Introductory matter
PRELIMINARY REMARKS.
Mr. Pope supposed the story of this play to have been borrowed
from a novel of Boccace; but he was mistaken, as an imitation
of it is found in an old story-book entitled Westward for
Smelts. This imitation differs in as many particulars from the
Italian novelist, as from Shakspeare, though they concur in some
material parts of the fable. It was published in a quarto pamphlet
1603. This is the only copy of it which I have hitherto seen.
There is a late entry of it in the books of the Stationers' Company,
Jan. 1619, where it is said to have been written by Kitt of Kingston.
Steevens.
The tale in Westward for Smelts, which I published some years
ago, I shall subjoin to this play. The only part of the fable,
however, which can be pronounced with certainty to be drawn
from thence, is, Imogen's wandering about after Pisanio has left
her in the forest; her being almost famished; and being taken, at
a subsequent period, into the service of the Roman General as a
page. The general scheme of Cymbeline is, in my opinion, formed
on Boccace's novel (Day 2, Nov. 9.) and Shakspeare has taken a
circumstance from it, that is not mentioned in the other tale.
See Act II. Sc. II. It appears from the preface to the old translation
of the Decamerone, printed in 1620, that many of the novels
had before received an English dress, and had been printed
separately: “I know, most worthy lord, (says the printer in his
Epistle Dedicatory,) that many of them [the novels of Boccace]
have long since been published before, as stolen from the original
author, and yet not beautified with his sweet style and elocution of
phrase, neither savouring of his singular morall applications.”
Cymbeline, I imagine, was written in the year 1609. See An
Attempt to ascertain the Order of Shakspeare's Plays, vol. ii.
The king from whom the play takes its title began his reign, according
to Holinshed, in the 19th year of the reign of Augustus
Cæsar; and the play commences in or about the twenty-fourth
year of Cymbeline's reign, which was the forty-second year of the
reign of Augustus, and the 16th of the Christian æra: notwithstanding
which, Shakspeare has peopled Rome with modern
Italians; Philario, Iachimo, &c. Cymbeline is said to have
reigned thirty-five years, leaving at his death two sons, Guiderius
and Arviragus.
Malone.
An ancient translation, or rather a deformed and interpolated
imitation, of the ninth novel of the second day of the Dacameron
-- 3 --
of Boccacio, has recently occurred. The title and colophon of
this rare piece, are as follows:
“This mater treateth of a mercha&ubar;tes wyfe that afterwarde went
lyke a m&abar; and becam a great lorde and was called Frederyke of
Jennen afterwarde.”
“Thus endeth this lytell story of lorde Frederyke. Impr&ybar;ted
ï Anwarpe by me John Dusborowhge, dwellynge besyde ye, Camer
porte in the yere of our lorde god a. M.CCCCC. and xviij.”
This novel exhibits the material features of its original; though
the names of the characters are changed, their sentiments debased,
and their conduct rendered still more improbable than in the
scenes before us. John of Florence is the Ambrogiulo, Ambrosius
of Jennens the Bernabo of the story. Of the translator's elegance
of imagination, and felicity of expression, the two following instances
may be sufficient. He has converted the picturesque mole
under the left breast of the lady, into a black wart on her left
arm; and when at last, in a male habit, she discovers her sex, instead
of displaying her bosom only, he obliges her to appear before
the King and his whole court completely “naked, save that she
had a karcher of sylke before hyr members.”—The whole work is
illustrated with wooden cuts representing every scene throughout
the narrative.
I know not that any advantage is gained by the discovery of
this antiquated piece, unless it serves to strengthen our belief that
some more faithful translation had furnished Shakspeare with incidents
which, in their original Italian, to him at least were inaccessible.
Steevens.
-- 4 --
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
Cymbeline, King of Britain.
Cloten, Son to the Queen by a former Husband.
Leonatus Posthumus [Posthumus Leonatus], a Gentleman, Husband to Imogen.
Belarius, a banished Lord, disguised under the Name of Morgan.
Guiderius, a Son to Cymbeline, disguised under the Name of Polydore, a supposed Son to Belarius.
Arviragus, a Son to Cymbeline, disguised under the Name of Cadwal, a supposed Son to Belarius.
Philario, Friend to Posthumus, an Italian.
Iachimo, Friend to Philario, an Italian.
A French Gentleman, Friend to Philario.
Caius Lucius, General of the Roman Forces.
A Roman Captain.
Two British Captains [Captain 1], [Captain 2].
Pisanio, Servant to Posthumus.
Cornelius, a Physician.
Two Gentlemen [Gentleman 1], [Gentleman 2].
Two Gaolers [Gaoler 1], [Gaoler 2].
Queen, Wife to Cymbeline.
Imogen, Daughter to Cymbeline by a former Queen.
Helen, Woman to Imogen.
Lords, Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes, Apparitions, a Soothsayer, a Dutch Gentleman, a Spanish Gentleman,
Musicians, Officers, Captains, Soldiers, Messengers, and other Attendants.
[Lord 1], [Lord 2], [Lord], [Lady], [Lady 1], [Messenger], [Attendant], [Senator 1], [Senator 2],
[Tribune], [Appariton of Sicilius Leonatus], [Apparition of Posthumus's Mother], [Apparition of Brother to Posthumus 1],
[Apparition of Brother to Posthumus 2], [Apparition of Jupiter]
SCENE, sometimes in Britain; sometimes in Italy.
-- 5 --
CYMBELINE.
ACT I.
SCENE I.
Britain. The Garden behind Cymbeline's Palace.
Enter Two Gentlemen.
1 Gent.
You do not meet a man, but frowns: our bloods
No more obey the heavens, than our courtiers
Still seem, as does the king's1 note
.
-- 6 --
2 Gent.
But what's the matter?
1 Gent.
His daughter, and the heir of his kingdom, whom
-- 7 --
He purpos'd to his wife's sole son, (a widow,
That late he married,) hath referr'd herself
Unto a poor but worthy gentleman: She's wedded;
Her husband banish'd; she imprison'd: all
Is outward sorrow2 note
; though, I think, the king
Be touch'd at very heart.
2 Gent.
None but the king?
1 Gent.
He, that hath lost her, too: so is the queen,
That most desir'd the match: But not a courtier,
Although they wear their faces to the bent
Of the king's looks, hath a heart that is not
Glad at the thing they scowl at.
2 Gent.
And why so?
1 Gent.
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
-- 8 --
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.
2 Gent.
You speak him far3 note
.
1 Gent.
I do extend him, sir, within himself4 note
;
Crush him5 note
together, rather than unfold
His measure duly.
2 Gent.
What's his name, and birth?
1 Gent.
I cannot delve him to the root: His father
Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour,
Against the Romans, with Cassibelan6 note
;
-- 9 --
But had his titles by Tenantius7 note
, whom
He serv'd with glory and admir'd success:
So gain'd the sur-addition, Leonatus:
And had, besides this gentleman in question,
Two other sons, who, in the wars o' 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, deceas'd
As he was born. The king, he takes the babe
To his protection; calls him Posthumus8 note;
Breeds him, and makes him of his bed-chamber:
Puts him to all the learnings that his time
-- 10 --
Could make him the receiver of; which he took,
As we do air, fast as 'twas minister'd; and
In his spring became a harvest: Liv'd in court,
(Which rare it is to do,) most prais'd, most lov'd9 note
:
A sample to the youngest; to the more mature,
A glass that feated them1 note
; and to the graver,
A child that guided dotards: to his mistress2 note,
-- 11 --
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.
2 Gent.
I honour him
Even out of your report. But, 'pray you, tell me,
Is she sole child to the king?
1 Gent.
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 stolen; and to this hour, no guess in knowledge
Which way they went.
2 Gent.
How long is this ago?
1 Gent.
Some twenty years.
2 Gent.
That a king's children should be so convey'd!
So slackly guarded! And the search so slow,
That could not trace them!
1 Gent.
Howsoe'er 'tis strange,
Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at,
Yet is it true, sir.
2 Gent.
I do well believe you.
1 Gent.
We must forbear: Here comes the queen, and princess.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
The Same.
Enter the Queen, Posthumus, and Imogen3 note.
Queen.
No, be assur'd, you shall not find me, daughter,
-- 12 --
After the slander of most step-mothers,
Evil-ey'd unto you: you are my prisoner, but
Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys
That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthúmus,
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.
Post.
Please your highness,
I will from hence to-day.
Queen.
You know the peril:—
I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying
The pangs of barr'd affections; though the king
Hath charg'd you should not speak together.
[Exit Queen.
Imo.
O
Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant
Can tickle where she wounds!—My dearest husband,
I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing,
(Always reserv'd my holy duty4 note,) 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.
Post.
My queen! my mistress!
O, lady, weep no more; lest I give cause
-- 13 --
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 gall5 note
.
Re-enter Queen.
Queen.
Be brief, I pray you:
If the king come, I shall incur I know not
How much of his displeasure:—Yet I'll move him
[Aside.
To walk this way: I never do him wrong,
But he does buy my injuries, to be friends6 note;
Pays dear for my offences.
[Exit.
Post.
Should we be taking leave
As long a term as yet we have to live,
The loathness to depart would grow: Adieu!
Imo.
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.
Post.
How! how! another?—
-- 14 --
You gentle gods, give me but this I have,
And sear up my embracements from a next
With bonds of death6 note
!—Remain, remain thou here
[Putting on the Ring.
While sense can keep it on7 note
? And sweetest, fairest,
-- 15 --
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 manacle8 note of love; I'll place it
Upon this fairest prisoner.
[Putting a Bracelet on her Arm.
Imo.
O, the gods!
When shall we see again?
Enter Cymbeline and Lords.
Post.
Alack, the king!
Cym.
Thou basest thing, avoid! hence, from my sight!
If, after this command, thou fraught the court
With thy unworthiness, thou diest: Away!
Thou art poison to my blood.
Post.
The gods protect you!
And bless the good remainders of the court!
I am gone.
[Exit.
Imo.
There cannot be a pinch in death
More sharp than this is9 note
.
-- 16 --
Cym.
O disloyal thing,
That should'st repair my youth1 note
; thou heapest
A year's age on me2 note
!
Imo.
I beseech you, sir,
Harm not yourself with your vexation;
I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare
Subdues all pangs, all fears3 note
.
-- 17 --
Cym.
Past grace? obedience?
Imo.
Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace.
Cym.
That might'st have had the sole son of my queen!
Imo.
O bless'd, that I might not! I chose an eagle,
And did avoid a puttock4 note
.
Cym.
Thou took'st a beggar; would'st have made my throne
A seat for baseness.
Imo.
No; I rather added
A lustre to it.
Cym.
O thou vile one!
Imo.
Sir,
It is your fault that I have lov'd Posthumus:
You bred him as my play-fellow; and he is
-- 18 --
A man, worth any woman; overbuys me
Almost the sum he pays5 note
.
Cym.
What!—art thou mad!
Imo.
Almost, sir: Heaven restore me!—'Would I were
A neat-herd's daughter! and my Leonatus
Our neighbour shepherd's son!
Re-enter Queen.
Cym.
Thou foolish thing!—
They were again together: you have done
[To the Queen.
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 advice6 note
.
Cym.
Nay, let her languish
A drop of blood a day7 note
; and, being aged,
Die of this folly!
[Exit.
-- 19 --
Enter Pisanio.
Queen.
Fye!—you must give way:
Here is your servant.—How now, sir? What news?
Pis.
My lord your son drew on my master.
Queen.
Ha!
No harm, I trust, is done?
Pis.
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.
Imo.
Your son's my father's friend; he takes his part.—
To draw upon an exile!—O brave sir!—
I would they were in Africk both together;
Myself by with a needle, that I might prick
The goer back.—Why came you from your master?
Pis.
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 it pleas'd you to employ me.
Queen.
This hath been
Your faithful servant: I dare lay mine honour,
He will remain so.
Pis.
I humbly thank your highness.
Queen.
Pray, walk a while.
Imo.
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.
-- 20 --
SCENE III.
A Publick Place.
Enter Cloten, and Two Lords.
1 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.
Clo.
If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it—
Have I hurt him?
2 Lord.
No, faith; not so much as his patience.
[Aside.
1 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.
2 Lord.
His steel was in debt; it went o' the
backside the town.
[Aside.
Clo.
The villain would not stand me.
2 Lord.
No; but he fled forward still, toward
your face8 note
.
[Aside.
1 Lord.
Stand you! You have land enough of
your own: but he added to your having; gave you
some ground.
2 Lord.
As many inches as you have oceans:
Puppies!
[Aside.
Clo.
I would, they had not come between us.
2 Lord.
So would I, till you had measured how
long a fool you were upon the ground.
[Aside.
Clo.
And that she should love this fellow, and
refuse me!
-- 21 --
2 Lord.
If it be a sin to make a true election,
she is damned.
[Aside.
1 Lord.
Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and
her brain go not together9 note
: She's a good sign, but
I have seen small reflection of her wit1 note
.
2 Lord.
She shines not upon fools, lest the reflection
should hurt her.
[Aside.
Clo.
Come, I'll to my chamber: 'Would there
had been some hurt done!
2 Lord.
I wish not so; unless it had been the
fall of an ass, which is no great hurt.
[Aside.
Clo.
You'll go with us?
1 Lord.
I'll attend your lordship.
Clo.
Nay, come, let's go together.
2 Lord.
Well, my lord.
[Exuent.
-- 22 --
SCENE IV.
A Room in Cymbeline's Palace.
Enter Imogen and Pisanio.
Imo.
I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' the haven,
And question'dst every sail: if he should write,
And I not have it, 'twere a paper lost,
As offer'd mercy is2 note
. What was the last
That he spake to thee?
Pis.
'Twas, His queen, his queen!
Imo.
Then wav'd his handkerchief?
Pis.
And kiss'd it, madam.
