By thy revolt, O, husband, shall be thought
Put on for villainy; 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: ^{5 note}

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-slaughter
There is a prohibition so divine,
That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's my heart;—
^{1 note}
Something's afore't:—Soft, soft; we'll no defence;
Obedient as the scabbard.—What is here?
^{2 note}

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.
^{4 note}

I'll wake mine eye-balls blind first.

Imo.
Wherefore then
Did'st 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,
^{5 note}To be unbent, when thou hast ta'en thy stand,
The elected deer before thee?

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:

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, nothing;
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 then?
Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night,
Are they not but in Britain? I' the world's volume
Our Britain seems as of it, but not in it;
In a great pool, a swan's nest: Pr'ythee, think
There's livers out of Britain.

Pis.
I am most glad
You think of other place. The embassador,
Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven
To-morrow: ^{6 note}

Dark as your fortune is; and but disguise
That, which, to appear itself, must not yet be,
But by self-danger; you should tread a course
Pretty, and ^{7 note}full of view: yea, haply, near
The residence of Posthumus; so nigh, at least,
That though his actions were not visible, yet
Report should render him hourly to your ear,
As truly as he moves.

Imo.
O, for such means!
^{8 note}

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) into a waggish courage;
Ready in gybes, quick-answer'd, saucy, and
As quarrellous as the weazel: ^{9 note}

Of common-kissing Titan; 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 happy, (^{1 note}

Imo.
Thou art all the comfort
The gods will diet me with. Pr'ythee, away:
There's more to be consider'd; but ^{2 note}
we'll even
All that good time will give us: ^{3 note}
This attempt
I am soldier to, and will abide it with

A prince's courage. Away, I pr'ythee.

Pis.
Well, madam, we must take a short farewel;
Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of
Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress,
Here is a box; I had it from the queen;
What's in't is precious: if you are sick at sea,
Or stomach-qualm'd at land, a dram of this
Will drive away distemper.—To some shade,
And fit you to your manhood:—May the gods
Direct you to the best!

Imo.
Amen: I thank thee. [Exeunt. SCENE V. The palace of Cymbeline. Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, Lucius, and Lords.

Cym.
Thus far; and so farewel.

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 shew less sovereignty than they, must needs
Appear unkinglike.

Luc.
So, sir, I desire of you
A conduct over land, to Milford-Haven.—
Madam, all joy befal your grace, and you!

Cym.
My lords, you are appointed for that office;
The due of honour in no point omit:—
So, farewel, noble Lucius.

Luc.
Your hand, my lord.

Clot.
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,
'Till he have crost the Severn.—Happiness! [Exit. Lucius, &c.

Queen.
He goes hence frowning: but it honours us,
That we have given him cause.

Clot.
'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 should 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 light in sufferance. [Exit a servant.

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 the Servant.

Cym.
Where is she, sir? How
Can her contempt be answer'd?

Serv.
Please you, sir,

Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer
That will be given to the loud of noise we make.

Queen.
My lord, when last I went to visit her,
She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close;
Whereto constrain'd by her infirmity,
She should that duty leave unpaid to you,
Which daily she was bound to proffer: this
She wish'd me to make known; but our great court
Made me to blame in memory.

Cym.
Her doors lock'd?
Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that, which I fear,
Prove false! [Exit.

Queen.
Son, I say, follow the king.

Clot.
That man of hers, Pisanio her old servant,
I have not seen these two days. [Exit.

Queen.
Go, look after.—
Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus!—
He hath a drug of mine: I pray, his absence
Proceed by swallowing that; for he believes
It is a thing most precious. But for her,
Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seiz'd her;
Or, wing'd with fervour of her love, she's flown
To her desir'd Posthumus: Gone she is
To death, or to dishonour; and my end
Can make good use of either: She being down,
I have the placing of the British crown. Re-enter Cloten.
How now, my son?

Clot.
'Tis certain, she is fled:
Go in, and cheer the king; he rages, none
Dare come about him.

Queen.
All the better: May
This night fore-stall him of the coming day! [Exit Queen.

Clot.
I love, and hate her: for she's fair and royal;

^{4 note}

Pis.
O, good my lord!

Clot.
Where is thy lady? or, by Jupiter,
I will not ask again. Close villain,
I'll have this secret from thy heart, or rip

Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus?
From whose so many weights of baseness cannot
A dram of worth be drawn.

Pis.
Alas, my lord,
How can she be with him? When was she miss'd?
He is in Rome.

Clot.
Where is she, sir? Come nearer;
No further halting: satisfy me home,
What is become of her?

Pis.
O, my all-worthy lord!

Clot.
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.

Clot.
Let's see't:—I will pursue her
Even to Augustus' throne.

Pis. [Aside.
^{5 note}

Clot.
Humh!

