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.
James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