Imo.
Senseless linen! happier therein than I!—
And that was all?
Pis.
No, madam; for so long
As he could make me with this eye or ear3 note
-- 23 --
Distinguish him from others, he did keep
The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief,
Still waving, as the fits and stirs of his mind
Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on,
How swift his ship.
Imo.
Thou should'st have made him
As little as a crow, or less4 note
, ere left
To after-eye him.
Pis.
Madam, so I did.
Imo.
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 needle5 note
:
Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from
The smallness of a gnat to air; and then
-- 24 --
Have turn'd mine eye, and wept.—But, good Pisanio,
When shall we hear from him?
Pis.
Be assur'd, madam,
With his next vantage6 note
.
Imo.
I did not take my leave of him, but had
Most pretty things to say: ere I could tell him,
How I would think on him, at certain hours,
Such thoughts, and such; or I could make him swear
The shes of Italy should not betray
Mine interest, and his honour; or have charg'd him,
At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight,
To encounter me with orisons7 note
, for then
I am in heaven for him8 note; or ere I could
Give him that parting kiss, which I had set
Betwixt two charming words9 note
, comes in my father,
And, like the tyrannous breathing of the north,
Shakes all our buds from growing1 note
.
-- 25 --
Enter a Lady.
Lady.
The queen, madam,
Desires your highness' company.
Imo.
Those things I bid you do, get them despatch'd.—
I will attend the queen.
Pis.
Madam, I shall.
[Exeunt.
-- 26 --
SCENE V.
Rome. An Apartment in Philario's House.
Enter Philario, Iachimo2 note, a Frenchman, a Dutchman, and a Spaniard3 note
.
Iach.
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.
Phi.
You speak of him when he was less furnished,
than now he is, with that which makes
him4 note
both without and within.
French.
I have seen him in France: we had very
many there, could behold the sun with as firm eyes
as he.
Iach.
This matter of marrying his king's daughter,
(wherein he must be weighed rather by her
-- 27 --
value, than his own,) words him, I doubt not, a
great deal from the matter5 note.
French.
And then his banishment:—
Iach.
Ay, and the approbation of those, that
weep this lamentable divorce, under her colours6 note,
are wonderfully to extend him7 note
; be it but to fortify
her judgment, which else an easy battery might
lay flat, for taking a beggar without less quality8 note
.
-- 28 --
But how comes it, he is to sojourn with you? How
creeps acquaintance?
Phi.
His father and I were soldiers together; to
whom I have been often bound for no less than my
life:—
Enter Posthumus.
Here comes the Briton: Let him be so entertained
amongst you, as suits, with gentlemen of your
knowing, to a stranger of his quality.—I beseech
you all, be better known to this gentleman; whom
I commend to you, as a noble friend of mine:
How worthy he is, I will leave to appear hereafter,
rather than story him in his own hearing.
French.
Sir, we have known together in Orleans.
Post.
Since when I have been debtor to you for
courtesies, which I will be ever to pay, and yet pay
still9 note
.
French.
Sir, you o'er-rate my poor kindness: I
was glad I did atone my countryman and you1 note
; it
-- 29 --
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 nature2 note
.
Post.
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' experiences3 note
: but, upon my mended judgment,
(if I offend not* note to say it is mended,) my
quarrel was not altogether slight.
French.
'Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement
of swords; and by such two, that would, by
all likelihood, have confounded one the other4 note
, or
have fallen both.
Iach.
Can we, with manners, ask what was the
difference?
French.
Safely, I think: 'twas a contention in
-- 30 --
publick, which may, without contradiction5 note, 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 attemptible, than any the
rarest of our ladies in France.
Iach.
That lady is not now living; or this gentleman's
opinion, by this, worn out.
Post.
She holds her virtue still, and I my mind.
Iach.
You must not so far prefer her 'fore ours
of Italy.
Post.
Being so far provoked as I was in France,
I would abate her nothing; though I profess myself
her adorer, not her friend6 note
.
-- 31 --
Iach.
As fair, and as good, (a kind of hand-in-hand
comparison,) had been something too fair,
and too good, for any lady in Britany. If she went
before others I have seen, as that diamond of yours
out-lustres 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 lady7 note
10Q0020.
-- 32 --
Post.
I praised her as I rated her: so do I my
stone.
Iach.
What do you esteem it at?
Post.
More than the world enjoys.
Iach.
Either your unparagoned mistress is dead,
or she's outprized by a trifle.
Post.
You are mistaken: the one may be sold, or
given; if there were8 note 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.
Iach.
Which the gods have given you?
Post.
Which, by their graces, I will keep.
Iach.
You may wear her in title yours: but, you
know, strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds.
Your ring may be stolen too: so, of* note your brace of
unprizeable 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.
Post.
Your Italy contains none so accomplished
a courtier, to convince the honour of my mistress9 note
;
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.
-- 33 --
Phi.
Let us leave here, gentlemen.
Post.
Sir, with all my heart. This worthy
signior, I thank him, makes no stranger of me; we
are familiar at first.
Iach.
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.
Post.
No, no.
Iach.
I dare, thereon, 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.
Post.
You are a great deal abused1 note
in too bold
a persuasion; and I doubt not you sustain what you're
worthy of, by your attempt.
Iach.
What's that?
Post.
A repulse: Though your attempt, as you
call it, deserve more; a punishment too.
Phi.
Gentlemen, enough of this: it came in too
suddenly; let it die as it was born, and, I pray
you, be better acquainted.
Iach.
'Would I had put my estate, and my
neighbour's, on the approbation2 note
of what I have
spoke.
Post.
What lady would you choose to assail?
Iach.
Your's; whom in constancy, you think,
-- 34 --
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.
Post.
I will wage against your gold, gold to it:
my ring I hold dear as my finger; 'tis part of it.
Iach.
You are a friend, and therein the wiser3 note
.
-- 35 --
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.
Post.
This is but a custom in your tongue; you
bear a graver purpose, I hope.
Iach.
I am the master of my speeches4 note; and
would undergo what's spoken, I swear.
Post.
Will you?—I shall but lend my diamond
till your return:—Let there be covenants drawn between
us: My mistress exceeds in goodness the
hugeness of your unworthy thinking: I dare you to
this match: here's my ring.
Phi.
I will have it no lay.
Iach.
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.
Post.
I embrace these conditions5 note
; let us have
-- 36 --
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.
Iach.
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.
Post.
Agreed.
[Exeunt Posthumus and Iachimo.
French.
Will this hold, think you?
Phi.
Signior Iachimo will not from it. Pray, let
us follow 'em.
[Exeunt.
-- 37 --
SCENE VI.
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?
1 Lady.
I, madam.
Queen.
Despatch.—
[Exeunt Ladies.
Now, master doctor; have you brought those drugs?
Cor.
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 these most poisonous compounds,
Which are the movers of a languishing death;
But, though slow, deadly?
Queen.
I wonder, doctor6 note,
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 conclusions7 note
? I will try the forces
-- 38 --
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.
Cor.
Your highness
Shall from this practice but make hard your heart8 note
:
Besides, the seeing these effects will be
Both noisome and infectious.
Queen.
O, content thee.—
Enter Pisanio.
Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him
[Aside.
Will I first work: he's for his master,
And enemy to my son.—How now, Pisanio?—
Doctor, your service for this time is ended;
Take your own way.
Cor.
I do suspect you, madam;
But you shall do no harm.
[Aside.
Queen.
Hark thee, a word.—
[To Pisanio.
Cor. [Aside.]
I do not like her9 note
. She doth think, she has
-- 39 --
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 stupify 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 time1 note,
To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool'd
With a most false effect; and I the truer,
So to be false with her2 note
.
Queen.
No further service, doctor,
Until I send for thee.
Cor.
I humbly take my leave.
[Exit.
Queen.
Weeps she still, say'st thou? Dost thou think, in time
She will not quench3 note; 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
-- 40 --
Is at last gasp: Return he cannot, nor
Continue where he is: to shift his being5 note,
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 leans6 note?
Who cannot be new built; nor has no friends,
[The Queen drops a box: Pisanio takes it up.
So much as but to prop him?—Thou tak'st up
Thou know'st not what; but take it for thy labour:
It is a thing I made, which hath the king
Five times redeem'd from death: I do not know
What is more cordial:—Nay, I pr'ythee, 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 on7 note
; 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 Pisa.]—A sly and constant knave;
-- 41 --
Not to be shak'd: the agent for his master;
And the remembrancer of her, to hold
The hand-fast to her lord.—I have given him that,
Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her
Of liegers for her sweet8 note
; and which she, after,
Except she bend her humour, shall be assur'd
Re-enter Pisanio, and Ladies.
To taste of too.—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.
Pis.
And shall do9 note:
But when to my good lord I prove untrue,
I'll choke myself: there's all I'll do for you.
[Exit.
SCENE VII.
Another Room in the Same.
Enter Imogen.
Imo.
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 grief1 note
! and those repeated
-- 42 --
Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stolen,
As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable
Is the desire that's glorious2 note
: Blessed be those,
How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills,
Which seasons comfort3 note
.—Who may this be? Fye!
-- 43 --
Enter Pisanio and Iachimo.
Pis.
Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome;
Comes from my lord with letters.
-- 44 --
Iach.
Change you, madam?
The worthy Leonatus is in safety,
And greets your highness dearly.
[Presents a letter.
Imo.
Thanks, good sir:
You are kindly welcome.
Iach.
All of her, that is out of door, most rich!
[Aside.
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.
Imo. [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—
Leonatus4 note
.
-- 45 --
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
-- 46 --
Have words to bid you; and shall find it so,
In all that I can do.
Iach.
Thanks, fairest lady.—
What! are men mad? Hath nature given them eyes
To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop
Of sea and land5 note
, which can distinguish 'twixt
The fiery orbs above, and the twinn'd stones
Upon the number'd beach6 note
? and can we not
-- 47 --
Partition make with spectacles so precious
'Twixt fair and foul?
Imo.
What makes your admiration?
Iach.
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 oppos'd,
Should make desire vomit emptiness,
Not so allur'd to feed7 note
.
-- 48 --
Imo.
What is the matter, trow?
Iach.
The cloyed will8 note
,
(That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub
-- 49 --
Both fill'd and running,) ravening first the lamb,
Longs after for the garbage.
Imo.
What, dear sir,
Thus raps you? Are you well?
Iach.
Thanks, madam; well:—Beseech, you, sir, desire
[To Pisanio.
My man's abode where I did leave him: he
Is strange and peevish9 note
.
-- 50 --
Pis.
I was going, sir,
To give him welcome.
[Exit Pisanio.
Imo.
Continues well my lord? His health, 'beseech you?
Iach.
Well, madam.
Imo.
Is he dispos'd to mirth? I hope, he is.
Iach.
Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there
So merry and so gamesome: he is call'd
The Briton reveller1 note
.
Imo.
When he was here,
He did incline to sadness; and oft-times
Not knowing why.
Iach.
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 him2 note
; whiles the jolly Briton
(Your lord, I mean,) laughs from's free lungs, cries, O!
Can my sides hold3 note
, to think, that man,—who knows
-- 51 --
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?
Imo.
Will my lord say so?
Iach.
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.
Imo.
Not he, I hope.
Iach.
Not he: But yet heaven's bounty towards him might
Be us'd more thankfully. In himself, 'tis much4 note
In you,—which I account5 note his, beyond all talents,—
Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound
To pity too
Imo.
What do you pity, sir?
Iach.
Two creatures, heartily.
Imo.
Am I one, sir?
You look on me; What wreck discern you in me,
Deserves your pity?
Iach.
Lamentable! What!
To hide me from the radiant sun, and solace
I' the dungeon by a snuff?
Imo.
I pray you, sir,
Deliver with more openness your answers
To my demands. Why do you pity me?
Iach.
That others do,
-- 52 --
I was about to say, enjoy your &lblank; But
It is an office of the gods to venge it,
Not mine to speak on't.
Imo.
You do seem to know
Something of me, or what concerns me; 'Pray you,
(Since doubting things go ill, often hurts more
Than to be sure they do: For certainties
Either are past remedies; or, timely knowing6 note
,
The remedy then born7 note
,) discover to me
What both you spur and stop8 note
.
Iach.
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 loyalty9 note
; this object, which
-- 53 --
Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,
Fixing it only here1 note: should I (damn'd then,)
Slaver with lips as common as the stairs
That mount the Capitol2 note
; join gripes with hands
Made hard with hourly falsehood (falsehood, as
With labour;) then lie peeping in an eye3 note
,
Base and unlustrous4 note
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.
-- 54 --
Imo.
My lord, I fear,
Has forgot Britain.
Iach.
And himself. Not I,
Inclin'd to this intelligence, pronounce
The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces
That, from my mutest conscience, to my tongue,
Charms this report out.
Imo.
Let me hear no more.
Iach.
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 empery5 note
,
Would make the great'st king double! to be partner'd
With tomboys6 note
, hir'd with that self-exhibition7 note
-- 55 --
Which your own coffers yield! with diseas'd ventures,
That play with all infirmities for gold
Which rottenness can lend nature! such boil'd stuff8 note
,
As well might poison poison! Be reveng'd;
Or she, that bore you, was no queen, and you
Recoil from your great stock.
Imo.
Reveng'd!
How should I be reveng'd? If this be true,
(As I have such a heart, that both mine ears
Must not in haste abuse,) if it be true,
How should I be reveng'd?
-- 56 --
Iach.
Should he make me
Live like Diana's priest, betwixt cold sheets9 note
;
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.
Imo.
What ho, Pisanio!
Iach.
Let me my service tender on your lips1 note
.
Imo.
Away!—I do condemn mine ears, that have
So long attended thee.—If thou wert honourable,
Thou would'st 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 stew2 note
, and to expound
-- 57 --
His beastly mind to us; he hath a court
He little cares for, and a daughter whom3 note
He not respects at all.—What ho, Pisanio!—
Iach.
