doth take the mountain pine + And make him stoop to th' vale. 'Tis wonder + That an invisible instinct should frame them + To royalty unlearn'd, honour untaught, + Civility not seen from other, valour + That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop + As if it had been sow'd. Yet still it's strange + What Cloten's being here to us portends, + Or what his death will bring us. + + Re-enter GUIDERIUS + + GUIDERIUS. Where's my brother? + I have sent Cloten's clotpoll down the stream, + In embassy to his mother; his body's hostage + For his return. [Solemn music] + BELARIUS. My ingenious instrument! + Hark, Polydore, it sounds. But what occasion + Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark! + GUIDERIUS. Is he at home? + BELARIUS. He went hence even now. + GUIDERIUS. What does he mean? Since death of my dear'st mother + It did not speak before. All solemn things + Should answer solemn accidents. The matter? + Triumphs for nothing and lamenting toys + Is jollity for apes and grief for boys. + Is Cadwal mad? + + Re-enter ARVIRAGUS, with IMOGEN as dead, bearing + her in his arms + + BELARIUS. Look, here he comes, + And brings the dire occasion in his arms + Of what we blame him for! + ARVIRAGUS. The bird is dead + That we have made so much on. I had rather + Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty, + To have turn'd my leaping time into a crutch, + Than have seen this. + GUIDERIUS. O sweetest, fairest lily! + My brother wears thee not the one half so well + As when thou grew'st thyself. + BELARIUS. O melancholy! + Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find + The ooze to show what coast thy sluggish care + Might'st easiliest harbour in? Thou blessed thing! + Jove knows what man thou mightst have made; but I, + Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy. + How found you him? + ARVIRAGUS. Stark, as you see; + Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled slumber, + Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at; his right cheek + Reposing on a cushion. + GUIDERIUS. Where? + ARVIRAGUS. O' th' floor; + His arms thus leagu'd. I thought he slept, and put + My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness + Answer'd my steps too loud. + GUIDERIUS. Why, he but sleeps. + If he be gone he'll make his grave a bed; + With female fairies will his tomb be haunted, + And worms will not come to thee. + ARVIRAGUS. With fairest flowers, + Whilst summer lasts and I live here, Fidele, + I'll sweeten thy sad grave. Thou shalt not lack + The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose; nor + The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor + The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, + Out-sweet'ned not thy breath. The ruddock would, + With charitable bill- O bill, sore shaming + Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie + Without a monument!- bring thee all this; + Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flow'rs are none, + To winter-ground thy corse- + GUIDERIUS. Prithee have done, + And do not play in wench-like words with that + Which is so serious. Let us bury him, + And not protract with admiration what + Is now due debt. To th' grave. + ARVIRAGUS. Say, where shall's lay him? + GUIDERIUS. By good Euriphile, our mother. + ARVIRAGUS. Be't so; + And let us, Polydore, though now our voices + Have got the mannish crack, sing him to th' ground, + As once to our mother; use like note and words, + Save that Euriphile must be Fidele. + GUIDERIUS. Cadwal, + I cannot sing. I'll weep, and word it with thee; + For notes of sorrow out of tune are worse + Than priests and fanes that lie. + ARVIRAGUS. We'll speak it, then. + BELARIUS. Great griefs, I see, med'cine the less, for Cloten + Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys; + And though he came our enemy, remember + He was paid for that. Though mean and mighty rotting + Together have one dust, yet reverence- + That angel of the world- doth make distinction + Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely; + And though you took his life, as being our foe, + Yet bury him as a prince. + GUIDERIUS. Pray you fetch him hither. + Thersites' body is as good as Ajax', + When neither are alive. + ARVIRAGUS. If you'll go fetch him, + We'll say our song the whilst. Brother, begin. + Exit BELARIUS + GUIDERIUS. Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to th' East; + My father hath a reason for't. + ARVIRAGUS. 'Tis true. + GUIDERIUS. Come on, then, and remove him. + ARVIRAGUS. So. Begin. + + SONG + + GUIDERIUS. Fear no more the heat o' th' sun + Nor the furious winter's rages; + Thou thy worldly task hast done, + Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages. + Golden lads and girls all must, + As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. + + ARVIRAGUS. Fear no more the frown o' th' great; + Thou art past the tyrant's stroke. + Care no more to clothe and eat; + To thee the reed is as the oak. + The sceptre, learning, physic, must + All follow this and come to dust. + + GUIDERIUS. Fear no more the lightning flash, + ARVIRAGUS. Nor th' all-dreaded thunder-stone; + GUIDERIUS. Fear not slander, censure rash; + ARVIRAGUS. Thou hast finish'd joy and moan. + BOTH. All lovers young, all lovers must + Consign to thee and come to dust. + + GUIDERIUS. No exorciser harm thee! + ARVIRAGUS. Nor no witchcraft charm thee! + GUIDERIUS. Ghost unlaid forbear thee! + ARVIRAGUS. Nothing ill come near thee! + BOTH. Quiet consummation have, + And renowned be thy grave! + + Re-enter BELARIUS with the body of CLOTEN + + GUIDERIUS. We have done our obsequies. Come, lay him down. + BELARIUS. Here's a few flowers; but 'bout midnight, more. + The herbs that have on them cold dew o' th' night + Are strewings fit'st for graves. Upon their faces. + You were as flow'rs, now wither'd. Even so + These herblets shall which we upon you strew. + Come on, away. Apart upon our knees. + The ground that gave them first has them again. + Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain. + Exeunt all but IMOGEN + IMOGEN. [Awaking] Yes, sir, to Milford Haven. Which is the way? + I thank you. By yond bush? Pray, how far thither? + 'Ods pittikins! can it be six mile yet? + I have gone all night. Faith, I'll lie down and sleep. + But, soft! no bedfellow. O gods and goddesses! + [Seeing the body] + These flow'rs are like the pleasures of the world; + This bloody man, the care on't. I hope I dream; + For so I thought I was a cave-keeper, + And cook to honest creatures. But 'tis not so; + 'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing, + Which the brain makes of fumes. Our very eyes + Are sometimes, like our judgments, blind. Good faith, + I tremble still with fear; but if there be + Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity + As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it! + The dream's here still. Even when I wake it is + Without me, as within me; not imagin'd, felt. + A headless man? The garments of Posthumus? + I know the shape of's leg; this is his hand, + His foot Mercurial, his Martial thigh, + The brawns of Hercules; but his Jovial face- + Murder in heaven! How! 