Pis.
I'll write to my lord, she's a dead. O, Imogen, [Aside.

Safe may'st thou wander, safe return again!

Clot.

Sirrah, is this letter true?

Pis.

Sir, as I think.

Clot.

It is Posthumus hand; I know't.—Sirrah, if thou wouldst not be a villain, but do me true service; undergo those employments, wherein I should have cause to use thee, with a serious industry,—that is, what villainy soe'er I bid thee do, to perform it, directly and truly,—I would think thee an honest man: thou should'st neither want my means for thy relief, nor my voice for thy preferment.

Pis.

Well, my good lord.

Clot.

Wilt thou serve me? For since patiently and constantly thou hast stuck to the bare fortune of that beggar Posthumus, thou can'st not in the course of gratitude but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou serve me?

Pis.

Sir, I will.

Clot.

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.

Clot.

The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit hither: let it be thy first service; go.

Pis.

I shall, my lord.

Clot.

Meet thee at Milford-Haven:—I forgot to ask him one thing; I'll remember't anon:—Even there, thou villain Posthumus, will I kill thee.—I would, these garments were come. She said upon a time, (the bitterness of it I now belch from my heart) that she held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect than my noble and natural person, together with the adornment of my qualities. With that suit upon my back, will I ravish her: First kill him, and in her eyes; there shall she see my valour, which will then be a torment to her contempt. He on the ground, my speech of insultment ended on his dead

body,—and when my lust hath dined, (which, as I say, to vex her, I will execute in the clothes that she so prais'd) to the court I'll knock her back, foot her home again. She hath despis'd me rejoicingly, and I'll be merry in my revenge.

Be those the garments?

Pis.

Ay, my noble lord.

Clot.

How long is't since she went to Milford-Haven?

Pis.

She can scarce be there yet.

Clot.

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.

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 true.—To Milford go,
And find not her whom thou pursu'st. Flow, flow,
You heavenly blessings, on her! This fool's speed
Be crost with slowness; labour be his meed! [Exit. SCENE VI. The forest and cave. 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 shew'd thee,
Thou wast within a ken: O Jove! I think,
Foundations fly the wretched: such, I mean,
Where they should be reliev'd. Two beggars told me,
I could not miss my way: Will poor folk lye,
That have afflictions on them; knowing 'tis
A punishment, or trial? Yes: no wonder,
When rich ones scarce tell true: To lapse in fullness
^{6 note}Is sorer, than to lye for need; and falshood
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 call; I dare not call: yet famine,
Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant.
Plenty, and peace, breeds cowards; hardness ever
Of hardiness is mother.—Ho! who's here?
^{7 note}

Take, or lend.—Ho!—No answer? then I'll enter.
Best draw my sword; and if mine enemy
But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look on't.
Such a foe, good heavens! [She goes into the cave. Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.

Bel.
You, Polydore, have prov'd best woodman, and
Are master of the feast: Cadwal, and I,
Will play the cook, and servant; 'tis our match:
The sweat of industry would dry, and die,
But for the end it works to. Come; our stomachs
Will make what's homely, savoury: Weariness
Can snore upon the flint, when resty sloth
Finds the down pillow hard.—Now, peace be here,
Poor house, that keep'st thyself!

Guid.
I am throughly weary.

Arv.
I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite.

Guid.
There is cold meat i' the cave; we'll brouze 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.

Guid.
What's the matter, sir?

Bel.
By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not,
An earthly paragon!—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
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 floor. Here's money for my meat:
I would have left it on the board, so soon
As I had made my meal; and parted
With prayers for the provider.

Guid.
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 dy'd, had I not made it.

Bel.
Whither bound?

Imo.
To Milford-Haven.

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 offence.

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.

Guid.
Were you a woman, youth,
I should woo hard, but be your groom.—In honesty
^{3 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 is yours:—Most welcome!
Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst friends.

Imo.
'Mong'st friends!
If brothers?—'Would it had been so, that they [Aside.
Had been my father's sons! ^{4 note}
then had my prize [Aside.
Been less; and so more equal ballasting [Aside.
To thee, Posthumus. [Aside.

Bel.
He wrings at some distress.

Guid.
'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
^{1 note}

Bel.
It shall be so:
Boys, we'll go dress our hunt.—Fair youth, come in:
Discourse is heavy, fasting; when we have supp'd,
We'll mannerly demand thee of thy story,
So far as thou wilt speak it.

Guid.
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 Roman Senators, and Tribunes.

1 Sen.
This is the tenor of the emperor's writ;
^{2 note}

That since the common men are now in action

'Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians;
And that the legions now in Gallia are
Full weak to undertake our wars against
The fallen-off Britons; that we do incite
The gentry to this business: He creates
Lucius pro-consul: ^{3 note}

Tri.
Is Lucius general of the forces?