O happy Leonatus! I may say;
The credit, that thy lady hath of thee,
Deserves thy trust; and thy most perfect goodness
Her assur'd credit!—Blessed live you long!
A lady to the worthiest sir, that ever
Country call'd his! and you his mistress, only
For the most worthiest fit! Give me your pardon.
I have spoke this, to know if your affiance
Were deeply rooted; and shall make your lord,
That which he is, new o'er: And he is one
The truest manner'd; such a holy witch,
That he enchants societies unto him4 note
:
Half all men's hearts are his.
Imo.
You make amends.
Iach.
He sits 'mongst men, like a descended god5 note
:
-- 58 --
He hath a kind of honour sets him off,
More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry,
Most mighty princess, that I have adventur'd
To try your taking of a6 note
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.
Imo.
All's well, sir: Take my power i' the court for yours.
Iach.
My humble thanks. I had almost forgot
To entreat your grace but in a small request,
And yet of moment too, for it concerns
Your lord; myself, and other noble friends,
Are partners in the business.
Imo.
Pray, what is't?
Iach.
Some dozen Romans of us, and your lord,
(The best feather of our wing7 note
) 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 strange8 note,
-- 59 --
To have them in safe stowage; May it please you
To take them in protection?
Imo.
Willingly;
And pawn mine honour for their safety; since
My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them
In my bed chamber.
Iach.
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.
Imo.
O, no, no.
Iach.
Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my word,
By length'ning my return. From Gallia
I cross'd the seas on purpose, and on promise
To see your grace.
Imo.
I thank you for your pains;
But not away to-morrow?
Iach.
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.
Imo.
I will write.
Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept,
And truly yielded you: You are very welcome.
[Exeunt.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
Court before Cymbeline's Palace.
Enter Cloten, and Two Lords.
Clo.
Was there ever man had such luck! when
I kissed the jack upon an up-cast9 note
, to be hit away!
-- 60 --
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.
1 Lord.
What got he by that? You have broke
his pate with your bowl.
2 Lord.
If his wit had been like him that broke
it, it would have run all out.
[Aside.
Clo.
When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it
is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths: Ha?
2 Lord.
No, my lord; nor [Aside.] crop the ears
of them1 note
.
Clo.
Whoreson dog!—I give him satisfaction2 note
?
'Would, he had been one of my rank!
2 Lord.
To have smelt3 note
like a fool.
[Aside.
Clo.
I am not more vexed 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
belly full of fighting, and I must go up and down
like a cock that no body can match.
2 Lord.
You are a cock and capon too; and you
crow, cock, with your comb on4 note
.
[Aside.
-- 61 --
Clo.
Sayest thou?
1 Lord.
It is not fit, your lordship should undertake
every companion5 note
that you give offence to.
Clo.
No, I know that: but it is fit, I should
commit offence to my inferiors.
2 Lord.
Ay, it is fit for your lordship only.
Clo.
Why, so I say.
1 Lord.
Did you hear of a stranger, that's come
to court to-night?
Clo.
A stranger! and I not know on't!
2 Lord.
He's a strange fellow himself, and knows
it not.
[Aside.
1 Lord.
There's an Italian come; and, 'tis
thought, one of Leonatus' friends.
Clo.
Leonatus! a banished rascal; and he's
another, whatsoever he be. Who told you of this
stranger?
1 Lord.
One of your lordship's pages.
Clo.
Is it fit, I went to look upon him? Is there
no derogation in't?
1 Lord.
You cannot derogate, my lord.
Clo.
Not easily, I think.
2 Lord.
You are a fool granted; therefore your
issues being foolish, do not derogate.
[Aside.
Clo.
Come, I'll go see this Italian: What I have
lost to-day at bowls, I'll win to-night of him.
Come, go.
2 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
-- 62 --
Bears all down with her brain; and this her son
Cannot take two from twenty for his heart,
And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess,
Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'st!
Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern'd;
A mother hourly coining plots; a wooer,
More hateful than the foul expulsion is
Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act
Of the divorce he'd make! The heavens hold firm
The walls of thy dear honour; keep unshak'd
That temple, thy fair mind; that thou may'st stand,
To enjoy thy banish'd lord, and this great land!
[Exit.
SCENE II.
A Bed-chamber; in one Part of it a Trunk.
Imogen reading in her Bed; a Lady attending.
Imo.
Who's there? my woman Helen?
Lady.
Please you, madam.
Imo.
What hour is it?
Lady.
Almost midnight, madam.
Imo.
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 pr'ythee, call me. Sleep hath seiz'd me wholly.
[Exit Lady.
To your protection I commend me, gods!
From fairies, and the tempters of the night6 note
,
Guard me, beseech ye!
[Sleeps. Iachimo, from the Trunk.
-- 63 --
Iach.
The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd sense
Repairs itself by rest: Our Tarquin7 note thus
Did softly press the rushes8 note
, ere he waken'd
The chastity he wounded.—Cytherea,
How bravely thou becom'st thy bed! fresh lily9 note
!
-- 64 --
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 thus1 note
: The flame o' the taper
Bows toward her; and would under-peep her lids,
To see the enclosed lights, now canopied2 note
Under these windows3 note
: White and azure, lac'd
With blue of heaven's own tinct4 note
.—But my design.
-- 65 --
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 such5 note
:—And the contents o' the story,—
-- 66 --
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 lying6 note
!—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-spotted7 note
, like the crimson drops
-- 67 --
I' the bottom of a cowslip8 note
: 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 rivetted,
Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late
The tale of Tereus9 note
; 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 night1 note
!—that dawning
May bare the raven's eye2 note
: I lodge in fear;
-- 68 --
Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here.
[Clock strikes.
One, two, three3 note,—Time, time!
[Goes into the Trunk. The Scene closes.
SCENE III.
An Ante-Chamber adjoining Imogen's Apartment.
Enter Cloten and Lords.
1 Lord.
Your lordship is the most patient man
in loss, the most coldest that ever turned up ace.
Clo.
It would make any man cold to lose.
1 Lord.
But not every man patient, after the
noble temper of your lordship; You are most hot,
and furious, when you win.
Clo.
Winning would put any man into courage:
If I could get this foolish Imogen, I should have
gold enough: It's almost morning, is't not?
1 Lord.
Day, my lord.
Clo.
I would this musick would come: I am advised
to give her musick o' mornings; they say, it
will penetrate.
-- 69 --
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 sings4 note
,
And Phœbus 'gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chalic'd flowers that lies5 note
;
-- 70 --
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes6 note
;
With every thing that pretty bin7 note
:
My lady sweet, arise;
Arise, arise.
-- 71 --
So, get you gone: If this penetrate, I will consider
your musick the better8 note: if it do not, it is a vice
-- 72 --
in her ears, which horse-hairs, and cats-guts9 note
, nor
the voice of unpaved eunuch to boot, can never
amend.
[Exeunt Musicians.
Enter Cymbeline and Queen.
2 Lord.
Here comes the king.
Clo.
I am glad, I was up so late; for that's the
reason I was up so early: He cannot choose but
take this service I have done, fatherly.—Good
morrow to your majesty, and to my gracious mother.
Cym.
Attend you here the door of our stern daughter?
Will she not forth?
Clo.
I have assailed her with musick, but she
vouchsafes no notice.
Cym.
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;
-- 73 --
Who lets go by no vantages, that may
Prefer you to his daughter: Frame yourself
To orderly solicits1 note
; and be friended2 note
With aptness of the season: make denials
Increase your services: so seem, as if
You were inspir'd to do those duties which
You tender to her; that you in all obey her,
Save when command to your dismission tends,
And therein you are senseless.
Clo.
Senseless? not so.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess.
So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome;
The one is Caius Lucius.
Cym.
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 notice3 note
.—Our dear son,
When you have given good morning to your mistress,
-- 74 --
Attend the queen, and us; we shall have need
To employ you towards this Roman.—Come, our queen.
[Exeunt Cym. Queen, Lords, and Mess.
Clo.
If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not,
Let her lie still, and dream.—By your leave ho!—
[Knocks.
I know her women are about her; What
If I do line one of their hands? 'Tis gold
Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and makes
Diana's rangers false themselves4 note
, yield up
Their deer to the stand of 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.
By your leave.
[Knocks.
Enter a Lady.
Lady.
Who's there, that knocks?
Clo.
A gentleman.
Lady.
No more?
Clo.
Yes, and a gentlewoman's son.
Lady.
That's more
-- 75 --
Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours,
Can justly boast of: What's your lordship's pleasure?
Clo.
Your lady's person: Is she ready?
Lady.
Ay,
To keep her chamber.
Clo.
There's 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 &lblank;
Enter Imogen.
Clo.
Good morrow, fairest: sister your sweet hand.
Imo.
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.
Clo.
Still, I swear, I love you.
Imo.
If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me:
If you swear still, your recompense is still
That I regard it not.
Clo.
This is no answer.
Imo.
But that you shall not say I yield, being silent,
I would not speak. I pray you, spare me: i' faith,
I shall unfold equal discourtesy
To your best kindness; one of your great knowing
Should learn, being taught, forbearance5 note
.
Clo.
To leave you in your madness, 'twere my sin:
I will not.
-- 76 --
Imo.
Fools are not mad folks6 note.
Clo.
Do you call me fool?
Imo.
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 verbal7 note: 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.
Clo.
You sin against
Obedience, which you owe your father. For
The contract8 note
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-figur'd knot9 note
;
-- 77 --
Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by
The consequence o' the crown; and must not soil1 note
The precious note of it with a base slave,
A hilding for a livery2 note, a squire's cloth,
A pantler, not so eminent.
Imo.
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 virtues3 note
, to be styl'd
The under-hangman of his kingdom; and hated
For being preferr'd so well.
Clo.
The south-fog rot him!
Imo.
He never can meet more mischance, than come
To be but nam'd 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, Pisanio4 note
?
Enter Pisanio.
Clo.
His garment? Now, the devil—
Imo.
To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently:—
Clo.
His garment?
-- 78 --
Imo.
I am sprighted with a fool5 note
;
Frighted, and anger'd worse:—Go, bid my woman
Search for a jewel, that too casually
Hath left mine arm6 note
; 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 it7 note
:
I hope, it be not gone, to tell my lord
That I kiss aught but he.
Pis.
'Twill not be lost.
Imo.
I hope so: go, and search.
[Exit Pis.
Clo.
You have abus'd me:—
His meanest garment?
Imo.
Ay; I said so, sir.
If you will make't an action, call witness to't8 note.
Clo.
I will inform your father.
Imo.
Your mother too:
She's my good lady9 note; and will conceive, I hope,
-- 79 --
But the worst of me. So I leave you, sir,
To the worst of discontent.
[Exit.
Clo.
I'll be reveng'd:—
His meanest garment?—Well.
[Exit.
SCENE IV.
Rome. An Apartment in Philario's House.
Enter Posthumus and Philario.
Post.
Fear it not, sir: I would, I were so sure
To win the king, as I am bold, her honour
Will remain hers.
Phi.
What means do you make to him?
Post.
Not any; but abide the change of time;
Quake in the present winter's state, and wish
That warmer days would come1 note
: In these fear'd hopes,
I barely gratify your love; they failing,
I must die much your debtor.
Phi.
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 his commission throughly: And, I think,
He'll grant the tribute2 note, send the arrearages,
Or look3 note
upon our Romans, whose remembrance
Is yet fresh in their grief.
-- 80 --
Post.
I do believe,
(Statist4 note though I am none, nor like to be,)
That this will prove a war; and you shall hear
The legions5 note
, 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 Cæsar
Smil'd at their lack of skill, but found their courage
Worthy his frowning at: Their discipline
(Now mingled with their courages6 note
) will make known
To their approvers7 note, they are people, such
That mend upon the world.
-- 81 --
Enter Iachimo.
Phi.
See! Iachimo?
Post.
The swiftest harts have posted you by land:
And winds of all the corners kiss'd your sails,
To make your vessel nimble8 note
.
Phi.
Welcome, sir.
Post.
I hope, the briefness of your answer made
The speediness of your return.
Iach.
Your lady
Is one of the fairest that I have look'd upon9 note
.
Post.
And, therewithal, the best; or let her beauty
Look through a casement to allure false hearts1 note
,
And be false with them.
Iach.
Here are letters for you.
Post.
Their tenour good, I trust.
Iach.
'Tis very like.
Phi.
Was Caius Lucius2 note in the Britain court,
When you were there?
-- 82 --
Iach.
He was expected then,
But not approach'd3 note
.
Post.
All is well yet.—
Sparkles this stone as it was wont? or is't not
Too dull for your good wearing?
Iach.
If I have 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.
Post.
The stone's too hard to come by.
Iach.
Not a whit,
Your lady being so easy.
Post.
Make not, sir,
Your loss your sport: I hope, you know that we
Must not continue friends.
Iach.
Good sir, we must,
If you keep covenant: Had I not brought
The knowledge4 note 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.
Post.
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.
Iach.
Sir, my circumstances,
-- 83 --
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.
Post.
Proceed.
Iach.
First, her bed-chamber,
(Where, I confess, I slept not; but, profess,
Had that was well worth watching5 note,) It was hang'd
With tapestry of silk and silver; the story
Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman,
And Cydnus swell'd above the banks, or for
The press of boats, or pride6 note
: 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 &lblank;7 note
Post.
This is true8 note
;
-- 84 --
And this you might have heard of here, by me,
Or by some other.
Iach.
More particulars
Must justify my knowledge.
Post.
So they must,
Or do your honour injury.
Iach.
The chimney
Is south the chamber; and the chimney-piece,
Chaste Dian, bathing: never saw I figures
So likely to report themselves9 note: the cutter
Was as another nature, dumb1 note; outwent her,
Motion and breath left out.
