Edward Capell [1767], Mr William Shakespeare his comedies, histories, and tragedies, set out by himself in quarto, or by the Players his Fellows in folio, and now faithfully republish'd from those Editions in ten Volumes octavo; with an introduction: Whereunto will be added, in some other Volumes, notes, critical and explanatory, and a Body of Various Readings entire (Printed by Dryden Leach, for J. and R. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S10601].
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CYMBELINE.
-- 2 --
Introductory matter
Persons represented.
Cymbeline, King of Britain:
Cloten, Son to his Queen by a former Husband.
Posthumus [Posthumus Leonatus], a noble Gentleman, Husband to Imogen.
Belarius, a banish'd Lord; calling himself, Morgan:
Guiderius, suppos'd Son of Belarius call'd by him, Paladour.
Arviragus, suppos'd Son of Belarius call'd by him, Cadwal.
Cornelius, a Physician.
Pisanio, Gentleman to Posthumus.
Lords [Lord 1], [Lord 2], of Cymbeline's Court, four:
Gentlemen [Gentleman 1], [Gentleman 2], of the same, two.
two Britain Captains [Captain 1], [Captain 2], an Attendant,
Messenger, and two Jailers [Gaoler 1], [Gaoler 2].
Lucius [Caius Lucius], General of the Roman Forces.
Philario, Host to Posthumus, Roman Gentleman.
Jachimo [Iachimo], Friend to Philario, Roman Gentleman.
A French Gentleman, Friend to Philario.
a Roman Captain, Soothsayer, Tribune, and two Senators [Senator 1], [Senator 2].
Spirits, in the Vision, of Sicillius Leonatus, his Wife, and
two Sons, Father, Mother, and Brothers to Posthumus:
and Jupiter.
Queen, Wife to Cymbeline:
Imogen, his Daughter by a former Queen.
Lady, attending the Queen; Lady, attending Imogen.
British and Roman Officers, Guards, Soldiers, &c.
a Dutch Gentleman, a Spanish Gentleman: Musicians;
Tribunes, Senators; Lords, Ladies, and Attendants.
[Apparition of Sicilius Leonatus], [Apparition of Posthumus's Mother], [Apparition of Brother to Posthumus 1],
[Apparition of Brother to Posthumus 2], [Apparition of Jupiter], [Lady 1], [British Lord]
Scene, part Rome; partly in Britain.
-- 3 --
CYMBELINE.
ACT I.
SCENE I.
A Part of the royal Garden to Cymbeline's Palace. Enter two Gentlemen.
1. G.
You do not meet a man, but frowns: our bloods14Q1243
No more obey the heavens than our courtiers; note
Still seem, as does the king's.
2. G.
But what's the matter?
1. G.
His daughter, and the heir of his kingdom, whom
He purpos'd to his wife's sole son, (a widow,
That late he marry'd) hath refer'd herself
To a note poor, but worthy gentleman: She's wedded;
Her husband banish'd; she imprison'd: all
Is outward sorrow; though, I think, the king
Be touch'd at very heart.
2. G.
None but the king?
1. G.
He, that hath lost her, too: so is the queen,
That most desir'd the match: But not a courtier,
Although they wear their faces to the bent
Of the king's looks, hath a heart that is not
-- 4 --
Glad at the thing they scoul at.
2. G.
And why so?
1. G.
He that hath miss'd the princess, is a thing
Too bad for bad report: and he that hath her,
(I mean, that marry'd her,—alack good man!—
And therefore banish'd!) is a creature such
As, to seek through the regions of the earth
For one his like, note there would be something failing
In him that should compare. I do not think,
So fair an outward, and such stuff within,
Endows a man but he. note
2. G.
You speak him far.14Q1244
1. G.
I don't extend him, sir: within himself note
Crush him together, rather than unfold
His measure duly. note
2. G.
What's his name, and birth?
1. G.
I cannot delve him to the root: His father
Was called Sicillius, who did join his honour,
Against the Romans, with Cassibelan;
But had his titles by Tenantius, whom
He serv'd with glory and admir'd success;
So gain'd the sur-addition, Leonatus:
And had, besides this gentleman in question,
Two other sons; who, in the wars o'the time,
Dy'd with their swords in hand: for which, their father
(Then old, and fond of issue) took such sorrow,
That he quit being; and his gentle lady,
Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceas'd
As he was born. The king, he takes the babe
To his protection; calls him, Posthumus; note
Breeds him, and makes him of his bed-chamber:
Puts to him all the learnings that his time
-- 5 --
Could make him the receiver of; which he took,
As we do air, fast as 'twas minister'd; and
In his spring became a harvest: Liv'd in court,
(Which rare it is to do) most prais'd, most lov'd:
A sample to the young'st; to the more mature,
A glass that featur'd note them; and to the graver,
A child that guided dotards: to his mistress,
For whom he now is banish'd,—her own price
Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue;
By her election may be truly read,
What kind of man he is.
2. G.
I honour him
Even out of your report. But, pray you, tell me,
Is she sole child to the king?
1. G.
His only child.
He had two sons, (if this be worth your hearing,
Mark it) the eldest of them at three years old,
I' the swathing cloths the other, from their nursery
Were stol'n; and, to this hour, no guess in knowledge
Which way they went.
2. G.
How long is this ago?
1. G.
Some twenty years.
2. G.
That a king's children should be so convey'd!
So slackly guarded! And the search so slow,
That could not trace them!
1. G.
Howsoe'er 'tis strange,
Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at,
Yet is it true, sir.
2. G.
I do well believe you.
1. G.
We must forbear: Here comes the gentleman,
The queen, and princess.
[Exeunt.
-- 6 --
SCENE II.
The same.
Enter Queen, Posthumus, and Imogen.
Que.
No, be assur'd, you shall not find me, daughter,
After the slander of most step-mothers,
Evil-ey'd unto you: you're my prisoner, but
Your jailor shall deliver you the keys
That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus,
So soon as I can win the offended king,
I will be known your advocate: marry, yet
The fire of rage is in him; and 'twere good,
You lean'd unto his sentence, with what patience
Your wisdom may inform you.
Pos.
Please your highness,
I will from hence to-day.
Que.
You know the peril:—
I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying
The pangs of bar'd affections; though the king
Hath charg'd you should not speak together.
[Exit Queen.
Imo.
O
Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant
Can tickle where she wounds?—My dearest husband,
I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing,
(Always reserv'd my holy duty) what
His rage can do on me: You must be gone;
And I shall here abide the hourly shot
Of angry eyes; not comforted to live,
But that there is this jewel in the world,
That I may see again.
Pos.
My queen! my mistress!
O, lady, weep no more; lest I give cause
To be suspected of more tenderness
-- 7 --
Than doth become a man! I will remain
The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth.
My residence in Rome, at one Philario's note;
Who to my father was a friend, to me
Known but by letter: thither write, my queen,
And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send,
Though ink be made of gall.
Re-enter Queen.
Que.
Be brief, I pray you:
If the king come, I shall incur I know not
How much of his displeasure:—&clquo;Yet I'll move him&crquo;
&clquo;To walk this way: I never do him wrong,&crquo;
&clquo;But he does buy my injuries, to be friends;&crquo;
&clquo;Pays dear for my offences.&crquo;
[Exit.
Pos.
Should we be taking leave
As long a term as yet we have to live,
The lothness to depart would grow: Adieu.
Imo.
Nay, stay a little:
Were you but riding forth to air yourself,
Such parting were too petty. Look here, &dagger2; love;
This diamond was my mother's: take it, heart;
But keep it 'till you woo another wife,
When Imogen is dead.
Pos.
How, how! another?—
You gentle gods, give me but this I have,
And sear up my embracements from a note next
With bonds of death!—Remain, remain thou † here
While sense can keep it on: note14Q1245—And, sweetest, fairest,
As I my poor self did exchange for you,
To your so infinite loss; so, in our trifles
I still win of you: For my sake, wear &dagger2; this;
It is a manacle of love, I'll place it
-- 8 --
Upon this fairest prisoner.
Imo.
O the gods!—
When shall we see again?
Enter Cymbeline, and Lords.
Pos.
Alack, the king!
Cym.
Thou basest thing, avoid; hence, from my sight!
If, after this command, thou fraught note the court
With thy unworthiness, thou dy'st: Away!
Thou'rt poison to my blood.
Pos.
The gods protect you!
And bless the good remainders of the court!
I am gone.
[Exit Posthumus.
Imo.
There cannot be a pinch in death
More sharp than this is.
Cym.
O disloyal thing,
That should'st repair my youth; thou heap'st instead
A year's age on me!14Q1246
Imo.
I beseech you, sir,
Harm not yourself with your vexation; I
Am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare
Subdues all pangs, all fears.
Cym.
Past grace! obedience!
Imo.
Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace.
Cym.
That might'st have had the sole son of my queen!
Imo.
O blest, that I might not! I chose an eagle,
And did avoid a puttock.
Cym.
Thou took'st a beggar; would'st have made my throne
A seat for baseness.
Imo.
No; I rather added
A lustre to it.
Cym.
O thou vile one!
Imo.
Sir,
-- 9 --
It is your fault, that I have lov'd Posthumus:
You bred him as my play-fellow; and he is
A man, worth any woman; over-buys me14Q1247
Almost the sum he pays.
Cym.
What, art thou mad?
Imo.
Almost, sir: Heaven restore me!—'Would I were
A neat-herd's daughter! and my Leonatus
Our neighbour shepherd's son!
Re-enter Queen.
Cym.
Thou foolish thing!—
They were again together: you have done
Not after our command. Away with her,
And pen her up.
Que.
Beseech your patience:—Peace,
Dear lady daughter, peace;—Sweet sovereign,
Leave us to ourselves:—and make yourself some comfort
Out of your best advice.
Cym.
Nay, let her languish
A drop of blood a day; and, being aged,
Dye of this folly!
[Exit Cymbeline.
Enter Pisanio.
Que.
Fie!—you must give way:
Here is your servant.—How now, sir? what news?
Pis.
My lord your son drew on my master.
Que.
Ha!
No harm, I trust, is done?
Pis.
There might have been,
But that my master rather play'd than fought,
And had no help of anger: they were parted
By gentlemen at hand.
Que.
I am very glad on't.
Imo.
Your son's my father's friend; he takes his part,
-- 10 --
To draw upon an exile.—O brave sir!—
I would, they were in Africk both together;
Myself by with a needle, that I might prick
The goer-back.—Why came you from your master?
Pis.
On his command: He would not suffer me
To bring him to the haven: left † these notes
Of what commands I should be subject to,
When't pleas'd you to employ me.
Que.
This hath been
Your faithful servant: I dare lay mine honour,
He will remain so.
Pis.
I humbly thank your highness.
Que.
Pray, walk a while.
Imo.
About some half hour hence,
I pray you, speak with me: You shall, at least,
Go see my lord aboard: for this time, leave me.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
The same.
Enter Cloten, and two Lords.
1. L.
Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the
violence of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice:
Where air comes out, air comes in: there's none abroad
so wholesome as that you vent.
Clo.
If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it—Have
I hurt him?
&clquo;2. L.
&clquo;No, faith; not so much as his patience.&crquo;
1. L.
Hurt him? his body's a passable carcass, if he
be not hurt: it is a thorough-fare for steel, if it be not
hurt.
&clquo;2. L.
&clquo;His steel was in debt; it went o'th' backside
the town.&crquo;
-- 11 --
Clo.
The villain would not stand me.
&clquo;2. L.
&clquo;No; but he fled forward still, toward your face.&crquo;
1. L.
Stand you! You had land enough of your own:
but he added to your having; gave you some ground.
&clquo;2. L.
&clquo;As many inches as you have oceans: Puppies!&crquo;
Clo.
I would, they had not come between us.
&clquo;2. L.
&clquo;So would I, 'till you had measur'd how long
a fool you were upon the ground.&crquo;
Clo.
And that she should love this fellow, and refuse
me!
&clquo;2. L.
&clquo;If it be a sin to make a true election, she is
damn'd.&crquo;
1. L.
Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her
brain go not together: she's a good sign,14Q1248 but I have seen
small reflection of her wit.
&clquo;2. L.
&clquo;She shines not upon fools, lest the reflection
should hurt her.&crquo;
Clo.
Come, I'll to my chamber: 'Would there had
been some hurt done!
&clquo;2. L.
&clquo;I wish not so; unless it had been the fall of
an ass, which is no great hurt.&crquo;
Clo.
You'll go with us?
2. L.
I'll note attend your lordship.
Clo.
Nay, come, let's go together.
2. L.
Well, my lord.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
A Room in the Palace.
Enter Imogen, and Pisanio.
Imo.
I would thou grew'st unto the shores o'the haven,
And question'dst every sail: if he should write,
And I not have it, 'twere a paper lost
As offer'd mercy is. What was the last
-- 12 --
That he spake to thee?
Pis.
It was, His queen, his queen.
Imo.
Then wav'd his handkerchief?
Pis.
And kiss'd it, madam.
Imo.
Senseless linnen! happier therein than I!—
And that was all?
Pis.
No, madam; for so long
As he could make me with this eye note, or ear,14Q1249
Distinguish him from others, he did keep
The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief,
Still waving, as the fits and stirs of his mind
Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on,
How swift his ship.
Imo.
Thou should'st have made him
As little as a crow, or less, ere left
To after-eye him.
Pis.
Madam, so I did.
Imo.
I would have broke mine eye-strings; crack'd them, but
To look upon him; 'till the diminution
Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle:
Nay, follow'd him, 'till he had melted from
The smallness of a gnat to air; and then
Have turn'd mine eye, and wept.—But, good Pisanio,
When shall we hear from him?
Pis.
Be assur'd, madam,
With his next vantage.
Imo.
I did not take my leave of him, but had
Most pretty things to say: ere I could tell him,
How I would think on him, at certain hours,
Such thoughts, and such; or I could make him swear,
The she's of Italy should not betray
-- 13 --
Mine interest, and his honour; or have charg'd him,
At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight,
To encounter me with orisons, for then
I am in heaven for him; or ere I could
Give him that parting kiss, which I had set
Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father,
And, like the tyrannous breathing of the north,
Shakes all our buds from growing.14Q1250
Enter a Lady.
Lad.
The queen, madam,
Desires your highness' company.
Imo.
Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch'd.—
I will attend the queen.
Pis.
Madam, I shall.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.
Rome. A Room in Philario's House.
Enter Philario, Jachimo, a Frenchman, a Dutchman, and a Spaniard.
Jac.
Believe it, sir: I have seen him in Britain;
he was then of a crescent note; expected to prove so
worthy, as since he hath been allowed the name of:
but I could then have look'd on him, without the help
of admiration; though the catalogue of his endowments
had been tabl'd by his side, and I to peruse him
by items.
Phi.
You speak of him when he was less furnish'd,
than now he is, with that which makes him both without
and within.
Fre.
I have seen him in note France: we had very many
there, could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he.
Jac.
This matter of marrying his king's note daughter,
(wherein he must be weighed rather by her value than
-- 14 --
his own) words him, I doubt not, a great deal from the
matter.
Fre.
And then his banishment:
Jac.
Ay, and the approbation of those, that weep
this lamentable divorce, under her colours, are wonderfully note
to extend him; be it but to fortify her judgment,
which else an easy battery might lay flat, for
taking a beggar without more quality note. But how comes
it, he is to sojourn with you? How creeps acquaintance?
Phi.
His father and I were soldiers together; to
whom I have been often bound for no less than my
life:—
Enter Posthumus.
Here comes the Britain: Let him be so entertained
amongst you, as suits, with gentlemen of your knowing,
to a stranger of his quality.—I beseech you all,
be better known to this gentleman; whom I commend
to you, as a noble friend of mine: How worthy he is,
I will leave to appear hereafter, rather than story him
in his own hearing.
Fre.
Sir, we have known together in Orleans.
Pos.
Since when I have been debtor to you for
courtesies, which I will be ever to pay, and yet pay
still.
Fre.
Sir, you o'er-rate my poor kindness: I was
glad I did attone my countryman and you; it had been
pity, you should have been put together with so mortal
a purpose, as then each bore, upon importance of so
slight and trivial a nature.
Pos.
By your pardon, sir, I was then a young traveller;
rather shun'd to go even with what I heard,
-- 15 --
than in my every action to be guided by others' experiences:
but, upon my mended judgment, (if I offend
not, to say it is mended) my quarrel was not altogether
slight.
Fre.
'Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of
swords; and by such two, note that would, by all likelyhood,
have confounded one the other, or have fall'n both.
Jac.
Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference?
Fre.
Safely, I think: 'twas a contention in publick,
which may, without contradiction, suffer the report.
It was much like an argument that fell out last
night, where each of us fell in praise of our country
mistresses: This gentleman at that time vouching, (and
upon warrant of bloody affirmation) his to be more
fair, virtuous, wise, chast, constant qualify'd, note note14Q1251 and less
attemptible, than any the rarest of our ladies in
France.
Jac.
That lady is not now living; or this gentleman's
opinion, by this, worn out.
Pos.
She holds her virtue still, and I my mind.
Jac.
You must not so far prefer her 'fore ours of
Italy.
Pos.
Being so far provok'd as I was in France, I
would abate her nothing; though I profess myself her
adorer, not her friend.
Jac.
