Cymbeline

 

By

 

William Shakespeare

 


CONTENTS:

 

ACT I 3

SCENE I. Britain. The garden of Cymbeline's palace. 3

SCENE II. The same. A public place. 13

SCENE III. A room in Cymbeline's palace. 16

SCENE IV. Rome. Philario's house. 19

SCENE V. Britain. A room in Cymbeline's palace. 27

SCENE VI. The same. Another room in the palace. 31

ACT II 41

SCENE I. Britain. Before Cymbeline's palace. 41

SCENE II. Imogen's bedchamber in Cymbeline's palace: 45

SCENE III. An ante-chamber adjoining Imogen's apartments. 47

SCENE IV. Rome. Philario's house. 55

SCENE V. Another room in Philario's house. 64

ACT III 65

SCENE I. Britain. A hall in Cymbeline's palace. 65

SCENE II. Another room in the palace. 69

SCENE III. Wales: a mountainous country with a cave. 72

SCENE IV. Country near Milford-Haven. 76

SCENE V. A room in Cymbeline's palace. 84

SCENE VI. Wales. Before the cave of Belarius. 93

SCENE VII. Rome. A public place. 98

ACT IV.. 99

SCENE I. Wales: near the cave of Belarius. 99

SCENE II. Before the cave of Belarius. 100

SCENE III. A room in Cymbeline's palace. 120

SCENE IV. Wales: before the cave of Belarius. 122

ACT V.. 125

SCENE I. Britain. The Roman camp. 125

SCENE II. Field of battle between the British and Roman camps. 126

SCENE III. Another part of the field. 128

SCENE IV. A British prison. 132

SCENE V. Cymbeline's tent. 140

 


ACT I

SCENE I. Britain. The garden of Cymbeline's palace.

 

    Enter two Gentlemen

 

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.

 

Second Gentleman

 

    But what's the matter?

 

First Gentleman

 

    His daughter, and the heir of's kingdom, whom

    He purposed 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 desired the match; but not a courtier,

    Although they wear their faces to the bent

    Of the king's look's, 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 served with glory and admired success,

    So gain'd the sur-addition Leonatus;

    And had, besides this gentleman in question,

    Two other sons, who in the wars o' the 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, deceased

    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 minister'd,

    And in's spring became a harvest, lived in court--

    Which rare it is to do--most praised, most loved,

    A sample to the youngest, to the 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 the 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' the 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 LEONATUS, and IMOGEN

 

QUEEN

 

    No, be assured you shall not find me, daughter,

    After the slander of most stepmothers,

    Evil-eyed 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 the 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 LEONATUS

 

    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 charged 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 reserved 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 LEONATUS

 

    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 LEONATUS

 

    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 LEONATUS

 

    How, how! another?

    You gentle gods, give me but this I have,

    And sear up my embracements from a next

    With bonds of death!

 

    Putting on the ring

    Remain, remain thou here

    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.

 

    Putting a bracelet upon her arm

 

IMOGEN

 

    O the gods!

    When shall we see again?

 

    Enter CYMBELINE and Lords

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    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 LEONATUS

 

    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 blest, 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 loved 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!

 

CYMBELINE

 

    Thou foolish thing!

 

    Re-enter 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!

 

    Exeunt CYMBELINE and Lords

 

QUEEN

 

    Fie! you must give way.

 

    Enter PISANIO

    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 pleased 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,

    I pray you, speak with me: you shall at least

    Go see my lord aboard: for this time leave me.

 

    Exeunt

 


SCENE II. The same. 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 thoroughfare for steel, if it be not hurt.

 

Second Lord

 

    [Aside] His steel was in debt; it went o' the

    backside 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 measured 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 damned.

 

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. A room in Cymbeline's palace.

 

    Enter IMOGEN and PISANIO

 

IMOGEN

 

    I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' the haven,

    And question'dst every sail: if he should write

    And 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 waved 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 this eye or ear

    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 eye-strings; crack'd them, but

    To look upon him, till the diminution

    Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle,

    Nay, follow'd 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 assured, 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 charged him,

    At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight,

    To 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 looked 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 furnished 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.

    Here comes the Briton: let him be so entertained

    amongst you as suits, with gentlemen of your

    knowing, to a stranger of his quality.

