Good morrow to your majesty and to my gracious mother.

Cym.
Attend you here the door of our stern daughter? ^note
Will she not forth?

Clo.

I have assailed her with music ^note, 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 ^note,
And then she's yours.

Queen.
You are most bound to the king,
Who lets go by no vantages that may
Prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself
To orderly soliciting, ^note and be friended ^{note note}
With aptness of the season; ^note make denials
Increase your services; so seem as if
You were ^note inspired to do those duties which
You tender to her; that you in all obey her, ^note
Save when command to your dismission tends,
And therein you are senseless.

Clo.
Senseless! not so. Enter ^note a Messenger.

Mess.
So like you, sir, ambassadors from ^note Rome;
The one is ^note 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 ^note goodness forespent on us ^note,
We must extend our notice. Our dear son,
When you have given good morning to your mistress,
Attend the queen and us; we shall have need

To employ you towards this Roman. Come, our queen. ^note [Exeunt all but Cloten. ^{note note}

Clo.
If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not,
Let her lie still and dream. By your leave, ho! [Knocks. ^note
I know her women are about her: what
If I do line one of their hands? ^note 'Tis gold
Which buys ^note admittance; oft it doth; yea, ^note and ^note makes
Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up ^note
Their deer to the stand o' the stealer; and 'tis gold
Which makes the true man ^note kill'd and saves the thief;
Nay, sometime ^note hangs both thief and true man ^note: 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. ^note
No more? ^note

Clo.
Yes, and a gentlewoman's son.

Lady.
That's more
Than some whose tailors are as dear as yours
Can justly boast of. What's your lordship's pleasure?

Clo.
Your lady's person: is she ready?

Lady. ^note
Ay,
To keep her chamber. ^note

Clo.
There is gold for you;
Sell me your good report. ^note

Lady.
How! my ^note good name? or to report of you
What I shall think is ^note good? ^note The princess! ^note [Exit Lady. ^note 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: faith,
I shall unfold equal discourtesy
To your best kindness: one of your great knowing
Should learn, being taught, ^note forbearance.

Clo.
To leave you in your madness, 'twere my sin:
I will not ^note.

Imo.
Fools are not ^note mad folks.

Clo.
Do you call me fool?

Imo.
As I am mad, I do:
If you'll be patient ^note, I'll no more be mad;
That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir,
You put me to forget a lady's manners,
By being so verbal: and learn now for all
That I, which ^note 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— ^noteI hate you; which I had rather
You felt than make 't ^note my boast.

Clo.
You sin against
Obedience, which you owe your father. For ^note
The contract you pretend with that base wretch,
One bred of alms and foster'd with cold dishes,
With scraps o' the court, it is no contract, none:
And though it be allow'd ^note in meaner parties—
Yet who than he more mean? ^note—to knit their souls,
On whom there is no more dependency
But brats and beggary, ^note in self-figured ^note knot;
Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by
The consequence o' the crown, and must not soil ^note
The precious note ^note of it with ^note a base slave,
A hilding for a livery, 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 ^note 'twere made
Comparative for your virtues to be styled
The under-hangman of his kingdom ^note, 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 named of thee. His meanest ^note garment,

That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is ^note dearer
In my respect than all the hairs ^note above ^note thee,
Were they all made such men. How now, Pisanio! ^note Enter Pisanio. ^note

Clo.
‘His garment! ^note’ Now, the devil— ^note

Imo.
To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently,— ^note

Clo.
‘His garment!’

Imo.
I am sprited with a fool,
Frighted and anger'd worse: go bid my woman
Search for a jewel that too casually
Hath left mine arm: it was thy master's: 'shrew me,
If I would lose it for a revenue
Of any king's ^note in Europe! I do think
I saw't this morning: confident I am
Last night 'twas on ^note mine ^note arm; I kiss'd it ^note:
I hope it be not gone to tell my lord
That I kiss aught but he ^note.

Pis.
'Twill not be lost.

Imo.
I hope so: go and search. [Exit Pisanio. ^note

Clo.
You have abused me:
‘His meanest garment!’ ^note

Imo.
Ay, I said so, sir:

If you will make't an action, call witness to't ^note. ^note

Clo.
I will inform your father.