'Tis gone. Pisanio, + All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks, + And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou, + Conspir'd with that irregulous devil, Cloten, + Hath here cut off my lord. To write and read + Be henceforth treacherous! Damn'd Pisanio + Hath with his forged letters- damn'd Pisanio- + From this most bravest vessel of the world + Struck the main-top. O Posthumus! alas, + Where is thy head? Where's that? Ay me! where's that? + Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart, + And left this head on. How should this be? Pisanio? + 'Tis he and Cloten; malice and lucre in them + Have laid this woe here. O, 'tis pregnant, pregnant! + The drug he gave me, which he said was precious + And cordial to me, have I not found it + Murd'rous to th' senses? That confirms it home. + This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten. O! + Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood, + That we the horrider may seem to those + Which chance to find us. O, my lord, my lord! + [Falls fainting on the body] + + Enter LUCIUS, CAPTAINS, and a SOOTHSAYER + + CAPTAIN. To them the legions garrison'd in Gallia, + After your will, have cross'd the sea, attending + You here at Milford Haven; with your ships, + They are in readiness. + LUCIUS. But what from Rome? + CAPTAIN. The Senate hath stirr'd up the confiners + And gentlemen of Italy, most willing spirits, + That promise noble service; and they come + Under the conduct of bold Iachimo, + Sienna's brother. + LUCIUS. When expect you them? + CAPTAIN. With the next benefit o' th' wind. + LUCIUS. This forwardness + Makes our hopes fair. Command our present numbers + Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't. Now, sir, + What have you dream'd of late of this war's purpose? + SOOTHSAYER. Last night the very gods show'd me a vision- + I fast and pray'd for their intelligence- thus: + I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd + From the spongy south to this part of the west, + There vanish'd in the sunbeams; which portends, + 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? + 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, + 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 + 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! + 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. + LUCIUS. 'Lack, good youth! + Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining than + 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; + Thy name well fits thy faith, thy faith thy name. + Wilt 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 + 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, + 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; + 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. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Britain. CYMBELINE'S palace + +Enter CYMBELINE, LORDS, PISANIO, and attendants + + CYMBELINE. Again! and bring me word how 'tis with her. + Exit an attendant + A fever with the absence of her son; + A madness, of which her life's in danger. Heavens, + How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen, + The great part of my comfort, gone; my queen + Upon a desperate bed, and in a time + When fearful wars point at me; her son gone, + So needful for this present. It strikes me past + The hope of comfort. But for thee, fellow, + Who needs must know of her departure and + Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee + By a sharp torture. + PISANIO. Sir, my life is yours; + I humbly set it at your will; but for my mistress, + I nothing know where she remains, why gone, + Nor when she purposes return. Beseech your Highness, + Hold me your loyal servant. + LORD. Good my liege, + The day that she was missing he was here. + I dare be bound he's true and shall perform + All parts of his subjection loyally. For Cloten, + There wants no diligence in seeking him, + And will no doubt be found. + CYMBELINE. The time is troublesome. + [To PISANIO] We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy + Does yet depend. + LORD. So please your Majesty, + The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn, + Are landed on your coast, with a supply + Of Roman gentlemen by the Senate sent. + CYMBELINE. Now for the counsel of my son and queen! + I am amaz'd with matter. + LORD. Good my liege, + Your preparation can affront no less + Than what you hear of. Come more, for more you're ready. + The want is but to put those pow'rs in motion + That long to move. + CYMBELINE. I thank you. Let's withdraw, + And meet the time as it seeks us. We fear not + What can from Italy annoy us; but + We grieve at chances here. Away! Exeunt all but PISANIO + PISANIO. I heard no letter from my master since + I wrote him Imogen was slain. 'Tis strange. + Nor hear I from my mistress, who did promise + To yield me often tidings. Neither know + What is betid to Cloten, but remain + Perplex'd in all. The heavens still must work. + Wherein I am false I am honest; not true, to be true. + These present wars shall find I love my country, + Even to the note o' th' King, or I'll fall in them. + All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd: + Fortune brings in some boats that are not steer'd. Exit + + + + +SCENE IV. +Wales. Before the cave of BELARIUS + +Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS + + GUIDERIUS. The noise is round about us. + BELARIUS. Let us from it. + ARVIRAGUS. What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it + From action and adventure? + GUIDERIUS. Nay, what hope + Have we in hiding us? This way the Romans + Must or for Britons slay us, or receive us + For barbarous and unnatural revolts + During their use, and slay us after. + BELARIUS. Sons, + We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us. + To the King's party there's no going. Newness + Of Cloten's death- we being not known, not muster'd + Among the bands-may drive us to a render + Where we have liv'd, and so extort from's that + Which we have done, whose answer would be death, + Drawn on with torture. + GUIDERIUS. This is, sir, a doubt + In such a time nothing becoming you + Nor satisfying us. + ARVIRAGUS. It is not likely + That when they hear the Roman horses neigh, + Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes + And ears so cloy'd importantly as now, + That they will waste their time upon our note, + To know from whence we are. + BELARIUS. O, I am known + Of many in the army. Many years, + Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore him + From my remembrance. And, besides, the King + Hath not deserv'd my service nor your loves, + Who find in my exile the want of breeding, + The certainty of this hard life; aye hopeless + To have the courtesy your cradle promis'd, + But to be still hot summer's tanlings and + The shrinking slaves of winter. + GUIDERIUS. Than be so, + Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to th' army. + I and my brother are not known; yourself + So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown, + Cannot be questioned. + ARVIRAGUS. By this sun that shines, + I'll thither. What thing is't that I never + Did see man die! scarce ever look'd on blood + But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison! + Never bestrid a horse, save one that had + A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel + Nor iron on his heel! I am asham'd + To look upon the holy sun, to have + The benefit of his blest beams, remaining + So long a poor unknown. + GUIDERIUS. By heavens, I'll go! + If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave, + I'll take the better care; but if you will not, + The hazard therefore due fall on me by + The hands of Romans! + ARVIRAGUS. So say I. Amen. + BELARIUS. No reason I, since of your lives you set + So slight a valuation, should reserve + My crack'd one to more care. Have with you, boys! + If in your country wars you chance to die, + That is my bed too, lads, and there I'll lie. + Lead, lead. [Aside] The time seems long; their blood thinks +scorn + Till it fly out and show them princes born. Exeunt + + + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + + +ACT V. SCENE I. +Britain. The Roman camp + +Enter POSTHUMUS alone, with a bloody handkerchief + + POSTHUMUS. Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee; for I wish'd + Thou shouldst be colour'd thus. You married ones, + If each of you should take this course, how many + Must murder wives much better than themselves + For wrying but a little! O Pisanio! + Every good servant does not all commands; + No bond but to do just ones. Gods! if you + Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I never + Had liv'd to put on this; so had you saved + The noble Imogen to repent, and struck + Me, wretch more worth your vengeance. But alack, + You snatch some hence for little faults; that's love, + To have them fall no more. You some permit + To second ills with ills, each elder worse, + And make them dread it, to the doer's thrift. + But Imogen is your own. Do your best wills, + And make me blest to obey. I am brought hither + Among th' Italian gentry, and to fight + Against my lady's kingdom. 'Tis enough + That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress; peace! + I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heavens, + Hear patiently my purpose. I'll disrobe me + Of these Italian weeds, and suit myself + As does a Britain peasant. So I'll fight + Against the part I come with; so I'll die + For thee, O Imogen, even for whom my life + Is every breath a death. And thus unknown, + Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril + Myself I'll dedicate. Let me make men know + More valour in me than my habits show. + Gods, put the strength o' th' Leonati in me! + To shame the guise o' th' world, I will begin + The fashion- less without and more within. Exit + + + + +SCENE II. +Britain. A field of battle between the British and Roman camps + +Enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and the Roman army at one door, and the +British army +at another, LEONATUS POSTHUMUS following like a poor soldier. +They march over and go out. Alarums. Then enter again, in +skirmish, +IACHIMO and POSTHUMUS. He vanquisheth and disarmeth IACHIMO, +and then leaves him + + IACHIMO. The heaviness and guilt within my bosom + Takes off my manhood. I have belied a lady, + The Princess of this country, and the air on't + Revengingly enfeebles me; or could this carl, + A very drudge of nature's, have subdu'd me + In my profession? Knighthoods and honours borne + As I wear mine are titles but of scorn. + If that thy gentry, Britain, go before + This lout as he exceeds our lords, the odds + Is that we scarce are men, and you are gods. Exit + + The battle continues; the BRITONS fly; CYMBELINE is taken. + Then enter to his rescue BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS + + BELARIUS. Stand, stand! We have th' advantage of the ground; + The lane is guarded; nothing routs us but + The villainy of our fears. + GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS. Stand, stand, and fight! + + Re-enter POSTHUMUS, and seconds the Britons; they rescue + CYMBELINE, and exeunt. Then re-enter LUCIUS and IACHIMO, + with IMOGEN + + LUCIUS. Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself; + For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such + As war were hoodwink'd. + IACHIMO. 'Tis their fresh supplies. + LUCIUS. It is a day turn'd strangely. Or betimes + Let's reinforce or fly. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Another part of the field + +Enter POSTHUMUS and a Britain LORD + + LORD. Cam'st thou from where they made the stand? + POSTHUMUS. I did: + Though you, it seems, come from the fliers. + LORD. I did. + POSTHUMUS. No blame be to you, sir, for all was lost, + But that the heavens fought. The King himself + Of his wings destitute, the army broken, + And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying, + Through a strait lane- the enemy, full-hearted, + Lolling the tongue with slaught'ring, having work + More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down + Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling + Merely through fear, that the strait pass was damm'd + With dead men hurt behind, and cowards living + To die with length'ned shame. + LORD. Where was this lane? + POSTHUMUS. Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd with turf, + + Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier- + An honest one, I warrant, who deserv'd + So long a breeding as his white beard came to, + In doing this for's country. Athwart the lane + He, with two striplings- lads more like to run + The country base than to commit such slaughter; + With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer + Than those for preservation cas'd or shame- + Made good the passage, cried to those that fled + 'Our Britain's harts die flying, not our men. + To darkness fleet souls that fly backwards! Stand; + Or we are Romans and will give you that, + Like beasts, which you shun beastly, and may save + But to look back in frown. Stand, stand!' These three, + Three thousand confident, in act as many- + For three performers are the file when all + The rest do nothing- with this word 'Stand, stand!' + Accommodated by the place, more charming + With their own nobleness, which could have turn'd + A distaff to a lance, gilded pale looks, + Part shame, part spirit renew'd; that some turn'd coward + But by example- O, a sin in war + Damn'd in the first beginners!- gan to look + The way that they did and to grin like lions + Upon the pikes o' th' hunters. Then began + A stop i' th' chaser, a retire; anon + A rout, confusion thick. Forthwith they fly, + Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles; slaves, + The strides they victors made; and now our cowards, + Like fragments in hard voyages, became + The life o' th' need. Having found the back-door open + Of the unguarded hearts, heavens, how they wound! + Some slain before, some dying, some their friends + O'erborne i' th' former wave. Ten chas'd by one + Are now each one the slaughterman of twenty. + Those that would die or ere resist are grown + The mortal bugs o' th' field. + LORD. This was strange chance: + A narrow lane, an old man, and two boys. + POSTHUMUS. Nay, do not wonder at it; you are made + Rather to wonder at the things you hear + Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon't, + And vent it for a mock'ry? Here is one: + 'Two boys, an old man (twice a boy), a lane, + Preserv'd the Britons, was the Romans' bane.' + LORD. Nay, be not angry, sir. + POSTHUMUS. 