 

    Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

    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 LEONATUS

 

    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'er-rate 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 LEONATUS

 

    By your pardon, sir, I was then a young traveller;

    rather shunned 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 fallen 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 LEONATUS

 

    She holds her virtue still and I my mind.

 

IACHIMO

 

    You must not so far prefer her 'fore ours of Italy.

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    Being so far provoked 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 LEONATUS

 

    I praised her as I rated her: so do I my stone.

 

IACHIMO

 

    What do you esteem it at?

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    More than the world enjoys.

 

IACHIMO

 

    Either your unparagoned mistress is dead, or she's

    outprized by a trifle.

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    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 LEONATUS

 

    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 stolen too: so your brace of unprizable

    estimations; the one is but frail and the other

    casual; a cunning thief, or a that way accomplished

    courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and last.

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    Your Italy contains none so accomplished 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 LEONATUS

 

    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 LEONATUS

 

    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 LEONATUS

 

    You are a great deal abused in too bold a

    persuasion; and I doubt not you sustain what you're

    worthy of by your attempt.

 

IACHIMO

 

    What's that?

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    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 the

    approbation of what I have spoke!

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    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 reserved.

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    I will wage against your gold, gold to it: my ring

    I hold dear as my finger; 'tis part of it.

 

IACHIMO

 

    You are afraid, 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 LEONATUS

 

    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 LEONATUS

 

    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 enjoyed 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 LEONATUS

 

    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 prevailed, I am no further

    your enemy; she is not worth our debate: if she

    remain unseduced, you not making it appear

    otherwise, for your ill opinion and the 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 LEONATUS

 

    Agreed.

 

    Exeunt POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and IACHIMO

 

Frenchman

 

    Will this hold, think you?

 

PHILARIO

 

    Signior Iachimo will not from it.

    Pray, let us follow 'em.

 

    Exeunt

 


SCENE V. Britain. A room in 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?

 

First 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 small box

    But I beseech your grace, without offence,--

    My conscience bids me ask--wherefore you have

    Commanded of me those 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 practise 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 lingering 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 decay

    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 takest 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 prethee, 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 shaked; 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 liegers for her sweet, and which she after,

    Except she bend her humour, shall be assured

    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. The same. Another room in the palace.

 

    Enter IMOGEN

 

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: blest 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 the 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 the 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' the eye, for apes and monkeys

    'Twixt two such shes would chatter this way and

    Contemn with mows the other; nor i' the judgment,

    For idiots in this case of favour would

    Be wisely definite; nor i' the appetite;

    Sluttery to such neat excellence opposed

    Should make desire vomit emptiness,

    Not so allured 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.

 

    To PISANIO

    Beseech you, sir, desire

    My man's abode where I did leave him: he

    Is 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 disposed to mirth? I hope he is.

 

IACHIMO

 

    Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there

    So merry and so gamesome: he is call'd

    The Briton 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 his 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 used 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' the 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 doubling 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 the 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 unlustrous 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,

    Inclined to this intelligence, pronounce

    The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces

    That from pay 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 hired with that self-exhibition

    Which your own coffers yield! with diseased ventures

    That play with all infirmities for gold

    Which rottenness can lend nature! such boil'd stuff

    As well might poison poison! Be revenged;

    Or she that bore you was no queen, and you

    Recoil from your great stock.

 

IMOGEN

 

    Revenged!

    How should I be revenged? 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 revenged?

 

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

    Solicit'st 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 assured 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 adventured

    To try your taking 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 power i' the court

    for yours.

 

IACHIMO

 

    My humble thanks. I had almost forgot

    To entreat your grace but in a small request,

    And yet of moment to, 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 lengthening 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 the 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

 


ACT II

SCENE I. Britain. Before Cymbeline's palace.

 

    Enter CLOTEN and two Lords

 

CLOTEN

 

    Was there ever man had such luck! when I kissed 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 disposed 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 smelt like a fool.

 

CLOTEN

 

    I am not vexed more at any thing in the 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 Jack-slave 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 know 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 banished 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 endurest,

    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'ld make! The heavens hold firm

    The walls of thy dear honour, keep unshaked

    That temple, thy fair mind, that thou mayst stand,

    To enjoy thy banish'd lord and this great land!