Post.
This is a thing,
Which you might from relation likewise reap;
Being, as it is, much spoke of.
Iach.
The roof o' the chamber
With golden cherubins is fretted2 note
: Her andirons
(I had forgot them,) were two winking Cupids
-- 85 --
Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely
Depending on their brands3 note
.
Post.
This is her honour4 note
!—
Let it be granted5 note
, 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.
Iach.
Then, if you can,
[Pulling out the Bracelet.
-- 86 --
Be pale6 note
; 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.
Post.
Jove!—
Once more let me behold it: Is it that
Which I left with her?
Iach.
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 too7 note: She gave it me, and said,
She priz'd it once.
Post.
May be, she pluck'd it off,
To send it me.
Iach.
She writes so to you? doth she?
Post.
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 women8 note
Of no more bondage be, to where they are made,
-- 87 --
Than they are to their virtues; which is nothing:—
O, above measure false!
Phi.
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 women9 note, being corrupted,
Hath stolen it from her1 note
.
Post.
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.
Iach.
By Jupiter, I had it from her arm.
Post.
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 honourable2 note
:—They induc'd to steal it!
And by a stranger!—No, he hath enjoy'd her:
-- 88 --
The cognizance3 note
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!
Phi.
Sir, be patient:
This is not strong enough to be believ'd
Of one persuaded well of—
Post.
Never talk on't;
She hath been colted by him.
Iach.
If you seek
For further satisfying, under her breast
(Worthy the pressing4 note
,) 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?
Post.
Ay, and it doth confirm
Another stain, as big as hell can hold,
Were there no more but it.
Iach.
Will you hear more?
Post.
Spare your arithmetick: never count the turns;
Once, and a million!
Iach.
I'll be sworn,—
Post.
No swearing.
If you will swear you have not done't, you lie;
And I will kill thee, if thou dost deny
Thou hast made me cuckold.
-- 89 --
Iach.
I will deny nothing.
Post.
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.
Phi.
Quite besides
The government of patience!—You have won:
Let's follow him, and pervert the present wrath5 note
He hath against himself.
Iach.
With all my heart.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.
The Same. Another Room in the Same.
Enter Posthumus.
Post.
Is there no way for men to be, but women
Must be half-workers6 note
? We are all bastards7 note;
-- 90 --
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 counterfeit8 note
: 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 Saturn9 note
; that I thought her
-- 91 --
As chaste as unsunn'd snow:—O, all the devils!—
This yellow Iachimo, in an hour,—was't not?—
Or less,—at first: Perchance he spoke not; but,
Like a full-acorn'd boar, a German one1 note
,
Cry'd, oh! and mounted2 note
: 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;
Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,
Nice longings, slanders, mutability,
All faults that may be nam'd3 note
, nay, that hell knows,
-- 92 --
Why, hers, in part, or all; but, rather, all:
For ev'n 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 better5 note
.
[Exit.
ACT III.
SCENE I.
Britain. A Room of State in Cymbeline's Palace.
Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, and Lords, at
one Door; and at another, Caius Lucius and Attendants.
Cym.
Now say, what would Augustus Cæsar with us6 note
?
Luc.
When Julius Cæsar (whose remembrance yet
Lives in men's eyes; and will to ears, and tongues,
Be theme, and hearing ever,) was in this Britain,
-- 93 --
And conquer'd it, Cassibelan, thine uncle7 note,
(Famous in Cæsar'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.
Clo.
There be many Cæsars,
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 us, 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 unscaleable8 note
, and roaring waters;
With sands, that will not bear your enemies' boats,
But suck them up to the top-mast. A kind of conquest
Cæsar made here; but made not here his brag
Of, came, and saw, and overcame: with shame
(The first that ever touch'd him,) he was carried
From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping,
-- 94 --
(Poor ignorant baubles9 note!) on our terrible seas,
Like egg-shells mov'd upon their surges, crack'd
As easily 'gainst our rocks: For joy whereof,
The fam'd Cassibelan, who was once at point
(O, giglot fortune1 note
!) to master Cæsar's sword2 note
,
Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright,
And Britons strut with courage.
Clo.
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 more such Cæsars: other
of them may have crooked noses; but, to owe such
straight arms, none.
Cym.
Son, let your mother end.
Clo.
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 Cæsar 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.
Cym.
You must know,
-- 95 --
Till the injurious Romans did extort
This tribute from us3 note, we were free: Cæsar's ambition,
(Which swell'd so much, that it did almost stretch
The sides o' the world,) against all colour4 note
, here
Did put the yoke upon us; which to shake off,
Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon
Ourselves to be. We do say then to Cæsar,
Our ancestor was that Mulmutius, which
Ordain'd our laws; (whose use the sword of Cæsar
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 laws5 note
,
Who was the first of Britain, which did put
His brows within a golden crown, and call'd
Himself a king6 note
.
-- 96 --
Luc.
I am sorry, Cymbeline,
That I am to pronounce Augustus Cæsar
(Cæsar, that hath more kings his servants, than
Thyself domestick officers,) thine enemy:
Receive it from me, then:—War, and confusion,
In Cæsar's name pronounce I 'gainst thee: look
For fury not to be resisted:—Thus defied,
I thank thee for myself.
Cym.
Thou art welcome, Caius.
Thy Cæsar knighted me; my youth I spent
Much under him7 note
; of him I gather'd honour;
-- 97 --
Which he, to seek of me again, perforce,
Behoves me keep at utterance8 note
; I am perfect9 note
,
That the Pannonians and Dalmatians, for
Their liberties, are now in arms1 note
: a precedent
Which, not to read, would show the Britons cold:
So Cæsar shall not find them.
Luc.
Let proof speak.
Clo.
His majesty bids you welcome. Make
-- 98 --
pastime with us a day, or two, 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.
Luc.
So, sir.
Cym.
I know your master's pleasure, and he mine:
All the remain is, welcome.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Another Room in the Same.
Enter Pisanio.
Pis.
How! of adultery? Wherefore write you not
What monster's her accuser1 note?—Leonatus!
O, master! what a strange infection
Is fallen into thy ear? What false Italian
(As poisonous tongue'd, as handed2 note
,) hath prevail'd
On thy too ready hearing?—Disloyal? No:
She's punish'd for her truth; and undergoes,
-- 99 --
More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults
As would take in some virtue3 note
.—O, my master!
Thy mind to her is now as low4 note, 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 too? Do't. The letter
[Reading.
That I have sent her, by her own command
Shall give thee opportunity5 note
:—O damn'd paper!
Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble,
-- 100 --
Art thou a feodary for this act6 note
, and look'st
So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes.
Enter Imogen.
I am ignorant in what I am commanded7 note
.
Imo.
How now, Pisanio?
Pis.
Madam, here is a letter from my lord.
-- 101 --
Imo.
Who? thy lord? that is my lord? Leonatus?
O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer,
That knew the stars, as I his characters;
He'd lay the future open.—You good gods,
Let what is here contain'd relish of love,
Of my lord's health, of his content,—yet not,
That we two are asunder,—let that grieve him8 note
,—
(Some griefs are med'cinable; that is one of them,
For it doth physick love9 note
;)—of his content,
All but in that!—Good wax, thy leave:—Bless'd be,
You bees, that make these locks of counsel! Lovers,
And men in dangerous bonds, pray not alike;
Though forfeiters* note you cast in prison, yet
You clasp young Cupid's tables1 note
.—Good news, gods!
[Reads.
-- 102 --
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 not even renew
me with your eyes2 note
. 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 vow3 note,
and your, increasing in love4 note,
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,
-- 103 --
(Who long'st, like me, to see thy lord; who long'st,—
O, let me 'bate,—but not like me:—yet long'st,—
But in a fainter kind:—O, not like me;
For mine's beyond beyond5 note
,) say, and speak thick6 note
,
(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 return7 note
, to excuse:—but first, how get hence:
Why should excuse be born or e'er begot8 note?
-- 104 --
We'll talk of that hereafter. Pr'ythee, speak,
How many score of miles may we well ride
'Twixt hour and hour?
Pis.
One score, 'twixt sun and sun,
Madam, 's enough for you; and too much too.
Imo.
Why, one that rode to his execution, man,
Could never go so slow: I have heard of riding wagers9 note
,
Where horses have been nimbler than the sands
That run i' the clock's behalf1 note:—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 housewife2 note.
Pis.
Madam, you're best consider3 note
.
Imo.
I see before me, man, nor here, nor here,
Nor what ensues; but have a fog in them,
-- 105 --
That I cannot look through4 note
. Away, I pr'ythee;
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 Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.
Bel.
A goodly day not to keep house, with such
-- 106 --
Whose roof's as low as ours! Stoop, boys5 note: 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 jet6 note through
And keep their impious turbands on7 note, 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.
Gui.
Hail, heaven!
Arv.
Hail, heaven!
Bel.
Now, for our mountain sport: Up to yon 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'd8 note
: To apprehend thus,
-- 107 --
Draws us a profit from all things we see:
And often, to our comfort, shall we find
The sharded beetle9 note
in a safer hold
Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O, this life
Is nobler, than attending for a check1 note;
Richer, than doing nothing for a babe2 note
;
-- 108 --
Prouder, than rustling in unpaid-for silk:
Such gain the cap of him, that makes him fine,
-- 109 --
Yet keeps his book uncross'd3 note
: no life to ours4 note
.
Gui.
Out of your proof you speak: we, poor unfledg'd,
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 abed;
A prison for a debtor, that not dares
To stride a limit5 note
.
Arv.
What should we speak of6 note,
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 chace what flies; our cage
We make a quire, as doth the prison bird,
And sing our bondage freely.
-- 110 --
Bel.
How you speak7 note!
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 of 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'sey at the censure:—O, boys, this story
The world may read in me: My body's mark'd
With Roman swords; and my report was once
First with the best of note: Cymbeline lov'd me;
And when a soldier was the theme, my name
Was not far off: Then was I as a tree,
Whose boughs did bend with fruit: but, in one night,
A storm, or robbery, call it what you will,
Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves,
And left me bare to weather8 note
.
Gui.
Uncertain favour!
Bel.
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,
-- 111 --
This rock, and these demesnes, have been my world:
Where I have liv'd at honest freedom; paid
More pious debts to heaven, than in all
The fore-end of my time.—But, up to 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 state9 note
. I'll meet you in the valleys.
[Exeunt Gui. and Arv.
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 bow1 note
, their thoughts do hit
-- 112 --
The roofs of palaces; and nature prompts them,
In simple and low things, to prince it, much
Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore2 note
,—
The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, whom
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 his 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, Cadwal3 note
,
-- 113 --
(Once, Arvirágus,) in as like a figure,
Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more
His own conceiving. Hark! the game is rous'd!—
O Cymbeline! heaven, and my conscience, knows,
Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon,
At three, and two years old, I stole these babes4 note;
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 grave5 note
:
Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call'd,
They take for natural father. The game is up.
[Exit.
-- 114 --
SCENE IV.
Near Milford-Haven.
Enter Pisanio and Imogen.
Imo.
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 Posthúmus6 note
? What is in thy mind,
-- 115 --
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 haviour7 note
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 it be summer news,
Smile to't before8 note
: if winterly, thou need'st
But keep that countenance still.—My husband's hand!
That drug-damn'd9 note Italy hath out-craftied him1 note
,
And he's at some hard point.—Speak, man; thy tongue
-- 116 --
May take off some extremity, which to read
Would be even mortal to me.
Pis.
Please you, read;
And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing
The most disdain'd of fortune.
Imo. [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 opportunities 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.
Pis.
What shall I need to draw my sword? the paper
Hath cut her throat already2 note
.—No, 'tis slander;
Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue
Outvenoms all the worms of Nile3 note
; whose breath
Rides on the posting winds4 note
, and doth belie
-- 117 --
All corners of the world: kings, queens, and states5 note
,
Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave
This viperous slander enters.—What cheer, madam?
Imo.
False to his bed! What is it, to be false?
To lie in watch there, and to think on him6 note
?
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 his bed?
Is it?
Pis.
Alas, good lady!
Imo.
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 enough7 note
.—Some jay of Italy8 note
,
Whose mother was her painting9 note
, hath betray'd him:
-- 118 --
Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion1 note;
And, for I am richer than to hang by the walls,
I must be ripp'd2 note
:—to pieces with me!—O,
-- 119 --
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.
Pis.
Good madam, hear me.
Imo.
True honest men being heard, like false Æneas,
Were, in his time, thought false; and Sinon's weeping
Did scandal many a holy tear; took pity
From most true wretchedness: So, thou, Posthúmus,
Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men3 note
;
Goodly, and gallant, shall be false, and perjur'd,
From thy great fail.—Come, fellow, be thou honest:
Do thou thy master's bidding: When thou see'st him,
A little witness my obedience: Look!
I draw the sword myself: take it; and hit
-- 120 --
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 may'st be valiant in a better cause;
But now thou seem'st a coward.
Pis.
Hence, vile instrument!
Thou shalt not damn my hand.
Imo.
Why, I must die;
And if I do not by thy hand, thou art
No servant of thy master's: Against self-slaughter4 note
There is a prohibition so divine,
That cravens my weak hand5 note
. Come, here's my heart;
Something's afore't6 note
:—Soft, soft; we'll no defence;
Obedient as the scabbard.—What is here?
The scriptures7 note
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.
-- 121 --
And thou, Posthúmus, thou that8 note did'st set up
My disobedience 'gainst the king my father,
And make me put into contempt the suits
Of princely fellows9 note, shalt hereafter find
It is no act of common passage, but
A strain of rareness: and I grieve myself,
To think, when thou shalt be disedg'd1 note by her
That now thou tir'st on2 note, how thy memory
Will then be pang'd by me.—Pr'ythee, despatch:
The lamb entreats the butcher: Where's thy knife?
Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding,
When I desire it too.
Pis.
O gracious lady,
Since I receiv'd command to do this business,
I have not slept one wink.
Imo.
Do't, and to bed then.
Pis.
I'll wake mine eye-balls blind first3 note
.
-- 122 --
Imo.
Wherefore then
Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abus'd
So many miles, with a pretence? this place?
Mine action, and thine own? our horses' labour?
The time inviting thee? the perturb'd court,
For my being absent; whereunto I never
Purpose return? Why hast thou gone so far,
To be unbent3 note, when thou hast ta'en thy stand,
The elected deer before thee4 note
?
Pis.
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.
Imo.
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.
Pis.
Then, madam,
I thought you would not back again.
Imo.
Most like:
Bringing me here to kill me.
Pis.
Not so, neither:
But if I were as wise as honest, then
My purpose would prove well. It cannot be,
But that my master is abus'd:
-- 123 --
Some villain, ay, and singular in his art,
Hath done you both this cursed injury.
Imo.
Some Roman courtezan.
Pis.
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.
Imo.
Why, good fellow,
What shall I do the while? Where bide? How live?
Or in my life what comfort, when I am
Dead to my husband?
Pis.
If you'll back to the court,—
Imo.
No court, no father; nor no more ado
With that harsh, noble, simple, nothing5 note
:
That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me
As fearful as a siege.
Pis.
If not at court,
Then not in Britain must you bide.
Imo.
Where then6 note?
Hath Britain all the sun that shines7 note
? Day, night,
-- 124 --
Are they not but in Britain? I' the world's volume
Our Britain seems as of it, but not in it;
In a great pool, a swan's nest; Pr'ythee, think
There's livers out of Britain8 note
.
Pis.
I am most glad
You think of other place. The embassador,
Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven
To-morrow: Now, if you could wear a mind
Dark as your fortune is9 note
; 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 view1 note
: yea, haply, near
The residence of Posthumus: so nigh, at least,
That though his actions were not visible, yet
-- 125 --
Report should render him hourly to your ear,
As truly as he moves.
Imo.
O, for such means!
Though peril to my modesty2 note, not death on't,
I would adventure.
Pis.
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,) into3 note a waggish courage;
Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy, and
As quarrellous as the weasel4 note
: nay, you must
Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek,
Exposing it (but, O, the harder heart!
Alack no remedy5 note
!) to the greedy touch
-- 126 --
Of common-kissing Titan6 note
; and forget
Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein
You made great Juno angry.
Imo.
Nay, be brief:
I see into thy end, and am almost
A man already.
Pis.
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 are happy7 note, (which you'll make him know8 note
,
If that his head have ear in musick,) doubtless,
With joy he will embrace you: for he's honourable,
And, doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad9 note:
You have me, rich; and I will never fail
Beginning, nor supplyment.
Imo.
Thou art all the comfort
-- 127 --
The gods will diet me with1 note. Pr'ythee, away:
There's more to be consider'd; but we'll even
All that good time will give us2 note
: This attempt
I'm soldier to3 note
, and will abide it with
A prince's courage. Away, I pr'ythee.
Pis.
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 queen4 note
;
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!
Imo.
Amen: I thank thee.
[Exeunt.
-- 128 --
SCENE V.
A Room in Cymbeline's Palace.
Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, Lucius, and Lords.
Cym.
Thus far; and so farewell.
Luc.
Thanks, royal sir,
My emperor hath wrote; I must from hence;
And am right sorry, that I must report ye
My master's enemy.
Cym.
Our subjects, sir,
Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself
To show less sovereignty than they, must needs
Appear unkinglike.
Luc.
So, sir, I desire of you5 note
A conduct over land, to Milford-Haven.—
Madam, all joy befal your grace, and you6 note
!
Cym.
My lords, you are appointed for that office;
The due of honour in no point omit:—
So, farewell, noble Lucius.
Luc.
Your hand, my lord.
Clo.
Receive it friendly; but from this time forth
I wear it as your enemy.
Luc.
Sir, the event
Is yet to name the winner: Fare you well.
Cym.
Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords,
-- 129 --
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.
Clo.
'Tis all the better;
Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it.
Cym.
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.
Cym.
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 retir'd
Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord,
'Tis time must do. 'Beseech your majesty,
Forbear sharp speeches to her: She's a lady
So tender of rebukes, that words are strokes,
And strokes death to her.
Re-enter an Attendant.
Cym.
Where is she, sir? How
Can her contempt be answer'd?
Atten.
Please you, sir,
Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer
-- 130 --
That will be given to the loud'st* note of noise we make.
Queen.
My lord, when last I went to visit her,
She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close;
Whereto constrain'd by her infirmity,
She should that duty leave unpaid to you,
Which daily she was bound to proffer: this
She wish'd me to make known; but our great court
Made me to blame in memory.
Cym.
Her doors lock'd?
Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that, which I fear,
Prove false!
[Exit.
Queen.
Son, I say, follow the king7 note
.
Clo.
That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant,
I have not seen these two days.
Queen.
Go, look after.—
[Exit Cloten.
Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthúmus!—
He hath a drug of mine; I pray, his absence
Proceed by swallowing that; for he believes
It is a thing most precious. But for her,
Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seiz'd her;
Or, wing'd with fervour of her love, she's flown
To her desir'd Posthúmus: 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?
Clo.
'Tis certain, she is fled:
-- 131 --
Go in, and cheer the king; he rages; none
Dare come about him.
Queen.
All the better: May
This night forestall him of the coming day8 note
!
[Exit Queen.
Clo.
I love, and hate her: for she's fair and royal;
And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite
Than lady, ladies, woman9 note
; from every one
The best she hath1 note
, and she, of all compounded,
Outsells them all: I love her therefore; But,
Disdaining me, and throwing favours on
The low Posthúmus, slanders so her judgment,
That what's else rare, is chok'd; and, in that point,
I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed,
To be reveng'd upon her. For, when fools
Enter Pisanio.
Shall—Who is here? What! are you packing, sirrah?
Come hither: Ah, you precious pandar! Villain,
Where is thy lady? In a word; or else
Thou art straightway with the fiends.
Pis.
O, good my lord!
-- 132 --
Clo.
Where is thy lady? or, by Jupiter—
I will not ask again. Close villain2 note
,
I'll have this secret from thy heart, or rip
Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthúmus?
From whose so many weights of baseness cannot
A dram of worth be drawn.
Pis.
Alas, my lord,
How can she be with him? When was she miss'd?
He is in Rome.
Clo.
Where is she, sir? Come nearer;
No further halting: satisfy me home,
What is become of her?
Pis.
O, my all-worthy lord!
Clo.
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.
Pis.
Then sir,
This paper is the history of my knowledge
Touching her flight.
[Presenting a Letter.
Clo.
Let's see't:—I will pursue her
Even to Augustus' throne.
Pis. [Aside.]
Or this, or perish3 note
.
She's far enough; and what he learns by this,
May prove his travel, not her danger.
-- 133 --
Clo.
Humph!
Pis.
I'll write to my lord she's dead. O Imogen,
Safe may'st thou wander, safe return again!
[Aside.
Clo.
Sirrah, is this letter true?
Pis.
Sir, as I think.
Clo.
It is Posthumus' hand; I know't.—Sirrah,
if thou would'st not be a villain, but do me true
service; undergo those employments, wherein I
should have cause to use thee, with a serious industry,
—that is, what villainy so'er I bid thee do,
to perform it, directly and truly,—I would think
thee an honest man: thou shouldest neither want
my means for thy relief, nor my voice for thy preferment.
Pis.
Well, my good lord.
Clo.
Wilt thou serve me? For since patiently
-- 134 --
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?
Pis.
Sir, I will.
Clo.
Give me thy hand, here's my purse. Hast
any of thy late master's garments in thy possession?
Pis.
I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same
suit he wore when he took leave of my lady and
mistress.
Clo.
The first service thou dost me, fetch that
suit hither: let it be thy first service; go.
Pis.
I shall, my lord.
[Exit.
Clo.
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?
Pis.
Ay, my noble lord.
-- 135 --
Clo.
How long is't since she went to Milford-Haven?
Pis.
She can scarce be there yet.
Clo.
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.
Pis.
Thou bidd'st me to my loss: for, true to thee,
Were to prove false, which I will never be,
To him that is most true4 note.—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.
Before the Cave of Belarius.
Enter Imogen, in Boy's Clothes.
Imo.
I see, a man's life is a tedious one:
I have tir'd myself; and for two nights together
Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick,
But that my resolution helps me.—Milford,
When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd thee,
Thou wast within a ken: O Jove! I think,
Foundations fly the wretched5 note
: such, I mean,
-- 136 --
Where they should be reliev'd. Two beggars told me,
I could not miss my way: Will poor folks lie,
That have afflictions on them; knowing 'tis
A punishment, or trial? Yes; no wonder,
When rich ones scarce tell true: To lapse in fulness
Is sorer6 note, 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 it: 'Tis some savage hold:
I were best not call7 note; 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 civil8 note, speak; if savage,
Take, or lend9 note
.—Ho!—No answer? then I'll enter.
-- 137 --
Best draw my sword1 note
; and if mine enemy
But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look on't.
Such a foe, good heavens!
[She goes into the cave.
Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.
Bel.
You, Polydore, have prov'd best woodman2 note
, and
Are master of the feast: Cadwal, and I,
-- 138 --
Will play the cook and servant; 'tis our match3 note:
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 sloth4 note
Finds the down pillow hard.—Now, peace be here,
Poor house, that keep'st thyself!
Gui.
I am throughly weary.
Arv.
I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite.
Gui.
There is cold meat i' the cave; we'll browze on that,
Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd.
Bel.
Stay; come not in:
[Looking in.
But that it eats our victuals, I should think
Here were a fairy.
Gui.
What's the matter, sir?
Bel.
By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not,
An earthly paragon5 note
!—Behold divineness
No elder than a boy!
Enter Imogen.
Imo.
Good masters, harm me not;
Before I enter'd here, I call'd; and thought
-- 139 --
To have begg'd, or bought, what I have took: Good troth,
I have stolen nought; nor would not, though I had found
Gold strew'd o' the floor6 note
. Here's money for my meat:
I would have left it on the board, so soon
As I had made my meal; and parted7 note
With prayers for the provider.
Gui.
Money, youth?
Arv.
All gold and silver rather turn to dirt!
As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those
Who worship dirty gods.
Imo.
I see, you are angry:
Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should
Have died, had I not made it.
Bel.
Whither bound?
Imo.
To Milford-Haven8 note.
Bel.
What's your name?
Imo.
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 fallen in this offence9 note
.
-- 140 --
Bel.
Pr'ythee, 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.
Gui.
Were you a woman, youth,
I should woo hard, but be your groom.—In honesty,
I bid for you, as I'd buy1 note
.
Arv.
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 as yours:—Most welcome!
Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst friends,
Imo. [Aside.]
'Mongst friends!
If brothers?—'Would it had been so, that they
Had been my father's sons! then had my prize
Been less; and so more equal ballasting2 note
To thee, Posthumus.
-- 141 --
Bel.
He wrings at some distress3 note
.
Gui.
'Would, I could free't!
Arv.
Or I; whate'er it be,
What pain it cost, what danger! Gods!
Bel.
Hark, boys.
[Whispering.
Imo.
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 multitudes4 note
,)
-- 142 --
Could not out-peer these twain. Pardon me, gods!
I'd change my sex to be companion with them,
Since Leonatus false5 note
.
Bel.
It shall be so:
Boys, we'll go dress our hunt.—Fair youth, come in:
-- 143 --
Discourse is heavy, fasting; when we have supp'd,
We'll mannerly demand thee of thy story,
So far as thou wilt speak it.
Gui.
Pray, draw near.
Arv.
The night to the owl, and morn to the lark, less welcome.
Imo.
Thanks, sir.
Arv.
I pray, draw near.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VII.
Rome.
Enter Two Senators and Tribunes.
1 Sen.
This is the tenour of the emperor's writ;
That since the common men are now in action
'Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians;
And that6 note
the legions now in Gallia are
Full weak to undertake our wars against
The fallen-off Britons; that we do incite
The gentry to this business: He creates
Lucius pro-consul: and to you the tribunes,
For this immediate levy, he commands
His absolute commission7 note
. Long live Cæsar!
Tri.
Is Lucius general of the forces?
2 Sen.
Ay.
Tri.
Remaining now in Gallia?
1 Sen.
With those legions
-- 144 --
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 despatch.
Tri.
We will discharge our duty.
[Exeunt.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
The Forest, near the Cave.
Enter Cloten.
Clo.
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) for8 note
'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 oppositions9 note
: yet this imperseverant1 note
thing loves him in my despite. What
-- 145 --
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 face2 note
: and all this done, spurn her
home to her father3 note: 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.
Enter, from the Cave, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, and Imogen.
Bel.
You are not well: [To Imogen.] remain here in the cave;
We'll come to you after hunting.
-- 146 --
Arv.
Brother, stay here:
[To Imogen.
Are we not brothers?
Imo.
So man and man should be;
But clay and clay differs in dignity,
Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick.
Gui.
Go you to hunting, I'll abide with him.
Imo.
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 all4 note
. 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.
Gui.
I love thee; I have spoke it:
How much the quantity5 note
, the weight as much,
As I do love my father.
Bel.
What? how? how?
Arv.
If it be sin to say so, sir, I yoke me
In my good brother's fault: I know not why
I love this youth; and I have heard you say,
Love's reason's without reason; the bier at door,
And a demand who is't shall die, I'd say,
My father, not this youth.
Bel.
O noble strain!
[Aside.
-- 147 --
O worthiness of nature! breed of greatness!
Cowards father cowards, and base things sire base:
Nature hath meal, and bran; contempt and grace.
