CYMBELINE


       DRAMATIS PERSONAE


CYMBELINE       king of Britain.

CLOTEN  son to the Queen by a former husband.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      a gentleman, husband to Imogen.

BELARIUS        a banished lord, disguised under the name of Morgan.


GUIDERIUS       |  sons to Cymbeline, disguised under the names
       |  of Polydote and Cadwal, supposed sons to
ARVIRAGUS       |  Morgan.


PHILARIO        friend to Posthumus,    |
                       |  Italians.
IACHIMO friend to Philario,     |


CAIUS LUCIUS    general of the Roman forces.

PISANIO servant to Posthumus.

CORNELIUS       a physician.

       A Roman Captain. (Captain:)

       Two British Captains.
       (First Captain:)
       (Second Captain:)

       A Frenchman, friend to Philario.
       (Frenchman:)

       Two Lords of Cymbeline's court.
       (First Lord:)
       (Second Lord:)

       Two Gentlemen of the same.
       (First Gentleman:)
       (Second Gentleman:)

       Two Gaolers.
       (First Gaoler:)
       (Second Gaoler:)

QUEEN   wife to Cymbeline.

IMOGEN  daughter to Cymbeline by a former queen.

HELEN   a lady attending on Imogen.

       Lords, Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes,
       a Soothsayer, a Dutchman, a Spaniard, Musicians,
       Officers, Captains, Soldiers, Messengers,
       and other Attendants. (Lord:)
       (Lady:)
       (First Lady:)
       (First Senator:)
       (Second Senator:)
       (First Tribune:)
       (Soothsayer:)
       (Messenger:)

       Apparitions.
       (Sicilius Leonatus:)
       (Mother:)
       (First Brother:)
       (Second Brother:)
       (Jupiter:)

SCENE   Britain; Rome.




       CYMBELINE


ACT I



SCENE I Britain. The garden of Cymbeline's palace.


       [Enter two Gentlemen]

First Gentleman You do not meet a man but frowns: our bloods
       No more obey the heavens than our courtiers
       Still seem as does the king.

Second Gentleman        But what's the matter?

First Gentleman His daughter, and the heir of's kingdom, whom
       He purposed to his wife's sole son--a widow
       That late he married--hath referr'd herself
       Unto a 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.

Second Gentleman        None but the king?

First Gentleman He that hath lost her too; so is the queen,
       That most desired the match; but not a courtier,
       Although they wear their faces to the bent
       Of the king's look's, hath a heart that is not
       Glad at the thing they scowl at.

Second Gentleman        And why so?

First Gentleman He that hath miss'd the princess is a thing
       Too bad for bad report: and he that hath her--
       I mean, that married 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, 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.

Second Gentleman        You speak him far.

First Gentleman I do extend him, sir, within himself,
       Crush him together rather than unfold
       His measure duly.

Second Gentleman                          What's his name and birth?

First Gentleman I cannot delve him to the root: his father
       Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour
       Against the Romans with Cassibelan,
       But had his titles by Tenantius whom
       He served with glory and admired 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
       Died 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, deceased
       As he was born. The king he takes the babe
       To his protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus,
       Breeds him and makes him of his bed-chamber,
       Puts to him all the learnings that his time
       Could make him the receiver of; which he took,
       As we do air, fast as 'twas minister'd,
       And in's spring became a harvest, lived in court--
       Which rare it is to do--most praised, most loved,
       A sample to the youngest, to the more mature
       A glass that feated 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.

Second Gentleman        I honour him
       Even out of your report. But, pray you, tell me,
       Is she sole child to the king?

First Gentleman 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-clothes the other, from their nursery
       Were stol'n, and to this hour no guess in knowledge
       Which way they went.

Second Gentleman        How long is this ago?

First Gentleman Some twenty years.

Second Gentleman        That a king's children should be so convey'd,
       So slackly guarded, and the search so slow,
       That could not trace them!

First Gentleman Howsoe'er 'tis strange,
       Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at,
       Yet is it true, sir.

Second Gentleman        I do well believe you.

First Gentleman We must forbear: here comes the gentleman,
       The queen, and princess.

       [Exeunt]

       [Enter the QUEEN, POSTHUMUS LEONATUS, and IMOGEN]

QUEEN   No, be assured you shall not find me, daughter,
       After the slander of most stepmothers,
       Evil-eyed unto you: you're my prisoner, but
       Your gaoler 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.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Please your highness,
       I will from hence to-day.

QUEEN   You know the peril.
       I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying
       The pangs of barr'd affections, though the king
       Hath charged you should not speak together.

