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

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

Clo.
'Tis all the better;
Your valiant Britons ^note 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 ^note speedily and strongly.

Cym.
Our expectation that it would ^note 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 ^note like
A thing more made of malice than of duty:
We have ^note noted it. Call her before us, for
We have ^note been too slight ^note in sufferance. [Exit an Attendant. ^note

Queen.
Royal sir,
Since the exile of Posthumus, most retired
Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord,
'Tis time must do. Beseech your majesty,
Forbear sharp speeches to her: she's a lady
So tender of rebukes that words are strokes, ^note
And strokes death to her. Re-enter ^note Attendant.

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

Atten.
Please you, sir,
Her chambers are all lock'd, and there's no answer
That will be given to the ^note loud'st of noise ^note 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 ^note in memory.

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

Queen.
Son ^note, I say, follow ^note the king.

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

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

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

Queen. [Aside ^note]
All the better: may
This night forestall him of the coming day! [Exit. ^note

Clo.
I love and hate her: for she's fair and royal,
And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite
Than lady, ladies, woman; from every ^{note note} one
The best she hath, and she, of all compounded,
Outsells ^note them all; I love her therefore: but
Disdaining me and throwing favours on
The low Posthumus slanders ^note so her judgement
That what's else rare is choked; and in that point
I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed,

To be revenged upon her. For when fools ^note
Shall— ^note Enter Pisanio.
Who is here? What, are ^note you packing, sirrah?
Come hither: ah, you precious pandar! Villain, ^note
Where is thy lady? In a word; or else ^note
Thou art ^note straightway with the fiends.

Pis.
O, good my lord!

Clo.
Where is thy lady? or, by Jupiter,— ^note
I will not ask again. Close ^note villain,
I'll ^note 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.

Clo.
Where is she, sir? Come nearer;
No farther ^note halting: satisfy me home
What is become of her. ^note

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. ^note

Clo.
Let's see't. I will pursue her
Even to Augustus' throne.

Pis. [Aside ^note]
Or this, or perish. ^note
She's far enough; and what he learns by this
May prove his travel, not her danger.

Clo.
Hum!

Pis. [Aside ^note]
I'll write to ^note my lord she's ^note dead. O Imogen,
Safe mayst thou wander, safe return again!

Clo.

Sirrah, is this letter true?

Pis.

Sir, as I think.

Clo.

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

Pis.

Well, my good lord.

Clo.

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

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 ^note that suit hither: let it be thy first service; go.

Pis.

I shall, my lord.

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; ^note there shall she see my valour, which will then be a torment to her contempt. He on the ground, my speech of insultment ^note ended on his dead body, and ^note 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 ^note 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. ^note Be those the garments?

Pis.

Ay, my noble lord.

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 ^note shall tender itself to thee. My revenge is now at Milford: would I had wings to follow it! Come, and be true.

Pis.
Thou bid'st me to my loss ^note: for, true to thee
Were to prove false, which I will never be,
To him ^note that is most true. To Milford go,
And find not her whom thou pursuest. Flow, flow,
You heavenly blessings, on her! This fool's speed
Be cross'd with slowness; labour be his meed! [Exit.

^note Scene VI. [Footnote: Wales: before the cave of Belarius. ^note Enter Imogen, in boy's clothes. ^note

Imo.
I see a man's life is a tedious one:
I have ^note tired ^note myself; and for two nights together
Have made the ground ^note my bed. I should be sick,
But that my resolution helps me. Milford,
When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd thee,
Thou wast within a ken: O Jove! I think
Foundations fly the wretched; such, I mean,
Where they should be relieved. Two beggars told me
I could not miss my way: will poor folks ^note lie,
That have afflictions ^note on them, knowing 'tis
A punishment or trial? Yes; no ^note wonder,
When rich ones scarce tell true: to lapse in fulness
Is sorer than to lie for need; and falsehood
Is worse in kings than beggars. My dear lord!
Thou art ^note one o' the false ones: now I think on thee,
My hunger's gone; but even before, I was ^note
At point to sink for food. But what is this?
Here is a path to't: 'tis some savage hold:
I were best ^note not call; I dare not call: yet famine,
Ere clean it ^note o'erthrow nature, makes ^note it valiant.
Plenty and peace breeds ^note cowards; hardness ever
Of hardiness is mother. Ho! who's here?