Imo.
Your mother too:
She's my good lady, and will conceive, I hope,
But the worst of me. So, I leave you, sir ^note,
To the worst of discontent. [Exit.

Clo.
I'll be revenged:
‘His meanest ^note garment!’ Well. [Exit. ^note Scene IV. [Footnote: Rome. ^note Philario's house. ^note 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 ^note, and wish
That warmer days would come: in these fear'd hopes ^note,
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's ^note commission throughly: and I think
He'll grant the tribute, send the arrearages ^note,

Or ^note look upon our Romans, whose remembrance
Is yet fresh in their grief.

Post.
I do believe,
Statist though I am none, nor like to be,
That this will prove a war; and you shall hear
The legions ^note now in Gallia sooner landed
In our not-fearing ^note Britain than have tidings
Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen
Are men ^note more order'd than when Julius Cæsar
Smiled at their lack of skill, but found their courage
Worthy his frowning at: their discipline,
Now mingled ^note with their courages ^note, will ^note make known
To their approvers they are people such ^note
That mend upon the world. Enter Iachimo.

Phi.
See! Iachimo! ^note

Post.
The swiftest ^note harts ^note have posted you by land,
And winds of all the corners kiss'd your sails,
To make your vessel nimble.

Phi. ^note
Welcome, sir.

Post. ^note
I hope the briefness of your answer made
The speediness of your return.

Iach.
Your lady
Is one of the ^note fairest ^note that ^note I have ^note look'd upon.

Post.
And therewithal the best, or let her beauty
Look through ^note a casement to allure false hearts

And be false with them.

Iach.
Here are letters for you.

Post.
Their tenour ^note good, I trust.

Iach.
'Tis very like.

Phi. ^note
Was Caius Lucius in the Britain ^note court
When you were there?

Iach.
He was expected then,
But not ^note approach'd.

Post.
All is well yet ^note. ^note
Sparkles this stone as it was wont? or is't not
Too dull for your good wearing?

Iach.
If I had lost it, ^note
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 ^note too hard to come by.

Iach.
Not a whit,
Your lady being so easy.

Post.
Make not ^note, 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 knowledge of your mistress home, I grant
We were to question farther ^note: but I now
Profess myself the winner of her honour,
Together with your ring, and not the wronger
Of her or you, having ^note proceeded but
By both your wills.

Post.
If you can make't apparent

That you ^note have tasted her in bed, my hand
And ring is ^note yours: if not, the foul opinion
You had of her pure ^note honour gains or loses
Your sword or mine, or masterless leaves ^note both
To who shall ^note find them.

Iach.
Sir, my circumstances,
Being so near the truth as I will make them,
Must first induce you to believe ^note: 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. ^note

Iach.
First, her bedchamber,—
Where, I confess, I slept not, but profess
Had that was well worth watching,—it was hang'd
With tapestry of silk and silver ^note; the story
Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman,
And ^note Cydnus ^note swell'd above the banks ^note, or for
The press of boats or pride: a piece of work
So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive
In workmanship and value; which I wonder'd
Could be so rarely and exactly wrought,
Since the true life on't ^note was— ^note

Post.
This ^note is true ^note;
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 ^note to report themselves: the cutter ^note
Was as another nature, dumb ^note; outwent ^note 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 ^note is ^note fretted: her ^note andirons—
I had forgot them—were two winking ^note Cupids
Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely
Depending on their brands.

Post.
This is her honour ^note! ^note
Let it be ^note granted you have seen all this,—and praise
Be given ^note to your remembrance—the description
Of what is in her chamber nothing saves
The wager you have laid.

Iach.
Then, if you can, [Showing ^note the bracelet.
Be pale: I ^note 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! ^note
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 ^note outsell her gift
And yet enrich'd it too ^note: she gave it me
And said she prized it once. ^note

Post.
May be ^note 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. ^note
It is a basilisk unto mine eye,
Kills me to look on't. Let there be no honour
Where there is beauty; truth, where semblance; love,
Where there's another man: the vows of women
Of no more bondage be to where they are made
Than they are to their virtues; which is nothing.
O, above measure false!

Phi.
Have patience, sir,
And take your ring again; 'tis not yet won:
It may be probable she lost it, or
Who knows if ^note one of her ^note women, being ^note corrupted,
Hath stol'n ^note it from her? ^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 stol'n ^note.