       [Exit]

IMOGEN  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 reserved 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.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      My queen! my mistress!
       O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause
       To be suspected of more tenderness
       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,
       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]

QUEEN   Be brief, I pray you:
       If the king come, I shall incur I know not
       How much of his displeasure.

       [Aside]

                       Yet I'll move him
       To walk this way: I never do him wrong,
       But he does buy my injuries, to be friends;
       Pays dear for my offences.

       [Exit]

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Should we be taking leave
       As long a term as yet we have to live,
       The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu!

IMOGEN  Nay, stay a little:
       Were you but riding forth to air yourself,
       Such parting were too petty. Look here, love;
       This diamond was my mother's: take it, heart;
       But keep it till you woo another wife,
       When Imogen is dead.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      How, how! another?
       You gentle gods, give me but this I have,
       And sear up my embracements from a next
       With bonds of death!

       [Putting on the ring]

               Remain, remain thou here
       While sense can keep it on. 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 this;
       It is a manacle of love; I'll place it
       Upon this fairest prisoner.

       [Putting a bracelet upon her arm]

IMOGEN  O the gods!
       When shall we see again?

       [Enter CYMBELINE and Lords]

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Alack, the king!

CYMBELINE       Thou basest thing, avoid! hence, from my sight!
       If after this command thou fraught the court
       With thy unworthiness, thou diest: away!
       Thou'rt poison to my blood.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      The gods protect you!
       And bless the good remainders of the court! I am gone.

       [Exit]

IMOGEN                    There cannot be a pinch in death
       More sharp than this is.

CYMBELINE       O disloyal thing,
       That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap'st
       A year's age on me.

IMOGEN  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.

CYMBELINE       Past grace? obedience?

IMOGEN  Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace.

CYMBELINE       That mightst have had the sole son of my queen!

IMOGEN  O blest, that I might not! I chose an eagle,
       And did avoid a puttock.

CYMBELINE       Thou took'st a beggar; wouldst have made my throne
       A seat for baseness.

IMOGEN  No; I rather added
       A lustre to it.

CYMBELINE                         O thou vile one!

IMOGEN  Sir,
       It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus:
       You bred him as my playfellow, and he is
       A man worth any woman, overbuys me
       Almost the sum he pays.

CYMBELINE       What, art thou mad?

IMOGEN  Almost, sir: heaven restore me! Would I were
       A neat-herd's daughter, and my Leonatus
       Our neighbour shepherd's son!

CYMBELINE       Thou foolish thing!

       [Re-enter QUEEN]

       They were again together: you have done
       Not after our command. Away with her,
       And pen her up.

QUEEN                     Beseech your patience. Peace,
       Dear lady daughter, peace! Sweet sovereign,
       Leave us to ourselves; and make yourself some comfort
       Out of your best advice.

CYMBELINE       Nay, let her languish
       A drop of blood a day; and, being aged,
       Die of this folly!

       [Exeunt CYMBELINE and Lords]

QUEEN                     Fie! you must give way.

       [Enter PISANIO]

       Here is your servant. How now, sir! What news?

PISANIO My lord your son drew on my master.

QUEEN   Ha!
       No harm, I trust, is done?

PISANIO 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.

QUEEN   I am very glad on't.

IMOGEN  Your son's my father's friend; he takes his part.
       To draw upon an exile! O brave sir!
       I would they were in Afric both together;
       Myself by with a needle, that I might prick
       The goer-back. Why came you from your master?

PISANIO 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 pleased you to employ me.

QUEEN   This hath been
       Your faithful servant: I dare lay mine honour
       He will remain so.

PISANIO                   I humbly thank your highness.

QUEEN   Pray, walk awhile.

IMOGEN                    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]




       CYMBELINE


ACT I



SCENE II        The same. A public place.


       [Enter CLOTEN and two Lords]

First Lord      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.

CLOTEN  If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Have I hurt him?

Second Lord     [Aside]  No, 'faith; not so much as his patience.

First Lord      Hurt him! his body's a passable carcass, if he be
       not hurt: it is a thoroughfare for steel, if it be not hurt.

Second Lord     [Aside]  His steel was in debt; it went o' the
       backside the town.

CLOTEN  The villain would not stand me.

Second Lord     [Aside]  No; but he fled forward still, toward your face.

First Lord      Stand you! You have land enough of your own: but
       he added to your having; gave you some ground.

Second Lord     [Aside]  As many inches as you have oceans. Puppies!

CLOTEN  I would they had not come between us.