'Lack, to what end? + Who dares not stand his foe I'll be his friend; + For if he'll do as he is made to do, + I know he'll quickly fly my friendship too. + You have put me into rhyme. + LORD. Farewell; you're angry. Exit + POSTHUMUS. Still going? This is a lord! O noble misery, + To be i' th' field and ask 'What news?' of me! + To-day how many would have given their honours + To have sav'd their carcasses! took heel to do't, + And yet died too! I, in mine own woe charm'd, + Could not find death where I did hear him groan, + Nor feel him where he struck. Being an ugly monster, + 'Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds, + Sweet words; or hath moe ministers than we + That draw his knives i' th' war. Well, I will find him; + For being now a favourer to the Briton, + No more a Briton, I have resum'd again + The part I came in. Fight I will no more, + But yield me to the veriest hind that shall + Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is + Here made by th' Roman; great the answer be + Britons must take. For me, my ransom's death; + On either side I come to spend my breath, + Which neither here I'll keep nor bear again, + But end it by some means for Imogen. + + Enter two BRITISH CAPTAINS and soldiers + + FIRST CAPTAIN. Great Jupiter be prais'd! Lucius is taken. + 'Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels. + SECOND CAPTAIN. There was a fourth man, in a silly habit, + That gave th' affront with them. + FIRST CAPTAIN. So 'tis reported; + But none of 'em can be found. Stand! who's there? + POSTHUMUS. A Roman, + Who had not now been drooping here if seconds + Had answer'd him. + SECOND CAPTAIN. Lay hands on him; a dog! + A leg of Rome shall not return to tell + What crows have peck'd them here. He brags his service, + As if he were of note. Bring him to th' King. + + Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, and +Roman + captives. The CAPTAINS present POSTHUMUS to CYMBELINE, who +delivers + him over to a gaoler. Exeunt omnes + + + + +SCENE IV. +Britain. A prison + +Enter POSTHUMUS and two GAOLERS + + FIRST GAOLER. You shall not now be stol'n, you have locks upon +you; + So graze as you find pasture. + SECOND GAOLER. Ay, or a stomach. Exeunt GAOLERS + POSTHUMUS. Most welcome, bondage! for thou art a way, + I think, to liberty. Yet am I better + Than one that's sick o' th' gout, since he had rather + Groan so in perpetuity than be cur'd + By th' sure physician death, who is the key + T' unbar these locks. My conscience, thou art fetter'd + More than my shanks and wrists; you good gods, give me + The penitent instrument to pick that bolt, + Then, free for ever! Is't enough I am sorry? + So children temporal fathers do appease; + Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent, + I cannot do it better than in gyves, + Desir'd more than constrain'd. To satisfy, + If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take + No stricter render of me than my all. + I know you are more clement than vile men, + Who of their broken debtors take a third, + A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again + On their abatement; that's not my desire. + For Imogen's dear life take mine; and though + 'Tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life; you coin'd it. + 'Tween man and man they weigh not every stamp; + Though light, take pieces for the figure's sake; + You rather mine, being yours. And so, great pow'rs, + If you will take this audit, take this life, + And cancel these cold bonds. O Imogen! + I'll speak to thee in silence. [Sleeps] + + Solemn music. Enter, as in an apparition, SICILIUS + LEONATUS, father to POSTHUMUS, an old man attired + like a warrior; leading in his hand an ancient + matron, his WIFE, and mother to POSTHUMUS, with + music before them. Then, after other music, follows + the two young LEONATI, brothers to POSTHUMUS, + with wounds, as they died in the wars. + They circle POSTHUMUS round as he lies sleeping + + SICILIUS. No more, thou thunder-master, show + Thy spite on mortal flies. + With Mars fall out, with Juno chide, + That thy adulteries + Rates and revenges. + Hath my poor boy done aught but well, + Whose face I never saw? + I died whilst in the womb he stay'd + Attending nature's law; + Whose father then, as men report + Thou orphans' father art, + Thou shouldst have been, and shielded him + From this earth-vexing smart. + + MOTHER. Lucina lent not me her aid, + But took me in my throes, + That from me was Posthumus ripp'd, + Came crying 'mongst his foes, + A thing of pity. + + SICILIUS. Great Nature like his ancestry + Moulded the stuff so fair + That he deserv'd the praise o' th' world + As great Sicilius' heir. + + FIRST BROTHER. When once he was mature for man, + In Britain where was he + That could stand up his parallel, + Or fruitful object be + In eye of Imogen, that best + Could deem his dignity? + + MOTHER. With marriage wherefore was he mock'd, + To be exil'd and thrown + From Leonati seat and cast + From her his dearest one, + Sweet Imogen? + + SICILIUS. Why did you suffer Iachimo, + Slight thing of Italy, + To taint his nobler heart and brain + With needless jealousy, + And to become the geck and scorn + O' th' other's villainy? + + SECOND BROTHER. For this from stiller seats we came, + Our parents and us twain, + That, striking in our country's cause, + Fell bravely and were slain, + Our fealty and Tenantius' right + With honour to maintain. + + FIRST BROTHER. Like hardiment Posthumus hath + To Cymbeline perform'd. + Then, Jupiter, thou king of gods, + Why hast thou thus adjourn'd + The graces for his merits due, + Being all to dolours turn'd? + + SICILIUS. Thy crystal window ope; look out; + No longer exercise + Upon a valiant race thy harsh + And potent injuries. + + MOTHER. Since, Jupiter, our son is good, + Take off his miseries. + + SICILIUS. Peep through thy marble mansion. Help! + Or we poor ghosts will cry + To th' shining synod of the rest + Against thy deity. + + BROTHERS. Help, Jupiter! or we appeal, + And from thy justice fly. + + JUPITER descends in thunder and lightning, sitting + upon an eagle. He throws a thunderbolt. The GHOSTS + fall on their knees + + JUPITER. No more, you petty spirits of region low, + Offend our hearing; hush! How dare you ghosts + Accuse the Thunderer whose bolt, you know, + Sky-planted, batters all rebelling coasts? + Poor shadows of Elysium, hence and rest + Upon your never-withering banks of flow'rs. + Be not with mortal accidents opprest: + No care of yours it is; you know 'tis ours. + Whom best I love I cross; to make my gift, + The more delay'd, delighted. Be content; + Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift; + His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent. + Our Jovial star reign'd at his birth, and in + Our temple was he married. Rise and fade! + He shall be lord of Lady Imogen, + And happier much by his affliction made. + This tablet lay upon his breast, wherein + Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine; + And so, away; no farther with your din + Express impatience, lest you stir up mine. + Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline. [Ascends] + SICILIUS. He came in thunder; his celestial breath + Was sulpherous to smell; the holy eagle + Stoop'd as to foot us. His ascension is + More sweet than our blest fields. His royal bird + Prunes the immortal wing, and cloys his beak, + As when his god is pleas'd. + ALL. Thanks, Jupiter! + SICILIUS. The marble