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 ^note sure
She would ^note not lose ^note it: her attendants are
All sworn and ^note honourable:—they induced to steal it!
And by a stranger!—No, he hath enjoy'd her:
The cognizance of her incontinency
Is this: she hath bought the name of whore thus dearly. ^note
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 believed
Of one persuaded well of— ^note

Post.
Never talk on't;
She hath been colted by him.

Iach.
If you seek
For further satisfying, under her breast—
Worthy the ^note pressing—lies a mole, right proud
Of that most delicate lodging: by my life,
I kiss'd it, and it gave me present hunger
To feed again, though full. You do remember
This stain upon her?

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 arithmetic ^note; never count ^note the turns;
Once, and a million ^note!

Iach.
I'll be sworn— ^note

Post.
No swearing.
If you will swear you have not done't you lie,
And I will kill thee if thou dost deny
Thou'st ^note made me cuckold.

Iach.
I'll deny nothing.

Post.
O, that I had her here ^note, to tear her limb-meal!
I will go there and do't; i' ^note the court; before
Her father. I'll do something— ^note [Exit.

Phi.
Quite besides
The ^note government of patience! You have won:
Let's follow him and pervert ^note the present wrath
He hath against himself.

Iach.
With all my heart. [Exeunt. ^note Scene V. [Footnote: Another ^note room in Philario's house. Enter ^note Posthumus.

Post.
Is there no way for men to be, but women
Must be half-workers? We are all bastards ^note;
And that most venerable man which I
Did call my father, was I know not where
When I was stamp'd; some coiner with his tools
Made me a counterfeit: yet my mother seem'd
The Dian of that time: so doth my wife
The nonpareil of this. O, vengeance, vengeance!
Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd,
And pray'd me ^note oft forbearance; did ^note it with

A pudency so rosy, the sweet view on't
Might well have warm'd old Saturn; that I thought her ^note
As chaste as unsunn'd snow. O, all the devils!
This yellow Iachimo, in an hour,—was't not?—
Or less,—at first? ^note—perchance he spoke not, but
Like a full-acorn'd boar, a German one ^note,
Cried ‘O!’ and mounted; found no opposition
But ^note what he look'd for should ^note oppose and she
Should from ^note encounter guard. Could I find out
The woman's part in me! ^note For there's no motion
That tends to vice in man but I affirm
It is the woman's part: be it ^note lying, note it,
The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;
Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers; ^note
Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,
Nice longing ^note, slanders, mutability,
All faults that may be named ^note, nay, that hell knows,
Why, hers, in part or all, but rather all;
For even to vice ^{note note note}
They are not constant, but are changing still
One ^note vice, but of a minute old, for one
Not half so old as that. I'll write against them,
Detest them, curse them: yet 'tis greater skill
In a true hate, to pray they have their will:
The very devils cannot plague them better. [Exit.

ACT III. ^note Scene I. [Footnote: Britain. A hall ^note in Cymbeline's palace. Enter in state, Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, and Lords at one door, and at another, Caius Lucius ^note and Attendants.

Cym.
Now say, what would Augustus Cæsar with us?

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 ^note Britain
And conquer'd it, Cassibelan ^note, thine uncle,—
Famous in Cæsar's praises, no whit less
Than in his feats deserving it—for ^note him
And his succession granted Rome a tribute,
Yearly three thousand pounds; which by thee lately
Is left untender'd.

Queen.
And, to kill ^note the marvel,
Shall be so ever.

Clo.
There be many Cæsars
Ere such another Julius. Britain is ^note
A world by itself ^note, and we will nothing pay
For wearing our own noses.

Queen.
That opportunity,
Which then they had to take from 's ^note, 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 ^note in
With rocks ^note unscaleable and roaring waters,
With sands ^note that will not bear your enemies' boats,
But suck them up to the topmast. A kind of conquest
Cæsar ^note made here; but made not here his brag
Of ‘Came, and saw, and overcame ^note:’ with shame—
The first that ever touch'd him—he was carried
From off our coast, twice beaten; ^note and his shipping—
Poor ignorant baubles!—on our terrible seas,
Like egg-shells moved upon their surges, crack'd
As easily 'gainst our rocks: for joy whereof
The famed Cassibelan ^note, who was once at point—
O giglot ^note fortune!—to master Cæsar's sword,
Made Lud's town ^note with rejoicing fires ^note bright
And Britons ^note strut with courage.