Second Lord     [Aside]  So would I, till you had measured how long
       a fool you were upon the ground.

CLOTEN  And that she should love this fellow and refuse me!

Second Lord     [Aside]  If it be a sin to make a true election, she
       is damned.

First Lord      Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain
       go not together: she's a good sign, but I have seen
       small reflection of her wit.

Second Lord     [Aside]  She shines not upon fools, lest the
       reflection should hurt her.

CLOTEN  Come, I'll to my chamber. Would there had been some
       hurt done!

Second Lord     [Aside]  I wish not so; unless it had been the fall
       of an ass, which is no great hurt.

CLOTEN  You'll go with us?

First Lord      I'll attend your lordship.

CLOTEN  Nay, come, let's go together.

Second Lord     Well, my lord.

       [Exeunt]




       CYMBELINE


ACT I



SCENE III       A room in Cymbeline's palace.


       [Enter IMOGEN and PISANIO]

IMOGEN  I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' the haven,
       And question'dst every sail: if he should write
       And not have it, 'twere a paper lost,
       As offer'd mercy is. What was the last
       That he spake to thee?

PISANIO It was his queen, his queen!

IMOGEN  Then waved his handkerchief?

PISANIO And kiss'd it, madam.

IMOGEN  Senseless Linen! happier therein than I!
       And that was all?

PISANIO                   No, madam; for so long
       As he could make me with this eye or ear
       Distinguish him from others, he did keep
       The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief,
       Still waving, as the fits and stirs of 's mind
       Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on,
       How swift his ship.

IMOGEN  Thou shouldst have made him
       As little as a crow, or less, ere left
       To after-eye him.

PISANIO                   Madam, so I did.

IMOGEN  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?

PISANIO Be assured, madam,
       With his next vantage.

IMOGEN  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 shes of Italy should not betray
       Mine interest and his honour, or have charged 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.

       [Enter a Lady]

Lady    The queen, madam,
       Desires your highness' company.

IMOGEN  Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch'd.
       I will attend the queen.

PISANIO Madam, I shall.

       [Exeunt]




       CYMBELINE


ACT I



SCENE IV        Rome. Philario's house.


       [Enter PHILARIO, IACHIMO, a Frenchman, a
       Dutchman, and a Spaniard]

IACHIMO 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 looked on him without the help of
       admiration, though the catalogue of his endowments
       had been tabled by his side and I to peruse him by items.

PHILARIO        You speak of him when he was less furnished than now
       he is with that which makes him both without and within.

Frenchman       I have seen him in France: we had very many there
       could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he.

IACHIMO This matter of marrying his king's daughter, wherein
       he must be weighed rather by her value than his own,
       words him, I doubt not, a great deal from the matter.

Frenchman       And then his banishment.

IACHIMO Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this
       lamentable divorce under her colours are wonderfully
       to extend him; be it but to fortify her judgment,
       which else an easy battery might lay flat, for
       taking a beggar without less quality. But how comes
       it he is to sojourn with you? How creeps
       acquaintance?

PHILARIO        His father and I were soldiers together; to whom I
       have been often bound for no less than my life.
       Here comes the Briton: let him be so entertained
       amongst you as suits, with gentlemen of your
       knowing, to a stranger of his quality.

       [Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS]

       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.

Frenchman       Sir, we have known together in Orleans.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies,
       which I will be ever to pay and yet pay still.

Frenchman       Sir, you o'er-rate my poor kindness: I was glad I
       did atone 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.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      By your pardon, sir, I was then a young traveller;
       rather shunned to go even with what I heard 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.

Frenchman       'Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords,
       and by such two that would by all likelihood have
       confounded one the other, or have fallen both.

IACHIMO Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference?

Frenchman       Safely, I think: 'twas a contention in public,
       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,
       chaste, constant-qualified and less attemptable
       than any the rarest of our ladies in France.

IACHIMO That lady is not now living, or this gentleman's
       opinion by this worn out.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      She holds her virtue still and I my mind.

IACHIMO You must not so far prefer her 'fore ours of Italy.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Being so far provoked as I was in France, I would
       abate her nothing, though I profess myself her
       adorer, not her friend.

IACHIMO As fair and as good--a kind of hand-in-hand
       comparison--had been something too fair and too good
       for any lady in Britain. If she went before others
       I have seen, as that diamond of yours outlustres
       many I have beheld. I could not but believe she
       excelled many: but I have not seen the most
       precious diamond that is, nor you the lady.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      I praised her as I rated her: so do I my stone.

IACHIMO What do you esteem it at?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      More than the world enjoys.