As fair, and as good, (a kind of hand-in-hand
comparison) had been something too fair, and too
good, for any lady in Britany. If she went before others I
have seen, as that diamond of yours out-lusters many
I have beheld, I could believe note she excelled many: but I
have not seen the most precious diamond that is, nor you
-- 16 --
the lady.
Pos.
I prais'd her, as I rated her: so do I my stone.
Jac.
What do you esteem it at?
Pos.
More than the world enjoys.
Jac.
Either your unparagon'd mistress is dead, or
she's out-priz'd by a trifle.
Pos.
You are mistaken: the one may be sold, or
given; if there were wealth enough for the purchase, note
or merit for the gift: the other is not a thing for sale,
and only the gift of the gods.
Jac.
Which the gods have given you?
Pos.
Which, by their graces, I will keep.
Jac.
You may wear her in title yours: but, you
know, strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds.
Your ring may be stoln too: so, your brace of unprizeable
estimations, the one is but frail, and the other
casual; a cunning thief, or a that-way-accomplish'd
courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and
last.
Pos.
Your Italy contains none so accomplish'd a
courtier, to convince the honour of my mistress; if, in
the holding or loss of that, you term her frail. I do nothing
doubt, you have store of thieves; notwithstanding,
I fear not my ring.
Phi.
Let us leave here, gentlemen.
Pos.
Sir, with all my heart. This worthy signior, I
thank him, makes no stranger of me; we are familiar
at first.
Jac.
With five times so much conversation, I should
get ground of your fair mistress: make her go back,
even to the yielding; had I admittance, and opportunity
to friend.
-- 17 --
Pos.
No, no.
Jac.
I dare, thereupon, pawn the moiety of my
estate to your ring; which, in my opinion, o'ervalues
it something: But I make my wager rather against your
confidence, than her reputation: and, to bar your offence
herein too, I durst attempt it against any lady in
the world.
Pos.
You are a great deal abus'd in too bold a persuasion;
and I doubt not you sustain what you're worthy
of, by your attempt.
Jac.
What's that?
Pos.
A repulse: Though your attempt, as you call
it, deserves more; a punishment too.
Phi.
Gentlemen, enough of this: it came in too
suddenly; let it dye as it was born, and, I pray you, be
better acquainted.
Jac.
'Would I had put my estate, and my neighbour's,
on the approbation of what I have spoke.
Pos.
What lady would you choose to assail?
Jac.
Yours; who note in constancy, you think, stands so
safe. I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring,
that, commend me to the court where your lady is, with
no more advantage than the opportunity of a second
conference, and I will bring from thence that honour
of hers, which you imagine so reserv'd.
Pos.
I will wager note against your gold, gold to it: my
ring I hold dear as my finger; 'tis part of it.
Jac.
You are afraid note,14Q1252 and therein the wiser. If you
buy ladies' flesh at a million a dram, you cannot preserve
it from tainting: But, I see, you have some religion
in you, that you fear.
Pos.
This is but a custom in your tongue: you bear
-- 18 --
a graver purpose, I hope.
Jac.
I am the master of my speeches; and would
undergo what's spoken, I swear.
Pos.
Will you?—I shall but lend my diamond 'till
your return:—Let there be covenants drawn between
us: My mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness of
your unworthy thinking: I dare you to this match:
here's my ring.
[putting it into Philario's Hand.
Phi.
I will have it no lay.
Jac.
By the gods, it is one:—If I bring you sufficient note
testimony that I have enjoy'd the dearest bodily
part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats are mine;
so note is your diamond too: If I come off, and leave her in
such honour as you have trust in, She your jewel, this
your jewel, and my gold are yours;—provided, I
have your commendation, for my more free note entertainment.
Pos.
I embrace these conditions; let us have articles
betwixt us:—only, thus far you shall answer:
If you make your voyage upon her, and give me directly
to understand you have prevail'd, I am no further
your enemy, she is not worth our debate: if she
remain unseduc'd, (you not making it appear otherwise)
for your ill opinion, and the assault you have
made to her chastity, you shall answer me with your
sword.
Jac.
Your hand; a covenant: We will have these
things set down by lawful counsel, and straight away
for Britain; lest the bargain should catch cold, and
starve: I will fetch my gold, and have our two wagers
recorded.
Pos.
Agreed.
[Exeunt Pos. and Jac.
-- 19 --
Fre.
Will this hold, think you?
Phi.
Signior Jachimo will not from it. Pray, let us
follow 'em.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
A Room in Cymbeline's Palace.
Enter Queen, Ladies, and Cornelius.
Que.
Whiles yet the dew's on ground, gather those flowers;
Make haste: Who has the note of them?
1. L.
I, madam.
Que.
Dispatch.—
[Exeunt Ladies.
Now, master doctor; have you brought those drugs?
Cor.
Pleaseth your highness, ay: here they are, madam:
[giving her some Papers.
But I beseech your grace, (without offence;
My conscience bids me ask) wherefore you have
Commanded of me these most pois'nous compounds,
Which are the movers of a languishing death;
But, though slow, deadly?
Que.
I do wonder, doctor,
Thou ask'st me such a question: Have I not been
Thy pupil long? Hast thou not learn'd me how
To make perfumes? distil? preserve? yea, so,
That our great king himself doth woo me oft
For my confections? Having thus far proceeded,
(Unless thou think'st me dev'lish) is't not meet
That I did amplify my judgment in
Other conclusions? I will try the forces
Of these thy compounds on such creatures as
We count not worth the hanging, (but none human;)
To try the vigour of them, and apply
Allayments to their act; and by them gather
-- 20 --
Their several virtues, and effects.
Cor.
Your highness
Shall from this practice but make hard your heart:
Besides, the seeing these effects will be
Both noysome and infectious.
Que.
O, content thee.—
Enter Pisanio.
&clquo;Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him&crquo;
&clquo;Will I first let them work: he's for his master,&crquo;
&clquo;And enemy to my son.&crquo;—How now, Pisanio?—
Doctor, your service for this time is ended;
Take your own way.
&clquo;Cor.
&clquo;I do suspect you, madam&crquo;;
&clquo;But you shall do no harm&crquo;.
Que.
Hark thee, a word.
[to Pis. drawing him aside.
&clquo;Cor.
&clquo;I do not like her. She doth think, she has&crquo;
&clquo;Strange ling'ring poisons: I do know her spirit,&crquo;
&clquo;And will not trust one of her malice with&crquo;
&clquo;A drug of such damn'd nature: Those, she has,&crquo;
&clquo;Will stupify and dull the sense a while:&crquo;
&clquo;Which first, perchance, she'll prove on cats, and dogs;&crquo;
&clquo;Then afterward up higher: but there is&crquo;
&clquo;No danger in what shew of death it makes,&crquo;
&clquo;More than the locking up the spirits a time,&crquo;
&clquo;To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool'd&crquo;
&clquo;With a most false effect; and I the truer,&crquo;
&clquo;So to be false with her.&crquo;
Que.
No further service, doctor,
Until I send for thee.
Cor.
I humbly take my leave.
[Exit.
Que.
Weeps she still, say'st thou? Dost thou think, in time
-- 21 --
She will not quench; and let instructions enter,
Where folly now possesses? Do thou work:
When thou shalt bring me word, she loves my son,
I'll tell thee, on the instant, thou art then
As great as is thy master: greater; for
His fortunes all lye speechless, and his name
Is at last gasp: Return he cannot, nor
Continue where is note: to shift his being,
Is to exchange one misery with another;
And every day, that comes, comes to decay
A day's work in him: What shalt thou expect,
To be depender on a thing that leans?
Who cannot be new built; nor has no friends,
[drops some of the Papers.
So much as but to prop him? Thou tak'st up
Thou know'st not what; but take it for thy labour:
It is a thing I make, note which hath the king
Five times redeem'd from death; I do not know
What is more cordial:—Nay, I pr'ythee, take it;
It is an earnest of a farther good
That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how
The case stands with her; do't, as from thyself.
Think what a chance thou chancest note on;14Q1253 but think:
Thou hast thy mistress still; to boot, my son,
Who shall take notice of thee, move note the king
To any shape of thy preferment, such
As thou'lt desire; and then myself, I chiefly,
That set thee on to this desert, am bound
To load thy merit richly. Call my women:
Think on my words. [Exit Pis.] A sly, note and constant knave;
Not to be shak'd: the agent for his master;
And the remembrancer of her, to hold
-- 22 --
The hand fast note to her lord. I have given him that,
Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her
Of ledgers for her sweet; and which she, after,
Except she bend her humour, shall be assur'd
Re-enter Pisanio, and Ladies.
To taste of too.—So, so; well done, well done:
The violets, cowslips, and the primroses,
Bear to my closet:—Fare thee well, Pisanio;
Think on my words.
[Exeunt Queen, and Ladies.
Pis.
And shall do:
But when to my good lord I prove untrue,
I'll choak myself: there's all I'll do for you.
[Exit Pisanio.
SCENE VII.
Another Room in the same.
Enter Imogen.
Imo.
A father cruel, and a step-dame false;
A foolish suitor to a wedded lady,
That hath her husband banish'd;—O, that husband,14Q1254
My supream crown of grief; and those repeated
Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stoln,
As my two brothers, happy: but most miserable
Is the desire note that's glorious: Blessed be those,
How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills,
Which seasons comfort.—Who may this be? Fie!
Enter Pisanio, and Jachimo.
Pis.
Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome,
Comes note from my lord with letters.
Jac.
Change you, madam?
The worthy Leonatus is in safety,
And greets your highness dearly.
[presents a Letter.
Imo.
Thanks, good sir;
-- 23 --
You're kindly welcome.
&clquo;Jac.
&clquo;All of her, that is out of door, most rich!&crquo;
&clquo;If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare,&crquo;
&clquo;She is alone the Arabian bird; and I&crquo;
&clquo;Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend!&crquo;
&clquo;Arm me, audacity, from head to foot!&crquo;
&clquo;Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight;&crquo;
&clquo;Rather, directly fly.
Imo. [reads.]
&stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; He is one of the noblest note, to
whose kindnesses I am most infinitely tyed. Reflect upon him
accordingly, as you value your trust note.
Leonatus.
So far I read aloud:
But even the very middle of my heart
Is warm'd by the rest, and takes note it thankfully.—
You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I
Have words to bid you; and shall find it so,
In all that I can do.
Jac.
Thanks, fairest lady.—
What, are men mad?14Q1255 Hath nature given them eyes,
To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop
Of sea and land? which can distinguish 'twixt
The fiery orbs above, and the twin'd stones
Upon the humbl'd note beach? and can we not
Partition make with spectacles so precious
'Twixt fair and foul?
Imo.
What makes your admiration?
Jac.
It cannot be i'the eye;14Q1256 for apes and monkeys,
'Twixt two such she's, would chatter this way, and
Contemn with mows the other: Nor i'the judgment;
For idiots, in this case of favour, would
Be wisely definite: Nor i'the appetite;
Sluttery to such neat excellence oppos'd,
-- 24 --
Should make desire vomit to emptiness,
Not so allur'd to feed.
Imo.
What is the matter, trow?
Jac.
The cloyed will,
(That satiate, yet unsatisfy'd; that note tub
Both fill'd and running) rav'ning first the lamb,
Longs after for the garbage.
Imo.
What, dear sir,
Thus raps you? Are you well?
Jac.
Thanks, madam; well:—Beseech you, sir,
Desire my man's abode where I did leave him;
He's strange, and peevish.
Pis.
I was going, sir,
To give him welcome.
[Exit Pisanio.
Imo.
Continues well my lord? His health, beseech you?
Jac.
Well, madam.
Imo.
Is he dispos'd to mirth? I hope, he is.
Jac.
Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there
So merry, and so gamesome: he is call'd,
The Britain reveller.
Imo.
When he was here,
He did incline to sadness; and oft-times
Not knowing why.
Jac.
I never saw him sad.
There is a Frenchman his companion, one
An eminent monsieur, that, it seems, much loves
A Gallian girl at home: he furnaces
The thick sighs note from him; whiles the jolly Britain
(Your lord, I mean) laughs from's free lungs, cries, O,
Can my sides hold, to think, that man,—who knows
By history, report, or his own proof,
What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose
-- 25 --
But must be,—will his free hours languish out
For assur'd bondage?
Imo.
Will my lord say so?
Jac.
Ay, madam; with his eyes in flood with laughter.
It is a recreation to be by,
And hear him mock the Frenchman: But, heavens know note,
Some men are much to blame.
Imo.
Not he, I hope.
Jac.
Not he: But yet heaven's bounty towards him might
Be us'd more thankfully. In himself, 'tis much;14Q1257
In you,—which I count note note his, beyond all talents,—
Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound
To pity too.
Imo.
What do you pity, sir?
Jac.
Two creatures, heartily.
Imo.
Am I one, sir?
You look on me; What wrack discern you in me,
Deserves your pity?
Jac.
Lamentable! What,
To hide me from the radiant sun, and solace
I'the dungeon by a snuff?
Imo.
I pray you, sir,
Deliver with more openness your answers
To my demands.
Why do you pity me?
Jac.
That others do,
I was about to say, enjoy your—But
It is an office of the gods to venge it,
Not mine to speak on't.
Imo.
You do seem to know
Something of me, or what concerns me; Pray you,
(Since doubting things go ill often hurts more
-- 26 --
Than to be sure they do: For certainties
Either are note past remedies; or, timely knowing,
The remedy then born) discover to me
What both you spur and stop.
Jac.
Had I this cheek
To bath my lips upon; this hand, whose touch,
Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul
To the oath of loyalty; this object, which
Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,
Fixing note it only here: should I (damn'd then)
Slaver with lips as common as the stairs
That mount the capitol; join gripes with hands
Made hard with hourly falshood, as with labour;
Then glad myself by peeping in an eye,
Base and unlustrous note as the smoky light
That's fed with stinking tallow; it were fit,
That all the plagues of hell should at one time
Encounter such revolt.
Imo.
My lord, I fear,
Has forgot Britain.
Jac.
And himself: Not I,
Inclin'd to this intelligence, pronounce
The beggery of his change; but 'tis your graces
That, from my mutest conscience, to my tongue,
Charms this report out.
Imo.
Let me hear no more.
Jac.
O dearest soul, your cause doth strike my heart
With pity, that doth make me sick. A lady
So fair, and fasten'd to an empery,
Would make the great'st king double! to be partner'd
With tomboys, hir'd with that self exhibition
Which your own coffers yield! with diseas'd ventures,
-- 27 --
That play with all infirmities for gold
Which rottenness can lend nature! such boil'd stuff,
As well might poison poison! Be reveng'd;
Or she, that bore you, was no queen, and you
Recoil from your great stock.
Imo.
Reveng'd!
How should I be reveng'd? If this be true,
(As I have such a heart, that both mine ears
Must not in haste abuse) if it be true,
How should I be reveng'd?
Jac.
Should he make me
Live like Diana's priest, between note cold sheets;
Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps,
In your despight, upon your purse? Revenge it.
I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure;
More noble than that runagate to your bed;
And will continue fast to your affection,
Still close, as sure.
Imo.
What ho, Pisanio?
Jac.
Let me my service tender on your lips.
Imo.
Away! I do condemn mine ears, that have
So long attended thee: If thou wert honourable,
Thou would'st have told this tale for virtue, not
For such an end thou seek'st; as base, as strange.
Thou wrong'st a gentleman, who is as far
From thy report, as thou from honour; and
Solicit'st note here a lady, that disdains
Thee and the devil alike:—What ho, Pisanio!—
The king my father shall be made acquainted
Of thy assault: if he shall think it fit,
A saucy stranger, in his court, to mart
As in a Romish stew, and to expound
-- 28 --
His beastly mind to us; he hath a court
He little cares for, and a daughter whom note
He not respects at all.—What ho, Pisanio!
Jac.
O happy Leonatus! I may say,
The credit, that thy lady hath of thee,
Deserves thy trust; and thy most perfect goodness
Her assur'd credit.—Blessed live you long!
A lady to the worthiest sir, that ever
Country call'd his! and you his mistress, only
For the most worthiest fit! Give me your pardon.
I have spoke this, to know if your affiance
Were deeply rooted; and shall make your lord,
That which he is, new o'er: And he is one
The truest manner'd; note such a holy witch,
That he enchants societies unto him:
Half all men's hearts are his.
Imo.
You make amends.
Jac.
He sits 'mongst men, like a descended note god:
He hath a kind of honour sets him off,
More than a mortal seeming.14Q1258 Be not angry,
Most mighty princess, that I have adventur'd
To try you by a note false report; which hath
Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment
In the election of a sir so rare,
Which, you know, cannot err: The love I bear him
Made me to fan you thus; but the gods made you,
Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray, your pardon.
Imo.
All's well, sir: Take my power i'the court for yours.
Jac.
My humble thanks. I had almost forgot
To intreat your grace but in a small request,
And yet of moment too, for it concerns
Your lord; myself, and other noble friends,
-- 29 --
Are partners in the business.
Imo.
Pray, what is't?
Jac.
Some dozen Romans of us, and your lord,
(Th' best note feather of our wing) have mingl'd sums,
To buy a present for the emperor;
Which I, the factor for the rest, have done
In France: 'Tis plate, of rare device; and jewels,
Of rich and exquisite form: their values great;
And I am something curious, being strange,
To have them in safe stowage; May it please you
To take them in protection?
Imo.