If any thing ^note that's civil, speak; if savage,
Take or lend ^note. ^note Ho! ^note No answer? then I'll enter.
Best draw my sword; and if ^note mine enemy
But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look on't.
Such ^note a foe, good ^note heavens! ^note [Exit, to the cave. ^{note note}Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.

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

Gui.
I am ^note throughly weary.

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

Gui.
There is cold meat i' the cave; we'll browse on that, ^note
Whilst what we have ^note kill'd be cook'd.

Bel. [Looking into the cave ^note]
Stay; come not in.
But that it eats our victuals, I should think
Here ^note were a fairy.

Gui.
What's the matter, sir?

Bel.
By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not,

An earthly paragon! Behold divineness
No elder than a boy! Re-enter Imogen. ^note

Imo.
Good masters ^note, harm me not:
Before I enter'd here, I call'd; and thought
To have begg'd or bought what I have took: good troth,
I have stol'n nought; nor would not, though I had ^note found
Gold strew'd i' the ^note 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 ^note
With prayers ^note for the provider.

Gui.
Money, youth? ^note

Arv.
All gold and silver rather turn to dirt ^note!
As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those
Who worship dirty gods.

Imo.
I see you're ^note angry:
Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should
Have died had I not made it.

Bel.
Whither ^note bound?

Imo.
To Milford-Haven ^note.

Bel.
What's ^note your name?

Imo.
Fidele, sir. I have a kinsman who
Is bound for Italy; he embark'd ^note at Milford;
To whom being going, almost spent with hunger,
I am ^note fall'n in this offence.

Bel.
Prithee, fair youth,
Think us no churls, nor measure our good minds

By this rude place we live in. Well encounter'd!
'Tis almost night: you shall have better cheer
Ere you depart; and thanks to stay and eat it.
Boys, bid him welcome.

Gui.
Were you a woman, youth,
I should woo hard but be your groom. In honesty, ^note
I bid for you as I'ld ^note buy.

Arv.
I'll make't my comfort
He is a man; I'll love him as my brother:
And such a welcome as I'ld give to him
After long absence, such is yours ^note: most welcome!
Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst friends.

Imo.
'Mongst friends,
If brothers. ^note [Aside ^note] Would it had been so, that they
Had been my father's sons! then had my prize ^note
Been less, and so more equal ballasting ^note
To thee, Posthumus.

Bel.
He wrings at some distress.

Gui.
Would I could free't!

Arv.
Or I; whate'er it be,
What pain it cost, what danger! Gods!

Bel.
Hark, boys. [Whispering. ^note

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 ^note multitudes ^note—
Could not out-peer ^note these twain. Pardon me, gods!
I'ld change my sex to be companion with them, ^note
Since Leonatus's false. ^{note note}

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

Gui.
Pray ^note, draw near.

Arv.
The night to the owl and morn to the lark less welcome. ^note

Imo.
Thanks, sir.

Arv.
I pray, draw near. ^note [Exeunt. ^note Scene VII. [Footnote: Rome. ^note A public place. ^note Enter two Senators ^note and Tribunes.

First 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 that the legions now in Gallia are

Full weak to undertake our wars ^note against
The fall'n-off Britons ^note, that we do incite
The gentry to this business. He creates
Lucius proconsul: and to you the tribunes,
For this immediate levy, he commends ^note
His absolute commission. Long live Cæsar!

First Tri. ^note
Is Lucius general of the forces?

Sec. Sen.
Ay.

First Tri. ^note
Remaining now in Gallia?

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

First Tri. ^note
We will discharge our duty. [Exeunt.

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