I am not their father; yet who this should be,
Doth miracle itself, lov'd before me.—
'Tis the ninth hour o' the morn.
Arv.
Brother, farewell.
Imo.
I wish ye sport.
Arv.
You health.—So please you, sir6 note.
Imo. [Aside.]
These are kind creatures. Gods, what lies I have heard!
Our courtiers say, all's savage, but at court:
Experience, O, thou disprov'st report!
The imperious seas7 note 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.
Gui.
I could not stir him8 note:
He said, he was gentle, but unfortunate9 note
;
Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest.
Arv.
Thus did he answer me: yet said, hereafter
I might know more.
Bel.
To the field, to the field:—
We'll leave you for this time; go in, and rest.
Arv.
We'll not be long away.
-- 148 --
Bel.
Pray, be not sick,
For you must be our housewife.
Imo.
Well, or ill,
I am bound to you.
Bel.
And shalt be ever1 note.
[Exit Imogen.
This youth, howe'er distress'd2 note
, appears, he hath had
Good ancestors.
Arv.
How angel-like he sings!
Gui.
But his neat cookery3 note
! He cut our roots in characters4 note
;
And sauc'd our broths, as Juno had been sick,
And he her dieter.
Arv.
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
-- 149 --
From so divine a temple, to commix
With winds that sailors rail at.
Gui.
I do note,
That grief and patience, rooted in him both5 note,
Mingle their spurs together6 note
.
Arv.
Grow, patience!
And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine
His perishing root, with the increasing vine7 note
!
Bel.
It is great morning8 note. Come; away.—Who's there?
-- 150 --
Enter Cloten.
Clo.
I cannot find those runagates; that villain
Hath mock'd me:—I am faint.
Bel.
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.
Gui.
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.
Clo.
Soft! What are you
That fly me thus? some villain mountaineers?
I have heard of such.—What slave art thou?
Gui.
A thing
More slavish did I ne'er, than answering
A slave without a knock9 note
.
Clo.
Thou art a robber,
A law-breaker, a villain: Yield thee, thief.
Gui.
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 mouth1 note
. Say, what thou art;
Why I should yield to thee?
-- 151 --
Clo.
Thou villain base,
Know'st me not by my clothes?
Gui.
No2 note, nor thy tailor, rascal,
Who is thy grandfather; he made those clothes,
Which, as it seems, make thee3 note
.
Clo.
Thou precious varlet,
My tailor made them not.
Gui.
Hence then, and thank
The man that gave them thee. Thou art some fool;
I am loath to beat thee.
Clo.
Thou injurious thief,
Hear but my name, and tremble.
Gui.
What's thy name?
Clo.
Cloten, thou villain.
Gui.
Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name,
I cannot tremble at it: were it toad, or adder, spider,
'Twould move me sooner.
Clo.
To thy further fear,
Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know
I'm son to the queen.
Gui.
I'm sorry for't; not seeming
So worthy as thy birth.
Clo.
Art not afeard?
Gui.
Those that I reverence, those I fear, the wise:
At fools I laugh, not fear them.
-- 152 --
Clo.
Die the death4 note:
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, rustick mountaineer5 note.
[Exeunt, fighting.
Enter Belarius and Arviragus.
Bel.
No company's abroad.
Arv.
None in the world: You did mistake him, sure.
Bel.
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,
-- 153 --
And burst of speaking6 note
, were as his: I am absolute,
'Twas very Cloten.
Arv.
In this place we left them:
I wish my brother make good time with him,
You say he is so fell.
Bel.
Being scarce made up,
I mean, to man, he had not apprehension
Of roaring terrors; for defect of judgment
Is oft the cure of fear7 note
: But see, thy brother.
-- 154 --
Re-enter Guiderius, with Cloten's Head.
Gui.
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 none8 note
:
Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne
My head, as I do his.
Bel.
What hast thou done?
Gui.
I am perfect, what9 note
: cut off one Cloten's head,
-- 155 --
Son to the queen, after his own report;
Who call'd me traitor, mountaineer; and swore,
With his own single hand he'd take us in1 note
,
Displace our heads, where (thank the gods2 note!) they grow,
And set them on Lud's town.
Bel.
We are all undone.
Gui.
Why, worthy father, what have we to lose,
But, that he swore to take, our lives? The law
Protects not us3 note
: 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 law4 note
? What company
Discover you abroad?
-- 156 --
Bel.
No single soul
Can we set eye on, but, in all safe reason,
He must have some attendants. Though his humour
Was nothing but mutation5 note
; ay, and that
-- 157 --
From one bad thing to worse; not frenzy, not
Absolute madness could so far have rav'd,
To bring him here alone: Although, perhaps,
It may be heard at court, that such as we
Cave here, hunt here, are outlaws, and in time
May make some stronger head: the which he hearing,
(As it is like him,) might break out, and swear
He'd fetch us in; yet is't not probable
To come alone, either he so undertaking,
Or they so suffering: then on good ground we fear,
If we do fear this body hath a tail
More perilous than the head.
Arv.
Let ordinance
Come as the gods foresay it: howsoe'er,
My brother hath done well.
Bel.
I had no mind
To hunt this day: the boy Fidele's sickness
Did make my way long forth6 note
.
Gui.
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.
Bel.
I fear, 'twill be reveng'd:
'Would, Polydore, thou had'st not done't! though valour
Becomes thee well enough.
Arv.
'Would I had done't,
So the revenge alone pursued me!—Polydore,
I love thee brotherly; but envy much,
-- 158 --
Thou hast robb'd me of this deed: I would, revenges,
That possible strength might meet7 note
, would seek us through,
And put us to our answer.
Bel.
Well, 'tis done:—
We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danger
Where there's no profit. I pr'ythee, to our rock;
You and Fidele play the cooks: I'll stay
Till hasty Polydore return, and bring him
To dinner presently.
Arv.
Poor sick Fidele!
I'll willingly to him: To gain his colour8 note,
I'd let a parish of such Clotens blood9 note
,
And praise myself for charity.
[Exit.
Bel.
O thou goddess,
Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st
In these two princely boys1 note
! They are as gentle
-- 159 --
As zephyrs, blowing below the violet,
Not wagging his sweet head: and yet as rough,
Their royal blood enchaf'd, as the rud'st wind2 note
,
That by the top doth take the mountain pine,
And make him stoop to the vale. 'Tis wonderful3 note,
That an invisible instínct should frame them4 note
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 its strange,
What Cloten's being here to us portends;
Or what his death will bring us.
-- 160 --
Re-enter Guiderius.
Gui.
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 Musick.
Bel.
My ingenious instrument!
Hark, Polydore, it sounds! But what occasion
Hath Cadwal now to give it motion! Hark!
Gui.
Is he at home?
Bel.
He went hence even now.
Gui.
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 toys5 note
,
Is jollity for apes, and grief for boys,
Is Cadwal mad?
Re-enter Arviragus, bearing Imogen as dead, in his Arms.
Bel.
Look, here he comes,
And brings the dire occasion in his arms,
Of what we blame him for!
Arv.
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.
-- 161 --
Gui.
O sweetest, fairest lily!
My brother wears thee not the one half so well,
As when thou grew'st thyself.
Bel.
O, melancholy!
Who ever yet could sound thy bottom6 note
? find
The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare
Might easiliest harbour in7 note
?—Thou blessed thing!
-- 162 --
Jove knows what man thou might'st have made; but I8 note
,
Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy!—
How found you him?
Arv.
Stark9 note
, as you see:
Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled slumber,
Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at: his right cheek
Reposing on a cushion.
Gui.
Where?
Arv.
O' the floor;
His arms thus leagu'd: I thought, he slept; and put
My clouted brogues1 note from off my feet, whose rudeness
Answer'd my steps too loud.
-- 163 --
Gui.
Why, he but sleeps2 note
:
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 thee3 note
.
Arv.
With fairest flowers,
Whilst summer lasts4 note
, and I live here, Fidele,
I'll sweeten thy sad grave: Thou shalt not lack
The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose; nor
The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor
The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,
Out-sweeten'd not thy breath: the ruddock would,
-- 164 --
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 corse5 note
.
-- 165 --
Gui.
Pr'ythee, 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.
Arv.
Say, where shall's lay him?
-- 166 --
Gui.
By good Euriphile, our mother.
Arv.
Be't so:
And let us, Polydore, though now our voices
Have got the mannish crack, sing him to the ground,
As once our mother6 note
; use like note, and words,
Save that Euriphile must be Fidele.
Gui.
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.
Arv.
We'll speak it then.
Bel.
Great griefs, I see, medicine the less7 note
: for Cloten
Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys:
And, though he came our enemy, remember,
He was paid for that8 note
: Though mean and mighty, rotting
Together, have one dust; yet reverence,
-- 167 --
(That angel of the world9 note
,) 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.
Gui.
Pray you, fetch him hither.
Thersites' body is as good as Ajax,
When neither are alive.
Arv.
If you'll go fetch him.
We'll say our song the whilst.—Brother, begin.
[Exit Belarius.
Gui.
Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the east;
My father hath a reason for't.
Arv.
'Tis true.
Gui.
Come on then, and remove him.
Arv.
So,—Begin.
SONG.
Gui.
Fear no more the heat o' the sun1 note,
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.
Arv.
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:
-- 168 --
The sceptre, learning, physick, must
All follow this, and come to dust2 note.
Gui.
Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Arv.
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone3 note
;
Gui.
Fear not slander, censure rash4 note
;
Arv.
Thou hast finish'd joy and moan:
Both.
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee5 note
, and come to dust.
Gui.
No exorciser harm thee6 note
!
Arv.
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Gui.
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Arv.
Nothing ill come near thee!
Both.
Quiet consummation have7 note
;
And renowned be thy grave8 note!
-- 169 --
Re-enter Belarius, with the Body of Cloten.
Gui.
We have done our obsequies: Come lay him down.
Bel.
Here's a few flowers; but about midnight, more:
The herbs, that have on them cold dew o' the night,
Are strewings fitt'st for graves.—Upon their faces9 note:—
You were as flowers, now wither'd: even so
These herb'lets shall, which we upon you strow.—
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.
Imo. [Awaking.]
Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; Which is the way?—
-- 170 --
I thank you.—By yon bush?—Pray, how far thither?
'Ods pittikins1 note!—can it be six miles yet?—
I have gone all night:—'Faith, I'll lie down and sleep.
But, soft! no bedfellow:—O, gods and goddesses!
[Seeing the Body.
These 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 fumes2 note
: Our very eyes
Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good faith,
I tremble still with fear: But if there be
Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity
As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it!
The dream's here still: even when I wake, it is
Without me, as within me; not imagin'd, felt.
A headless man!—The garment of Posthúmus!
I know the shape of his leg: this is his hand;
His foot Mercurial; his Martial thigh;
The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovial face3 note
—
-- 171 --
Murder in heaven?—How?—'Tis gone.—Pisanio,
All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou,
Conspir'd with that irregulous devil4 note
, 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-top5 note!—O, Posthumus! alas,
Where is thy head? where's that? Ah me! where's that?
Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart,
And left this head on6 note
.—How should this be? Pisanio?
'Tis he, and Cloten: malice and lucre in them
Have laid this woe here. O, 'tis pregnant, pregnant7 note
!
The drug he gave me, which, he said, was precious
-- 172 --
And cordial to me, have I not found it
Murd'rous 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!
Enter Lucius, a Captain, and other Officers, and a Soothsayer.
Cap.
To them the legions garrison'd in Gallia,
After your will, have cross'd the sea; attending
You here at Milford-Haven, with your ships:
They are here in readiness.
Luc.
But what from Rome?
Cap.
The senate hath stirr'd up the cónfiners,
And gentlemen of Italy; most willing spirits,
That promise noble service: and they come
Under the conduct of bold Iachimo,
Sienna's brother8 note.
Luc.
When expect you them?
Cap.
With the next benefit o' the wind.
Luc.
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?
Sooth.
Last night the very gods show'd me a vision9 note:
(I fast, and pray'd1 note
, for their intelligence,) Thus:—
-- 173 --
I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd
From the spungy south2 note
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.
Luc.
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.
Cap.
He is alive, my lord.
Luc.
He'll then instruct us of this body.—Young one,
Inform us of thy fortunes; for, it seems,
They crave to be demanded: Who is this,
Thou mak'st thy bloody pillow? Or who was he,
That, otherwise than noble nature did,
Hath alter'd that good picture3 note
? What's thy interest
-- 174 --
In this sad wreck? How came it? Who is it?
What art thou?
Imo.
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 are no more such masters: I may wander
From east to occident, cry out for service,
Try many, all good, serve truly, never4 note
Find such another master.
Luc.
'Lack, good youth!
Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining, than
Thy master in bleeding: Say his name, good friend.
Imo.
Richard du Champ5 note
. If I do lie, and do
-- 175 --
No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope
[Aside.
They'll pardon it. Say you, sir?
Luc.
Thy name?
Imo.
Fidele, sir6 note.
Luc.
Thou dost approve thyself the very same:
Thy name well fits thy faith7 note; thy faith, thy name.
Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say,
Thou shalt be so well master'd; but, be sure,
No less belov'd. The Roman emperor's letters,
Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner
Than thine own worth prefer thee: Go with me.
Imo.
I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please the gods,
I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep
As these poor pickaxes8 note can dig: and when
With wild wood-leaves and weeds I have 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 me9 note.
-- 176 --
Luc.
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 daizied plot we can,
And make him with our pikes and partisans
A grave1 note
: Come, arm him2 note
.—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 Palace3 note
.
Enter Cymbeline, Lords, and Pisanio.
Cym.
Again; and bring me word, how 'tis with her.
A fever with the absence of her son;
-- 177 --
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.
Pis.
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.
1 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 will4 note
, no doubt, be found.
-- 178 --
Cym.