Willingly;
And pawn mine honour for their safety: since
My lord hath int'rest in them, I will keep them
In my bed-chamber.
Jac.
They are in a trunk,
Attended by my men: I will make bold
To send them to you, only for this night;
I must aboard to-morrow.
Imo.
O, no, no.
Jac.
Yes, I beseech: or I shall short my word,
By length'ning my return. From Gallia
I cross'd the seas on purpose, and on promise
To see your grace.
Imo.
I thank you for your pains;
But not away to-morrow.
Jac.
O, I must, madam:
Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please
To greet your lord with writing, do't to-night:
I have out-stood my time; which is material
To the tender of our present.
Imo.
I will write.
-- 30 --
Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept,
And truly yielded you: You're very welcome.
[Exeunt severally.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
Court before the Palace.
Enter Cloten, and two Lords.
Clo.
Was there ever man had such luck! when I
kiss'd the jack upon an up-cast, to be hit away! I had a
hundred pound on't: And then a whoreson jackanapes
must take me up for swearing; as if I borrow'd mine
oaths of him, and might not spend them at my pleasure.
1. L.
What got he by that? You have broke his pate
with your bowl.
&clquo;2. L.
&clquo;If his wit had been like his that note broke it, it
would have run all out.&crquo;
Clo.
When a gentleman is dispos'd to swear, it is not
for any standers-by to curtail his oaths: Ha?
2. L.
No, my lord; nor crop the ears of them.
Clo.
Whoreson dog!—I give note him satisfaction?—
'Would, he had been one of my rank!
&clquo;2. L.
&clquo;To have smelt like a fool.&crquo;
Clo.
I am not vext more at any thing in the earth,—
A pox on't! I had rather not be so noble as I am; they
dare not fight with me because of the queen my mother:
every jack-slave hath his belly-full of fighting, and I must
go up and down like a cock that no body can match.
&clquo;2. L.
&clquo;You are a cock and capon too; and you
crow, cock, with your comb on.&crquo;
Clo.
Sayest thou?
-- 31 --
2. L.
It is not fit, your lordship should undertake every
companion that you give offence to.
Clo.
No, I know that: but it is fit, I should commit
offence to my inferiors.
2. L.
Ay, it is fit for your lordship only.
Clo.
Why, so I say.
1. L.
Did you hear of a stranger, that's come to court
to-night note?
Clo.
A stranger! and I not know on't!
&clquo;2. L.
&clquo;He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it not.&crquo;
1. L.
There's an Italian come; and, 'tis thought, one note
of Leonatus' friends.
Clo.
Leonatus! a banish'd rascal; and he's another,
whosoever note he be. Who told you of this stranger?
1. L.
One of your lordship's pages.
Clo.
Is it fit, I went to look upon him? Is there no
derogation in't?
2. L.
You cannot derogate, my lord.
Clo.
Not easily, I think.
&clquo;2. L.
&clquo;You are a fool granted; therefore your issues,
being foolish, do not derogate,&crquo;
Clo.
Come, I'll go see this Italian: What I have lost
to-day at bowls, I'll win to-night of him. Come, go.
2. L.
I'll attend your lordship.
[Exeunt Cloten, and 1. Lord.
That such a crafty devil as his mother
Should yield the world this ass! a woman, that
Bears all down with her brain; and this her son
Cannot take two from twenty for his heart
And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess,
Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'st!
Betwixt a father by thy stepdame govern'd;
-- 32 --
A mother hourly coining plots; a wooer,
More hateful than the foul expulsion is
Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act
Of the divorce he'd make!14Q1259 The heavens hold firm
The walls of thy dear honour; keep unshak'd
That temple, thy fair mind; that thou may'st stand,
To enjoy thy banish'd lord, and this great land!
[Exit.
SCENE II.
A Bed-chamber; a Trunk in one Part of it: Imogen in
her Bed; a Lady attending.
Imo.
Who's there? my woman Helen?
Lad.
Please you, madam.
Imo.
What hour is it?
Lad.
Almost midnight, madam.
Imo.
I have read three hours then: mine eyes are weak:—
Fold down the leaf where I have left: To bed:
Take not away the taper, leave it burning;
And if thou can'st awake by four o'the clock,
I pr'ythee, call me. [Exit Lady.] Sleep hath seis'd me wholly.
To your protection I commend me, gods:
From fairies, and the tempters of the night,
Guard me, beseech ye!
[sleeps.
Jachimo, from the Trunk.
Jac.
The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd sense
Repairs itself by rest: Our Tarquin thus
Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken'd
The chastity he wounded.—Cytherea,
How bravely thou becom'st thy bed! fresh lilly!
And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch!
But kiss; one kiss! Rubies unparagon'd,
[kissing her.
How dearly they do't! 'Tis her breathing that
-- 33 --
Perfumes the chamber thus: The flame o'the taper14Q1260
Bows toward her; and would under-peep her lids,
To see the inclosed lights, now canopy'd
Under the windows note: White and azure, lac'd;
With blue of heaven's own tinct.—But my design?
To note the chamber:—I will write all down:
Such, and such, pictures; There the window; Such
The adornment of her bed; The arras, figures?
Why, such, and such; And the contents of the story,—
Ah, but some natural notes about her body,
(Above ten thousand meaner moveables they
Would testify) to enrich mine inventory.
O sleep, thou ape of death, lye dull upon her!
And be her sense but as a monument,
Thus in a chapel lying! Come off, come off; note
[taking off her Bracelet.
As slippery, as the Gordian knot was hard!
'Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly,
As strongly as the conscience does within,
To the madding of her lord. On her left breast
A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops
I'the bottom of a cowslip: Here's a voucher,
Stronger than ever law could make: this secret
Will force him think I have pick'd the lock, and ta'en
The treasure of her honour. To note what end?
Why should I write this down, that's riveted,
Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late:
The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's turn'd down,
Where Philomele gave up—I have enough:
To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it.
Swift, swift, you dragons of the night! that dawning
May bear note the raven's eye: I lodge in fear;
-- 34 --
Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here.
One, two, three,—[counting the Clock.] Time, time!
[Shuts the Trunk upon himself. The Scene closes.
SCENE III.
An Anti-Room to the above Chamber.
Enter Cloten, and Lords.
1. L.
Your lordship is the most patient man in loss,
the most coldest that ever turn'd up ace.
Clo.
It would make any man cold to lose.
1. L.
But not every man patient, after the noble
temper of your lordship; You are most hot, and furious,
when you win.
Clo.
Winning will put any man into courage: If I
could get this foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough:
It's almost morning, is't not?
1. L.
Day, my lord.
Clo.
I would, this musick would come: I am advis'd
to give her musick o' mornings; they say, it will penetrate.
Enter Musicians.
Come on; tune: If you can penetrate her with note your
fingering, so; we'll try with tongue too: if none will
do, let her remain; but I'll never o'er. First, a very excellent
good-conceited thing; after, a wonderful sweet
air, with admirable rich words to it,—and then let her
consider.
SONG.
Hark, hark, the lark at heaven's gate sings,
and Phœbus 'gins arise,
his steeds to water at those springs
on chalic'd flowers that lyes;
and winking Mary-buds begin
-- 35 --
to ope their golden eyes;
with every thing that pretty note bin:14Q1261
my lady sweet, arise;
arise, arise.
So, get you gone: If this penetrate, I will consider your
musick the better: if it do not, it is a vice in note her ears,
which horse-hairs, and cat's-guts note, nor the voice of unpaved
eunuch to boot, can never amend.
[Exeunt Musicians.
Enter Cymbeline, and Queen.
2. L.
Here comes the king.
Clo.
I am glad, I was up so late; for that's the reason
I was up so early: He cannot choose but take this
service I have done, fatherly.—Good-morrow to your
majesty, and to my gracious mother.
Cym.
Attend you here the door of our stern daughter?
Will she not forth?
Clo.
I have assail'd her with musicks, but she vouchsafes
no notice.
Cym.
The exile of her minion is too new;
She hath not yet forgot him: some more time
Must wear the print of his remembrance out,
And then she's yours.
Que.
You are most bound to the king;
Who lets go by no vantages, that may
Prefer you to his daughter: Frame yourself
To orderly sollicits; and be friended
With aptness of the season: make denials
Increase your services: so seem, as if
You were inspir'd to do those duties which
You tender to her; that you in all obey her,
Save when command to your dismission tends,
-- 36 --
And therein you are senseless.
Clo.
Senseless? not so.
Enter a Messenger.
Mes.
So like you, sir, embassadors from Rome;
The one is Caius Lucius.
Cym.
A worthy fellow,
Albeit he comes on angry purpose now;
But that's no fault of his: We must receive him
According to the honour of his sender;
And towards himself, for his goodness fore-spent on us,
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.
[Exeunt Cym. Queen, Mess. and Lords.
Clo.
If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not,
Let her lye still, and dream.—By your leave, ho!—
I know her women, are about her; What
If I do line one of their hands? 'Tis gold
Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and makes
Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up
Their deer to the stand o'the stealer: and 'tis gold
Which makes the true-man kill'd, and saves the thief;
Nay, sometime, hangs both thief and true-man: What
Can it not do, and undo? I will make
One of her women lawyer to me; for
I yet not understand the case myself.
By your leave.
[knocks.
Enter a Lady.
Lad.
Who's there, that knocks?
Clo.
A gentleman.
Lad.
No more?
-- 37 --
Clo.
Yes, and a gentlewoman's son.
Lad.
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?
Lad.
Ay,
To keep her chamber.
Clo.
There is gold &dagger2; for you;
Sell me your good report.
Lad.
How! my good name?
Or to report of you what I shall think
Is good?—The princess—
[Exit Lady.
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 note 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, note your recompence 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,14Q1262 forbearance.
Clo.
To leave you in your madness, 'twere my sin;
I will not.
Imo.
Fools cure not note mad folks.
Clo.
Do you call me fool?
-- 38 --
Imo.
As I am mad, I do:
If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad;
That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir,
You put me to forget a lady's manners,
By being so verbal: and learn now, for all,
That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce,
By the very truth of it, I care not for you;
And am so near the lack of charity,
(To accuse myself) I hate you: which I had rather
You felt, than make't my boast.
Clo.
You sin against
Obedience, which you owe your father. For
The 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 in meaner parties,
(Yet who, than he, more mean?) to knit their souls
(On whom there is no more dependancy
But brats and beggary) in self-figur'd knot;
Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by
The consequence o'the crown; and must not soil
The precious note of it with a base slave,
A hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth,
A pantler, not so eminent.
Imo.
Prophane 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 dignify'd enough,
Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made
Comparative for your virtues, to be stil'd
The under hangman of his kingdom; and hated
For being prefer'd so well.
-- 39 --
Clo.
The south-fog rot him!
Imo.
He never can meet more mischance, than come
To be but nam'd of thee. His meanest garment,
That ever hath but clipt his body, is dearer,
In my respect, than all the hairs note above thee,
Enter Pisanio.
Were they all made such men.—How now, Pisanio?
Clo.
His garment? Now, the devil—
Imo.
To Dorothy my woman hye thee presently:—
Clo.
His garment?
Imo.
I am sprighted 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 révenue
Of any king's in Europe. I do think,
I saw't this morning: confident I am,
Last night 'twas on note mine arm; I kiss'd it:
I hope, it be not gone, to tell my lord
That I kiss ought but him. note
Pis.
'Twill not be lost.
Imo.
I hope so: go, and search.
[Exit Pisanio.
Clo.
You have abus'd me:—
His meanest garment?
Imo.
Ay; I said so, sir:
If you will make't an action, call witness to't.
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,
To the worst of discontent.
[Exit Imogen.
Clo.
I'll be reveng'd:—
-- 40 --
His meanest garment? Well.
[Exit.
SCENE IV.
Rome. A Room in Philario's House.
Enter Posthumus, and Philario,
Pos.
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?
Pos.
Not any; but abide the change of time;
Quake in the present winter's state, 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'er-pays all I can do. By this, your king
Hath heard of great Augustus: Caius Lucius
Will do his commission throughly: And, I think,
He'll grant the tribute, send the arrearages,
Ere look note upon our Romans, whose remembrance
Is yet fresh in their grief.
Pos.
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 Britain, than have tydings
Of any penny tribute pay'd. Our countrymen
Are men more order'd, than when Julius Cæsar
Smil'd at their lack of skill, but found their courage
Worthy his frowning at: Their discipline
(Now mingl'd with their courages) will make known
To their approvers, they are people, such
That mend upon the world.
-- 41 --
Enter Jachimo.
Phi.
See! Jachimo!
Pos.
The swiftest harts have posted you by land;
And winds of all the corners kiss'd your sails,
To make your vessel nimble.
Phi.
Welcome, sir.
Pos.
I hope, the briefness of your answer made
The speediness of your return.
Jac.
Your lady
Is one of the fairest note that I have look'd upon.
Pos.
And, therewithal, the best; or let her beauty
Look through a casement to allure false hearts,
And be false with them.
Jac.
Here &dagger2; are letters for you.
Pos.
Their tenor good, I trust.
Jac.
'Tis very like.
Phi.
Was note Caius Lucius14Q1263 in the Britain court,
When you were there?
Jac.
He was expected then,
But not approach'd.
Pos.
All is well yet.—
Sparkles this † stone as it was wont? or is't not
Too dull for your good wearing?
Jac.
If I have lost it,
I should have lost the worth of it in gold.
I'll make a journey twice as far, to enjoy
A second night of such sweet shortness, which
Was mine in Britain; for the ring is won.
Pos.
The stone's too hard to come by.
Jac.
Not a whit,
Your lady being so easy.
Pos.
Make not, sir note
-- 42 --
Your loss your sport: I hope, you know that we
Must not continue friends.
Jac.
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: but I now
Profess myself the winner of her honour,
Together with your ring; and not the wronger
Of her, or you, having proceeded but
By both your wills.
Pos.
If you can make't apparent
That you have tasted her in bed, my hand,
And ring, is yours: If not, the foul opinion
You had of her pure honour, gains, or loses,
Your sword, or mine; or masterless leaves note both
To who shall find them.
Jac.
Sir, my circumstances,
Being so near the truth, as I will make them,
Must first induce you to believe: whose strength
I will confirm with oath; which, I doubt not,
You'll give me leave to spare, when you shall find
You need it not.
Pos.
Proceed.
Jac.
First, her bed-chamber,
(Where, I confess, I slept not; but, profess,
Had that was well worth watching) It was hang'd
With tapestry of silk and silver; the story
Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman
On Cydnus note,14Q1264 swell'd above the banks, 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,
-- 43 --
Could be so rarely and exactly wrought,
Since the true life was note in it.
Pos.
This is true;
And this you might have heard of here, by me,
Or by some other.
Jac.
More particulars
Must justify my knowledge.
Pos.
So they must,
Or do your honour injury.
Jac.
The chimney
Is south the chamber; and the chimney-piece,
Chast Dian, bathing: never saw I figures14Q1265
So likely to report themselves: the cutter
Was as another nature; dumb, out-went her,
Motion and breath left out.
Pos.
This is a thing
Which you might from relation likewise reap;
Being, as it is, much spoke of.
Jac.
The roof o'the chamber
With golden cherubins is fretted: Her andirons
(I had forgot them) were two winking Cupids
Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely
Depending on their brands.
Pos.
This is her honour?—
Be it granted note, you have seen all this, (and praise
Be given to your remembrance) the description
Of what is in her chamber, nothing saves
The wager you have lay'd.
Jac.
Then if you can,
Be pale; I beg but leave to air † this jewel: See!
And now 'tis up again: It must be marry'd
To that your diamond; I'll keep them.
-- 44 --
Pos.
Jove!—
Once more let me behold it: Is it that
Which I left with her?
Jac.
Sir, (I thank her) that:
She stript it from her arm; I see her yet;
Her pretty action did outsell her gift,
And yet enrich'd it too: she gave it me,
And said, she priz'd it once.
Pos.
May be, she pluck'd it off,
To send it me.
Jac.
She writes so to you? doth she?
Pos.
O, no, no, no; 'tis true. Here, take &dagger2; this too;
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 one of her women, being corrupted,
Hath stoln note it from her.
Pos.
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 stoln. note
Jac.
By Jupiter, I had it from her arm.
Pos.
Hark you, he swears; by Jupiter he swears.
'Tis true,—nay, keep the ring—'tis true: I am sure,
She would not lose it: her attendants are
-- 45 --
All sworn, and honourable; They induc'd to steal it?
And by a stranger? No; he hath enjoy'd her:
The cognisance14Q1266 of her incontinency
Is this,—she hath bought the name of whore thus dearly.—
There, take thy hire; and all the fiends of hell
Divide themselves between you.
Phi.
Sir, be patient:
This is not strong enough to be believ'd
Of one persuaded well of—
Pos.
Never talk on't:
She hath been colted by him.
Jac.
If you seek
For further satisfying, under her breast
(Worthy her pressing) lyes 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?
Pos.
Ay, and it doth confirm
Another stain, as big as hell can hold,
Were there no more but it.
Jac.
Will you hear more?
Pos.
Spare your arithmetick: never count the turns;
Once, and a million.
Jac.
I'll be sworn,—
Pos.
No swearing:—
If you will swear you have not don't, you lye;
And I will kill thee, if thou dost deny
Thou hast made me cuckold.
Jac.
I will deny nothing.
Pos.