Clo.

Come, there's no more tribute to be paid: ^note our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time; and, as I said, there is no moe ^note such Cæsars: other of them may have crooked noses, but to owe ^note such straight arms, none.

Cym.

Son, let your mother end.

Clo.

We have yet many among us can gripe as hard as Cassibelan ^note: 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,
Till the injurious Romans ^note did extort
This tribute from us ^note, we were free: Cæsar's ambition,
Which swell'd so much that it did almost stretch
The ^note sides o' the world, against all colour here ^note
Did put the yoke upon 's ^note; which to shake off
Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon
Ourselves to be.

Clo. and Lords.
We do.

Cym.
Say then to Cæsar, ^note
Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which ^note
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 laws, ^note
Who was the first of Britain which did put
His brows within a golden crown, and call'd
Himself a king.

Luc.
I am ^note sorry, Cymbeline,
That I am to pronounce Augustus Cæsar—
Cæsar, that hath moe ^note kings his servants than
Thyself domestic officers—thine enemy: ^note
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 ^note welcome, Caius.
Thy Cæsar knighted me; my youth I spent
Much under him; of him I gather'd honour;
Which he to seek ^note of me again, perforce,
Behoves me keep ^note at utterance ^note. I am perfect
That the Pannonians and Dalmatians for
Their liberties are now in arms; a precedent ^note
Which not to read would show the Britons ^note cold:
So Cæsar shall not find them.

Luc.
Let proof speak.

Clo.

His majesty bids you welcome. Make pastime with us day or two, or longer: if you seek us afterwards in other ^note 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. ^note Scene II. [Footnote: Another ^note room in the palace. Enter ^note Pisanio, with a letter.

Pis.
How! of adultery? Wherefore write you not
What monster's her accuser ^note? Leonatus! ^note
O master! what a strange infection
Is fall'n into thy ear ^note! What false Italian,

As poisonous-tongued ^note as handed, hath prevail'd
On thy too ready hearing ^note? Disloyal! No:
She's punish'd for her truth, and undergoes,
More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults
As would take in some virtue. O my master!
Thy mind to her ^note is now as low as were
Thy fortunes. How! that I should murder her?
Upon the love and truth and vows ^note which I
Have made to thy command? I, her? her blood?
If it be so to do good service, never
Let me be counted serviceable. How look I,
That I should seem to lack humanity
So much as this fact comes to? [Reading ^note] ‘Do't: the letter ^note
That I have sent her, by her own command
Shall give thee opportunity. ^note’ O damn'd paper!
Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble,
Art thou a feodary ^note for this act, and look'st
So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes.
I am ignorant ^note in what I am commanded. Enter Imogen. ^note

Imo.
How now, Pisanio!

Pis.
Madam, here is a letter from my lord.

Imo.
Who? thy lord? that is my lord Leonatus! ^note
O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer ^note
That knew the star as I his characters;
He'ld lay the future open. You good gods,
Let what is here contain'd relish of love,
Of my lord's health, of his content, yet not ^note
That we two are asunder; let that grieve him:

Some griefs are medicinable ^note; that is ^note one of them,
For it doth physic love: of ^note his content,
All but in ^note that! Good wax, thy leave. Blest be
You bees that make these locks of counsel! Lovers
And men in dangerous bonds pray not alike:
Though forfeiters ^note you cast in prison, yet
You ^note clasp young Cupid's tables. Good news, gods! [Reads ^note]

‘Justice, and your father's wrath, should he take me in his dominion, could not be so cruel to me, as you ^note, ^note O the dearest of creatures, would ^note even ^note renew me with your eyes. Take notice that I am in Cambria, at Milford-Haven: what your own love will out of this advise you, follow. So he wishes you all happiness, that remains loyal to his vow, and your, increasing ^note in love,

Leonatus Posthumus.’

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: ^note and for the gap
That we shall make in time, from our hence-going
And our ^note return, to excuse: but first, how get hence.
Why should excuse be born or ere begot ^note?
We'll talk of that hereafter. Prithee, speak,
How many score ^note of miles may we well ride ^note
'Twixt hour and hour?