 

    Exit

 


SCENE II. Imogen's bedchamber in Cymbeline's palace:

 

    a trunk in one corner of it.

 

    IMOGEN in bed, reading; 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' the clock,

    I prithee, call me. Sleep hath seized 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 becomest 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' the taper

    Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids,

    To see the enclosed lights, now canopied

    Under these windows, white and azure laced

    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

    The adornment of her bed; the arras; figures,

    Why, such and such; and the contents o' the story.

    Ah, but some natural notes about her body,

    Above ten thousand meaner moveables

    Would testify, to 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 the madding of her lord. On her left breast

    A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops

    I' the 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 the 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!

 

    Goes into the trunk. The scene closes

 


SCENE III. 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 turned 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 o' 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 chaliced flowers that lies;

    And winking Mary-buds begin

    To ope their golden eyes:

    With every thing that pretty is,

    My lady sweet, arise:

    Arise, arise.

 

CLOTEN

 

    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 horse-hairs and

    calves'-guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to

    boot, can never amend.

 

    Exeunt Musicians

 

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.

 

    Enter CYMBELINE and QUEEN

    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 assailed her with music, 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 the 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 inspired 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

    To 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.

 

    Knocks

    By your leave, ho!

    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 the stand o' the 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.

 

    Knocks

    By your leave.

 

    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 the 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' the court, it is no contract, none:

    And though it be allow'd 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-figured knot;

    Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by

    The consequence o' the crown, and must not soil

    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 styled

    The under-hangman of his kingdom, and hated

    For being preferred so well.

 

CLOTEN

 

    The south-fog rot him!

 

IMOGEN

 

    He never can meet more mischance than come

    To be but named of thee. His meanest 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 garment!' Now the devil--

 

IMOGEN

 

    To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently--

 

CLOTEN

 

    'His garment!'

 

IMOGEN

 

    I am sprited with a fool.

    Frighted, and anger'd 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 abused 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 the worst of discontent.

 

    Exit

 

CLOTEN

 

    I'll be revenged:

    'His meanest garment!' Well.

 

    Exit

    CYMBELINE

 


SCENE IV. Rome. Philario's house.

 

    Enter POSTHUMUS and PHILARIO

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    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 LEONATUS

 

    Not any, but abide the change of time,

    Quake in the present winter's state and wish

    That warmer days would come: in these sear'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 the arrearages,

    Or look upon our Romans, whose remembrance

    Is yet fresh in their grief.

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    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

    Smiled 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 LEONATUS

 

    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 LEONATUS

 

    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 LEONATUS

 

    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 LEONATUS

 

    Their tenor 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 LEONATUS

 

    All is well yet.

    Sparkles this stone as it was wont? or is't not

    Too dull for your good wearing?

 

IACHIMO

 

    If I had lost it,

    I should have lost the worth of it in gold.

    I'll make a journey twice as far, to enjoy

    A second night of such sweet shortness which

    Was mine in Britain, for the ring is won.

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    The stone's too hard to come by.

 

IACHIMO

 

    Not a whit,

    Your lady being so easy.

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    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 further: 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 LEONATUS

 

    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 LEONATUS

 

    Proceed.

 

IACHIMO

 

    First, her bedchamber,--

    Where, I confess, I slept not, but profess

    Had that was well worth watching--it was hang'd

    With tapesty 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 LEONATUS

 

    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 LEONATUS

 

    So they must,

    Or do your honour injury.

 

IACHIMO

 

    The chimney

    Is south the chamber, and the chimney-piece

    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 LEONATUS

 

    This is a thing

    Which you might from relation likewise reap,

    Being, as it is, much spoke of.

 

IACHIMO

 

    The roof o' the 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 LEONATUS

 

    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,

 

    Showing 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 LEONATUS

 

    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 prized it once.

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    May be she pluck'd it off

    To send it me.

 

IACHIMO

 

    She writes so to you, doth she?

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    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 of her women, being corrupted,

    Hath stol'n it from her?

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    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 stolen.

 

IACHIMO

 

    By Jupiter, I had it from her arm.

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    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 induced to steal it!

    And by a stranger!--No, he hath enjoyed 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 believed

    Of one persuaded well of--

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    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 LEONATUS

 

    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 LEONATUS

 

    Spare your arithmetic: never count the turns;

    Once, and a million!