O, that I had here, note to tear her limb-meal!
I will go there, and do't; i'the court; before
-- 46 --
Her father: I'll do something:
[Exit Posthumus.
Phi.
Quite besides
The government of patience!—You have won:
Let's follow him, and pervert the present wrath
He hath against himself.
Jac.
With all my heart.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.
The same. Another Room in the same.
Enter Posthumus.
Pos.
Is there no way for men to be, but women
Must be half-workers? We are all bastards; all:
And that most venerable man, which I
Did call my father, was I know not where,
When I was stampt; some coiner with his tools
Made me a counterfeit: Yet my mother seem'd
The Dian of that time: so doth my wife
The non-pareil of this.—O, vengeance, vengeance!—
Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd,
And pray'd me, oft, forbearance: did it with
A pudency so rosy, the sweet view on't
Might well have warm'd old Saturn; that I thought her
As chast, as unsun'd snow:—O, all the devils!—
This yellow Jachimo, in an hour, (was't not?)
Or less; at first: Perchance, he spoke not; but,
Like a full-acorn'd boar, a German one, note14Q1267
Cry'd, oh, and mounted: found no opposition,
But what he look'd for should oppose, and she
Should from encounter guard. Could I find out
The woman's part in me! For there's no motion
That tends to vice in man, but I affirm note
It is the woman's part: Be it lying, (note it)
The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;
-- 47 --
Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers;
Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,
Nice longing, slanders, mutability,
All faults that may be nam'd, note nay, that hell knows,
Why, hers, in part, or all; but, rather, all:
For even to vice
They are not constant, but are changing still;
One vice, but of a minute old, for one
Not half so old as that. I'll write against them,
Detest them, curse them: Yet 'tis greater skill
In a true hate, to pray they have their will:
The very devils cannot plague them better.
[Exit.
ACT III.
SCENE I.
A State Room in Cymbeline's Palace.
Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, Lords, and Others:
Cymbeline takes his Throne; after which,
Enter Lucius, and Attendants.
Cym.
Now say,14Q1268 what would Augustus Cæsar with us?
Luc.
When Julius Cæsar (whose remembrance yet
Lives in mens eyes; and will to ears, and tongues,
Be theme, and hearing ever) was in this Britain,
And conquer'd it, Cassibelan, thine uncle,
(Famous in Cæsar's praises, no whit less
Than in his feats deserving it) for him,
And his succession, granted Rome a tribute,
Yearly three thousand pounds; which by thee lately
Is left untender'd.
Que.
And, to kill the marvel,
Shall be so ever.
-- 48 --
Clo.
There be many Cæsars,
Ere such another Julius. Britain is
A world by itself; and we will nothing pay
For wearing our own noses.
Que.
That opportunity,
Which then they had to take from us, to resume
We have again.—Remember, sir, my liege,
The kings your ancestors: together with
The natural bravery of your isle; which stands
As the great Neptune's park, rib'd and pal'd in
With rocks note unscaleable, and roaring waters;
With sands, that will not bear your enemies' boats,
But suck them up to the top-mast. A kind of conquest
Cæsar made here; but made not here his brag
Of, came, and saw, and overcame: note with shame
(The first that ever touch'd him) he was carry'd
From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping
(Poor ignorant baubles!) on our terrible seas,
Like egg-shells mov'd upon their surges, crack'd
As easily 'gainst our rocks: For joy whereof,
The fam'd Cassibelan, who was once at point
(O, giglet fortune!) to master Cæsar's sword,
Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright,
And Britains strut with courage.
Clo.
Come, there's no more tribute to be pay'd:
Our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time; and,
as I said, there is no more such Cæsars: other of them
may have crook'd noses; but, to owe such strait arms,
none.
Cym.
Son, let your mother end.
Clo.
We have yet many among us can gripe as hard
as Cassibelan: I do not say, I am one; but I have a hand.—
-- 49 --
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, we were free: Cæsar's ambition,
(Which swell'd so much, that it did almost stretch
The sides o'the world) against all colour, here
Did put the yoak upon us; which to shake off,
Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon
Ourselves to be; we do. Say then to Cæsar,
Our ancestor was that Mulmutius, which
Ordain'd our laws; whose use the sword of Cæsar
Hath too much mangl'd; whose repair, and franchise,
Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed,
Though Rome be therefore angry. Mulmutius made our laws;
Who was the first of Britain, which did put
His brows within a golden crown, and call'd
Himself a king.
Luc.
I am sorry, Cymbeline,
That I am to pronounce Augustus Cæsar
(Cæsar, that hath more kings his servants, than
Thyself domestick officers) thine enemy:
Receive it from me then:—War, and confusion,
In Cæsar's name pronounce I'gainst thee: look
For fury not to be resisted:—Thus defy'd,
I thank thee for myself.
Cym.
Thou art welcome, Caius.
Thy Cæsar knighted me; my youth I spent
Much under him: of him I gather'd honour;
Which he, to seek of me again, perforce,
-- 50 --
Behooves me keep at utterance. I am perfect,
That the Pannonians, and Dalmatians, for
Their liberties, are now in arms: a precedent
Which, not to read, would shew the Britains cold:
So Cæsar shall not find them.
Luc.
Let proof speak.
Clo.
His majesty bids you welcome. Make pastime
with us a day, or two, or longer: If you seek us afterwards
in other note terms, you shall find us in our saltwater
girdle: if you beat us out of it, it is yours; if
you fall in the adventure, our crows shall fare the better
for you; and there's an end.
Luc.
So, sir.
Cym.
I know your master's pleasure, and he mine:
All the remain is, welcome.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Another Room in the same.
Enter Pisanio.
Pis.
How! of adultery? Wherefore write you not
What monster's her accuser? note—Leonatus!
O, master! what a strange infection
Is faln into thy ear? What false Italian
(As pois'nous tongu'd, as handed) hath prevail'd
On thy too ready hearing?—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 is now as low, as were
Thy fortunes.—How! that I should murther her?
Upon the love, and truth, and vows, which I
Have made to thy command? I, her? her blood?
If it be so to do good service, never
-- 51 --
Let me be counted serviceable. How look I,
That I should seem to lack humanity,
So much as this fact comes to? Do't: The letter
That I have sent her, by her own command,
Shall give thee opportunity:—O damn'd paper,
Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble,
Art thou a feodary for this act, and look'st
So virgin-like without?—Lo, here she comes:
Enter Imogen.
I am ignorant in what I am commanded.
Imo.
How now, Pisanio?
Pis.
Madam, here &dagger2; is a letter from my lord.
Imo.
Who? thy lord? that is my lord? Leonatus?
O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer,
That knew the stars, as I his characters;
He'd lay the future open.—You good gods,14Q1269
Let what is here contain'd relish of love,
Of my lord's health, of his content,—yet not
That we two are asunder, let that grieve him,—
(Some griefs are med'cinable; that is one of them,
For it doth physick love) of his content,
All but in that!—Good wax, thy leave:—Blest be note,
You bees, that make these locks of counsel! Lovers,
And men in dangerous bonds, pray not alike;
Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet
You clasp young Cupid's tables.—Good news, gods!
[reads.
Justice, and your father's wrath, should he take me in
his dominion, could not be so cruel to me, as you, o the
dearest of creatures, would not even renew me with your
eyes. Take notice that I am in Cambria, at Milford-Haven:
What your own love will, out of this, advise
-- 52 --
you, follow. So, he wishes you all happiness, that remains
loyal to his vow, and your encreasing in love
Leonatus Posthumus.
O, for a horse with wings!—Hear'st thou, Pisanio?
He is at Milford-Haven: Read, and tell me
How far 'tis thither.—If one of mean affairs
May plod it in a week, why may not I
Glide thither in a day?—Then, true Pisanio,14Q1270
(Who long'st, like me, to see thy lord: who long'st,—
O, let me bate,—but not like me: yet long'st;
But in a fainter kind: o, not like me;
For mine's beyond, beyond,) say, and speak thick,
(Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing,
To the smothering of the sense) how far it is
To this same blessed Milford: And, by the way,
Tell me how Wales was made so happy, as
To inherit such a haven: But, first of all,
How we may steal from hence; and, for the gap
That we shall make in time, from our hence-going
To our note return, to excuse: but, first, how get hence:
Why should excuse be born or e'er begot?
We'll talk of that hereafter. Pr'ythee, speak,
How many score of note miles may we well ride
'Twixt hour and hour?
Pis.
One score, 'twixt sun and sun,
Madam, 's enough for you; and too much too.
Imo.
Why, one that rode to his execution, man,
Could never go so slow: I have heard of riding wagers,
Where horses have been nimbler than the sands
That run i'the clock's behalf:—But this is foolery:—
Go, bid my woman feign a sickness; say
She'll home to her father: and provide me, presently,
-- 53 --
A riding suit; no costlier than would fit
A franklin's housewife.
Pis.
Madam, you're best consider.
Imo.
I see before me, man: nor here, nor here,
Nor what ensues; but have a fog in them,
That I cannot look through. Away, I pr'ythee;
Do as I bid thee: There's no more to say;
Accessible is none but Milford way.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
A mountainous Country.
Enter, from a Cave, Belarius; then,
Guiderius, and Arviragus.
Bel.
A goodly day14Q1271 not to keep house, with such
Whose roof's as low as ours!—Stoop, boys: note This gate
Instructs you how to adore the heavens; and bows you
To morning's holy office: The gates of monarchs
Are arch'd so high, that giants may jet through
And keep their impious turbands 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 yon' hill,
Your legs are young; I'll tread these flats. Consider,
When you above perceive me like a crow,
That it is place, which lessens, and sets off.
And you may then revolve what tales I have told you,
Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war:
This service is not service, so being done,
But being so allow'd: To apprehend thus,
Draws us a profit from all things we see:
-- 54 --
And often, to our comfort, shall we find
The sharded beetle in a safer hold
Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O, this life
Is nobler, than attending for a check;
Richer, than doing nothing for a babe;
Prouder, than rustling in unpay'd-for silk:
Such gain the cap of him, that makes 'em fine note
Yet keeps his book uncross'd: no life to ours.
Gui.
Out of your proof you speak: we, poor unfledg'd,
Have never wing'd from view o'the nest; nor know note not
What air's from home. Haply, this life is best,
If quiet life be best; sweeter to you,
That have a sharper known; well corresponding
With your stiff age: but, unto us, it is
A cell of ignorance; travelling abed;
A prison for a note debtor, that not dares
To stride a limit.
Arv.
What should we speak of,
When we are old as you? when we shall hear
The wind and rain beat dark December, how,
In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse
The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing:
We are beastly; subtle as the fox, for prey;
Like warlike as the wolf, for what we eat:
Our valour is, to chace what flyes; our cage
We make a quire, as doth the prison'd bird,
And sing our bondage freely.
Bel.
How you speak!
Did you but know the city's usuries,
And felt them knowingly: the art o'the court,
As hard to leave, as keep; whose top to climb
-- 55 --
Is certain falling, or so slippery, that
The fear's as bad as falling: the toil o'the war,
A pain that only seems to seek out danger note
I'the name of fame, and honour; which dyes i' the search;
And hath as oft a sland'rous epitaph,
As record of fair act; nay, many times,
Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse,
Must curt'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 lov'd me;
And when a soldier was the theme, my name
Was not far off: Then was I as a tree,
Whose boughs did bend with fruit: but, in one night,
A storm, or robbery, call it what you will,
Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves,
And left me bare to weather.
Gui.
Uncertain favour!
Bel.
My fault being nothing (as I have told you oft)
But that two villains, whose false oaths prevail'd
Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline
I was confederate with the Romans: so,
Follow'd my banishment; and, this twenty years,
This rock, and these demesnes, have been my world:
Where I have liv'd at honest freedom; pay'd
More pious debts to heaven, than in all
The fore-end of my time. But, up to the mountains;
This is not hunters' language: He, that strikes
The venison first, shall be the lord o'the feast;
To him the other two shall minister;
And we will fear no poison, which attends
In place of greater state. I'll meet you in the valleys.
-- 56 --
[Exeunt. Gui. and Arv.
How hard it is, to hide the sparks of nature!
These boys know little, they are sons to the king;
Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive.
They think, they are mine: and, though train'd up thus meanly
I'the cave, where on note the bow,14Q1272 their thoughts do hit
The roofs of palaces; and nature prompts them,
In simple and low things, to prince it, much
Beyond the trick of others. This Paladour,—
The heir of Cymbeline, and Britain, whom note
The king his father call'd Guiderius,—Jove!
When on my three-foot stool I sit, and tell
The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out
Into my story: say, Thus mine enemy fell;
And thus I set my foot on his neck; even then
The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats,
Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in posture
That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal,
(Once, Arvirágus) in as like a figure
Strikes life into my speech, and shews much more
His own conceiving. Hark! the game is rouz'd.
O Cymbeline, heaven, and my conscience, knows
Thou did'st unjustly banish me: whereon,
At two, and three 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 thee for their mother,
And every day do honour to thy grave note:
Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call'd,
They take for natural father. The game is up.
[Exit Belarius.
-- 57 --
SCENE IV.
Another Part of the above Country.
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 so14Q1273
To see me first, note as I have now:—Pisanio! Man!
Where is 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
Vanquish my staider senses. What's the matter?
[Pisanio reaches her out a Letter.
Why tender'st thou that paper to me, with
A look untender? If't be summer news,
Smile to't before: if winterly, thou need'st
But keep that countenance still.—My husband's hand!
That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-crafty'd 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 play'd the
strumpet in my bed; the testimonies whereof lye 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
-- 58 --
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
me 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
Out-venoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath
Rides on the posting winds, and doth belye
All corners of the world: kings, queens, and states,
Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave
This viperous slander enters.—What cheer, madam?
Imo.
False to his bed! What is it, to be false?
To lye 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 false to his bed?
Is it?
Pis.
Alas, good lady!
Imo.
I false?14Q1274 Thy conscience witness:—Jachimo,
Thou did'st accuse him of incontinency;
Thou then look'dst like a villain; now, methinks,
Thy favour's well enough.—Some jay of Italy,
Whose feather was note her painting, hath betray'd him:
Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion;
And, for I am richer than to hang by the walls,
I must be ript; 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.
-- 59 --
Pis.
Good madam, hear me.
Imo.
True honest men being heard, like false Æneas,
Were, in his time, thought false: and Sinon's weeping
Did scandal many a holy tear; took pity
From most true wretchedness: So, thou, Posthumus,
Wilt lay14Q1275 the leaven on all note proper men;
Goodly, and gallant, shall be false, and perjur'd,
From thy great fail.—Come, fellow, be thou honest:
Do thou thy master's bidding: When thou see'st him,
A little witness my obedience: Look,
I draw the sword myself: take it; and hit
The innocent mansion of my love, my heart:
Fear not; 'tis empty of all things, but grief:
Thy master is not there; who was, indeed,
The riches of it: Do his bidding; strike.
Thou may'st be valiant in a better cause;
But now thou seem'st a coward.
Pis.
Hence, vile instrument;
Thou shalt not damn my hand.
Imo.
Why, I must dye;
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;—
Something's afore't: note Soft, soft; we'll no defence;
Obedient as the scabbard. What is here?
The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus,
All turn'd to heresy? Away, away,
Corrupters of my faith! you shall no more
Be stomachers to my heart! Thus may poor fools
Believe false teachers: Though those that are betray'd
Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor
-- 60 --
Stands in worse case of woe.
And thou, Posthumus, thou that did'st set up
My disobedience 'gainst the king my father,
And mad'st me note put into contempt the suits
Of princely fellows, shalt hereafter find
It is no act of common passage, but
A strain of rareness: and I grieve myself,
To think, when thou shalt be disedg'd by her
That now note thou tir'st on, how thy memory
Will then be pang'd by me.—Pr'ythee, dispatch:
The lamb intreats the butcher: Where's thy knife?
Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding,
When I desire it too.
Pis.
O gracious lady,
Since I receiv'd command to do this business,
I have not slept one wink.
Imo.
Do't, and to bed then.
Pis.
I'll wake mine eye-balls blind 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,
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 with note patience.
Imo.
Talk thy tongue weary; speak:
-- 61 --
I have heard, I am a strumpet; and mine ear,
Therein false strook, 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, Cloten;
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? note14Q1276
Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night,
-- 62 --
Are they not but in Britain? I'the world's volume
Our Britain seems as of it, but not in't;
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: Now, if you could wear a mind14Q1277
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 full of view: yea, haply, near
The residence of Posthumus; so nigh, at least note,
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!
Though peril to my modesty, not death on't,
I would adventure.
Pis.
Well, then, here's the point:
You must forget to be a woman: change
Command into obedience; fear, and niceness,
(The handmaids of all women, or, more truly,
Woman it's pretty self) into a waggish courage,
Ready in gybes, quick-answer'd, saucy, and
As quarrellous as the weazel: nay, you must
Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek,
Exposing it (but, o, the harder heart!
Alack, no remedy) to the greedy touch
Of common-kissing Titan; and forget note
Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein
You made great Juno angry.
-- 63 --
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're happy, (which you'll make note him know,
If that his head have ear in musick) doubtless,
With joy he will embrace you; for he's honourable,
And, doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad
You have me, rich; and I will never fail
Beginning, nor supplyment. note
Imo.
Thou art all the comfort
The gods will diet me with. Pr'ythee, away:
There's more to be consider'd; but we'll even
All that good time will give us: 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 &dagger2; 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.