IACHIMO Either your unparagoned mistress is dead, or she's
       outprized by a trifle.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      You are mistaken: the one may be sold, or given, if
       there were wealth enough for the purchase, or merit
       for the gift: the other is not a thing for sale,
       and only the gift of the gods.

IACHIMO Which the gods have given you?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Which, by their graces, I will keep.

IACHIMO You may wear her in title yours: but, you know,
       strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds. Your
       ring may be stolen too: so your brace of unprizable
       estimations; the one is but frail and the other
       casual; a cunning thief, or a that way accomplished
       courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and last.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Your Italy contains none so accomplished 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.

PHILARIO        Let us leave here, gentlemen.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Sir, with all my heart. This worthy signior, I
       thank him, makes no stranger of me; we are familiar at first.

IACHIMO 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.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      No, no.

IACHIMO 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.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      You are a great deal abused in too bold a
       persuasion; and I doubt not you sustain what you're
       worthy of by your attempt.

IACHIMO What's that?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      A repulse: though your attempt, as you call it,
       deserve more; a punishment too.

PHILARIO        Gentlemen, enough of this: it came in too suddenly;
       let it die as it was born, and, I pray you, be
       better acquainted.

IACHIMO Would I had put my estate and my neighbour's on the
       approbation of what I have spoke!

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      What lady would you choose to assail?

IACHIMO Yours; whom 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 reserved.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      I will wage against your gold, gold to it: my ring
       I hold dear as my finger; 'tis part of it.

IACHIMO You are afraid, 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.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      This is but a custom in your tongue; you bear a
       graver purpose, I hope.

IACHIMO I am the master of my speeches, and would undergo
       what's spoken, I swear.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Will you? I shall but lend my diamond till your
       return: let there be covenants drawn between's: my
       mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness of your
       unworthy thinking: I dare you to this match: here's my ring.

PHILARIO        I will have it no lay.

IACHIMO By the gods, it is one. If I bring you no
       sufficient testimony that I have enjoyed the dearest
       bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats
       are yours; so 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 entertainment.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      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 prevailed, I am no further
       your enemy; she is not worth our debate: if she
       remain unseduced, 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.

IACHIMO 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.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Agreed.

       [Exeunt POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and IACHIMO]

Frenchman       Will this hold, think you?

PHILARIO        Signior Iachimo will not from it.
       Pray, let us follow 'em.

       [Exeunt]




       CYMBELINE


ACT I



SCENE V Britain. A room in Cymbeline's palace.


       [Enter QUEEN, Ladies, and CORNELIUS]

QUEEN   Whiles yet the dew's on ground, gather those flowers;
       Make haste: who has the note of them?

First Lady      I, madam.

QUEEN   Dispatch.

       [Exeunt Ladies]

       Now, master doctor, have you brought those drugs?

CORNELIUS       Pleaseth your highness, ay: here they are, madam:

       [Presenting a small box]

       But I beseech your grace, without offence,--
       My conscience bids me ask--wherefore you have
       Commanded of me those most poisonous compounds,
       Which are the movers of a languishing death;
       But though slow, deadly?

QUEEN   I 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 devilish--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
       Their several virtues and effects.

CORNELIUS       Your highness
       Shall from this practise but make hard your heart:
       Besides, the seeing these effects will be
       Both noisome and infectious.

QUEEN   O, content thee.

       [Enter PISANIO]

       [Aside]

       Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him
       Will I first work: he's for his master,
       An enemy to my son. How now, Pisanio!
       Doctor, your service for this time is ended;
       Take your own way.

CORNELIUS       [Aside]          I do suspect you, madam;
       But you shall do no harm.

QUEEN   [To PISANIO]            Hark thee, a word.

CORNELIUS       [Aside]  I do not like her. She doth think she has
       Strange lingering poisons: I do know her spirit,
       And will not trust one of her malice with
       A drug of such damn'd nature. Those she has
       Will stupefy and dull the sense awhile;
       Which first, perchance, she'll prove on
       cats and dogs,
       Then afterward up higher: but there is
       No danger in what show of death it makes,
       More than the locking-up the spirits a time,
       To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool'd
       With a most false effect; and I the truer,
       So to be false with her.

QUEEN   No further service, doctor,
       Until I send for thee.

CORNELIUS       I humbly take my leave.

       [Exit]

QUEEN   Weeps she still, say'st thou? Dost thou think in time
       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 lie speechless and his name
       Is at last gasp: return he cannot, nor
       Continue where he is: 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,
       So much as but to prop him?