 

IACHIMO

 

    I'll be sworn--

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    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 LEONATUS

 

    O, that I had her here, to tear her limb-meal!

    I will go there and do't, i' the 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 an my heart.

 

    Exeunt

 


SCENE V. Another room in Philario's house.

 

    Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    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,--wast 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 may be named, 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

 


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?

 

CAIUS 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, ribbed and paled in

    With rocks unscalable and roaring waters,

    With sands that will not bear your enemies' boats,

    But suck them up to the topmast. A kind of conquest

    Caesar made here; but made not here his brag

    Of 'Came' and 'saw' and 'overcame: ' with shame--

    That first that ever touch'd him--he was carried

    From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping--

    Poor ignorant baubles!-- upon our terrible seas,

    Like egg-shells moved upon their surges, crack'd

    As easily 'gainst our rocks: for joy whereof

    The famed 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' the 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 Lords

 

    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.

 

CAIUS LUCIUS

 

    I am sorry, Cymbeline,

    That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar--

    Caesar, that hath more 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.

 

CAIUS 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.

 

CAIUS LUCIUS

 

    So, sir.

 

CYMBELINE

 

    I know your master's pleasure and he mine:

    All the remain is 'Welcome!'

 

    Exeunt

 


SCENE II. Another room in the palace.

 

    Enter PISANIO, with a letter

 

PISANIO

 

    How? of adultery? Wherefore write you not

    What monster's her accuser? Leonatus,

    O master! what a strange infection

    Is fall'n into thy ear! What false Italian,

    As poisonous-tongued 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?

 

    Reading

    '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 feodary for this act, and look'st

    So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes.

    I am ignorant in what I am commanded.

 

    Enter IMOGEN

 

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'ld 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,--

    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 the smothering of the sense--how far it is

    To this same blessed Milford: and by the way

    Tell me how Wales was made so happy as

    To 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 e'er 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:

 

    Aside

    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' the clock's behalf. But this is foolery:

    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 housewife.

 

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 following

 

BELARIUS

 

    A goodly day not to keep house, with such

    Whose roof's as low as ours! Stoop, boys; this gate

    Instructs you how to 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' the 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 cheque,

    Richer than doing nothing for a bauble,

    Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk:

    Such gain the cap of him that makes 'em fine,

    Yet keeps his book uncross'd: no life to ours.

 

GUIDERIUS

 

    Out of your proof you speak: we, poor unfledged,

    Have never wing'd from view o' the 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 a-bed;

    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 quire, 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' the court

    As hard to leave as keep; whose top to climb

    Is certain falling, or so slippery that

    The fear's as bad as falling; the toil o' the war,

    A pain that only seems to seek out danger

    I' the name of fame and honour; which dies i'

    the search,

    And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph

    As record of fair act; nay, many times,

    Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse,

    Must court'sy 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 loved 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 lived at honest freedom, paid

    More pious debts to heaven than in all

    The fore-end of my time. But up to the mountains!

    This is not hunters' language: he that strikes

    The venison first shall be the lord o' the 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 the king;

    Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive.

    They think they are mine; and though train'd

    up thus meanly

    I' the 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 roused!

    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 reft'st 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. Country 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 the inward of thee? One, but painted thus,

    Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd

    Beyond self-explication: put thyself

    Into a havior 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 countenance 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 played 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 pandar 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 the 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 villany; 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 perjured

    From thy great fall. Come, fellow, be thou honest:

    Do thou thy master's bidding: when thou see'st 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, thou 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 disedged by her

    That now thou tirest on, how thy memory

    Will then be pang'd by me. Prithee, dispatch:

    The lamb 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 received command to do this business

    I have not slept one wink.

 

IMOGEN

 

    Do't, and to bed then.

 

PISANIO

 

    I'll wake mine eye-balls blind first.

 

IMOGEN

 

    Wherefore then

    Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abused

    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,

    The 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 abused:

    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 where? where bide? how live?

    Or in my life what comfort, when I am

    Dead to my husband?

 

PISANIO

 

    If you'll back to the 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' the 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. The 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, to appear itself, must not yet be

    But by self-danger, you should tread a course

    Pretty and full of view; yea, haply, 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 its 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 you'll 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. A room in Cymbeline's palace.