-- 64 --
SCENE V.
A Room in Cymbeline's Palace.
Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, Lucius,
Lords, and Others.
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 yoak; 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,14Q1278 all joy befall your grace, and yours! note
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.
Clo.
Receive it friendly: but from this time forth
I wear it as your enemy.
Luc.
Sir, the event
Is yet to name the winner: Fare you well.
Cym.
Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords,
'Till he have cross'd the Severn. note—Happiness!
[Exit Lucius, attended.
Que.
He goes hence frowning: but it honours us,
That we have given him cause.
Clo.
'Tis all the better;
Your valiant Britains have their wishes in it.
Cym.
Lucius hath wrot already to the emperor
-- 65 --
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.
Que.
'Tis not sleepy business;
But must be look'd to speedily, and strongly.
Cym.
Our expectation that it would be note 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 as note 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 note sufferance.
[Exit an Attendant.
Que.
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, note
And strokes death to her.
Re-enter the Attendant.
Cym.
Where is she, sir? How
Can her contempt be answer'd?
Att.
Please you, sir.
Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer
That will be given to the loud'st of note noise we make.
Que.
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 unpay'd to you,
-- 66 --
Which dayly 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!
[Exeunt Cymbeline, and Attendants.
Que.
Son, I say, follow the king.
Clo.
That man of hers, Pisanio her old servant,
I have not seen these two days.
Que.
Go, look after.—
[Exit Cloten.
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?
Clo.
'Tis certain, she is fled:
Go in, and chear the king; he rages, none
Dare come about him.
Que.
All the better: May
This night fore-stal him of the coming day!
[Exit Queen.
Clo.
I love, and hate her: for she's fair, and royal;
And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite
Than lady, ladies, woman;14Q1279 from every one
The best she hath, and she, of all compounded,
-- 67 --
Out-sells them all: I love her therefore; But
Disdaining me, and throwing favours on
The low Posthumus, slanders so her judgment,
That what's else rare, is chok'd; and, in that point,
I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed,
To be reveng'd upon her. For, when fools
Enter Pisanio.
Shall—Who is here?—What, are you packing, sirrah?
Come hither: Ah, you precious pandar! Villain,
Where is thy lady? In a word; or else
Thou art straightway with the fiends.
Pis.
O, good my lord!
Clo.
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.
Clo.
Where is she, sir? Come nearer;
No farther 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 &dagger2; paper is the history of my knowledge
-- 68 --
Touching her flight.
Clo.
Let's see't:—I will pursue her
Even to Augustus' throne.
&clquo;Pis.
&clquo;Or this, or perish.&crquo;
&clquo;She's far enough; and what he learns by this,&crquo;
&clquo;May prove his travel, not her danger.&crquo;
Clo.
Humh!
&clquo;Pis.
&clquo;I'll write to my lord, she's dead:—O, Imogen,&crquo;
&clquo;Safe may'st thou wander, safe return again!&crquo;
Clo.
Sirrah, is this letter true?
Pis.
Sir, as I think.
Clo.
It is Posthumus' hand; I know't:—Sirrah, if
thou would'st not be a villain, but do me true service;
undergo those employments, wherein I should
have cause to use thee, with a serious industry,—that
is, what villany so-e'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.
Clo.
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.
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.
-- 69 --
Clo.
The first service thou dost me, fetch me that
suit hither: let it be thy first service; go.
Pis.
I shall, my lord.
[Exit Pisanio.
Clo.
Meet thee at Milford-Haven:—(I forgot to
ask him one thing; I'll remember't anon:) Even there,
thou villain Posthumus, will I kill thee.—I would,
these garments were come. She said upon a time, (the
bitterness of it I now belch from my heart) that she
held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect
than my noble and natural person, together with the
adornment of my qualities. With that suit upon my
back, will I ravish her: First kill him, and in her
eyes; there shall she see my valour, which will then
be a torment to her contempt. He on the ground, my
speech of insultment ended on his dead body,—and
when my lust hath dined, (which, as I say, to vex her,
I will execute in the cloaths 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.
Re-enter Pisanio, with the Cloaths.
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 shall tender
itself to thee.—My revenge is now at Milford;
'Would I had wings to follow it!—Come, and be true.
[Exit Cloten.
-- 70 --
Pis.
Thou bid'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.
Before the Cave of Belarius.
Enter Imogen, in Boy's Cloaths.
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 folks lye,
That have afflictions on them; knowing 'tis
A punishment, or trial? Yes: no wonder,
When rich ones scarce tell true: To lapse in fulness
Is 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't: 'Tis some savage hold:
I were best note not call; I dare not call: yet famine,
Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes note it valiant.
Plenty, and peace, breeds cowards; hardness ever
Of hardiness is mother.—Ho! who's here?
If any thing that's civil, speak; if savage,
-- 71 --
Take, or lend.14Q1280 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, ye good heavens!
[Exit.
SCENE VII.
The same.
Enter Belarius, Guiderius. and Arviragus.
Bel.
You, Paladour, 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 dye,
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!
[Exit, to the Cave.
Gui.
I am throughly weary.
Arv.
I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite.
Gui.
There is cold meat i'the cave; we'll brouze on that,
Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd.
Re-enter Belarius.
Bel.
Stay; come not in:—
But that it eats our victuals, I should think
Here were a fairy.
Gui.
What's the matter, sir?
Bel.
By Jupiter, an angel: or, if not,
An earthly paragon!—Behold divineness
No elder than a boy.
Enter Imogen.
Imo.
Good masters note, harm me not:
Before I enter'd here, I call'd; and thought
To have beg'd, or bought, what I have took: Good troth,
-- 72 --
I have stoln nought; nor would not, though I had found
Gold strew'd o'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 so
With prayers for the provider.
Gui.
Money, youth?
Arv.
All gold and silver rather turn to dirt!
As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those
Who worship dirty gods.
Imo.
I see, you're angry: note
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, sir.
Bel.
What is 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 faln 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.
Gui.
Were you a woman, youth,
I should woo hard, but be your groom in honesty;
I'd bid for you, as I'd buy 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!
-- 73 --
Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst friends.
&clquo;Imo.
&clquo;'mongst note friends!&crquo;
&clquo;If brothers?—'Would it had been so, that they&crquo;
&clquo;Had been my father's sons! then had my price note&crquo;
&clquo;Been less; and so more equal ballancing note&crquo;
&clquo;To thee, Posthumus.&crquo;
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.
[talks with them apart.
&clquo;Imo.
&clquo;Great men,
&clquo;That had a court no bigger than this cave,&crquo;
&clquo;That did attend themselves, and had the virtue&crquo;
&clquo;Which their own conscience seal'd them, (laying by&crquo;
&clquo;That nothing gift note14Q1281 of differing multitudes)&crquo;
&clquo;Could not out-peer note these twain. Pardon me, gods!&crquo;
&clquo;I'd change my sex to be companion with them,&crquo;
&clquo;Since Leonatus is false.&crquo;
Bel.
It shall be so:
Boys, we'll go dress our hunt.—Fair youth, come note in:
Discourse is heavy, fasting; when we have sup'd,
We'll mannerly demand thee of thy story,
So far as thou wilt speak it.
Gui.
Pray, draw near.
Arv.
The night to the owl, and morn to the lark, less welcome.
Imo.
Thanks, sir.
Arv.
I pray, draw near.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VIII.
Rome. The Senate-house.
Enter certain Senators, and Tribunes.
1. S.
This is the tenor of the emperor's writ;
-- 74 --
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 faln-off Britains; that we do incite
The gentry to this business: He creates
Lucius pro-consul: and to you the tribunes,
For this immediate levy, he commands14Q1282
His absolute commission. Long live Cæsar!
Tri.
Is Lucius general of the forces?
2. S.
Ay.
Tri.
Remaining now in Gallia?
1. S.
With those legions
Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy
Must be supplyant: The words of your commission
Will tye you to the numbers, and the time
Of their dispatch.
Tri.
We will discharge our duty.
[Exeunt.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
Country near the Cave.
Enter Cloten.
Clo.
I am near to th' place where they should
meet, if Pisanio have map'd it truly. How fit his garments
serve me! Why should his mistress, who was
made by him that made the tailor, not be fit too? the
rather (saving reverence of the word) 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
-- 75 --
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:14Q1283
yet this imperseverant thing loves him in my
despight. What mortality is! Posthumus, thy head,
which now is growing upon thy shoulders, shall within
this hour be off; thy mistress enforced, thy garments
cut to pieces before thy face: and all this done, spurn
her home to her father; who may, haply, be a little
angry for my so rough usage; but my mother, having
power of his testiness, shall turn all into my commendations.
My horse is tyed up safe: Out, sword, and to
a sore purpose. Fortune, put them into my hand! This
is the very description of their meeting-place; and the
fellow dares not deceive me.
[Exit.
SCENE II.
Before the Cave.
Enter, from it, Belarius, Guiderius,
Arviragus, and Imogen.
Bel.
You are not well: [to Imo.] remain here in the cave;
We'll come to you after hunting,
Arv.
Brother, stay here:
Are we not brothers?
Imo.
So man and man should be;
But clay and clay differs in dignity,
Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick.
Gui.
Go you to hunting, I'll abide with him.
Imo.
So sick I am not;14Q1284 yet I am not well:
But not so citizen a wanton, as
-- 76 --
To seem to dye, ere sick: So please you, leave me;
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 dye,
Stealing so poorly.
Gui.
I love thee; I have spoke it:
As much note 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 yoak 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 dye, I'd say,
My father, not this youth.
&clquo;Bel.
&clquo;O noble strain!&crquo;
&clquo;O worthiness of nature! breed of greatness!&crquo;
&clquo;Cowards father cowards, and base things sire base:&crquo;
&clquo;Nature hath meal, and bran; contempt, and grace.&crquo;
&clquo;I am not their father; yet who this should be,&crquo;
&clquo;Doth miracle itself, lov'd before me.&crquo;
'Tis the ninth hour o'the morn.
Arv.
Brother, farewell.
Imo.
I wish ye sport.
Arv.
You health.—So please you, sir.
&clquo;Imo.
&clquo;These are kind creatures. Gods, what lyes I have heard!&crquo;
&clquo;Our courtiers say, all's savage, but at court:&crquo;
&clquo;Experience, o, thou disprov'st report!&crquo;
-- 77 --
&clquo;The imperious seas breed note monsters; for the dish,&crquo;
&clquo;Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish.
&clquo;I am sick still; heart-sick: Pisanio,
&clquo;I'll now taste of thy drug.
Gui.
I could not stir him:
He said, he was gentle, but unfortunate;
Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest.
Arv.
So 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 huswife.
Imo.
Well, or ill,
I am still bound to you.
Bel.
And shalt be ever.—
[Exit Imogen.
This youth, howe'er distress'd, appears, he hath had
Good ancestors.
Arv.
How angel-like he sings!
Gui.
But his neat cookery! He note cut our roots in characters;
And sauc'd our broths, as Juno had been sick,
And he her dieter.
Arv.
Nobly he yoaks
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.
Gui.
I do note,
That grief and patience, rooted in him both note,
-- 78 --
Mingle their spurs together.
Arv.
Grow, patience; note
And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine
His perishing root, with the increasing vine.
Bel.
It is great morning: Come, away.—Who's there?
Enter Cloten.
Clo.
I cannot find those runagates; that villain
Hath mock'd me: I am faint.
&clquo;Bel.
&clquo;Those runagates!&crquo;
&clquo;Means he not us? I partly know him; 'tis&crquo;
&clquo;Cloten, the son o'the queen. I fear some ambush.&crquo;
&clquo;I saw him not these many years, and yet&crquo;
&clquo;I know 'tis he: We are held as outlaws; Hence.&crquo;
&clquo;Gui.
&clquo;He is but one: You and my brother search&crquo;
&clquo;What companies are near: pray you, away;&crquo;
&clquo;Let me alone with him.&crquo;
[Exeunt Belarius, and Arviragus.
Clo.
Soft; What are you
That fly me thus? some villain mountaineers?
I have heard of such.—What slave art thou?
Gui.
A thing
More slavish did I ne'er, than answering
A slave without a knock
Clo.
Thou art a robber,
A law-breaker, a villain: Yield thee, thief.
Gui.
To who? note 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?
Clo.
Thou villain base,
Know'st me not by my cloaths?
-- 79 --
Gui.
No, nor thy tailor, rascal,
Who is thy grandfather; he made those cloaths,
Which, as it seems, make thee.
Clo.
Thou precious varlet,
My tailor made them not.
Gui.
Hence then, and thank
The man that gave them thee. Thou art some fool;
I am loth to beat thee.
Clo.
Thou injurious thief,
Hear but my name, and tremble, note
Gui.
What's thy name?
Clo.
Cloten, thou villain.
Gui.
Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name,
I cannot tremble at it; were it toad, note
'Twould move me sooner.
Clo.
To thy further fear,
Nay, to thy meer confusion, thou shalt know
I am son to the queen.
Gui.
I am sorry for't; not seeming
So worthy as thy birth.
Clo.
Art not afeard?
Gui.
Those that I reverence, those I fear; the wise:
At fools I laugh, not fear them.
Clo.
Dye 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:
Yield, rustick mountaineer.
[Exeunt, fighting.
Re-enter Belarius, and Arviragus.
Bel.
No company's abroad, note
Arv.
None in the world: You did mistake him, sure.
Bel.
I cannot tell: Long is it since I saw him,
-- 80 --
But time hath nothing blur'd those lines of favour
Which then he wore; 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.
Being scarce made up,
I mean, to man, he had not apprehension
Of roaring terrors: For defect of judgment14Q1285
Is oft the cause of fear,—But see, thy brother.
Re-enter Guiderius, with Cloten's Head.
Gui.
This Cloten was a fool; an empty purse,
There was no money in't: not Hercules
Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had none:
Yet I not doing this, the fool had born
My head, as I do his.
Bel.
What hast thou done?
Gui.
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 take us in,
Displace our heads, where, thanks to the gods, they grow,
And set them on Lud's town. note
Bel.
We are all undone.
Gui.
Why, worthy father, what have we to lose,
But, that he swore to take, our lives? The law
Protects not us; Then why should we be tender,
To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us?
Play judge, and executioner, all himself?
For we do fear no law. note What company
Discover you abroad?
-- 81 --
Bel.
No single soul
Can we set eye on, but, in all safe reason,
He must have some attendants. Though his humour note
Was nothing but mutation: ay, and that
From one bad thing to worse; not frenzy, not
Absolute madness could so far have rav'd,
To bring him here alone: Although, perhaps,
It may be heard at court, that such as we
Cave here, hunt here, are out-laws, and in time
May make some stronger head; the which he hearing,
(As it is like him) might break out, and swear
He'd fetch us in; yet is't not probable
To come alone, either he so undertaking,
Or they so suffering: then on good ground we fear,
If we do fear this body hath a tail
More perilous than the head.
Arv.
Let ordinance
Come as the gods foresay it: howsoe'er,
My brother hath done well.
Bel.
I had no mind
To hunt this day: the boy Fidele's sickness
Did make my way long forth.
Gui.
With his own sword,
Which he did wave against my throat, I have ta'en
His head from him: I'll throw't into the creek
Behind our rock; and let it to the sea,
And tell the fishes, he's the queen's son, Cloten:
That's all I reck.
[Exit Guiderius.
Bel.
I fear, 'twill be reveng'd:
'Would, Paladour, thou had'st not don't! though valour
Becomes thee well enough.
Arv.
'Would I had don't,
-- 82 --
So the revenge alone pursu'd me!—Paladour,
I love thee brotherly; but envy much,
Thou hast rob'd me of this deed: I would, revenges,
That possible strength might meet, would seek us through,
And put us to our answer.
Bel.
Well, 'tis done:—
We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danger
Where there's no profit. I pr'ythee, to our rock;
You and Fidele play the cooks: I'll stay
'Till hasty Paladour return, and bring him
To dinner presently.
Arv.
Poor sick Fidele!
I'll willingly to him: To gain his colour,
I'd let a parish of such Clotens blood,
And praise myself for charity.
[Exit Arviragus.
Bel.
O thou goddess,
Thou divine nature, how thyself note note thou blazon'st
In these two princely boys! They are as gentle
As zephyrs, blowing below the violet,
Not waging his sweet head; and yet as rough,
Their royal blood enchaf'd, as the rud'st wind,
That by the top doth take the mountain pine,
And make him stoop to the vale. note 'Tis wonderful,
That an invisible instínct should frame them
To royalty unlearn'd; honour untaught;
Civility not seen from other; valour,
That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop
As if it had been sow'd! Yet still it's strange,
What Cloten's being here to us portends;
Or what his death will bring us.
Re-enter Guiderius.
Gui.
Where's my brother?
-- 83 --
I have sent Cloten's clot-pole down the stream,
In embassy to his mother; his body's hostage
For his return.
[solemn Musick.
Bel.
My ingenious note instrument!
Hark, Paladour, it sounds! But what occasion
Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark.
Gui.
Is he at home?
Bel.
He went hence even now.
Gui.
What does he mean? since death of my dear'st mother,
It did not speak before. All solemn things
Should answer solemn accidents. The matter?
Triumphs for nothing, and lamenting toys,
Is jollity for apes, and grief for boys.
Is Cadwal mad?