       [The QUEEN drops the box: PISANIO takes it up]

                     Thou takest up
       Thou know'st not what; but take it for thy labour:
       It is a thing I made, which hath the king
       Five times redeem'd from death: I do not know
       What is more cordial. Nay, I prethee, take it;
       It is an earnest of a further 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 changest on, but think
       Thou hast thy mistress still, to boot, my son,
       Who shall take notice of thee: I'll move 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 PISANIO]

               A sly and constant knave,
       Not to be shaked; the agent for his master
       And the remembrancer of her to hold
       The hand-fast to her lord. I have given him that
       Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her
       Of liegers for her sweet, and which she after,
       Except she bend her humour, shall be assured
       To taste of too.

       [Re-enter PISANIO and Ladies]

       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]

PISANIO And shall do:
       But when to my good lord I prove untrue,
       I'll choke myself: there's all I'll do for you.

       [Exit]




       CYMBELINE


ACT I



SCENE VI        The same. Another room in the palace.


       [Enter IMOGEN]

IMOGEN  A father cruel, and a step-dame false;
       A foolish suitor to a wedded lady,
       That hath her husband banish'd;--O, that husband!
       My supreme crown of grief! and those repeated
       Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stol'n,
       As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable
       Is the desire that's glorious: blest be those,
       How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills,
       Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fie!

       [Enter PISANIO and IACHIMO]

PISANIO Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome,
       Comes from my lord with letters.

IACHIMO Change you, madam?
       The worthy Leonatus is in safety
       And greets your highness dearly.

       [Presents a letter]

IMOGEN  Thanks, good sir:
       You're kindly welcome.

IACHIMO [Aside]  All of her that is out of door most rich!
       If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare,
       She is alone the Arabian bird, and I
       Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend!
       Arm me, audacity, from head to foot!
       Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight;
       Rather directly fly.

IMOGEN  [Reads]  'He is one of the noblest note, to whose
       kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon
       him accordingly, as you value your trust--
                        LEONATUS.'
       So far I read aloud:
       But even the very middle of my heart
       Is warm'd by the rest, and takes 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.

IACHIMO Thanks, fairest lady.
       What, are men mad? 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 twinn'd stones
       Upon the number'd beach? and can we not
       Partition make with spectacles so precious
       'Twixt fair and foul?

IMOGEN  What makes your admiration?

IACHIMO It cannot be i' the eye, for apes and monkeys
       'Twixt two such shes 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 opposed
       Should make desire vomit emptiness,
       Not so allured to feed.

IMOGEN  What is the matter, trow?

IACHIMO The cloyed will,
       That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub
       Both fill'd and running, ravening first the lamb
       Longs after for the garbage.

IMOGEN  What, dear sir,
       Thus raps you? Are you well?

IACHIMO Thanks, madam; well.

       [To PISANIO]

                Beseech you, sir, desire
       My man's abode where I did leave him: he
       Is strange and peevish.

PISANIO I was going, sir,
       To give him welcome.

       [Exit]

IMOGEN  Continues well my lord? His health, beseech you?

IACHIMO Well, madam.

IMOGEN  Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is.

IACHIMO Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there
       So merry and so gamesome: he is call'd
       The Briton reveller.

IMOGEN  When he was here,
       He did incline to sadness, and oft-times
       Not knowing why.

IACHIMO                   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 from him, whiles the jolly Briton--
       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
       But must be, will his free hours languish for
       Assured bondage?'

IMOGEN                    Will my lord say so?

IACHIMO 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,
       Some men are much to blame.

IMOGEN  Not he, I hope.

IACHIMO Not he: but yet heaven's bounty towards him might
       Be used more thankfully. In himself, 'tis much;
       In you, which I account his beyond all talents,
       Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound
       To pity too.

IMOGEN                    What do you pity, sir?

IACHIMO Two creatures heartily.

IMOGEN  Am I one, sir?
       You look on me: what wreck discern you in me
       Deserves your pity?

IACHIMO Lamentable! What,
       To hide me from the radiant sun and solace
       I' the dungeon by a snuff?

IMOGEN  I pray you, sir,
       Deliver with more openness your answers
       To my demands. Why do you pity me?

IACHIMO 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.

IMOGEN  You do seem to know
       Something of me, or what concerns me: pray you,--
       Since doubling things go ill often hurts more
       Than to be sure they do; for certainties
       Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing,
       The remedy then born--discover to me
       What both you spur and stop.