2 Sen.
Ay.

Tri.
Remaining now in Gallia?

1 Sen.
With those legions
Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy
Must be supplyant: The words of your commission
Will tie you to the numbers, and the time
Of their dispatch.

Tri.
We will discharge our duty. [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I. The forest, near the cave.

Enter Cloten.

I am near to the place where they should meet, if Pisanio have mapp'd it truly. How fit his garments

serve me! Why should his mistress, who was made by him that made the taylor, not be fit too? the rather (saving reverence of the word) for, 'tis said, a woman's fitness comes by fits. Therein I must play the workman. I dare speak it to myself, (for it is not vain-glory, for a man and his glass to confer; in his own chamber, I mean) the lines of my body are as well drawn as his; no less young, more strong, not beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in the advantage of the time, above him in birth, alike conversant in general services, and more remarkable in single oppositions: yet this ^{4 note}

SCENE II. The Cave. Enter Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, and Imogen.

Bel.
You are not well: remain here in the cave;
We'll come to you after hunting.

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.

Guid.
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;
^{6 note}
Stick to your journal course: the breach of custom
Is breach of all. I am ill; but your being by me
Cannot amend me: Society is no comfort
To one not sociable: I am not very sick,
Since I can reason of it. Pray you, trust me here:
I'll rob none but myself; and let me die,
Stealing so poorly.

Guid.
I love thee; I have spoke it:
^{7 note}
How much the quantity, 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!
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, farewel.

Imo.
I wish ye sport.

Arv.
You health.—So please you, sir^{8 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 seas breed monsters; for the dish,
Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish.
I am sick still; heart-sick:—Pisanio,
I'll now taste of thy drug.

Guid.
^{9 note}I could not stir him:
He said, he was ^{1 note}gentle, but unfortunate;
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.

Bel.
Pray, be not sick,
For you must be our housewife.

Imo.
Well, or ill,
I am bound to you. [Exit Imogen.

Bel.
And shalt be ever.—
This youth, howe'er distress'd, appears, he hath had
Good ancestors.

Arv.
How angel-like he sings!

Guid.
But his neat cookery!
He cut our roots in characters;
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
From so divine a temple, to commix
With winds that sailors rail at.

Guid.
I do note,
That grief and patience, rooted in him both,
^{2 note}Mingle their spurs together.

Arv.
Grow, patience!
And let the ^{3 note}

Bel.
^{4 note}It is great morning. Come; away.—Who's there? Enter Cloten.

Clot.
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.

Guid.
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.

Clot.
Soft! What are you
That fly me thus? some villain mountaineers?
I have heard of such.—What slave art thou?

Guid.
A thing
More slavish did I ne'er, than answering
A slave without a knock.

Clot.
Thou art a robber,
A law-breaker, a villain: Yield thee, thief.

Guid.
To who? to thee? What art thou? Have not I
An arm as big as thine? a heart as big?
Thy words, I grant, are bigger; for I wear not
My dagger in my mouth. Say, what thou art;
Why I should yield to thee?

Clot.
Thou villain base,
Know'st me not by my clothes?

Guid.
No, nor thy taylor, rascal,
Who is thy grandfather; he made those clothes,
Which, as it seems, make thee^{5 note}


.

Clot.
Thou precious varlet,
My taylor made them not.

Guid.
Hence then, and thank
The man that gave them thee. Thou art some fool;
I am loth to beat thee.

Clot.
Thou injurious thief,
Hear but my name, and tremble.

Guid.
What's thy name?

Clot.
Cloten, thou villain.

Guid.
Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name,
I cannot tremble at it; were it toad, adder, spider,
'Twould move me sooner.

Clot.
To thy further fear,
Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know
I am son to the queen.

Guid.
I am sorry for't; not seeming
So worthy as thy birth.

Clot.
Art not afeard?

Guid.
Those that I reverence, those I fear; the wise:
At fools I laugh, not fear them.

Clot.
Die the death:
When I have slain thee with my proper hand,
I'll follow those that even now fled hence,
And on the gates of Lud's town set your heads:
^{6 note}Yield, rustic mountaineer. [Fight, and exeunt.

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; ^{7 note}
the snatches in his voice,
And burst of speaking, 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.
^{9 note}

I mean, to man, he had not apprehension
Of roaring terrors: For the effect of judgment
Is oft the cause of fear,—But see, thy brother. Re-enter Guiderius, with Cloten's head.

Guid.
This Cloten was a fool; an empty purse,
There was no money in't: not Hercules
Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had none:
Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne
My head, as I do his.

Bel.
What hast thou done?

Guid.
^{9 note}
I am perfect, what: cut off one Cloten's head,
Son to the queen, after his own report;
Who call'd me traitor, mountaineer; and swore,
With his own single hand he'd ^{1 note}