Re-enter Arviragus, bearing Imogen, as dead, in his Arms.
Bel.
Look, here he comes,
And brings the dire occasion in his arms,
Of what we blame him for.
Arv.
The bird is dead,
That we have made so much on. I had rather
Have skip'd from sixteen years of age to sixty,
To have turn'd my leaping time into a crutch,
Than have seen this.
Gui.
O sweetest, fairest lilly!
My brother wears thee not the one half so well,
As when thou grew'st thyself.
Bel.
O, melancholy!14Q1286
Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find
The ooze? or shew what note coast thou, sluggish note care,
Might'st note easil'est harbour in?—Thou blessed thing!
Jove knows what man thou might'st have made; but, ah note!
-- 84 --
Thou dy'dst, a most rare boy, of melancholy!—
How found you him?
Arv.
Stark, as you see;
Thus smiling, as some fly had tickl'd slumber,
Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at: his right cheek
Reposing on a cushion.
Gui.
Where?
Arv.
O'the floor;
His arms thus leagu'd: I thought, he slept; and put
My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness
Answer'd my steps too loud.
Gui.
Why, he but sleeps: note
If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed;
With female fairies will his tomb be haunted,
And worms will not come there. note14Q1287
Arv.
With fairest flowers,
Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele,
I'll sweeten thy sad grave: Thou shalt not lack
The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose; nor
The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor
The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander
Out-sweeten'd not thy breath: the raddock would,
With charitable bill, (o bill, sore-shaming
Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lye
Without a monument!) bring thee all this;
Yea, and fur'd moss besides, when flowers are none,
To winter-gown note thy corse.
Gui.
Pr'ythee, have done;
And do not play in wench-like words with that
Which is so serious. Let us bury him,
And not protract with admiration what
Is now due debt. To the grave.
-- 85 --
Arv.
Say, where shall's lay him?
Gui.
By good Euriphile, our mother.
Arv.
Be't so:
And let us, Paladour, though now our voices
Have got the manish crack, sing him to the ground,
As once our note mother; use like note, and words,
Save that Euriphile must be Fidele.
Gui.
Cadwal,
I cannot sing: I'll weep, and word it with thee:
For notes of sorrow, out of tune, are worse
Than priests and fanes note that lye.
Arv.
We'll speak it then.
Bel.
Great griefs, I see, medicine note the less: for Cloten
Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys;
And, though he came our enemy, remember,
He has pay'd note for that: Though mean and mighty, rotting
Together, have one dust; yet reverence
(That angel of the world14Q1288) doth make distinction
Of place 'twixt note high and low. Our foe was princely;
And though you took his life, as being our foe,
Yet bury him as a prince.
Gui.
Pray you note, fetch him hither.
Thersites' body is as good as Ajax, note
When neither are alive.
Arv.
If you'll go fetch him,
We'll say our song the whilst.—Brother, begin.
[Exit Belarius.
Gui.
Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the east;
My father hath a reason for't.
Arv.
'Tis true.
Gui.
Come on then, and remove him.
Arv.
So,—Begin.
-- 86 --
SONG.
Gui.
Fear no more the heat of the sun,
nor the furious winter's rages;
thou thy worldly task hast done,
home art gone, and ta'en thy wages:
golden lads and girls all must,
as chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Arv.
Fear no more the frown o'the great,
thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
care no more to cloath, and eat;
to thee the reed is as the oak:
the scepter, learning, physick, must
all follow this, and come to dust.
Gui.
Fear no more the light'ning-flash,
Arv.
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Gui.
Fear no slander, note censure rash;
Arv.
Thou hast finish'd joy and moan:
both.
All lovers young, all lovers must
consign to thee, and come to dust.
Gui.
No exorciser harm thee!
Arv.
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Gui.
Ghost unlay'd forbear thee!
Arv.
-- 87 --
Nothing ill come near thee!
both.
Quiet consummation have;
and renowned note be thy grave!
Re enter Belarius, with Cloten's Body.
Gui.
We have done our obsequies: Come, lay him down.
Bel.
Here's a few flowers; but about midnight, more:
The herbs that have on them cold dew o'the night
Are strewings fit'st for graves. Upon their faces:14Q1289—
You were as flowers, now wither'd: even so
These herb'lets shall, which we upon you strow.—
Come on, away; apart upon our knees.
The ground, that gave them first, has them again:
Their pleasures here are past, so is their note pain.
[Exeunt Bel. Gui. and Arv.
Imo. [waking.]
Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; Which is the way?
I thank you. By yond' bush? Pray, how far thither?
Od's-pitikins! can it be six mile yet?
I have gone all night: 'Faith, I'll lye down, and sleep.
But, soft; no bedfellow:—O gods, and goddesses!
These flowers are like the pleasures of the world;
This bloody man, the care on't. I hope, I dream;
For, sure, I note thought I was a cave-keeper,
And cook to honest creatures: But 'tis not so;
'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing,
Which the brain makes of fumes: Our very eyes
Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good faith,
I tremble still with fear: But if there be
Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity
As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it!
The dream's here still: even when I wake, it is
Without me, as within me; not imagin'd, felt. note
-- 88 --
A headless man! The garments of Posthumus!
I know the shape of his leg: this is his hand;
His foot Mercurial; his Martial thigh;
The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovial face—
Murther in heaven? note How?—'Tis gone.—Pisanio,
All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou,
Conspir'd with14Q1290 that irregulous devil, Cloten,
Hast here note cut off my lord.—To write, and read,
Be henceforth treacherous: Damn'd Pisanio
Hath, with his forged letters,—damn'd Pisanio—
From this most bravest vessel of the world
Strook the main-top.—O Posthumus! alas,
Where is thy head? where's that? Ay me! where's that?
Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart,
And left thy head note on.—How should this be? Pisanio?
'Tis he, and Cloten: malice and lucre in them
Have lay'd this woe here. O, 'tis pregnant, pregnant!
The drug he gave me, which, he said, was precious
And cordial to me, have I not found it
Murd'rous to the senses? That confirms it home:
This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's: O!—
Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood,
That we the horrider may seem to those
Which chance note to find us: O, my lord, my lord!
Enter, as in March, Lucius, a Captain,
and other Officers, and a Soothsayer.
Cap.
To them, the legions garrison'd in Gallia,
After your will, have cross'd the sea; attending
You here at Milford-Haven, with your ships:
They are in note readiness.
Luc.
But what from Rome?
-- 89 --
Cap.
The senate hath stir'd up the cónfiners,
And gentlemen of Italy; willing note spirits,
That promise noble service; and they come
Under the conduct of bold Jachimo,
Syenna's brother.
Luc.
When expect you them?
Cap.
With the next benefit of the wind.
Luc.
This forwardness
Makes our hopes fair. Command, our present numbers
Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't.—Now, sir,
What have you dream'd, of late, of this war's purpose?
Soo.
Last night, the very gods14Q1291 shew'd me a vision:
(I fast, note and pray'd, for their intelligence) Thus:—
I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing note
From the spungy south to this part of the west,
There vanish'd note in the sun-beams: which portends,
(Unless my sins abuse my divination)
Success to the Roman host.
Luc.
Dream often so,
And never false.—Soft, ho; what trunk is here,
Without his top? The ruin speaks, that sometime
It was a worthy building.—How! a page!
Or dead, or sleeping on him? But dead, rather:
For nature doth abhor to make his bed
With the defunct, to sleep note upon the dead.
Let's see the boy's face.
Cap.
He's alive, my lord.
Luc.
He'll then instruct us of this body. note—Young one,
Inform us of thy fortunes; for, it seems,
They crave to be demanded: Who is this,
Thou mak'st thy bloody pillow? Or who was he,
That, otherwise than noble nature did it,
-- 90 --
Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy interest
In this sad wreck? How came it? and who is it? note
What art thou?
Imo.
I am nothing: or if not,
Nothing to be were better. This was my master,
A very valiant Britain, and a good,
That here by mountaineers lyes slain:—Alas!
There are no note more such masters: I may wander
From east to occident, cry out for service,
Try many, and all good, serve truly, never
Find such another master.
Luc.
'Lack, good youth!
Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining, than
Thy master bleeding note: Say his name, good friend.
&clquo;Imo.
Richard du Champ. &clquo;If I do lye, and do&crquo;
&clquo;No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope&crquo;
&clquo;They'll pardon it&crquo; Say you, sir?
Luc.
Thy name?
Imo.
Fidele, sir.
Luc.
Thou dost approve thyself the very same:
Thy name well fits thy faith; thy faith, thy name.
Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say,
Thou shalt be so well master'd; but, be sure,
No less belov'd. The Roman emperor's letters,
Sent by a consul to me, should no sooner note
Than thine own worth prefer thee: Go with me.
Imo.
I'll follow, sir. But, first, an't please the gods,
I'll hide my master from the flies as deep
As these poor pick-axes can dig: and when
With wild wood-leaves and weeds I have strew'd his grave,
And on it said a century of prayers,
Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep, and sigh;
-- 91 --
And, leaving so his service, follow you,
So please you entertain me.
Luc.
Ay, good youth;
And rather father thee, than master thee.—
My friends,
The boy hath taught us manly duties: Let us
Find out the prettiest daizy'd plot we can,
And make him with our pikes and partizans
A grave: Come, arm him.—Boy, he is prefer'd
By thee to us; and he shall be inter'd,
As soldiers can. Be chearful; wipe thine eyes:
Some falls are means the happier to arise.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
A Room in Cymbeline's Palace.
Enter Cymbeline; Pisanio, Lords, and other Attendants.
Cym.
Again; and bring me word, how 'tis with her.
[to an Attendant; who goes out.
A fever with the absence of her son;
Madness note, of which her life's in danger:—Heavens,
How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen,
The great note part of my comfort, gone: my queen
Upon a desperate bed; and in a time
When fearful wars point at me: her son gone,
So needful for this present: note It strikes me, past
The hope of comfort.—But for thee, thee, fellow,
Who needs must know of her departure, and
Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee
By a sharp torture.
Pis.
Sir, my life is yours,
I humbly set note it at your will: But, for my mistress,
I nothing know where she remains, why gone,
-- 92 --
Nor when she purposes return. Beseech your highness,
Hold me your loyal servant.
1. L.
Good my liege,
The day that she was missing, he was here:
I dare be bound he's true, and shall perform
All parts of his subjection loyally.
For Cloten,—
There wants no diligence in seeking him;
And he'll, no note doubt, be found.
Cym.
The time is troublesome;
We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy note
Does yet depend.
2. L.
So please your majesty,
The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn,
Are landed on your coast; with a supply note
Of Roman gentlemen, by the senate sent.
Cym.
Now for the counsel of my son, and queen!—
I am amaz'd with matter.
1. L.
Good my liege,
Your preparation can affront no less
Than what you hear of: come more, for more you're ready:
The want is, but to put those powers note in motion,
That long to move.
Cym.
I thank you: Let's withdraw;
And meet the time,14Q1292 as it seeks us. We fear not
What can from Italy annoy us; but
We grieve at chances here. Away.
[Exeunt Cymbeline, Lords, and Attendants.
Pis.
I have had no note letter from my master, since
I wrote him, Imogen was slain: 'Tis strange:
Nor hear I from my mistress, who did promise
To yield me often tidings: Neither know I
-- 93 --
What is betid to Cloten; but remain
Perplext in all. The heavens still must work:
Wherein I am false, I am honest; not true, true note:
These present wars shall find I love my country,
Even to the note of the king, or I'll fall in them.
All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd:
Fortune brings in some boats, that are not steer'd.
[Ex.
SCENE IV.
Before the Cave.
Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.
Gui.
The noise is round about us.
Bel.
Let us from it.
Arv.
What pleasure, sir, find we note in life, to lock it
From action and adventure?
Gui.
Nay, what hope
Have we in hiding us? this way, the Romans
Must or for Britains slay us; or receive us
For barbarous and unnatural revolts
During their use, and slay us after.
Bel.
Sons,
We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us.
To the king's party there's no going: newness
Of Cloten's death (we being not known, nor muster'd
Among the bands) may drive us to a render
Where we have liv'd; and so extort from us that
Which we have done, whose answer would be death
Drawn on with torture note.
Gui.
This is, sir, a doubt,
In such a time, nothing becoming you,
Nor satisfying us.
Arv.
It is not likely,
That when they hear the Roman note horses neigh,
-- 94 --
Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes
And ears so cloy'd note importantly as now,
That they will waste their time upon our note,
To know from whence we are.
Bel.
O, I am known
Of many in the army: many years,
Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore him
From my remembrance. And, besides, the king
Hath not deserv'd my service, nor your loves;
Who find in my exíle the want of breeding,
The certainty of this hard note life; aye hopeless
To have the courtesy your cradle promis'd,
But to be still hot summer's tanlings, and
The shrinking slaves of winter.
Gui.
Than be so,
Better to cease to be. Pray sir, to the army:
I and my brother are not known; yourself,
So out of thought, and thereto so o'er-grown,
Cannot be question'd.
Arv.
By this sun that shines,
I'll thither: What thing is it, that I never
Did see man dye? scarce ever look'd on blood,
But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison?
Never bestrid a horse, save one, that had
A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel
Nor iron on his heel? I am asham'd
To look upon the holy sun, to have
The benefit of his blest beams, remaining
So long a poor unknown.
Gui.
By heavens, I'll go:
If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave,
I'll take the better care; but if you will not,
-- 95 --
The hazard therefore due fall on me, by
The hands of Romans.
Arv.
So say I; Amen.
Bel.
No reason I, since on your note lives you set
So slight a valuation, should reserve
My crack'd one to more care. Have with you, boys:
If in your country wars you chance to dye,
That is my bed too, lads, and there I'll lye:
Lead, lead.—The time seems long; their blood thinks scorn,
'Till it fly out, and shew them princes born.
[Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I.
A Field, in the above Country, between
the British and Roman Camps. Enter Posthumus,
with a bloody Handkerchief.
Pos.
Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee; for I wish'd note
Thou should'st be colour'd thus. You marry'd ones,
If each of you should take this course, how many
Must murther wives much better than themselves
For wrying but a little?—O Pisanio,
Every good servant does not all commands:
No bond, but to do just ones.—Gods, if you
Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I never
Had liv'd to put on this: so had you saved
The noble Imogen to repent; and strook
Me, wretch, more worth your vengeance. But, alack,
You snatch some hence note for little faults; that's love,
To have them fall no more: you some permit
To second ills with ills, each elder worse;14Q1293
And make them dreaded, note to the doer's thrift.
-- 96 --
But Imogen is your own: Do your best note wills,
And make me blest to obey!—I am brought hither
Amongst the Italian gentry, and to fight
Against my lady's kingdom: 'Tis enough
That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress; peace,
I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heavens,
Hear patiently my purpose: I'll disrobe me
Of these Italian weeds, and suit myself
As does a Britain peasant: so I'll fight
Against the part I come with; so I'll dye
For thee, o Imogen, even for whom my life
Is, every breath, a death: and thus, unknown,
Pity'd nor hated, to the face of peril
Myself I'll dedicate. Let me make men know
More valour in me than my habits show.
Gods, put the strength o'the Leonati in me!
To shame the guise o'the world, I will begin
The fashion, note less without, and more within.
[Exit.
SCENE II.
The same.
Enter, from opposite Sides, Lucius,
Jachimo, and the Roman Army: then, the Britain Army;
Posthumus following it, like a poor Soldier: They march
over, and go out. Alarums as of a Battle begun. Enter,
in Skirmish, several little Parties; with them, Jachimo
and Posthumus: he vanquisheth and disarmeth Jachimo,
and then leaves him.
Jac.
The heaviness, and guilt, within my bosom
Takes off my manhood: I have bely'd a lady,
The princess of this country, and the air on't
Revengingly enfeebles me; Or could this carl,
A very drudge of nature's, have subdu'd me
-- 97 --
In my profession? Knighthoods and honours, born
As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn.
If that thy gentry, Britain, go before
This lout, as he exceeds our lords, the odds
Is, that we scarce are men, and you are gods.
[Exit.
The Battle continues; the Britains fly,
Cymbeline is taken: Then, Enter, to his Rescue,
Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.
Bel.
Stand, stand! we have the advantage of the ground;
The lane is guarded: nothing routs us, but
The villany of our fears.
Gui. Arv.
Stand, stand, and fight!
Enter Posthumus, and seconds the Britains:
They rescue Cymbeline, and Exeunt. Then, Enter
Lucius, Jachimo. and Imogen.
Luc.
Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself:
For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such
As war were hood-wink'd.
Jac.
'Tis their fresh supplies.
Luc.
It is a day turn'd strangely: Or betimes
Let's re-inforce, or fly.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Another Part of the Field.
Enter Posthumus, and a Britain Lord.
Lord.
Cam'st thou from where they made the stand?
Pos.
I did:
Though you, it seems, come note from the fliers.
Lord.
I did.
Pos.
No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost,
But that the heavens fought: The king himself14Q1294
Of his wings destitute, the army broken,
-- 98 --
And but the backs of Britains seen, all flying
Through a strait lane; the enemy full-hearted,
Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having work
More plentiful than tools to do't, strook down
Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling
Meerly through fear; that the strait pass was dam'd
With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards living
To dye with lengthen'd shame.
Lord.
Where was this lane?
Pos.
Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd with turf:
Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier,—
An honest one, I warrant; who deserv'd
So long a breeding, as his white beard came to,
In doing this for his country;—athwart the lane,
He, with two striplings, (lads more like to run
The country base, than to commit such slaughter;
With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer
Than those for preservation cas'd, or shame)
Made good the passage; cry'd to those that fled,
Our Britain's harts note dye flying, not our men:
To darkness fleet, souls that fly backwards! Stand;
Or we are Romans, and will give you that
Like beasts, which you shun beastly; and may save,
But to look back in frown: Stand, stand. These three,
Three thousand confident, in act as many,
(For three performers are the file, when all
The rest do nothing) with this word, stand, stand,
Accommodated by the place, more charming
With their own nobleness, (which could have turn'd
A distaff to a lance) gilded pale looks,
Part, shame, part, spirit-renew'd; that some, turn'd coward
But by example (O, a sin in war,
-- 99 --
Damn'd in the first beginners!) 'gan to look
The way that they did, and to grin like lions
Upon the pikes o'the hunters. Then began
A stop i'the chacer, a retire; anon,
A rout, confusion-thick: forthwith, they fly
Chickens, the way which they stoop'd note eagles; slaves,
The strides they victors note made: And now our cowards,
(Like fragments in hard voyages, become note
The life o'the need) having found the back-door open
Of the unguarded hearts, Heavens, how they wound!
Some, slain before; some, dying; some, their friends
O'er-born i'the former wave: ten, chac'd by one,
Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty:
Those, that would dye or ere resist, are grown
The mortal bugs o'the field.
Lord.
This was strange chance:
A narrow lane! an old man, and two boys!
Pos.
Nay, do not wonder at it: You are made
Rather to wonder at the things you hear,
Than to work any. Will you rime upon't,
And vent it for a mockery? Here is one:
Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane,
Preserv'd the Britains, was the Romans' bane.
Lord.
Nay, be not angry, sir.
Pos.
'Lack, to what end?
Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his friend:
For if he'll do, as he is made to do,
I know, he'll quickly fly my friendship too.
You have put me into rime.
Lord.
Farewel; you're angry.
[Exit Lord.
Pos.
Still going?—This is a lord: O noble misery!
To be i'the field, and ask, what news, of me!
-- 100 --
To-day, how many would have given their honours
To have sav'd their carcasses? took heel to do't,
And yet dy'd too? I, in mine own woe charm'd,
Could not find death, where I did hear him groan;
Nor feel him, where he strook: Being an ugly monster,
'Tis strange, he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds,
Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we
That draw his knives i'the war. Well, I will find him:
For, being now14Q1295 a favourer to the Britain,
No more a Britain, I have resum'd again
The part I came in: Fight I will no more,
But yield me to the veriest hind, that shall
Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is
Here made by the Roman; great the answer be
Britains must take: For me, my ransom's death;
On either side I come to spend my breath;
Which neither here I'll keep, nor bear again,
But end it by some means for Imogen.
Enter two Britain Captains, and Soldiers.
1. C.
Great Jupiter be prais'd! Lucius is taken:
'Tis thought, the old man and his sons were angels.
2. C.
There was a fourth man, in a silly habit,
That gave the affront with them.
1. C.
So 'tis reported;
But none of them can be found.—Who's note there?
Pos.
A Roman;
Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds
Had answer'd him.
2. C.
Lay hands on him; A dog!
A leg of Rome shall not return, to tell
What crows have peck'd them here: He brags his service
As if he were of note: bring him to the king.
-- 101 --
Enter Cymbeline, and Train;
Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, Pisanio, and Roman
Captives. The Captains present Posthumus to Cymbeline,
who delivers him over to a Jailer: after which, all go out.
SCENE IV.
A Room in a Prison.
Enter Posthumus, and two Jailers.
1. J.
You shall not now be stoln, you have locks upon you;
So, graze, as you find pasture.
2. J.
Ay, or a stomach.
[Exeunt Jailers.
Pos.
Most welcome, bondage! for thou art a way,
I think, to liberty: Yet am I better
Than one that's sick o'the gout; since he had rather
Groan so in perpetuity, than be cur'd
By the sure physician, death; who is the key
To unbar these † locks. My conscience! thou art fetter'd
More than my shanks, and wrists: You good gods, give me
The penitent instrument to pick that bolt,
Then, free for ever! Is't enough, I am sorry?
So children temporal fathers do appease;
Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent?
I cannot do it better than in gives, note
Desir'd, more than constrain'd: to satisfy,14Q1296
I d'off my note freedom, 'tis the main part; take
No stricter render of me, than my all.
I know, you are more clement than vile men,
Who of their broken debtors take a third,
A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again
On their abatement; that's not my desire:
For Imogen's dear life, take mine; and though
'Tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life; you coin'd it:
-- 102 --
'Tween man and man, they weigh not every stamp;
Though light, note take pieces for the figure's sake;
You rather mine, being yours: and so, great powers,
If you will take this audit, take this life,
And cancel these cold note † bonds. O Imogen!
I'll speak to thee in silence.
[he sleeps.
Solemn Musick.
Enter, as in an Apparition, Sicillius Leonatus,
Father to Posthumus, an old Man, attired like a
Warrior; leading in his Hand an ancient Matron, his
Wife, and Mother to Posthumus, with Musick before
them: Then, after other Musick, follow the two
young Leonati, Brothers to Posthumus, with Wounds
as they dyed in the Wars: They circle Posthumus
round, as he lyes sleeping.
&cast;Fath.
&cast;No more, thou thunder-master, shew
&cast;thy spite on mortal flies:
&cast;With Mars fall out, with Juno chide,
&cast;that thy adulteries
&cast;Rates, and revenges.
&cast;Hath my poor boy done ought but well,
&cast;whose face I never saw?
&cast;I dy'd, whilst in the womb he stay'd
&cast;attending nature's law.
&cast;Whose father then (as men report,
&cast;thou orphans' father art)
&cast;Thou should'st have been, and shielded him
&cast;from this note earth-vexing smart.
&cast;Moth.
&cast;Lucina lent not me her aid,
&cast;But note took me in my throws;
-- 103 --
&cast;That from me was Posthumus ript,
&cast;came crying 'mongst his foes,
&cast;A thing of pity.
&cast;Fath.
&cast;Great nature, like his ancestry,
&cast;molded the stuff so fair,
&cast;That he deserv'd the praise o'the world,
&cast;as great Sicillius' heir.
&cast;1. B.
&cast;When once he was mature for man,
&cast;in Britain where was he
&cast;That could stand up his parallel;
&cast;or fruitful object14Q1297 be
&cast;In eye of Imogen, that best
&cast;could deem his dignity?
&cast;Moth.
&cast;With marriage wherefore was he mock'd,
&cast;to be exil'd, and thrown
&cast;From Leonati' seat; and cast
&cast;from her his dearest one,
&cast;Sweet Imogen?
&cast;Fath.
&cast;Why did you suffer Jachimo,
&cast;slight thing of Italy,
&cast;To taint his nobler heart and brain
&cast;with needless jealousy;
&cast;And to become the geck and scorn
&cast;o' the other's villany?
&cast;2. B.
&cast;For this, from stiller seats we came,
&cast;our parents, and us twain,
&cast;That, striking in our country's cause,
-- 104 --
&cast;fell bravely, and were slain;
&cast;Our fealty, and Tenantius' right,
&cast;with honour to maintain.
&cast;1. B.
&cast;Like hardiment Posthumus hath
&cast;to Cymbeline perform'd:
&cast;Then, Jupiter, thou king of gods,
&cast;why hast thou thus adjourn'd
&cast;The graces for his merits note due;
&cast;being all to dolours turn'd?
&cast;Fath.
&cast;Thy crystal window ope; look out;
&cast;no longer exercise,
&cast;Upon a valiant race, thy harsh
&cast;and potent injuries:
&cast;Moth.
&cast;Since, Jupiter, our son is good,
&cast;take off his miseries.
&cast;Fath.
&cast;Peep through thy marble mansion; help;
&cast;or we poor ghosts will cry
&cast;To the shining synod of the rest,
&cast;against thy deity:
&cast;Brothers.
&cast;Help, Jupiter; or we appeal,
&cast;and from thy justice fly.
Jupiter descends in Thunder and Lightning, sitting
upon his Eagle: He throws a Thunderbolt: the Ghosts fall on their Knees.
&cast;Jup.
&cast;No more, you petty spirits of region low,
&cast;Offend our hearing; hush: How dare you ghosts
&cast;Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt, you know,
-- 105 --
&cast;Sky-planted, batters all rebelling coasts?
&cast;Poor shadows of Elysium, hence; and rest
&cast;Upon your never-withering banks of flowers:
&cast;Be not with mortal accidents opprest;
&cast;No care of yours it is; you know, 'tis ours.
&cast;Whom best I love, I cross; to make my gift,
&cast;The more delay'd, delighted. Be content;
&cast;Your low-lay'd son our godhead will uplift;
&cast;His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent.
&cast;Our Jovial star reign'd at his birth, and in
&cast;Our temple was he marry'd:—Rise, and fade:—
&cast;He shall be lord of lady Imogen,
&cast;And happier much by his affliction made.
&cast;This &dagger2; tablet lay upon his breast; wherein
&cast;Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine;
&cast;And so, away: no farther with your din
&cast;Express impatience, lest you stir up mine.—
&cast;Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline.
[Jupiter ascends.
&cast;Fath.
&cast;He came in thunder; his celestial breath
&cast;Was sulphurous to smell: the holy eagle
&cast;Stoop'd, as to foot us: his ascension is
&cast;More sweet than our blest fields: his royal bird
&cast;Prunes the immortal wing, and cloys his beak,
&cast;As when his god is pleas'd.
&cast;all.
&cast;Thanks, Jupiter!
&cast;Fath.
&cast;The marble pavement closes, he is enter'd
&cast;His radiant roof:—Away; and, to be blest,
&cast;Let us with care perform his great behest.
[Ghosts vanish.
Pos. [waking]
Sleep, thou hast been a grandsire, and begot
-- 106 --
A father to me: and thou hast created
A mother, and two brothers: But (o scorn!)
Gone! they went hence so soon as they were born.
And so I am awake. Poor wretches, that depend
On greatness' favour, dream as I have done;
Wake, and find nothing. But, alas, I swerve:
[seeing the Tablet.
Many dream not to find, neither deserve,
And yet are steep'd in favours; so am I,
That have this golden chance, and know not why:
What fairies haunt this ground? A book? O, rare one!
Be not, as is our fangl'd world, a garment
Nobler than that it covers: let thy effects
So follow, to be most unlike our courtiers,
As good as promise.
[reads]
When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown,
without seeking find, and be embrac'd by a piece of tender
air; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopt branches,
which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be
jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; then shall
Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate, and
flourish in peace and plenty.
'Tis still a dream;14Q1298 or else such stuff as madmen
Tongue, and brain not: either, or both, or nothing:
Or senseless speaking, or a speaking such
As sense cannot unty. Be what it is,
The action of my life is like it, which
I'll keep if but for sympathy.
Re-enter Jailers.
1. J.
Come, sir,14Q1299 are you ready for death?
Pos.
Over-roasted rather: ready long ago.
1. J.
Hanging is the word, sir; if you be ready for
-- 107 --
that, you are well cook'd.
Pos.
So, if I prove a good repast to the spectators,
the dish pays the shot.
1. J.
A heavy reck'ning for you, sir: But the comfort
is, you shall be called to no more payments, fear
no more tavern bills; which are often the sadness of
parting, as the procuring of mirth: you come in faint
for want of meat, depart reeling with too much drink;
sorry that you have payed too much, and sorry that you are
payed too much; purse and brain both empty: the brain
the heavier, for being too light; the purse too light,
being drawn of heaviness: O! of this contradiction you
shall now be quit.—O, the charity of a penny cord!
it sums up thousands in a trice: you have no true debitor,
and creditor, but it; of what's past, is, and to
come, the discharge:—Your neck, sir, is pen, book, and
counters; so the acquitance follows.
Pos.
I am merrier to dye, than thou art to live.
1. J.
Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the toothach:
But a man that were to sleep your sleep, and a
hangman to help him to bed, I think, he would change
places with his officer: for, look you, sir, you know not
which way you shall go.
Pos.
Yes, indeed, do I, fellow.
1. J.
Your death has eyes in's head then; I have
not seen him so pictur'd: You must either be directed
by some that take upon them to know; or take note upon
yourself that which I am sure you do not know; or
jump the note after-enquiry on your own peril: and how
you shall speed in your journey's end, I think you'll
never return to tell one.
Pos.
I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes,
-- 108 --
to direct them the way I am going, but such as wink,
and will not use them.
1. J.
What an infinite mock is this, that a man should
have the best use of eyes, to see the note way of blindness!
I am sure, hanging's the way of winking.
Enter a Messenger.
Mes.
Knock off his manacles, bring your prisoner to
the king.
Pos.
Thou bring'st good news,—I am call'd to be
made free.
1. J.
I'll be hang'd then.
Pos.
Thou shalt be then freer than a jailer; no bolts
for the dead.
[Exeunt Posthumus, Messenger, and 2. Jailer.
1. J.
Unless a man would marry a gallows, and beget
young gibbets, I never saw one so prone. Yet, on
my conscience, there are verier knaves desire to live,
for all he be a Roman: and there be some of them too,
that dye against their wills; so should I, if I were one.
I would we were all of one mind, and one mind good;
O, there were desolation of jailers, and gallowses! I
speak against my present profit; but my wish hath a
preferment in't.
[Exit.
SCENE V.
A Tent.
Enter Cymbeline; Belarius, Guiderius,
Arviragus; Pisanio; Lords, Officers, and Attendants.
Cym.
Stand by my side, you, whom the gods have made
Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart,
That the poor soldier, that so richly fought,
-- 109 --
Whose rags sham'd gilded arms, whose naked breast
Stept before targe note of proof, cannot be found:
He shall be happy that can find him, if
Our grace can make him so.
Bel.
I never saw
Such noble fury in so poor a thing;
Such precious deeds14Q1300 in one that promis'd nought
But beggary and poor looks.
Cym.
No tidings of him?
Pis.
He hath been search'd among the dead and living,
But no trace of him.
Cym.
To my grief, I am
The heir of his reward; which I will add
To you, the liver, heart, and brain of Britain,
[to Belarius, and Sons.
By whom, I grant, she lives: 'Tis now the time
To ask of whence you are: report it.
Bel.
Sir,
In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen:
Further to boast, were neither true nor modest,
Unless I add, we are honest.
Cym.
Bow your knees:
Arise my knights o'the battle; I create you
Companions to our person, and will fit you
With dignities becoming your estates.
Enter Cornelius, and Ladies.
There's business in these faces:—Why so sadly
Greet you our victory? you look like Romans,
And not o'the court of Britain.
Cor.
Hail, great king!
To sour your happiness, I must report
The queen is dead.
-- 110 --
Cym.
Whom note worse than a physician
Would this report become? But I consider,
By med'cine life may be prolong'd, yet death
Will seize the doctor too.—How ended she?
Cor.
With horror,14Q1301 madly dying, like her life;
Which, being cruel to the world, concluded
Most cruel to herself. What she confess'd,
I will report, so please you: These her women
Can trip me, if I err; who, with wet cheeks,
Were present when she finish'd.
Cym.
Pr'ythee, say.
Cor.
First, she confess'd she never lov'd you; only
Affected greatness got by you, not you:
Marry'd your royalty, was wife to your place;
Abhor'd your person.
Cym.
She alone knew this:
And, but she spoke it dying, I would not
Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.
Cor.
Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to love
With such integrity, she did confess
Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life,
But that her flight prevented it, she had
Ta'en off by poison.
Cym.
O most delicate fiend!
Who is't can read a woman?—Is there more?
Cor.
More, sir, and worse. She did confess, she had
For you a mortal mineral; which, being took,
Should by the minute feed on life, and, ling'ring,
By inches waste you: In which time she purpos'd,
By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to
O'ercome you with her shew: yes note, and in time,
(When she had fitted you with her craft) to work
-- 111 --
Her son into the adoption of the crown.
But failing of her end by his strange absence,
Grew shameless-desperate; open'd, in despight
Of heaven and men, her purposes; repented
The evils she hatch'd were not effected; so,
Despairing, dy'd.
Cym.
Heard you all this, her women?
Lad.
We did, so please your highness.
Cym.
Mine eyes
Were not in fault, for she was beautiful;
Mine ears, that heard note her flattery; nor my heart,
That thought her like her seeming; it had been vicious,
To have mistrusted her: yet, o my daughter!
That it was folly in me, thou may'st say,
And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all!
Enter, guarded, Lucius, Jachimo, the Soothsayer,
and other Roman Prisoners; Posthumus behind, and Imogen.
Thou com'st not, Caius, now for tribute; that
The Britains have ras'd out, though with the loss
Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have made suit,
That their good souls may be appeas'd with slaughter
Of you their captives, which ourself have granted:
So, think of your estate.
Luc.
Consider, sir, the chance of war: the day
Was yours by accident; had it gone with us,
We should not, when the blood was cool, have threaten'd
Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods
Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives
May be call'd ransom, let it come: sufficeth,
A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer:
Augustus lives to think on't: And so much
-- 112 --
For my peculiar care. This one thing only
I will intreat; My boy, [shewing Imo.] a Britain born,
Let him be ransom'd: never master had
A page so kind, so duteous, diligent,
So tender over his occasions, true,
So feat, so nurse-like: let his virtue join
With my request, which, I'll make bold, your highness
Cannot deny; he hath done no Britain harm,
Though he have serv'd a Roman: save him, sir,
And spare no blood beside.