pavement closes, he is enter'd + His radiant roof. Away! and, to be blest, + Let us with care perform his great behest. [GHOSTS vanish] + + POSTHUMUS. [Waking] Sleep, thou has been a grandsire and begot + A father to me; and thou hast created + A mother and two brothers. But, O scorn, + Gone! They went hence so soon as they were born. + And so I am awake. Poor wretches, that depend + On greatness' favour, dream as I have done; + Wake and find nothing. But, alas, I swerve; + Many dream not to find, neither deserve, + And yet are steep'd in favours; so am I, + That have this golden chance, and know not why. + What fairies haunt this ground? A book? O rare one! + Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment + Nobler than that it covers. Let thy effects + So follow to be most unlike our courtiers, + As good as promise. + + [Reads] 'When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, + without seeking find, and be embrac'd by a piece of tender +air; + and when from a stately cedar shall be lopp'd branches which, + being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the +old + stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his +miseries, + Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty.' + + 'Tis still a dream, or else such stuff as madmen + Tongue, and brain not; either both or nothing, + Or senseless speaking, or a speaking such + As sense cannot untie. Be what it is, + The action of my life is like it, which + I'll keep, if but for sympathy. + + Re-enter GAOLER + + GAOLER. Come, sir, are you ready for death? + POSTHUMUS. Over-roasted rather; ready long ago. + GAOLER. Hanging is the word, sir; if you be ready for that, you +are + well cook'd. + POSTHUMUS. So, if I prove a good repast to the spectators, the +dish + pays the shot. + GAOLER. A heavy reckoning for you, sir. But the comfort is, you + shall be called to no more payments, fear no more tavern +bills, + which are often the sadness of parting, as the procuring of +mirth. + You come in faint for want of meat, depart reeling with too +much + drink; sorry that you have paid too much, and sorry that you +are + paid too much; purse and brain both empty; the brain the +heavier + for being too light, the purse too light, being drawn of + heaviness. O, of this contradiction you shall now be quit. O, +the + charity of a penny cord! It sums up thousands in a trice. You + have no true debitor and creditor but it; of what's past, is, +and + to come, the discharge. Your neck, sir, is pen, book, and + counters; so the acquittance follows. + POSTHUMUS. I am merrier to die than thou art to live. + GAOLER. Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the toothache. +But a + man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him +to + bed, I think he would change places with his officer; for +look + you, sir, you know not which way you shall go. + POSTHUMUS. Yes indeed do I, fellow. + GAOLER. Your death has eyes in's head, then; I have not seen +him so + pictur'd. You must either be directed by some that take upon +them + to know, or to take upon yourself that which I am sure you do +not + know, or jump the after-inquiry on your own peril. And how +you + shall speed in your journey's end, I think you'll never +return to + tell one. + POSTHUMUS. I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to +direct + them the way I am going, but such as wink and will not use +them. + GAOLER. What an infinite mock is this, that a man should have +the + best use of eyes to see the way of blindness! I am sure +hanging's + the way of winking. + + Enter a MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the +King. + POSTHUMUS. Thou bring'st good news: I am call'd to be made +free. + GAOLER. I'll be hang'd then. + POSTHUMUS. Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; no bolts for +the + dead. Exeunt POSTHUMUS and MESSENGER + GAOLER. Unless a man would marry a gallows and beget young +gibbets, + I never saw one so prone. Yet, on my conscience, there are +verier + knaves desire to live, for all he be a Roman; and there be +some + of them too that die against their wills; so should I, if I +were + one. I would we were all of one mind, and one mind good. O, +there + were desolation of gaolers and gallowses! I speak against my + present profit, but my wish hath a preferment in't. Exit + + + + +SCENE V. +Britain. CYMBELINE'S tent + +Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, LORDS, +OFFICERS, and attendants + + CYMBELINE. Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made + Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart + That the poor soldier that so richly fought, + Whose rags sham'd gilded arms, whose naked breast + Stepp'd before targes of proof, cannot be found. + He shall be happy that can find him, if + Our grace can make him so. + BELARIUS. I never saw + Such noble fury in so poor a thing; + Such precious deeds in one that promis'd nought + But beggary and poor looks. + CYMBELINE. No tidings of him? + PISANIO. He hath been search'd among the dead and living, + But no trace of him. + CYMBELINE. To my grief, I am + The heir of his reward; [To BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and +ARVIRAGUS] + which I will add + To you, the liver, heart, and brain, of Britain, + By whom I grant she lives. 'Tis now the time + To ask of whence you are. Report it. + BELARIUS. Sir, + In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen; + Further to boast were neither true nor modest, + Unless I add we are honest. + CYMBELINE. Bow your knees. + Arise my knights o' th' battle; I create you + Companions to our person, and will fit you + With dignities becoming your estates. + + Enter CORNELIUS and LADIES + + There's business in these faces. Why so sadly + Greet you our victory? You look like Romans, + And not o' th' court of Britain. + CORNELIUS. Hail, great King! + To sour your happiness I must report + The Queen is dead. + CYMBELINE. Who worse than a physician + Would this report become? But I consider + By med'cine life may be prolong'd, yet death + Will seize the doctor too. How ended she? + CORNELIUS. With horror, madly dying, like her life; + Which, being cruel to the world, concluded + Most cruel to herself. What she confess'd + I will report, so please you; these her women + Can trip me if I err, who with wet cheeks + Were present when she finish'd. + CYMBELINE. Prithee say. + CORNELIUS. First, she confess'd she never lov'd you; only + Affected greatness got by you, not you; + Married your royalty, was wife to your place; + Abhorr'd your person. + CYMBELINE. She alone knew this; + And but she spoke it dying, I would not + Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed. + CORNELIUS. Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to love + With such integrity, she did confess + Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life, + But that her flight prevented it, she had + Ta'en off by poison. + CYMBELINE. O most delicate fiend! + Who is't can read a woman? Is there more? + CORNELIUS. More, sir, and worse. She did confess she had + For you a mortal mineral, which, being took, + Should by the minute feed on life, and ling'ring, + By inches waste you. In which time she purpos'd, + By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to + O'ercome you with her show; and in time, + When she had fitted you with her craft, to work + Her son into th' adoption of the crown; + But failing of her end by his strange absence, + Grew shameless-desperate, open'd, in despite + Of heaven and men, her purposes, repented + The evils she hatch'd were not effected; so, + Despairing, died. + CYMBELINE. Heard you all this, her women? + LADY. We did, so please your Highness. + CYMBELINE. Mine eyes + Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; + Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart + That thought her like her seeming. It had been vicious + To have mistrusted her; yet, O my daughter! + That it was folly in me thou mayst say, + And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all! + + Enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, the SOOTHSAYER, and other + Roman prisoners, guarded; POSTHUMUS behind, and IMOGEN + + Thou com'st not, Caius, now for tribute; that + The Britons have raz'd out, though with the loss + Of many a bold one, whose kinsmen have made suit + That their good souls may be appeas'd with slaughter + Of you their captives, which ourself have granted; + So think of your estate. + LUCIUS. Consider, sir, the chance of war. The day + Was yours by accident; had it gone with us, + We should not, when the blood was cool, have threaten'd + Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods + Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives + May be call'd ransom, let it come. Sufficeth + A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer. + Augustus lives to think on't; and so much + For my peculiar care. This one thing only + I will entreat: my boy, a Briton born, + Let him be ransom'd. Never master had + A page so kind, so duteous, diligent, + So tender over his occasions, true, + So feat, so nurse-like; let his virtue join + With my request, which I'll make bold your Highness + Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm + Though he have serv'd a Roman. Save him, sir, + And spare no blood beside. + CYMBELINE. I have surely seen him; + His favour is familiar to me. Boy, + Thou hast look'd thyself into my grace, + And art mine own. I know not why, wherefore + To say 'Live, boy.' Ne'er thank thy master. Live; + And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt, + Fitting my bounty and thy state, I'll give it; + Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner, + The noblest ta'en. + IMOGEN. I humbly thank your Highness. + LUCIUS. I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad, + And yet I know thou wilt. + IMOGEN. No, no! Alack, + There's other work in hand. I see a thing + Bitter to me as death; your life, good master, + Must shuffle for itself. + LUCIUS. The boy disdains me, + He leaves me, scorns me. Briefly die their joys + That place them on the truth of girls and boys. + Why stands he so perplex'd? + CYMBELINE. What wouldst thou, boy? + I love thee more and more; think more and more + What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st on? Speak, + Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend? + IMOGEN. He is a Roman, no more kin to me + Than I to your Highness; who, being born your vassal, + Am something nearer. + CYMBELINE. Wherefore ey'st him so? + IMOGEN. I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please + To give me hearing. + 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 saw him dead. + BELARIUS. Be silent; let's see further. + PISANIO. [Aside] It is my mistress. + Since she is living, let the time run on + To good or bad. [CYMBELINE and IMOGEN advance] + CYMBELINE. Come, stand thou by our side; + Make thy demand aloud. [To IACHIMO] Sir, step you forth; + Give answer to this boy, and do it freely, + Or, by our greatness and the grace of it, + Which is our honour, bitter torture shall + Winnow the truth from falsehood. On, speak to him. + IMOGEN. My boon is that this gentleman may render + Of whom he had this ring. + POSTHUMUS. [Aside] What's that to him? + CYMBELINE. That diamond upon your finger, say + How came it yours? + IACHIMO. Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that + Which to be spoke would torture thee. + CYMBELINE. How? me? + IACHIMO. I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that + Which torments me to conceal. By villainy + I got this ring; 'twas Leonatus' jewel, + Whom thou didst banish; and- which more may grieve thee, + As it doth me- a nobler sir ne'er liv'd + 'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord? + CYMBELINE. All that belongs to this. + IACHIMO. That paragon, thy daughter, + For whom my heart drops blood and my false spirits + Quail to remember- Give me leave, I faint. + CYMBELINE. My daughter? What of her? Renew thy strength; + I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will + Than die ere I hear more. Strive, man, and speak. + IACHIMO. Upon a time- unhappy was the clock + That struck the hour!- was in Rome- accurs'd + The mansion where!- 'twas at a feast- O, would + Our viands had been poison'd, or at least + Those which I heav'd to head!- the good Posthumus- + What should I say? he was too good to be + Where ill men were, and was the best of all + Amongst the rar'st of good ones- sitting sadly + Hearing us praise our loves of Italy + For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast + Of him that best could speak; for feature, laming + The shrine of Venus or straight-pight Minerva, + Postures beyond brief nature; for condition, + A shop of all the qualities that man + Loves woman for; besides that hook of wiving, + Fairness which strikes the eye- + CYMBELINE. I stand on fire. + Come to the matter. + IACHIMO. All too soon I shall, + Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This Posthumus, + Most like a noble lord in love and one + That had a royal lover, took his hint; + And not dispraising whom we prais'd- therein + He was as calm as virtue- he began + His mistress' picture; which by his tongue being made, + And then a mind put in't, either our brags + Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his description + Prov'd us unspeaking sots. + CYMBELINE. Nay, nay, to th' purpose. + IACHIMO. Your daughter's chastity- there it begins. + He spake of her as Dian had hot dreams + And she alone were cold; whereat I, wretch, + Made scruple of his praise, and wager'd with him + Pieces of gold 'gainst this which then he wore + Upon his honour'd finger, to attain + In suit the place of's bed, and win this ring + By hers and mine adultery. He, true knight, + No lesser of her honour confident + Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring; + And would so, had it been a carbuncle + Of Phoebus' wheel; and might so safely, had it + Been all the worth of's car. Away to Britain + Post I in this design. Well may you, sir, + Remember me at court, where I was taught + Of your chaste daughter the wide difference + 'Twixt amorous and villainous. Being thus quench'd + Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain + Gan in your duller Britain operate + Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent; + And, to be brief, my practice so prevail'd + That I return'd with simular proof enough + To make the noble Leonatus mad, + By wounding his belief in her renown + With tokens thus and thus; averring notes + Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet- + O cunning, how I got it!