The time is troublesome:
We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy
[To Pisanio,
Does yet depend5 note
.
1 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.
Cym.
Now for the counsel of my son, and queen!—
I am amaz'd with matter6 note
.
1 Lord.
Good my liege,
Your preparation can affront no less
Than what you hear of7 note
: come more, for more you're ready:
The want is, but to put those powers in motion,
That long to move.
Cym.
I thank you: Let's withdraw:
And meet the time, as it seeks us. We fear not
-- 179 --
What can from Italy annoy us; but
We grieve at chances here.—Away.
[Exeunt.
Pis.
I heard no letter8 note
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 true9 note.
These present wars shall find I love my country,
Even to the note o' the king1 note, 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.
Before the Cave.
Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.
Gui.
The noise is round about us.
Bel.
Let us from it.
Arv.
What pleasure, sir, find we2 note in life, to lock it
From action and adventure?
-- 180 --
Gui.
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 revolts3 note
During their use, and slay us after.
Bel.
Sons,
We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us.
To the king's party there's no going: newness
Of Cloten's death (we being not known, not muster'd
Among the bands) may drive us to a render
Where we have liv'd4 note
; and so extort from us
That which we've done, whose answer5 note would be death
Drawn on with torture.
Gui.
This is, sir, a doubt,
In such a time, nothing becoming you,
Nor satisfying us.
Arv.
It is not likely,
That when they hear the Roman horses6 note neigh,
Behold their quarter'd fires7 note
, have both their eyes
-- 181 --
And ears so cloy'd importantly as now,
That they will waste their time upon our note,
To know from whence we are.
Bel.
O, I am known
Of many in the army: many years,
Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore him
From my remembrance. And, besides, the king
Hath not deserv'd my service, nor your loves;
Who find in my exíle the want of breeding,
The certainty of this hard life8 note; aye hopeless
To have the courtesy your cradle promis'd,
But to be still hot summer's tanlings, and
The shrinking slaves of winter.
Gui.
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'ergrown9 note
,
Cannot be question'd.
Arv.
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 asham'd
To look upon the holy sun, to have
-- 182 --
The benefit of his bless'd beams, remaining
So long a poor unknown.
Gui.
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!
Arv.
So say I; Amen.
Bel.
No reason I, since on your lives you set
So slight a valuation, should reserve
My crack'd one to more care. Have with you, boys:
If in your country wars you chance to die,
That is my bed too, lads, and there I'll lie:
Lead, lead.—The time seems long; their blood thinks scorn,
[Aside.
Till it fly out, and show them princes born.
[Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I.
A Field between the British and Roman Camps.
Enter Posthumus, with a bloody Handkerchief1 note.
Post.
Yea, bloody cloth2 note, I'll keep thee; for I wish'd3 note
-- 183 --
Thou should'st be colour'd thus. You married ones,
If each of you would take this course, how many
Must murder wives much better than themselves,
For wrying but a little4 note
?—O, Pisanio!
Every good servant does not all commands:
No bond, but to do just ones.—Gods! if you
Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I never
Had liv'd to put on5 note
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 worse6 note
;
-- 184 --
And make them dread it to the doer's thrift7 note
.
But Imogen is your own: Do your best wills,
-- 185 --
And make me bless'd to obey8 note
!—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
-- 186 --
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.
The Same.
Enter at one Side, Lucius, Iachimo, and the Roman
Army; at the other Side, the British Army;
Leonatus Posthumus following it, like a poor
Soldier. They march over and go out. Alarums.
Then enter again in skirmish, Iachimo and
Posthumus: he vanquisheth and disarmeth
Iachimo, and then leaves him.
Iach.
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 carl9 note
,
A very drudge of nature's, have subdu'd me,
-- 187 --
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.
Bel.
Stand, stand! We have the advantage of the ground;
The lane is guarded: nothing routs us, but
The villainy of our fears.
Gui., Arv.
Stand, stand, and fight!
Enter Posthumus, and seconds the Britons: They
rescue Cymbeline, and exeunt. Then, enter
Lucius, Iachimo, and Imogen.
Luc.
Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself:
For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such
As war were hood-wink'd.
Iach.
'Tis their fresh supplies.
Luc.
It is a day turn'd strangely: Or betimes
Let's re-enforce, or fly.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Another Part of the Field.
Enter Posthumus and a British Lord.
Lord.
Cam'st thou from where they made the stand?
Post.
I did:
Though you, it seems, come from the fliers.
Lord.
I did.
-- 188 --
Post.
No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost,
But that the heavens fought1 note: The king himself
Of his wings destitute2 note
, the army broken,
And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying
Through a strait 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 strait pass was damm'd
With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards living
To die with lengthen'd shame.
Lord.
Where was this lane?
Post.
Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd with turf3 note
;
Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier,—
An honest one, I warrant; who deserv'd
So long a breeding, as his white beard came to,
-- 189 --
In doing this for his country;—athwart the lane,
He, with two striplings, (lads more like to run
The country base4 note
, than to commit such slaughter;
With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer
Than those for preservation cas'd, or shame5 note,)
Made good the passage; cry'd 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
-- 190 --
Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles; slaves,
The strides they victors made6 note: And now our cowards
(Like fragments in hard voyages,) became
The life o' the need7 note
; having found the back-door 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, chac'd by one,
Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty:
Those, that would die or ere resist, are grown
The mortal bugs8 note
o' the field.
Lord.
This was strange chance:
A narrow lane! an old man, and two boys!
Post.
Nay, do not wonder at it9 note: You are made
-- 191 --
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,
Preserv'd the Britons, was the Romans' bane.
Lord.
Nay, be not angry, sir.
Post.
'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 are angry.
[Exit.
Post.
Still going?—This is a lord1 note! 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 sav'd their carcasses? took heel to do't,
And yet died too? I, in mine own woe charm'd2 note
,
-- 192 --
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 Roman3 note,
No more a Briton, I have resum'd again
The part I came in: Fight I will no more,
But yield me to the veriest hind, that shall
Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is
Here made by the Roman; great the answer be4 note
Britons must take; For me, my ransome'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.
1 Cap.
Great Jupiter be prais'd! Lucius is taken;
'Tis thought, the old man and his sons were angels.
2 Cap.
There was a fourth man, in a silly habit5 note
,
That gave the affront with them6 note
.
-- 193 --
1 Cap.
So 'tis reported:
But none of them can be found.—Stand7 note
! who is there?
Post.
A Roman;
Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds
Had answer'd him.
2 Cap.
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 Cymbeline8 note, attended; Belarius, Guiderius,
Arviragus, Pisanio, and Roman Captives.
The Captains present Posthumus to Cymbeline,
who delivers him over to a Gaoler: after
which, all go out.
-- 194 --
SCENE IV.
A Prison.
Enter Posthumus, and Two Gaolers.
1 Gaol.
You shall not now be stolen9 note, you have locks upon you;
So, graze, as you find pasture.
2 Gaol.
Ay, or a stomach.
[Exeunt Gaolers.
Post.
Most welcome, bondage! for thou art a way,
I 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 cur'd
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,
Desir'd, more than constrain'd: to satisfy,
If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take
No stricter render of me, than my all1 note
.
-- 195 --
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 bonds2 note
. O Imogen!
I'll speak to thee in silence.
[He sleeps.
Solemn Musick3 note
. Enter, as an Apparition, Sicilius
-- 196 --
Leonatus
, Father to Posthumus, an old
Man, attired like a Warrior; leading in his
Hand an ancient Matron, his Wife, and Mother
to Posthumus, with Musick before them. Then,
after other Musick, follow the Two young Leonati,
Brothers to Posthumus, with Wounds as
they died in the Wars. They circle Posthumus
round, as he lies sleeping.
Sici.
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,)
-- 197 --
Thou should'st have been, and shielded him
From this earth-vexing smart.
Moth.
Lucina lent not me her aid,
But took me in my throes;
That from me was Posthúmus ript4 note
,
Came crying 'mongst his foes,
A thing of pity!
Sici.
Great nature, like his ancestry,
Moulded the stuff so fair,
That he deserv'd the praise o' the world,
As great Sicilius' heir.
1 Bro.
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?
Moth.
With marriage wherefore was he mock'd5 note
,
To be exil'd, and thrown
From Leonati' seat, and cast
From her his dearest one,
Sweet Imogen?
Sici.
Why did you suffer Iachimo,
Slight thing of Italy,
-- 198 --
To taint his nobler heart and brain
With needless jealousy;
And to become the geck6 note
and scorn
O' the other's villainy?
2 Bro.
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'7 note right,
With honour to maintain.
1 Bro.
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?
Sici.
Thy crystal window ope; look out;
No longer exercise,
Upon a valiant race, thy harsh
And potent injuries:
Moth.
Since, Jupiter, our son is good,
Take off his miseries.
Sici.
Peep through thy marble mansion; help!
Or we poor ghosts will cry
To the shining synod of the rest,
Against thy deity.
2 Bro.
Help, Jupiter; or we appeal,
And from thy justice fly.
Jupiter descends8 note in Thunder and Lightning, sitting
-- 199 --
upon an Eagle: he throws a Thunder-bolt,
The Ghosts fall on their Knees.
Jup.
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, delighted9 note
. 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.
-- 200 --
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 crystalline1 note
.
[Ascends.
Sici.
He came in thunder; his celestial breath
Was sulphurous to smell2 note
: the holy eagle
Stoop'd, as to foot us3 note
: his ascension is
More sweet than our bless'd fields: his royal bird
Prunes the immortal wing4 note
, and cloys his beak5 note
,
As when his god is pleas'd.
-- 201 --
All.
Thanks, Jupiter!
Sici.
The marble pavement closes6 note
, he is enter'd
His radiant roof:—Away! and, to be blest,
Let us with care perform his great behest.
[Ghosts vanish.
Post. [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 world7 note
, a garment
-- 202 --
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 not7 note
: either both, or nothing:
Or senseless speaking, or a speaking such
As sense cannot untie8 note
. Be what it is,
The action of my life is like it, which
I'll keep, if but for sympathy.
Re-enter Gaolers.
Gaol.
Come, sir, are you ready for death?
Post.
Over-roasted rather: ready long ago.
-- 203 --
Gaol.
Hanging is the word sir; if you be ready
for that, you are well cooked.
Post.
So, if I prove a good repast to the spectators,
the dish pays the shot.
Gaol.
A heavy reckoning for you, sir: But the
comfort is, you shall be called to no more payments,
fear no more tavern bills; which are often the sadness
of parting, as the procuring of mirth: you
come in faint for want of meat, depart reeling with
too much drink; sorry that you have paid too much,
and sorry that you are paid too much9 note
; purse and
brain both empty: the brain the heavier for being
too light, the purse too light, being drawn of heaviness1 note:
O! of this contradiction you shall now be
quit2 note
.—O the charity of a penny cord! it sums up
thousands in a trice: you have no true debitor and
creditor3 note
but it; of what's past, is, and to come, the
discharge:—Your neck, sir, is pen, book, and
counters; so the acquittance follows.
-- 204 --
Post.
I am merrier to die, than thou art to live.
Gaol.
Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the
tooth-ach: 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.
Post.
Yes, indeed, do I fellow.
Gaol.
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
take upon yourself that, which I am sure you do
not know; or jump the after-inquiry4 note
on your own
peril: and how you shall speed in your journey's end,
I think you'll never return to tell one.
Post.
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.
Gaol.
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.
Mess.
Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner
to the king.
Post.
Thou bringest good news;—I am called to
be made free.
Gaol.
I'll be hanged then.
Post.
Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; no
bolts for the dead.
[Exeunt Posthumus and Messenger.
-- 205 --
Gaol.
Unless a man would marry a gallows, and
beget young gibbets, I never saw one so prone5 note
.
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.
6 note.
SCENE V
Cymbeline's Tent.
Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus,
Pisanio, Lords, Officers, and Attendants.
Cym.
Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made
-- 206 --
Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart,
That the poor soldier, that so richly fought,
Whose rags sham'd gilded arms, whose naked breast
Stepp'd before targe of proof, cannot be found:
He shall be happy that can find him, if
Our grace can make him so.
Bel.
I never saw
Such noble fury in so poor a thing;
Such precious deeds in one that promis'd nought
But beggary and poor looks7 note
.
Cym.
No tidings of him?
Pis.
He hath been search'd among the dead and living,
But no trace of him.
Cym.
To my grief, I am
The heir of his reward; which I will add
To you, the liver, heart, and brain of Britain,
[To Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.
By whom, I grant, she lives: 'Tis now the time
To ask of whence you are:—report it.
Bel.
Sir,
In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen:
Further to boast, were neither true nor modest,
Unless I add, we are honest.
Cym.
Bow your knees:
Arise, my knights o' the battle8 note; I create you
Companions to our person, and will fit you
With dignities becoming your estates.
-- 207 --
Enter Cornelius and Ladies.
There's business in these faces9 note
:—Why so sadly
Greet you our victory? you look like Romans,
And not o' the court of Britain.
Cor.
Hail, great king!
To sour your happiness, I must report
The queen is dead.
Cym.
Whom worse than a physician1 note
Would this report become? But I consider,
By medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death
Will seize the doctor too2 note
.—How ended she?
Cor.
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.
Cym.
Pr'ythee, say.
Cor.
First, she confess'd she never lov'd you; only
Affected greatness got by you, not you:
Married your royalty, was wife to your place;
Abhorr'd your person.
Cym.
She alone knew this:
And, but she spoke it dying, I would not
Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.
-- 208 --
Cor.
Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to love2 note
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.
Cym.
O most delicate fiend!
Who is't can read a woman?—Is there more?
Cor.
More, sir, and worse. She did confess, she had
For you a mortal mineral: which, being took,
Should by the minute feed on life, and, ling'ring,
By inches waste you: In which time she purpos'd,
By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to
O'ercome you with her show: yes, and in time3 note,
(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.