Pis.
One score 'twixt sun and sun,
Madam, 's enough for you, and too much too. ^note

Imo.
Why, one that rode to's ^note execution ^note, man,
Could never go so slow: I have ^note heard of riding ^note wagers,
Where horses have been nimbler than the sands
That run i' the clock's behalf ^note. But this is foolery:
Go bid my woman feign a sickness, say
She'll home to her father: and provide me presently ^note
A riding-suit, no costlier than would fit
A franklin's housewife ^note.

Pis.
Madam, you're ^note best consider.

Imo.
I see before me, man: nor ^note here, nor ^note here, ^note
Nor what ensues, but ^note have ^note a fog in them ^note,
That I cannot look through. Away, I prithee;
Do as I bid thee: there's no more to say;
Accessible is none but Milford way. [Exeunt.

^note Scene III. [Footnote: Wales: a mountainous country with a cave. ^note Enter Belarius, ^note Guiderius, and Arviragus.

Bel.
A goodly day not to keep house with such
Whose roof's as low as ours! Stoop, ^note boys: ^note this gate
Instructs you how to adore the heavens, and bows you
To a ^note morning's holy office: the ^note gates of monarchs
Are arch'd so high that giants may jet ^note through
And keep their impious turbans ^note on, without
Good morrow to the sun. Hail, thou fair heaven!
We house i' the rock, yet use thee not so hardly
As prouder livers do.

Gui.
Hail, heaven!

Arv.
Hail, heaven!

Bel.
Now for our mountain sport: up to yond hill!
Your legs are young: I'll tread these flats. Consider,
When you above perceive me like a crow,
That it is place which lessens and sets off:
And you may then revolve what tales I have ^note told you
Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war:
This ^note service is not service, so being done,
But being so allow'd ^note: to apprehend thus,
Draws us a profit from all things we see;
And often, to our comfort, shall we find
The sharded beetle ^note in a safer hold
Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O, this life

Is nobler than attending for a check ^note,
Richer than doing nothing ^note for a bauble ^{note note},
Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk:
Such gain the cap of him that makes 'em ^note fine,
Yet keeps his ^note book uncross'd: no life to ours.

Gui.
Out of your proof you speak: we, poor unfledged,
Have never wing'd from view o' the nest, nor know ^note not ^note
What air's from home. Haply ^note this life is best
If quiet life be best, sweeter to you
That have a sharper known, well corresponding
With your stiff age: but unto us it is
A cell of ignorance, travelling a-bed ^note,
A prison for ^note a debtor that not dares
To stride a limit.

Arv.
What should we speak of
When we are old ^note as you? when we shall hear
The rain and wind beat dark December, how ^note
In this our pinching cave shall we discourse
The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing:
We are ^note beastly; subtle ^note as the fox for prey,
Like warlike as the wolf for what we eat:
Our valour is to chase what flies; our cage
We make a quire ^note, as doth the prison'd bird,
And sing our bondage freely.

Bel.
How you speak! ^note

Did you but know the city's ^note usuries,
And felt ^note them knowingly: the art o' the court,
As hard to leave as keep; whose top to climb
Is certain falling, or so slippery that
The fear's as bad as falling: the toil o' the war ^note,
A pain that only seems to seek out ^note 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 ^note,
Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse,
Must court'sy at the censure:—O boys, this story
The world may read in me: my body's mark'd
With Roman swords, and my report was once
First with the best of note: Cymbeline loved me;
And when a soldier was the theme, my name
Was not far off: then was I as a tree
Whose boughs did bend with fruit: but in one night,
A storm, or robbery, call it what you will,
Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves,
And left me bare to weather ^note.

Gui.
Uncertain favour!