IACHIMO Had I this cheek
       To bathe 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 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 falsehood--falsehood, as
       With labour; then by-peeping in an eye
       Base and unlustrous 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.

IMOGEN  My lord, I fear,
       Has forgot Britain.

IACHIMO And himself. Not I,
       Inclined to this intelligence, pronounce
       The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces
       That from pay mutest conscience to my tongue
       Charms this report out.

IMOGEN  Let me hear no more.

IACHIMO 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 hired with that self-exhibition
       Which your own coffers yield! with diseased ventures
       That play with all infirmities for gold
       Which rottenness can lend nature! such boil'd stuff
       As well might poison poison! Be revenged;
       Or she that bore you was no queen, and you
       Recoil from your great stock.

IMOGEN  Revenged!
       How should I be revenged? 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 revenged?

IACHIMO Should he make me
       Live, like Diana's priest, betwixt cold sheets,
       Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps,
       In your despite, 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.

IMOGEN  What, ho, Pisanio!

IACHIMO Let me my service tender on your lips.

IMOGEN  Away! I do condemn mine ears that have
       So long attended thee. If thou wert honourable,
       Thou wouldst 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 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
       His beastly mind to us, he hath a court
       He little cares for and a daughter who
       He not respects at all. What, ho, Pisanio!

IACHIMO O happy Leonatus! I may say
       The credit that thy lady hath of thee
       Deserves thy trust, and thy most perfect goodness
       Her assured 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; such a holy witch
       That he enchants societies into him;
       Half all men's hearts are his.

IMOGEN  You make amends.

IACHIMO He sits 'mongst men like a descended god:
       He hath a kind of honour sets him off,
       More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry,
       Most mighty princess, that I have adventured
       To try your taking a 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.

IMOGEN  All's well, sir: take my power i' the court
       for yours.

IACHIMO My humble thanks. I had almost forgot
       To entreat your grace but in a small request,
       And yet of moment to, for it concerns
       Your lord; myself and other noble friends,
       Are partners in the business.

IMOGEN  Pray, what is't?

IACHIMO Some dozen Romans of us and your lord--
       The best feather of our wing--have mingled 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?

IMOGEN  Willingly;
       And pawn mine honour for their safety: since
       My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them
       In my bedchamber.

IACHIMO 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.

IMOGEN  O, no, no.

IACHIMO Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my word
       By lengthening my return. From Gallia
       I cross'd the seas on purpose and on promise
       To see your grace.

IMOGEN  I thank you for your pains:
       But not away to-morrow!

IACHIMO O, I must, madam:
       Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please
       To greet your lord with writing, do't to-night:
       I have outstood my time; which is material
       To the tender of our present.

IMOGEN  I will write.
       Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept,
       And truly yielded you. You're very welcome.

       [Exeunt]




       CYMBELINE


ACT II



SCENE I Britain. Before Cymbeline's palace.


       [Enter CLOTEN and two Lords]

CLOTEN  Was there ever man had such luck! when I kissed 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 borrowed mine
       oaths of him and might not spend them at my pleasure.

First Lord      What got he by that? You have broke his pate with
       your bowl.

Second Lord     [Aside]  If his wit had been like him that broke it,
       it would have run all out.

CLOTEN  When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is not for
       any standers-by to curtail his oaths, ha?

Second Lord     No my lord;

       [Aside]

       nor crop the ears of them.

CLOTEN  Whoreson dog! I give him satisfaction?
       Would he had been one of my rank!

Second Lord     [Aside]  To have smelt like a fool.

CLOTEN  I am not vexed 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 bellyful of
       fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that
       nobody can match.

Second Lord     [Aside]  You are cock and capon too; and you crow,
       cock, with your comb on.

CLOTEN  Sayest thou?

Second Lord     It is not fit your lordship should undertake every
       companion that you give offence to.

CLOTEN  No, I know that: but it is fit I should commit
       offence to my inferiors.

Second Lord     Ay, it is fit for your lordship only.

CLOTEN  Why, so I say.

First Lord      Did you hear of a stranger that's come to court to-night?

CLOTEN  A stranger, and I not know on't!

Second Lord     [Aside]  He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it
       not.

First Lord      There's an Italian come; and, 'tis thought, one of
       Leonatus' friends.

CLOTEN  Leonatus! a banished rascal; and he's another,
       whatsoever he be. Who told you of this stranger?

First Lord      One of your lordship's pages.

CLOTEN  Is it fit I went to look upon him? is there no
       derogation in't?

Second Lord     You cannot derogate, my lord.

CLOTEN  Not easily, I think.