 

    Enter CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN, LUCIUS, Lords, and Attendants

 

CYMBELINE

 

    Thus far; and so farewell.

 

CAIUS 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.

 

CAIUS LUCIUS

 

    So, sir: I desire of you

    A conduct over-land to Milford-Haven.

    Madam, all joy befal your grace!

 

QUEEN

 

    And you!

 

CYMBELINE

 

    My lords, you are appointed for that office;

    The due of honour in no point omit.

    So farewell, noble Lucius.

 

CAIUS LUCIUS

 

    Your hand, my lord.

 

CLOTEN

 

    Receive it friendly; but from this time forth

    I wear it as your enemy.

 

CAIUS 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 powers 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 an Attendant

 

QUEEN

 

    Royal sir,

    Since the exile of Posthumus, most retired

    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 Attendant

 

CYMBELINE

 

    Where is she, sir? How

    Can her contempt be answer'd?

 

Attendant

 

    Please you, sir,

    Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer

    That will be given to the loudest 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,

    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 seized her,

    Or, wing'd with fervor of her love, she's flown

    To her desired 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

 

    [Aside] 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 choked; and in that point

    I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed,

    To be revenged 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 missed?

    He is in Rome.

 

CLOTEN

 

    Where is she, sir? Come nearer;

    No further 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

 

    Hum!

 

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 villany 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 lint 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

    praised,--to the court I'll knock her back, foot

    her home again. She hath despised 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, in boy's clothes

 

IMOGEN

 

    I see a man's life is a tedious one:

    I have tired 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 relieved. 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' the 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 to 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 any thing 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, to the cave

 

    Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS

 

BELARIUS

 

    You, Polydote, have proved 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' the 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' the 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 prayers 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. God's!

 

BELARIUS

 

    Hark, boys.

 

    Whispering

 

IMOGEN

 

    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's 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 the owl and morn to the lark

    less welcome.

 

IMOGEN

 

    Thanks, sir.

 

ARVIRAGUS

 

    I pray, draw near.

 

    Exeunt

 


SCENE VII. Rome. A public place.

 

    Enter two Senators and Tribunes

 

First Senator

 

    This is the tenor 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 preconsul: and to you the tribunes,

    For this immediate levy, he commends

    His absolute commission. Long live Caesar!

 

First Tribune

 

    Is Lucius general of the forces?

 

Second Senator

 

    Ay.

 

First 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.

 

First Tribune

 

    We will discharge our duty.

 

    Exeunt

 


ACT IV

SCENE I. Wales: near the cave of Belarius.

 

    Enter CLOTEN

 

CLOTEN

 

    I am near to the place where they should meet, if

    Pisanio have mapped 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

    thy 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. 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, 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, loved before me.

    'Tis the ninth hour o' the morn.

 

ARVIRAGUS

 

    Brother, farewell.

 

IMOGEN

 

    I wish ye sport.

 

ARVIRAGUS

 

    You health. 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 disprovest report!

    The 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 the field, to the 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 housewife.

 

IMOGEN

 

    Well or ill,

    I am bound to you.

 

BELARIUS

 

    And shalt be ever.

 

    Exit IMOGEN, to the cave

    This youth, how'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 sauced 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' the 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 the queen.

 

GUIDERIUS

 

    I am 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 companies 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

    Of roaring terrors; for the effect of judgment

    Is oft the cause of fear. But, see, thy brother.

 

    Re-enter GUIDERIUS, with CLOTEN'S head

 

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'ld 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 raved

    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'ld 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 revenged:

    Would, Polydote, thou hadst not done't! though valour

    Becomes thee well enough.

 

ARVIRAGUS

 

    Would I had done't

    So the revenge alone pursued 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 Polydote return, and bring him

    To dinner presently.

 

ARVIRAGUS

 

    Poor sick Fidele!

    I'll weringly to him: to gain his colour

    I'ld let a parish of such Clotens' blood,

    And praise myself for charity.

 

    Exit

 

BELARIUS

 

    O thou goddess,

    Thou divine Nature, how 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 enchafed, as the rudest wind,

    That by the top doth take the mountain pine,

    And make him stoop to the 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?

 

BELARIUS

 

    Look, here he comes,

    And brings the dire occasion in his arms

    Of what we blame him for.