- nay, some marks + Of secret on her person, that he could not + But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd, + I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon- + Methinks I see him now- + POSTHUMUS. [Coming forward] Ay, so thou dost, + Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool, + Egregious murderer, thief, anything + That's due to all the villains past, in being, + To come! O, give me cord, or knife, or poison, + Some upright justicer! Thou, King, send out + For torturers ingenious. It is I + That all th' abhorred things o' th' earth amend + By being worse than they. I am Posthumus, + That kill'd thy daughter; villain-like, I lie- + That caus'd a lesser villain than myself, + A sacrilegious thief, to do't. The temple + Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself. + Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set + The dogs o' th' street to bay me. Every villain + Be call'd Posthumus Leonatus, and + Be villainy less than 'twas! O Imogen! + My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen, + Imogen, Imogen! + IMOGEN. Peace, my lord. Hear, hear! + POSTHUMUS. Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful page, + There lies thy part. [Strikes her. She falls] + PISANIO. O gentlemen, help! + Mine and your mistress! O, my lord Posthumus! + You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now. Help, help! + Mine honour'd lady! + CYMBELINE. Does the world go round? + POSTHUMUS. How comes these staggers on me? + PISANIO. Wake, my mistress! + CYMBELINE. If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me + To death with mortal joy. + PISANIO. How fares my mistress? + IMOGEN. O, get thee from my sight; + Thou gav'st me poison. Dangerous fellow, hence! + Breathe not where princes are. + CYMBELINE. The tune of Imogen! + PISANIO. Lady, + The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if + That box I gave you was not thought by me + A precious thing! I had it from the Queen. + CYMBELINE. New matter still? + IMOGEN. It poison'd me. + CORNELIUS. O gods! + I left out one thing which the Queen confess'd, + Which must approve thee honest. 'If Pisanio + Have' said she 'given his mistress that confection + Which I gave him for cordial, she is serv'd + As I would serve a rat.' + CYMBELINE. What's this, Cornelius? + CORNELIUS. The Queen, sir, very oft importun'd me + To temper poisons for her; still pretending + The satisfaction of her knowledge only + In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs, + Of no esteem. I, dreading that her purpose + Was of more danger, did compound for her + A certain stuff, which, being ta'en would cease + The present pow'r of life, but in short time + All offices of nature should again + Do their due functions. Have you ta'en of it? + IMOGEN. Most like I did, for I was dead. + BELARIUS. My boys, + There was our error. + GUIDERIUS. This is sure Fidele. + IMOGEN. Why did you throw your wedded lady from you? + Think that you are upon a rock, and now + Throw me again. [Embracing him] + POSTHUMUS. Hang there like fruit, my soul, + Till the tree die! + CYMBELINE. How now, my flesh? my child? + What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act? + Wilt thou not speak to me? + IMOGEN. [Kneeling] Your blessing, sir. + BELARIUS. [To GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS] Though you did love this + youth, I blame ye not; + You had a motive for't. + CYMBELINE. My tears that fall + Prove holy water on thee! Imogen, + Thy mother's dead. + IMOGEN. I am sorry for't, my lord. + CYMBELINE. O, she was naught, and long of her it was + That we meet here so strangely; but her son + Is gone, we know not how nor where. + PISANIO. My lord, + Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord Cloten, + Upon my lady's missing, came to me + With his sword drawn, foam'd at the mouth, and swore, + If I discover'd not which way she was gone, + It was my instant death. By accident + I had a feigned letter of my master's + Then in my pocket, which directed him + To seek her on the mountains near to Milford; + Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments, + Which he enforc'd from me, away he posts + With unchaste purpose, and with oath to violate + My lady's honour. What became of him + I further know not. + GUIDERIUS. Let me end the story: + I slew him there. + CYMBELINE. Marry, the gods forfend! + I would not thy good deeds should from my lips + Pluck a hard sentence. Prithee, valiant youth, + Deny't again. + GUIDERIUS. I have spoke it, and I did it. + CYMBELINE. He was a prince. + GUIDERIUS. A most incivil one. The wrongs he did me + Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me + With language that would make me spurn the sea, + If it could so roar to me. I cut off's head, + And am right glad he is not standing here + To tell this tale of mine. + CYMBELINE. I am sorry for thee. + By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must + Endure our law. Thou'rt dead. + IMOGEN. That headless man + I thought had been my lord. + CYMBELINE. Bind the offender, + And take him from our presence. + BELARIUS. Stay, sir King. + This man is better than the man he slew, + As well descended as thyself, and hath + More of thee merited than a band of Clotens + Had ever scar for. [To the guard] Let his arms alone; + They were not born for bondage. + CYMBELINE. Why, old soldier, + Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for + By tasting of our wrath? How of descent + As good as we? + ARVIRAGUS. In that he spake too far. + CYMBELINE. And thou shalt die for't. + BELARIUS. We will die all three; + But I will prove that two on's are as good + As I have given out him. My sons, I must + For mine own part unfold a dangerous speech, + Though haply well for you. + ARVIRAGUS. Your danger's ours. + GUIDERIUS. And our good his. + BELARIUS. Have at it then by leave! + Thou hadst, great King, a subject who + Was call'd Belarius. + CYMBELINE. What of him? He is + A banish'd traitor. + BELARIUS. He it is that hath + Assum'd this age; indeed a banish'd man; + I know not how a traitor. + CYMBELINE. Take him hence, + The whole world shall not save him. + BELARIUS. Not too hot. + First pay me for the nursing of thy sons, + And let it be confiscate all, so soon + As I have receiv'd it. + CYMBELINE. Nursing of my sons? + BELARIUS. I am too blunt and saucy: here's my knee. + Ere I arise I will prefer my sons; + Then spare not the old father. Mighty sir, + These two young gentlemen that call me father, + And think they are my sons, are none of mine; + They are the issue of your loins, my liege, + And blood of your begetting. + CYMBELINE. How? my issue? + BELARIUS. So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan, + Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd. + Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment + Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd + Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes- + For such and so they are- these twenty years + Have I train'd up; those arts they have as + Could put into them. My breeding was, sir, as + Your Highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile, + Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children + Upon my banishment; I mov'd her to't, + Having receiv'd the