Second Lord     [Aside]  You are a fool granted; therefore your
       issues, being foolish, do not derogate.

CLOTEN  Come, I'll go see this Italian: what I have lost
       to-day at bowls I'll win to-night of him. Come, go.

Second Lord     I'll attend your lordship.

       [Exeunt CLOTEN and First Lord]

       That such a crafty devil as is 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 endurest,
       Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern'd,
       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'ld make! The heavens hold firm
       The walls of thy dear honour, keep unshaked
       That temple, thy fair mind, that thou mayst stand,
       To enjoy thy banish'd lord and this great land!

       [Exit]




       CYMBELINE


ACT II



SCENE II        Imogen's bedchamber in Cymbeline's palace:
       a trunk in one corner of it.


       [IMOGEN in bed, reading; a Lady attending]

IMOGEN  Who's there? my woman Helen?

Lady    Please you, madam

IMOGEN  What hour is it?

Lady                      Almost midnight, madam.

IMOGEN  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 canst awake by four o' the clock,
       I prithee, call me. Sleep hath seized me wholly

       [Exit Lady]

       To your protection I commend me, gods.
       From fairies and the tempters of the night
       Guard me, beseech ye.

       [Sleeps. IACHIMO comes from the trunk]

IACHIMO 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 becomest thy bed, fresh lily,
       And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch!
       But kiss; one kiss! Rubies unparagon'd,
       How dearly they do't! 'Tis her breathing that
       Perfumes the chamber thus: the flame o' the taper
       Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids,
       To see the enclosed lights, now canopied
       Under these windows, white and azure laced
       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 o' the story.
       Ah, but some natural notes about her body,
       Above ten thousand meaner moveables
       Would testify, to enrich mine inventory.
       O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her!
       And be her sense but as a monument,
       Thus in a chapel lying! Come off, come off:

       [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. No more. To 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 Philomel 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 bare the raven's eye! I lodge in fear;
       Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here.

       [Clock strikes]

       One, two, three: time, time!

       [Goes into the trunk. The scene closes]




       CYMBELINE


ACT II



Scene III       An ante-chamber adjoining Imogen's apartments.


       [Enter CLOTEN and Lords]

First Lord      Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the
       most coldest that ever turned up ace.

CLOTEN  It would make any man cold to lose.

First Lord      But not every man patient after the noble temper of
       your lordship. You are most hot and furious when you win.

CLOTEN  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?

First Lord      Day, my lord.

CLOTEN  I would this music would come: I am advised to give
       her music o' mornings; they say it will penetrate.

       [Enter Musicians]

       Come on; tune: if you can penetrate her with your
       fingering, so; we'll try with tongue too: if none
       will do, let her remain; but I'll never give 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 Phoebus 'gins arise,
       His steeds to water at those springs
       On chaliced flowers that lies;
       And winking Mary-buds begin
       To ope their golden eyes:
       With every thing that pretty is,
       My lady sweet, arise:
       Arise, arise.

CLOTEN  So, get you gone. If this penetrate, I will
       consider your music the better: if it do not, it is
       a vice in her ears, which horse-hairs and
       calves'-guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to
       boot, can never amend.

       [Exeunt Musicians]

Second Lord     Here comes the king.

CLOTEN  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.

       [Enter CYMBELINE and QUEEN]

       Good morrow to your majesty and to my gracious mother.

CYMBELINE       Attend you here the door of our stern daughter?
       Will she not forth?

CLOTEN  I have assailed her with music, but she vouchsafes no notice.

CYMBELINE       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.

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

CLOTEN  Senseless! not so.

       [Enter a Messenger]

Messenger       So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome;
       The one is Caius Lucius.

CYMBELINE       A worthy fellow,
       Albeit he comes on angry purpose now;
       But that's no fault of his: we must receive him
       According to the honour of his sender;
       And towards himself, his goodness forespent 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 all but CLOTEN]

CLOTEN  If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not,
       Let her lie still and dream.

       [Knocks]

                      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.

       [Knocks]

       By your leave.

       [Enter a Lady]

Lady    Who's there that knocks?

CLOTEN  A gentleman.

Lady    No more?

CLOTEN  Yes, and a gentlewoman's son.

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

CLOTEN  Your lady's person: is she ready?

Lady    Ay,
       To keep her chamber.

CLOTEN  There is gold for you;
       Sell me your good report.

Lady    How! my good name? or to report of you
       What I shall think is good?--The princess!

       [Enter IMOGEN]

CLOTEN  Good morrow, fairest: sister, your sweet hand.