 

    Re-enter ARVIRAGUS, with IMOGEN, as dead, bearing her in his arms

 

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 crare

    Might 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 hid tickled slumber,

    Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at; his

    right cheek

    Reposing on a cushion.

 

GUIDERIUS

 

    Where?

 

ARVIRAGUS

 

    O' the floor;

    His arms thus leagued: 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 azured harebell, like thy veins, no, nor

    The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,

    Out-sweeten'd 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 flowers 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 the 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 the ground,

    As once 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, medicine 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 the 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' the 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' the 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 the all-dreaded thunder-stone;

 

GUIDERIUS

 

    Fear not slander, censure rash;

 

ARVIRAGUS

 

    Thou hast finish'd joy and moan:

 

GUIDERIUS ARVIRAGUS

 

    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!

 

GUIDERIUS ARVIRAGUS

 

    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' the night

    Are strewings fitt'st for graves. Upon their faces.

    You were as flowers, 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 BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS

 

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 god s and goddesses!

 

    Seeing the body of CLOTEN

    These flowers 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 stiff 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 imagined, 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,

    Conspired with that irregulous devil, Cloten,

    Hast 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

    Murderous to the senses? That confirms it home:

    This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's: 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 on the body

 

    Enter LUCIUS, a Captain and other Officers, and a Soothsayer

 

Captain

 

    To them the legions garrison'd in Gailia,

    After your will, have cross'd the sea, attending

    You here at Milford-Haven with your ships:

    They are in readiness.

 

CAIUS 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,

    Syenna's brother.

 

CAIUS LUCIUS

 

    When expect you them?

 

Captain

 

    With the next benefit o' the wind.

 

CAIUS 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 the Roman host.

 

CAIUS 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.

 

CAIUS 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 makest 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 it? Who is it?

    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.

 

CAIUS LUCIUS

 

    'Lack, good youth!

    Thou movest 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?

 

CAIUS LUCIUS

 

    Thy name?

 

IMOGEN

 

    Fidele, sir.

 

CAIUS 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 beloved. 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.

 

CAIUS 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. A room in 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.

 

First 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.

 

First 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 amazed with matter.

 

First 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 powers 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 I

    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' the 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 lived, 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 deserved 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 promised,

    But to be still hot summer's tamings and

    The shrinking slaves of winter.

 

GUIDERIUS

 

    Than be so

    Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to the army:

    I and my brother are not known; yourself

    So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown,

    Cannot be question'd.

 

ARVIRAGUS

 

    By this sun that shines,

    I'll thither: what thing is it 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 ashamed

    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, an 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

 


ACT V

SCENE I. Britain. The Roman camp.

 

    Enter POSTHUMUS, with a bloody handkerchief

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    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 lived 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 doers' thrift.

    But Imogen is your own: do your best wills,

    And make me blest to obey! I am brought hither

    Among the 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 Briton 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' the Leonati in me!

    To shame the guise o' the world, I will begin

    The fashion, less without and more within.

 

    Exit

 


SCENE II. Field of battle between the British and Roman camps.

 

    Enter, from one side, LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and the Roman Army: from the other side, the British Army; POSTHUMUS LEONATUS following, like a poor soldier. They march over and go out. Then enter again, in skirmish, IACHIMO and POSTHUMUS LEONATUS 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 subdued 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 the advantage of the ground;

    The lane is guarded: nothing routs us but

    The villany of our fears.

 

GUIDERIUS ARVIRAGUS

 

    Stand, stand, and fight!

 

    Re-enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS, and seconds the Britons: they rescue CYMBELINE, and exeunt. Then re-enter LUCIUS, and IACHIMO, with IMOGEN

 

CAIUS 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.

 

CAIUS 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 LEONATUS and a British Lord

 

Lord

 

    Camest thou from where they made the stand?

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    I did.

    Though you, it seems, come from the fliers.

 

Lord

 

    I did.

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    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 straight lane; the enemy full-hearted,

    Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having work

    More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down

    Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling

    Merely through fear; that the straight pass was damm'd

    With dead men hurt behind, and cowards living

    To die with lengthen'd shame.

 

Lord

 

    Where was this lane?

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd with turf;

    Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier,

    An honest one, I warrant; who deserved

    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 cased, 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' the hunters. Then began

    A stop i' the 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' the need: having found the backdoor open

    Of the unguarded hearts, heavens, how they wound!