Bel.
My fault being nothing, as I have ^note 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 ^note my banishment; and this ^note twenty years
This rock and these demesnes have been my world:
Where I have lived at honest freedom, paid ^note
More pious debts to heaven than in all
The fore-end of my time. But up to the mountains!
This is not hunters' ^note language: he that strikes
The venison first shall be the lord o' the feast;

To him the other two shall minister;
And we will fear no poison, which attends
In place of greater state. I'll meet you in the valleys. ^note [Exeunt ^note Guiderius and Arviragus.
How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature!
These boys ^note know little they are sons to the king;
Nor Cymbeline dreams ^note that they are alive.
They think they are mine: and though train'd ^note up thus meanly ^{note note}
I' the cave wherein they bow, ^note their thoughts do hit
The roofs ^note of palaces, and nature prompts them
In simple and low things to prince it much
Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore ^note,
The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, who ^note
The king his father call'd Guiderius,—Jove! ^note
When on my three-foot stool I sit and tell
The warlike feats I have ^note done, his spirits fly out
Into ^note my story: say ‘Thus mine enemy fell,
And thus I set my foot on's ^note neck,’ ^note even then
The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats,
Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in posture
That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal,

Once Arviragus, in as like a figure ^note
Strikes life into my speech and shows much more
His own conceiving. Hark, the game is roused!
O Cymbeline! heaven and my conscience knows ^note
Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon,
At three and two years old, I stole these babes,
Thinking to bar thee of succession as
Thou reft'st ^note me of my lands. Euriphile,
Thou wast their nurse; they took ^note thee for their mother,
And every day do honour to her ^note grave:
Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call'd,
They take for natural father. The game is ^note up. [Exit. ^note Scene IV. [Footnote: Country ^note 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 ^{note note} first, as I have now. ^note Pisanio! man! ^note
Where is ^note Posthumus? What is in thy mind,
That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh
From the inward of thee? One ^note but painted thus
Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd
Beyond self-explication: put thyself
Into a haviour of less fear, ere wildness

^note
Vanquish my ^note staider ^note senses. What's the matter?
Why tender'st ^note thou that paper to me, with
A look untender? If't ^note be summer news,
Smile to't ^note before; if winterly, thou need'st
But keep that countenance still. My husband's hand!
That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied ^note him,
And he's at some hard point. Speak, man: thy tongue
May take off some extremity, which to read
Would be even mortal to me.

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 ^note bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak surmises; but from proof as strong as my grief, and as certain as I expect my revenge. That part thou, Pisanio, must act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers. Let thine own hands take away her life: I shall give thee opportunity at Milford-Haven: she hath my letter for the purpose: where, if thou fear to strike, and to make me certain it is done, thou art the pandar to her dishonour, and equally to ^noteme disloyal.’

Pis.
What shall I need to draw my sword? the paper
Hath cut her throat already. No, 'tis slander;
Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue
Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath
Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie
All corners of the world: kings, queens, and states,
Maids, matrons, ^note 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 ^note lie in watch there, and to think on him?

To weep 'twixt clock and clock? if sleep charge nature,
To break it with a fearful dream of him,
And cry myself awake? that's ^note false to's ^note bed, is it ^note?

Pis.
Alas, good lady!

Imo.
I false! Thy conscience witness: Iachimo ^note,
Thou didst accuse him of incontinency;
Thou then look'dst like a villain; now, methinks,
Thy favour's ^note good ^note enough. Some jay of Italy,
Whose mother was her painting, ^note hath betray'd him:
Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion;
And, for I am ^note richer than to hang by the walls,
I must be ripp'd:—to pieces with me!—O,
Men's vows are women's traitors! All good seeming,
By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought
Put on for villany; not born where't grows,
But worn a bait for ladies.

Pis.
Good ^note madam, hear me.

Imo.
True honest men being heard, like false Æneas,
Were in his time thought false; and Sinon's ^note weeping
Did scandal many a holy tear, took ^note pity
From most true wretchedness: so thou, Posthumus,
Wilt lay the leaven on ^note all proper men;
Goodly and gallant shall ^note be false and perjured
From thy great fail ^note. Come, fellow, be thou honest:
Do thou thy master's bidding. When thou see'st him,

A little witness my obedience. Look!
I draw the sword myself: take it, and hit
The innocent mansion of my love, my heart:
Fear not; 'tis empty of all things but grief:
Thy master is not there, who was indeed
The riches of it. Do his bidding; strike.
Thou mayst be valiant in a better cause,
But now thou seem'st a coward.

Pis.
Hence, vile instrument!
Thou shalt not damn my hand.