Cym.
Heard you all this, her women?
Lady.
We did so, please your highness.
Cym.
Mine eyes4 note
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,
-- 209 --
To have mistrusted her: yet, O my daughter!
That it was folly in me, thou may'st say,
And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all!
Enter Lucius, Iachimo, the Soothsayer, and other
Roman Prisoners, guarded; Posthumus behind,
and Imogen.
Thou com'st not, Caius, now for tribute; that
The Britons have raz'd out, though with the loss
Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have made suit,
That their good souls may be appeas'd with slaughter
Of you their captives, which ourself have granted:
So, think of your estate.
Luc.
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 feat5 note, so nurse-like: let his virtue join
With my request, which, I'll make bold, your highness
Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm,
Though he have serv'd a Roman: save him, sir,
And spare no blood beside.
-- 210 --
Cym.
I have surely seen him:
His favour is familiar6 note to me.—Boy,
Thou hast look'd thyself into my grace,
And art mine own.—I know not why, nor wherefore,
To say, live, boy7 note
: 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.
Imo.
I humbly thank your highness.
Luc.
I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad;
And yet, I know, thou wilt.
Imo.
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.
Luc.
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?
Cym.
What would'st 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?
Imo.
He is a Roman; no more kin to me,
Than I to your highness; who, being born your vassal,
Am something nearer.
Cym.
Wherefore ey'st him so?
-- 211 --
Imo.
I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please
To give me hearing.
Cym.
Ay, with all my heart,
And lend my best attention. What's thy name?
Imo.
Fidele, sir.
Cym.
Thou art my good youth, my page;
I'll be thy master: Walk with me; speak freely.
[Cymbeline and Imogen converse apart.
Bel.
Is not this boy reviv'd from death8 note?
Arv.
One sand another
Not more resembles: That sweet rosy lad,
Who died, and was Fidele:—What think you?
Gui.
The same dead thing alive.
Bel.
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.
Gui.
But we saw him dead.
Bel.
Be silent; let's see further.
Pis.
It is my mistress:
[Aside.
Since she is living, let the time run on,
To good, or bad.
[Cymbeline and Imogen come forward.
Cym.
Come, stand thou by our side;
Make thy demand aloud.—Sir, [To Iach.] 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.
Imo.
My boon is, that this gentleman may render
Of whom he had this ring.
-- 212 --
Post.
What's that to him?
[Aside.
Cym.
That diamond upon your finger, say,
How came it yours?
Iach.
Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that
Which, to be spoke, would torture thee.
Cym.
How! me?
Iach.
I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that which9 note
Torments me to conceal. By villainy
I got this ring; 'twas Leonatus' jewel:
Whom thou didst banish; and (which more may grieve thee,
As it doth me,) a nobler sir ne'er liv'd
'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord1 note
?
Cym.
All that belongs to this.
Iach.
That paragon, thy daughter,—
For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits
Quail to remember2 note,—Give me leave; I faint.
-- 213 --
Cym.
My daughter! what of her? Renew thy strength:
I had rather thou should'st live while nature will,
Than die ere I hear more: strive man, and speak.
Iach.
Upon a time, (unhappy was the clock
That struck the hour!) it was in Rome, (accurs'd
The mansion where!) 'twas at a feast, (O 'would
Our viands had been poison'd! or, at least,
Those which I heav'd to head!) the good Posthúmus,
(What should I say? he was too good to be
Where ill men were; and was the best of all
Among'st the rar'st of good ones,) sitting sadly,
Hearing us praise our loves of Italy
For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast
Of him that best could speak: for feature, laming
The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva,
Postures beyond brief nature3 note
; for condition,
-- 214 --
A shop of all the qualities that man
Loves woman for; besides, that hook of wiving,
Fairness which strikes the eye:—
Cym.
I stand on fire:
Come to the matter.
Iach.
All too soon I shall,
Unless thou would'st grieve quickly.—This Posthúmus,
(Most like a noble lord, in love, and one
That had a royal lover,) took his hint;
And, not dispraising whom we prais'd, (therein
He was as calm as virtue) he began
His mistress picture; which by his tongue being made,
And then a mind put in't, either our brags
Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his description
Prov'd us unspeaking sots.
Cym.
Nay, nay, to the purpose.
Iach.
Your daughter's chastity—there it begins.
He spake of her as Dian4 note 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 his bed, and win this ring
By hers and mine adultery: he, true knight,
No lesser of her honour confident
-- 215 --
Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring;
And would so, had it been a carbuncle
Of Phœbus' wheel5 note
; and might so safely, had it
Been all the worth of his car. Away to Britain
Post I in this design: Well may you, sir,
Remember me at court, where I was taught
Of your chaste daughter the wide difference
'Twixt amorous and villainous. Being thus quench'd
Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain
'Gan in your duller Britain operate
Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent;
And, to be brief, my practice so prevail'd,
That I return'd with similar proof enough
To make the noble Leonatus mad,
By wounding his belief in her renown
With tokens thus, and thus; averring notes6 note
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,—
Post.
Ay, so thou dost,
[Coming forward.
Italian fiend!—Ah 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 justicer7 note
! Thou, king, send out
For tortures ingenious: it is I
-- 216 --
That all the abhorred things o' the earth amend,
By being worse than they. I am Posthúmus,
That kill'd thy daughter:—villain-like, I lie;
That caus'd a lesser villain than myself,
A sacrilegious thief, to do't:—the temple
Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself8 note,
Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set
The dogs o' the street to bay me: every villain
Be call'd, Posthúmus Leonatus; and
Be villainy less than 'twas!—O Imogen!
My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen!
Imo.
Peace, my lord; hear, hear—
Post.
Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful page,
There lie thy part.
[Striking her: she falls.
Pis.
O, gentlemen, help, help
Mine, and your mistress:—O, my lord Posthúmus!
You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now:—Help, help!—
Mine honour'd lady!
Cym.
Does the world go round?
Post.
How come these staggers9 note on me?
Pis.
Wake, my mistress!
-- 217 --
Cym.
If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me
To death with mortal joy.
Pis.
How fares my mistress?
Imo.
O, get thee from my sight;
Thou gav'st me poison: dangerous fellow, hence!
Breathe not where princes are.
Cym.
The tune of Imogen!
Pis.
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.
Cym.
New matter still?
Imo.
It poison'd me.
Cor.
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 a cordial, she is serv'd
As I would serve a rat.
Cym.
What's this, Cornelius?
Cor.
The queen, sir, very oft impórtun'd me
To temper poisons for her; still pretending
The satisfaction of her knowledge, only
In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs
Of no esteem: I, dreading that her purpose
Was of more danger, did compound for her
A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would cease
The present power of life; but, in short time,
All offices of nature should again
Do their due functions.—Have you ta'en of it?
Imo.
Most like I did, for I was dead.
Bel.
My boys,
There was our error.
Gui.
This is sure, Fidele.
Imo.
Why did you throw your wedded lady from you?
-- 218 --
Think, that you are upon a rock1 note
; and now
Throw me again.
[Embracing him.
Post.
Hang there like fruit, my soul,
Till the tree die!
Cym.
How now, my flesh, my child?
What, mak'st thou me a dullard2 note
in this act?
Wilt thou not speak to me?
Imo.
Your blessing, sir.
[Kneeling.
Bel.
Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not;
You had a motive for't.
[To Guiderius and Arviragus.
-- 219 --
Cym.
My tears, that fall,
Prove holy water on thee! Imogen,
Thy mother's dead.
Imo.
I am sorry for't, my lord.
Cym.
O, she was naught; and 'long of her it was,
That we meet here so strangely: But her son
Is gone, we know not how, nor where.
Pis.
My lord,
Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord Cloten,
Upon my lady's missing, came to me
With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, and swore,
If I discover'd not which way she was gone,
It was my instant death: By accident,
I had a feigned letter of my master's
Then in my pocket; which directed him
To seek her on the mountains near to Milford;
Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments,
Which he inforc'd from me, away he posts
With unchaste purpose, and with oath to violate
My lady's honour: what became of him,
I further know not.
Gui.
Let me end the story:
I slew him there.
Cym.
Marry, the gods forfend!
I would not thy good deeds should from my lips
Pluck a hard sentence: pr'ythee, valiant youth,
Deny't again.
Gui.
I have spoke it, and I did it.
Cym.
He was a prince.
Gui.
A most uncivil one: The wrongs he did me
Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me
With language that would make me spurn the sea,
-- 220 --
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.
Cym.
I am sorry for thee4 note
:
By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must
Endure our law: Thou art dead.
Imo.
That headless man
I thought had been my lord.
Cym.
Bind the offender,
And take him from our presence.
Bel.
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.—Let his arms alone;
[To the Guard.
They were not born for bondage.
Cym.
Why, old soldier,
Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for,
By tasting of our wrath5 note? How of descent
As good as we?
Arv.
In that he spake too far.
Cym.
And thou shalt die for't.
Bel.
We will die all three:
But I will prove, that two of us 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.
Arv.
Your danger's ours.
Gui.
And our good his.
-- 221 --
Bel.
Have at it then.—By leave;
Thou hadst, great king, a subject, who was call'd
Belarius.
Cym.
What of him? he is
A banish'd traitor.
Bel.
He it is, that hath
Assum'd this age6 note
: indeed, a banish'd man;
I know not how, a traitor.
Cym.
Take him hence;
The whole world shall not save him.
Bel.
Not too hot:
First pay me for the nursing of thy sons;
And let it be confiscate all, so soon
As I have receiv'd it.
Cym.
Nursing of my sons?
Bel.
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.
Cym.
How! my issue?
Bel.
So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan,
Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd;
-- 222 --
Your pleasure was my mere offence7 note
, 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 mov'd her to't;
Having receiv'd the punishment before,
For that which I did then: Beaten for loyalty
Excited me to treason: Their dear loss,
The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd
Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir,
Here are your sons again; and I must lose
Two of the sweet'st companions in the world:—
The benediction of these covering heavens
Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy
To inlay heaven with stars8 note
.
-- 223 --
Cym.
Thou weep'st, and speak'st9 note.
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.
Bel.
Be pleas'd a while.—
This gentleman, whom I call Polydore,
Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius:
This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arvirágus,
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.
Cym.
Guiderius had
Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star;
It was a mark of wonder.
Bel.
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.
Cym.
O, what am I
A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother
Rejoic'd deliverance more:—Bless'd may you be1 note
,
That, after this strange starting from your orbs,
You may reign in them now!—O Imogen,
Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.
Imo.
No, my lord;
I have got two worlds by't.—O my gentle brother,
Have we thus met? O never say hereafter,
But I am truest speaker: you call'd me brother,
-- 224 --
When I was but your sister; I you brothers,
When you were so indeed2 note
.
Cym.
Did you e'er meet?
Arv.
Ay, my good lord.
Gui.
And at first meeting lov'd;
Continued so, until we thought he died.
Cor.
By the queen's dram she swallow'd.
Cym.
O rare instinct!
When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridgement3 note
Hath to it circumstantial branches, which
Distinction should be rich in4 note
.—Where? how liv'd you?
And when came you to serve our Roman captive?
How parted with your brothers? how first met them?
Why fled you from the court? and whither5 note? These,
And your three motives to the battle6 note, with
-- 225 --
I know not how much more, should be demanded;
And all the other by-dependancies.
From chance to chance; but nor the time, nor place,
Will serve our long intergatories7 note
. See,
Posthúmus anchors upon Imogen;
And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye
On him, her brothers, me, her master; hitting
Each object with a joy; the counterchange
In severally in all. Let's quit this ground,
And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.—
Thou art my brother; So we'll hold thee ever.
[To Belarius.
Imo.
You are my father too; and did relieve me,
To see this gracious season.
Cym.
All o'erjoy'd,
Save these in bonds; let them be joyful too,
For they shall taste our comfort.
Imo.
My good master,
I will yet do you service.
Luc.
Happy be you!
Cym.
The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought,
He would have well becom'd this place, and grac'd
The thankings of a king.
-- 226 --
Post.
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.
Iach.
I am down again:
[Kneeling.
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.
Post.
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.
Cym.
Nobly doom'd:
We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law;
Pardon's the word to all.
Arv.
You holp us, sir,
As you did mean indeed to be our brother;
Joy'd are we, that you are.
Post.
Your servant, princes.—Good my lord of Rome,
Call forth your soothsayer: As I slept, methought,
Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back,
Appear'd to me, with other spritely shows8 note
Of mine own kindred: when I wak'd, I found
This label on my bosom; whose containing
Is so from sense in hardness, that I can
Make no collection of it9 note
; let him show
His skill in the construction.
-- 227 --
Luc.
Philarmonous,—
Sooth.
Here, my good lord.
Luc.
Read, and declare the meaning.
Sooth. [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 Leo-natus, doth import so much:
The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter,
[To Cymbeline.
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.
Cym.
This hath some seeming.
Sooth.
The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline,
Personates thee: and thy lopp'd branches point
Thy two sons forth: who, by Belarius stolen,
For many years thought dead, are now reviv'd,
-- 228 --
To the majestick cedar join'd; whose issue
Promises Britain peace and plenty.
Cym.
Well,
My peace we will begin1 note
:—And, Caius Lucius,
Although the victor, we submit to Cæsar,
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 hand2 note
.
-- 229 --
Sooth.
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 battle3 note, 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 Cæsar, should again unite
His favour with the radiant Cymbeline,
Which shines here in the west.
Cym.
Laud we the gods;
And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils
From our bless'd altars! Publish we this peace
To all our subjects. Set we forward: Let
A Roman and a British ensign wave
Friendly together: so through Lud's town march:
And in the temple of great Jupiter
Our peace we'll ratify; seal it with feasts.—
Set on there:—Never was a war did cease,
Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a peace.
[Exeunt4 note.