Cym.
I have surely seen him;
His favour is familiar to me:—Boy,
Thou hast look'd thyself into my grace, and art
Mine own. I know not why, nor wherefore, but
I say note, live, boy; ne'er thank thy master; live:
And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt,
Fitting my bounty, and thy state, I'll give it;
Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner
The noblest ta'en.
Imo.
I humbly thank your highness.
Luc.
I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad;
And yet, I know, thou wilt.
Imo.
No, no; alack,
There's other work in hand; I see a thing
[eying Jac.
Bitter to me as death: your life, good master,
Must shuffle for itself.
Luc.
The boy disdains me,
He leaves me, scorns me: Briefly dye their joys,
That place them on the truth of girls and boys.
Why stands he so perplext? note
Cym.
What would'st thou, boy?
I love thee more and more; think more and more
-- 113 --
What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st on? speak,
Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin, thy friend?
Imo.
He is a Roman; no more kin to me,
Than I to your highness; who, being born your vassal,
Am something nearer.
Cym.
Wherefore ey'st him so?
Imo.
I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please
To give me hearing.
Cym.
Ay, with all my heart,
And lend my best attention. What's thy name?
Imo.
Fidele, sir.
Cym.
Thou'rt my good youth, my page;
I'll be thy master: Walk with me; speak freely.
[They converse aside.
Bel.
Is not this boy reviv'd from death?
Arv.
One sand14Q1302
Another not resembles more, than he
That sweet and rosy lad, who dy'd, and was
Fidele:—What think you?
Gui.
The same dead thing alive.
Bel.
Peace, peace, see further; he eyes us not; forbear,
Creatures may be alike: were't he, I am sure
He would have spoke to us.
Gui.
But we saw him note dead.
Bel.
Be silent; let's see further.
&clquo;Pis.
&clquo;It is my mistress:&crquo;
&clquo;Since she is living, let the time run on&crquo;
&clquo;To good, or bad.&crquo;
Cym.
Come, [to Imo. advancing] stand thou by our side;
Make thy demand aloud.—Sir, [to Jac.] step you forth,
Give answer to this boy, and do it freely;
Or, by our greatness, and the grace of it,
-- 114 --
Which is our honour, bitter torture shall
Winnow the truth from falsehood.—On, speak note to him.
Imo.
My boon is, that this gentleman may render
Of whom he had this ring.
&clquo;Pos.
&clquo;What's that to him?&crquo;
Cym.
That diamond upon your finger, say,
How came it yours?
Jac.
Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that
Which, to be spoke, would torture thee.
Cym.
How! me?
Jac.
I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that which
Torments me to conceal. By villany
I got this ring; 'twas Leonatus' jewel,
Whom thou did'st banish; and (which more may grieve thee,
As it doth me) a nobler sir ne'er liv'd
'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord?
Cym.
All that belongs to this.
Jac.
That paragon, thy daughter,—
For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits
Quail to remember,—Give me leave; I faint.
Cym.
My daughter! what of her? Renew thy strength:
I had rather thou should'st live while nature will,
Than dye ere I hear more: strive, man, and speak.
Jac.
Upon a time, (unhappy was the clock
That strook the hour!) it was in Rome, (accurs'd
The mansion where!) 'twas at a feast, (o, would
Our viands had been poison'd! or, at least,
Those which I heav'd to head!) the good Posthumus,
(What should I say? he was too good, to be
Where ill men were; and was the best of all
Among the rar'st of good ones) sitting sadly,
Hearing us praise14Q1303 our loves of Italy
-- 115 --
For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast
Of him that best could speak: for feature, laming
The shrine of Venus, or strait-pight Minerva,
Postures beyond brief nature; for condition,
A shop of all the qualities that man
Loves woman for; besides, that hook of wiving,
Fairness, which strikes the eye:
Cym.
I stand on fire:
Come to the matter.
Jac.
All too soon I shall,
Unless thou would'st grieve quickly. This Posthumus,
(Most like a noble lord in love, and one
That had a royal lover) took his hint;
And, not dispraising whom we prais'd, (therein
He was as calm as virtue) he began
His mistress' picture; which by his tongue being made,
And then a mind put in't, either our brags
Were crak'd of kitchen trulls, or his description
Prov'd us unspeaking sots.
Cym.
Nay, nay, to the purpose.
Jac.
Your daughter's chastity—there it begins.
He spake of her, as Dian had hot dreams,
And she alone were cold: Whereat, I wretch
Made scruple of his praise; and wager'd with note him
Pieces of gold, 'gainst this which then he wore
Upon his honour'd finger, to attain
In suit the place of his bed, and win this ring
By hers and mine adultery: he, true knight,
No lesser of her honour confident
Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring;
And would so, had it been a carbuncle
Of Phœbus' wheel; and might so safely, had it
-- 116 --
Been all the worth of his car. Away to Britain
Post I in this design: Well may you, sir,
Remember me at court, where I was taught
Of your chast daughter the wide difference
'Twixt amorous and villanous. Being thus quench'd
Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain
'Gan in your duller Britain operate
Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent;
And, to be brief, my practice so prevail'd
That I return'd with similar proof enough
To make the noble Leonatus mad,
By wounding his belief in her renown
With tokens thus, and thus; averring notes
Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this † her bracelet,
(O, cunning, how I got it note!) nay, some marks
Of secret on her person, that he could not
But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd,
I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon,—
Methinks, I see him now,—
Pos.
Ay, so thou dost,
[rushing forward.
Italian fiend:—Ah me, most credulous fool,
Egregious murtherer, thief, any thing
That's due to all the villains past, in being,
To come! O, give me cord, or knife, or poison,
Some upright justicer!—Thou, king, send out
For torturers ingenious: it is I
That all the abhorred things o'the earth amend,
By being worse than they. I am Posthumus,
That kill'd thy daughter:—villain-like, I lye;
That caus'd a lesser villain than myself,
A sacrilegious thief, to do't:—the temple
Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself.
-- 117 --
Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set
The dogs o'the street to bay me: every villain
Be call'd, Posthumus Leonatus; and
Be villany less than 'twas.—O Imogen!
My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen!
Imo.
Peace, my lord; hear, hear.
Pos.
Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful page,
There lye thy part.
[striking her: She falls.
Pis.
O, gentlemen, note help, help!
[catching her.
Mine, and your mistress—O my lord Posthumus!
You ne'er kill'd Imogen 'till now:—Help, help!—
Mine honour'd lady!
Cym.
Does the world go round?
Pos.
How come these staggers on me?
Pis.
Wake, my mistress.
Cym.
If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me
To death with mortal joy.
Pis.
How fares my mistress?
Imo.
O, get thee from my sight;
Thou gav'st me poison: dangerous fellow, hence;
Breath not where princes are.
Cym.
The tune of Imogen!
Pis.
Lady, the gods throw stones of sulphur on me,
If that I note gave you was not thought by me
A precious thing; I had it from the queen.
Cym.
New matter still?
Imo.
It poison'd me.
Cor.
O gods!—
I left out one thing which the queen confess'd,
Which must approve thee honest: If Pisanio
Have, said she, given his mistress that confection
-- 118 --
Which I gave him for cordial, she is serv'd
As I would serve a rat.
Cym.
What's this, Cornelius?
Cor.
The queen, sir, very oft impórtun'd me
To temper poisons for her; still pretending
The satisfaction of her knowledge, only
In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs,
Of no esteem: I, dreading that her purpose
Was of more danger, did compound for her
A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would cease note
The present power of life; but, in short time,
All offices of nature should again
Do their due functions.—Have you ta'en of it?
Imo.
Most like I did, for I was dead.
Bel.
My boys,
There was our error.
Gui.
This is sure Fidele.
Imo.
Why did you throw14Q1304 your wedded lady from you?
Think, that you are upon a rock; and now
Throw me again.
[to Post. hanging upon his Neck.
Pos.
Hang there like fruit, my soul,
'Till the tree dye.
Cym.
How now, my flesh, my child?
What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act?
Wilt thou not speak to me?
Imo.
Your blessing, sir.
Bel.
Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not;
You had a motive for't.
Cym.
My tears, that fall,
Prove holy water on thee! Imogen,
Thy mother's dead,
Imo.
I am sorry for't, my lord.
-- 119 --
Cym.
O, she was naught; and long of her it was,
That we meet here so strangely: But her son
Is gone, we know not how, nor where.
Pis.
My lord,
Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord Cloten,
Upon my lady's missing, came to me
With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, and swore,
If I discover'd not which way she was gone,
It was my instant death: By accident,
I had a feigned letter of my master's
Then in my pocket, which directed him
To seek her on the mountains near to Milford;
Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments,
Which he inforc'd from me, away he posts
With unchast purpose, and with oath to violate
My lady's honour: what became of him,
I further know not.
Gui. [advancing]
Let me end the story:
I slew him there.
Cym.
Marry, the gods fore-fend!
I would not thy good deeds should from my lips
Pluck a hard sentence: pr'ythee, valiant youth,
Deny't again.
Gui.
I have spoke it, and I did it.
Cym.
He was a prince.
Gui.
A most uncivil one: The wrongs he did me
Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me
With language that would make me spurn the sea,
If it could so roar to me: I cut off's head;
And am right glad, he is not standing here
To tell this tale of mine.
Cym.
I am sorry for note thee:
-- 120 --
By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must
Endure our law: Thou'rt dead.
Imo.
That headless man
I thought had been my lord.
Cym.
Bind the offender,
[to his Guard.
And take him from our presence.
Bel. [advancing, with Arv.]
Stay, sir king:
This man is better than the man he slew,
As well descended as thyself; and hath
More of thee merited, than a band of Clotens
Had ever scar for.14Q1305—Let his arms alone;
They were not born for bondage.
Cym.
Why, old soldier,
Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpay'd for,
By hasting note of our wrath? How of descent
As good as we?
Arv.
In that he spake too far.
Cym.
And thou shalt dye for't.
Bel.
We will dye all three:
But I will prove, that two on's note are as good
As I have given out him.—My sons, I must,
For mine own part, unfold a dangerous speech,
Though, haply, well for you.
Arv.
Your danger's ours.
Gui.
Ay, and our good is his: note
Bel.
Have at it then.—
By leave; Thou had'st, great king, a subject, who
Was call'd Belarius:
Cym.
What of him? he is
A banish'd traitor.
Bel.
He it is, that hath
Assum'd this age: indeed, a banish'd man;
-- 121 --
I know not how, a traitor.
Cym.
Take him hence;
The whole world shall not save him.
Bel.
Not too hot:
First pay me for the nursing of thy sons;
And let it be confiscate all, so soon
As I've receiv'd it.
Cym.
Nursing of my sons?
Bel.
I am too blunt, and saucy: Here's my knee:
Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons;
Then, spare not the old father. Mighty sir,
These two young gentlemen, that call me father,
And think they are my sons, are none of mine;
They are the issue of your loins, my liege,
And blood of your begetting.
Cym.
How! my issue?
Bel.
So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan,
Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd:
Your pleasure was my near offence, my punishment
Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd,
Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes
(For such, and so they are) these twenty years
Have I train'd up: those arts they have, as I
Could put into them; and my breeding was,
Sir, as your highness knows. Their nurse Euriphile,
Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children
Upon my banishment: I mov'd her to't;
Having receiv'd the punishment before,
For that which I did then: Beaten for loyalty
Excited me to treason: Their dear loss,
The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd
Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir,
-- 122 --
Here are your sons again; and I must lose
Two of the sweet'st companions in the world:—
The benediction of these covering heavens
Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy
To inlay heaven with stars.
Cym.
Thou weep'st, and speak'st.
The service, that you three have done, is more
Unlike than this thou tell'st: I lost my children;
If these be they, I know not how to wish
A pair of worthier sons.
Bel.
Be pleas'd awhile.
This gentleman, whom I call Paladour,
Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius:
This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arvirágus,
Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lapt
In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand
Of his queen mother, which, for more probation,
I can with ease produce.
Cym.
Guiderius had
Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star;
It was a mark of wonder.
Bel.
This is he;
Who hath upon him still that natural stamp:
It was wise nature's end in the donation,
To be his evidence now.
Cym.
O, what am I
A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother
Rejoic'd deliverance more:—Blest may you note be;
That, after this strange starting from your orbs,
You may reign in them now!—O Imogen,
Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.
Imo.
No, my lord;
-- 123 --
I have got two worlds by't.—O my gentle brothers,
Have we thus met? O never say hereafter,
But I am truest speaker: you call'd me brother,
When I was but your sister; I you brothers, note
When you were note so indeed.
Cym.
Did you e'er meet?
Arv.
Ay, my good lord.
Gui.
And at first meeting lov'd;
Continu'd so, until we thought he dy'd.
Cor.
By the queen's dram she swallow'd.
Cym.
O rare instinct!
When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridgement
Hath to it circumstantial branches, which
Distinction should be rich in. Where? how liv'd you?
And when came you to serve our Roman captive?
How parted with your brothers? note how first met them?
Why fled you14Q1306 from the court? and whither? These, note
And your three motives to the battle, with
I know not how much more, should be demanded;
And all the other by-dependancies,
From chance to chance: but nor the time, nor place,
Will serve long note inter-rogatories. See,
Posthumus anchors upon Imogen;
And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye
On him, her brothers, me, her master; hitting
Each object with a joy: the counter-change
Is severally in all.—Let's quit this ground,
And smoak the temple with our sacrifices.—
Thou art my brother; [to Bel.] So we'll hold thee ever.
Imo.
You are my father too; note and did relieve me,
To see this gracious season.
Cym.
All ore-joy'd,
-- 124 --
Save these in bonds: let them be joyful too,
For they shall taste our comfort.
Imo.
My good master,
I will yet do you service.
Luc.
Happy be you!
Cym.
The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought,
He would have well becom'd this place, and grac'd
The thankings of a king.
Pos.
I am, sir,
The soldier that did company these three
In poor beseeming; 'twas a fitment for
The purpose I then follow'd:—That I was he,
Speak, Jachimo; I had you down, and might
Have made you finish. note
Jac.
I am down again:
[kneeling.
But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee,
As then your force did. Take that life, beseech you,
Which I so often owe: but, your ring &dagger2; first;
And here &dagger2; the bracelet of the truest princess
That ever swore her faith.
Pos.
Kneel not to me:
The power that I have on you is, to spare you;
The malice towards you, to forgive you: Live,
And deal with others better.
Cym.
Nobly doom'd:
We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law;
Pardon's the word to all.
Arv.
You holp us, sir, [to Pos.]
As you did mean indeed to be our brother;
Joy'd are we, that you are.
Pos.
Your servant, princes.—Good my lord of Rome,
Call forth your soothsayer: As I slept, methought,
-- 125 --
Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back'd,
Appear'd to me, with other sprightly shews
Of mine own kindred: when I wak'd, I found
This &dagger2; label on my bosom; whose containing
Is so from sense in hardness, that I can
Make no collection of it: let him shew
His skill in the construction.
Luc.
Philarmonus,—
Soo.
Here, my good lord.
Luc.
Read, and declare the meaning.
Soo. [reads.]
When as a lyon's whelp shall, to himself
unknown, without seeking find, and be embrac'd by a piece
of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopt
branches, which, being dead many years, shall after revive,
be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; then
shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate,
and flourish in peace and plenty.
Thou, Leonatus, art the lyon's whelp;
The fit and apt construction of thy name,
Being Leo-natus, doth import so much.
The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter,
[to Cym.
Which we call mollis aer; and mollis aer
We term it mulier: which mulier, I divine,
Is thy most note constant wife; [to Pos.] who, even now,
Answering the letter of the oracle,
Unknown to you, unsought, were clipt about
With this most tender air.
Cym.
This hath some seeming.
Soo.
The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline,
Personates thee: And thy lopt branches point
Thy two sons forth: who, by Belarius stoln,
For many years thought dead, are now reviv'd,
-- 126 --
To the majestick cedar join'd; whose issue
Promises Britain peace and plenty.
Cym.
Well,
By peace note we will begin:—And, Caius Lucius,
Although the victor, we submit to Cæsar,
And to the Roman empire; promising
To pay our wonted tribute, from the which
We were dissuaded by our wicked queen;
On whom heaven's justice (both on her, and hers)
Hath lay'd note most heavy hand.
Soo.
The fingers of the powers above do tune
The harmony of this peace. The vision
Which I made known to Lucius, ere the stroke
Of this yet note scarce-cold battle, at this instant
Is full accomplish'd: For the Roman eagle,
From south to west on wing soaring aloft,
Lessen'd herself, and in the beams o'the sun
So vanish'd: which fore-shew'd, our princely eagle,
The imperial Cæsar, should again unite
His favour with the radiant Cymbeline,
Which shines here in the west.
Cym.
Laud we the gods;
And let our crooked smoaks climb to their nostrils
From our blest altars.—Publish we this peace
To all our subjects. Set we forward: Let
A Roman and a British ensign wave
Friendly together: so through Lud's town march;
And in the temple of great Jupiter
Our peace we'll ratify; seal it with feasts.—
Set on there:—Never was a war did cease,
Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a peace.
[Ex. |