    Some slain before; some dying; some their friends

    O'er borne i' the former wave: ten, chased by one,

    Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty:

    Those that would die or ere resist are grown

    The mortal bugs o' the field.

 

Lord

 

    This was strange chance

    A narrow lane, an old man, and two boys.

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    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 mockery? Here is one:

    'Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane,

    Preserved the Britons, was the Romans' bane.'

 

Lord

 

    Nay, be not angry, sir.

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    '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.

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    Still going?

 

    Exit Lord

    This is a lord! O noble misery,

    To be i' the field, and ask 'what news?' of me!

    To-day how many would have given their honours

    To have saved 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 more ministers than we

    That draw his knives i' the war. Well, I will find him

    For being now a favourer to the Briton,

    No more a Briton, I have resumed 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 the 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 praised! 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 the affront with them.

 

First Captain

 

    So 'tis reported:

    But none of 'em can be found. Stand! who's there?

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    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 the king.

 

    Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, Soldiers, Attendants, and Roman Captives. The Captains present POSTHUMUS LEONATUS to CYMBELINE, who delivers him over to a Gaoler: then exeunt omnes

 


SCENE IV. A British prison.

 

    Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS 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 LEONATUS

 

    Most welcome, bondage! for thou art away,

    think, to liberty: yet am I better

    Than one that's sick o' the gout; since he had rather

    Groan so in perpetuity than be cured

    By the sure physician, death, who is the key

    To 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,

    Desired 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 powers,

    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 Leonatus, an old man, attired like a warrior; leading in his hand an ancient matron, his wife, and mother to Posthumus Leonatus, with music before them: then, after other music, follow the two young Leonati, brothers to Posthumus Leonatus, with wounds as they died in the wars. They circle Posthumus Leonatus round, as he lies sleeping

 

Sicilius Leonatus

 

    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 ript,

    Came crying 'mongst his foes,

    A thing of pity!

 

Sicilius Leonatus

 

    Great nature, like his ancestry,

    Moulded the stuff so fair,

    That he deserved the praise o' the 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 exiled, and thrown

    From Leonati seat, and cast

    From her his dearest one,

    Sweet Imogen?

 

Sicilius Leonatus

 

    Why did you suffer Iachimo,

    Slight thing of Italy,

    To taint his nobler heart and brain

    With needless jealosy;

    And to become the geck and scorn

    O' th' other's villany?

 

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 Leonatus

 

    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 Leonatus

 

    Peep through thy marble mansion; help;

    Or we poor ghosts will cry

    To the shining synod of the rest

    Against thy deity.

 

First Brother Second Brother

 

    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 Apparitions 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 flowers:

    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 further with your din

    Express impatience, lest you stir up mine.

    Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline.

 

    Ascends

 

Sicilius Leonatus

 

    He came in thunder; his celestial breath

    Was sulphurous 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 pleased.

 

All

 

    Thanks, Jupiter!

 

Sicilius Leonatus

 

    The marble pavement closes, he is enter'd

    His radiant root. Away! and, to be blest,

    Let us with care perform his great behest.

 

    The Apparitions vanish

 

Posthumus Leonatus

 

    [Waking] Sleep, thou hast 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 embraced by a piece of

    tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be

    lopped 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 First Gaoler

 

First Gaoler

 

    Come, sir, are you ready for death?

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    Over-roasted rather; ready long ago.

 

First Gaoler

 

    Hanging is the word, sir: if

    you be ready for that, you are well cooked.

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    So, if I prove a good repast to the

    spectators, the dish pays the shot.

 

First 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

    flint 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: 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 LEONATUS

 

    I am merrier to die than thou art to live.

 

First Gaoler

 

    Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the

    tooth-ache: 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 LEONATUS

 

    Yes, indeed do I, fellow.

 

First Gaoler

 

    Your death has eyes in 's head then; I have not seen

    him so pictured: you must either be directed by

    some that take upon them to know, or do 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 LEONATUS

 

    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.

 

First 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 LEONATUS

 

    Thou bring'st good news; I am called to be made free.

 

First Gaoler

 

    I'll be hang'd then.

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; no bolts for the dead.

 

    Exeunt POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and Messenger

 

First 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.