punishment before + For that which I did then. Beaten for loyalty + Excited me to treason. Their dear loss, + The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd + Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir, + Here are your sons again, and I must lose + Two of the sweet'st companions in the world. + The benediction of these covering heavens + Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy + To inlay heaven with stars. + CYMBELINE. Thou weep'st and speak'st. + The service that you three have done is more + Unlike than this thou tell'st. I lost my children. + If these be they, I know not how to wish + A pair of worthier sons. + BELARIUS. Be pleas'd awhile. + This gentleman, whom I call Polydore, + Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius; + This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus, + Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lapp'd + In a most curious mantle, wrought by th' hand + Of his queen mother, which for more probation + I can with ease produce. + CYMBELINE. Guiderius had + Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star; + It was a mark of wonder. + BELARIUS. This is he, + Who hath upon him still that natural stamp. + It was wise nature's end in the donation, + To be his evidence now. + CYMBELINE. O, what am I? + A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother + Rejoic'd deliverance more. Blest pray you be, + That, after this strange starting from your orbs, + You may reign in them now! O Imogen, + Thou hast lost by this a kingdom. + IMOGEN. No, my lord; + I have got two worlds by't. O my gentle brothers, + Have we thus met? O, never say hereafter + But I am truest speaker! You call'd me brother, + When I was but your sister: I you brothers, + When we were so indeed. + CYMBELINE. Did you e'er meet? + ARVIRAGUS. Ay, my good lord. + GUIDERIUS. And at first meeting lov'd, + Continu'd so until we thought he died. + CORNELIUS. By the Queen's dram she swallow'd. + CYMBELINE. O rare instinct! + When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridgment + Hath to it circumstantial branches, which + Distinction should be rich in. Where? how liv'd you? + And when came you to serve our Roman captive? + How parted with your brothers? how first met them? + Why fled you from the court? and whither? These, + And your three motives to the battle, with + I know not how much more, should be demanded, + And all the other by-dependences, + From chance to chance; but nor the time nor place + Will serve our long interrogatories. See, + Posthumus anchors upon Imogen; + And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye + On him, her brothers, me, her master, hitting + Each object with a joy; the counterchange + Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground, + And smoke the temple with our sacrifices. + [To BELARIUS] Thou art my brother; so we'll hold thee ever. + IMOGEN. You are my father too, and did relieve me + To see this gracious season. + CYMBELINE. All o'erjoy'd + Save these in bonds. Let them be joyful too, + For they shall taste our comfort. + IMOGEN. My good master, + I will yet do you service. + LUCIUS. Happy be you! + CYMBELINE. The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought, + He would have well becom'd this place and grac'd + The thankings of a king. + POSTHUMUS. I am, sir, + The soldier that did company these three + In poor beseeming; 'twas a fitment for + The purpose I then follow'd. That I was he, + Speak, Iachimo. I had you down, and might + Have made you finish. + IACHIMO. [Kneeling] I am down again; + But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee, + As then your force did. Take that life, beseech you, + Which I so often owe; but your ring first, + And here the bracelet of the truest princess + That ever swore her faith. + POSTHUMUS. Kneel not to me. + The pow'r that I have on you is to spare you; + The malice towards you to forgive you. Live, + And deal with others better. + CYMBELINE. Nobly doom'd! + We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law; + Pardon's the word to all. + ARVIRAGUS. You holp us, sir, + As you did mean indeed to be our brother; + Joy'd are we that you are. + POSTHUMUS. Your servant, Princes. Good my lord of Rome, + Call forth your soothsayer. As I slept, methought + Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back'd, + Appear'd to me, with other spritely shows + Of mine own kindred. When I wak'd, I found + This label on my bosom; whose containing + Is so from sense in hardness that I can + Make no collection of it. Let him show + His skill in the construction. + LUCIUS. Philarmonus! + SOOTHSAYER. Here, my good lord. + LUCIUS. Read, and declare the meaning. + SOOTHSAYER. [Reads] 'When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself + unknown, without seeking find, and be embrac'd by + a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall + be lopp'd branches which, being dead many years, shall + after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; + then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate + and flourish in peace and plenty.' + Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp; + The fit and apt construction of thy name, + Being Leo-natus, doth import so much. + [To CYMBELINE] The piece of tender air, thy virtuous +daughter, + Which we call 'mollis aer,' and 'mollis aer' + We term it 'mulier'; which 'mulier' I divine + Is this most constant wife, who even now + Answering the letter of the oracle, + Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about + With this most tender air. + CYMBELINE. This hath some seeming. + SOOTHSAYER. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, + Personates thee; and thy lopp'd branches point + Thy two sons forth, who, by Belarius stol'n, + For many years thought dead, are now reviv'd, + To the majestic cedar join'd, whose issue + Promises Britain peace and plenty. + CYMBELINE. Well, + My peace we will begin. And, Caius Lucius, + Although the victor, we submit to Caesar + And to the Roman empire, promising + To pay our wonted tribute, from the which + We were dissuaded by our wicked queen, + Whom heavens in justice, both on her and hers, + Have laid most heavy hand. + SOOTHSAYER. The fingers of the pow'rs above do tune + The harmony of this peace. The vision + Which I made known to Lucius ere the stroke + Of yet this scarce-cold battle, at this instant + Is full accomplish'd; for the Roman eagle, + From south to west on wing soaring aloft, + Lessen'd herself and in the beams o' th' sun + So vanish'd; which foreshow'd our princely eagle, + Th'imperial Caesar, should again unite + His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, + Which shines here in the west. + CYMBELINE. Laud we the gods; + And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils + From our bless'd altars. Publish we this peace + To all our subjects. Set we forward; let + A Roman and a British ensign wave + Friendly together. So through Lud's Town march; + And in the temple of great Jupiter + Our peace we'll ratify; seal it with feasts. + Set on there! Never was a war did cease, + Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a peace. Exeunt + +THE END + + + + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. 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