Imo.
Why, I must die;
And if ^note I do not by thy hand, thou art
No servant of thy master's. Against ^note self-slaughter
There is a prohibition so divine
That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's my heart: ^note
Something's ^note afore 't ^note. Soft, soft! we'll no defence;
Obedient as the scabbard. What is here?
The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus, ^note
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 ^note those that are betray'd
Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor
Stands in worse case of woe.
And thou, Posthumus, thou that ^note didst set up
My disobedience 'gainst the king my father,
And make ^note me put into contempt the suits ^note
Of princely fellows ^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 disedged ^note by her
That ^note now thou tirest on, how thy memory
Will then be pang'd by me. Prithee, dispatch:
The lamb entreats the butcher: where's thy ^note knife?
Thou art too ^note slow to do thy master's bidding,
When I desire it too.

Pis.
O gracious lady,
Since I received 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 first. ^note

Imo.
Wherefore ^note then
Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abused
So many miles with a pretence? this place?
Mine action, and thine own? our horses' labour?
The time inviting thee? the perturb'd court,
For my being absent? whereunto I never
Purpose return. Why hast thou gone so far,
To be unbent ^note when thou hast ta'en thy stand,
The elected deer before thee?

Pis.
But to win time
To lose ^note so bad employment; in the which
I have consider'd of a course. Good lady,
Hear me ^note with patience ^note.

Imo.
Talk thy tongue weary; speak:
I have ^note heard I am a strumpet; and mine ear,
Therein false struck ^note, 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 abused: some villain,
Ay, and singular in his ^note art, hath done you both
This cursed injury. ^note

Imo.
Some Roman courtezan. ^note

Pis.
No, on my life.
I'll give but ^note 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— ^note

Imo.
No court, no father; nor no more ado
With that harsh, ^note noble ^note, simple nothing, ^note
That Cloten, whose ^note 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? ^note
Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night,

Are they not but in Britain? I' the world's volume
Our Britain seems as of it, but not in't ^{note note};
In a great pool a swan's nest: prithee, think
There's livers ^note out of Britain.

Pis.
I am ^note most glad
You think of other place. The ambassador,
Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven
To-morrow: now, if you could wear a mind ^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 ^note full of view; yea, haply ^note, near
The residence of Posthumus; so nigh at least ^note
That though his actions ^note were not visible, yet ^note
Report should render him hourly to your ear
As truly as he moves.

Imo.
O, for such means, ^note
Though ^note peril to my modesty, not death on't,
I would adventure! ^note

Pis.
Well then, here's ^note the point:
You must forget to be a woman; change
Command into obedience; fear and niceness—
The handmaids of all women, or, more truly,
Woman it ^note pretty self—into a ^note waggish courage ^note;
Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy and
As quarrelous as the weasel; nay, you must
Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek,
Exposing it—but, O, the harder heart ^note!

Alack, no remedy!—to the greedy touch
Or common-kissing Titan, and forget ^note
Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein
You made great Juno angry.

Imo.
Nay, be brief: ^note
I see into thy end, and am almost
A man already.

Pis.
First, make yourself but like one.
Fore-thinking this, ^note I have already fit— ^note
'Tis in my ^note 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 ^note Lucius
Present yourself, desire his service, tell him
Wherein you're happy,—which you'll make him know ^note,
If that his head have ear in music,—doubtless
With joy he will embrace you; for he's honourable,
And, doubling that, most holy. Your ^note means abroad,
You have me, ^note rich ^note; and I will never fail
Beginning nor supplyment ^note.

Imo.
Thou art ^note all the comfort
The gods will diet ^note me with. Prithee, away:
There's more to be consider'd; but we'll even ^note
All that good time will give us: this attempt
I am soldier to, ^note and will abide it with
A prince's courage. Away ^note, I prithee.

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 queen:
What's in't is precious; if you are ^note sick at sea,
Or stomach-qualm'd at land, a dram of this ^note
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 severally. ^{note note} Scene V. [Footnote: A room ^note 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, ^note 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: ^{note note} I desire of you ^note
A conduct over-land to Milford-Haven.
Madam, all joy befal your grace ^note, and you! ^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, ^note the event
Is yet to name the winner: fare you well.

Cym.
Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords,
Till he have cross'd the ^note Severn. Happiness! [Exeunt Lucius and Lords. ^note