 

    Exeunt

 


SCENE V. 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 shamed gilded arms, whose naked breast

    Stepp'd before larges 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 promises 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' the 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' the 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 medicine 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 loved 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 lingering

    By inches waste you: in which time she purposed,

    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 the 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?

 

First 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 LEONATUS behind, and IMOGEN

    Thou comest not, Caius, now for tribute that

    The Britons have razed out, though with the loss

    Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have made suit

    That their good souls may be appeased with slaughter

    Of you their captives, which ourself have granted:

    So think of your estate.

 

CAIUS 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 make bold your highness

    Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm,

    Though he have served 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.

 

CAIUS 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.

 

CAIUS 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 eyest 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 revived 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 come forward

 

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 LEONATUS

 

    [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 villany

    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 lived

    '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!--it was in Rome,--accursed

    The mansion where!--'twas at a feast,--O, would

    Our viands had been poison'd, or at least

    Those which I heaved 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 rarest 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 praised,--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-trolls, or his description

    Proved us unspeaking sots.

 

CYMBELINE

 

    Nay, nay, to the 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 villanous. 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 practise 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; averting 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 LEONATUS

 

    [Advancing] Ay, so thou dost,

    Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool,

    Egregious murderer, thief, any thing

    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 the abhorred things o' the earth amend

    By being worse than they. I am Posthumus,

    That kill'd thy daughter:--villain-like, I lie--

    That caused a lesser villain than myself,

    A sacrilegious thief, to do't: the temple

    Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself.

    Spit, and throw stone s, cast mire upon me, set

    The dogs o' the street to bay me: every villain

    Be call'd Posthumus Leonitus; and

    Be villany less than 'twas! O Imogen!

    My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,

    Imogen, Imogen!

 

IMOGEN

 

    Peace, my lord; hear, hear--

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful page,

    There lie thy part.

 

    Striking her: she falls

 

PISANIO

 

    O, gentlemen, help!

    Mine and your mistress! O, my lord Posthumus!

    You ne'er kill'd Imogen til now. Help, help!

    Mine honour'd lady!

 

CYMBELINE

 

    Does the world go round?

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    How come 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 thy mistress?

 

IMOGEN

 

    O, get thee from my sight;

    Thou gavest 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 served

    As I would serve a rat.'

 

CYMBELINE

 

    What's this, Comelius?

 

CORNELIUS

 

    The queen, sir, very oft importuned 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 power 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 LEONATUS

 

    Hang there like a fruit, my soul,

    Till the tree die!

 

CYMBELINE

 

    How now, my flesh, my child!

    What, makest 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 nought; 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,

    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 enforced 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 bard 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

    Assumed 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 received 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 I

    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 moved her to't,

    Having received 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 shaped

    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 pleased 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 the 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

    Rejoiced deliverance more. Blest pray you be,

    That, after this strange starting from your orbs,

    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 ye were so indeed.

 

CYMBELINE

 

    Did you e'er meet?

 

ARVIRAGUS

 

    Ay, my good lord.

 

GUIDERIUS

 

    And at first meeting loved;

    Continued 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

    abridgement

    Hath to it circumstantial branches, which

    Distinction should be rich in. Where? how lived 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-dependencies,

    From chance to chance: but nor the time nor place

    Will serve our long inter'gatories. See,

    Posthumus anchors upon Imogen,

    And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye

    On him, her brother, 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.

 

CAIUS LUCIUS

 

    Happy be you!

 

CYMBELINE

 

    The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought,

    He would have well becomed this place, and graced

    The thankings of a king.

 

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

 

    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 LEONATUS

 

    Kneel not to me:

    The power 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 LEONATUS

 

    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 waked, 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.

 

CAIUS LUCIUS

 

    Philarmonus!

 

Soothsayer

 

    Here, my good lord.

 

CAIUS LUCIUS

 

    Read, and declare the meaning.

 

Soothsayer

 

    [Reads] 'When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself

    unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a

    piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar

    shall be lopped 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 Leonatus, 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 revived,

    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 powers above do tune

    The harmony of this peace. The vision

    Which I made known to Lucius, ere the stroke

    Of this yet 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' the sun

    So vanish'd: which foreshow'd our princely eagle,

    The 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 blest 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