       [Exit Lady]

IMOGEN  Good morrow, sir. You lay out too much pains
       For purchasing but trouble; the thanks I give
       Is telling you that I am poor of thanks
       And scarce can spare them.

CLOTEN  Still, I swear I love you.

IMOGEN  If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me:
       If you swear still, your recompense is still
       That I regard it not.

CLOTEN  This is no answer.

IMOGEN  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, forbearance.

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

IMOGEN            Fools are not mad folks.

CLOTEN  Do you call me fool?

IMOGEN  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.

CLOTEN  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 dependency
       But brats and beggary, in self-figured 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.

IMOGEN  Profane fellow
       Wert thou the son of Jupiter and no more
       But what thou art besides, thou wert too base
       To be his groom: thou wert dignified enough,
       Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made
       Comparative for your virtues, to be styled
       The under-hangman of his kingdom, and hated
       For being preferred so well.

CLOTEN  The south-fog rot him!

IMOGEN  He never can meet more mischance than come
       To be but named of thee. His meanest garment,
       That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer
       In my respect than all the hairs above thee,
       Were they all made such men. How now, Pisanio!

       [Enter PISANIO]

CLOTEN  'His garment!' Now the devil--

IMOGEN  To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently--

CLOTEN  'His garment!'

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

PISANIO 'Twill not be lost.

IMOGEN  I hope so: go and search.

       [Exit PISANIO]

CLOTEN  You have abused me:
       'His meanest garment!'

IMOGEN  Ay, I said so, sir:
       If you will make't an action, call witness to't.

CLOTEN  I will inform your father.

IMOGEN  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]

CLOTEN  I'll be revenged:
       'His meanest garment!' Well.

       [Exit]



CYMBELINE


ACT II



SCENE IV        Rome. Philario's house.


       [Enter POSTHUMUS and PHILARIO]

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Fear it not, sir: I would I were so sure
       To win the king as I am bold her honour
       Will remain hers.

PHILARIO                          What means do you make to him?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Not any, but abide the change of time,
       Quake in the present winter's state and wish
       That warmer days would come: in these sear'd hopes,
       I barely gratify your love; they failing,
       I must die much your debtor.

PHILARIO        Your very goodness and your company
       O'erpays all I can do. By this, your king
       Hath heard of great Augustus: Caius Lucius
       Will do's commission throughly: and I think
       He'll grant the tribute, send the arrearages,
       Or look upon our Romans, whose remembrance
       Is yet fresh in their grief.

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

       [Enter IACHIMO]

PHILARIO        See! Iachimo!

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      The swiftest harts have posted you by land;
       And winds of all the comers kiss'd your sails,
       To make your vessel nimble.

PHILARIO        Welcome, sir.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      I hope the briefness of your answer made
       The speediness of your return.

IACHIMO Your lady
       Is one of the fairest that I have look'd upon.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      And therewithal the best; or let her beauty
       Look through a casement to allure false hearts
       And be false with them.

IACHIMO Here are letters for you.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Their tenor good, I trust.

IACHIMO 'Tis very like.

PHILARIO        Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court
       When you were there?

IACHIMO He was expected then,
       But not approach'd.

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

IACHIMO If I had 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.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      The stone's too hard to come by.

IACHIMO Not a whit,
       Your lady being so easy.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Make not, sir,
       Your loss your sport: I hope you know that we
       Must not continue friends.

IACHIMO Good sir, we must,
       If you keep covenant. Had I not brought
       The knowledge of your mistress home, I grant
       We were to question further: 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.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      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 both
       To who shall find them.

IACHIMO 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.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS                        Proceed.

IACHIMO First, her bedchamber,--
       Where, I confess, I slept not, but profess
       Had that was well worth watching--it was hang'd
       With tapesty of silk and silver; the story
       Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman,
       And Cydnus 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
       Could be so rarely and exactly wrought,
       Since the true life on't was--

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      This is true;
       And this you might have heard of here, by me,
       Or by some other.

IACHIMO More particulars
       Must justify my knowledge.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      So they must,
       Or do your honour injury.

IACHIMO The chimney
       Is south the chamber, and the chimney-piece
       Chaste Dian bathing: never saw I figures
       So likely to report themselves: the cutter
       Was as another nature, dumb; outwent her,
       Motion and breath left out.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      This is a thing
       Which you might from relation likewise reap,
       Being, as it is, much spoke of.

IACHIMO 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.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      This is her honour!
       Let it be granted 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 laid.

IACHIMO Then, if you can,

       [Showing the bracelet]

       Be pale: I beg but leave to air this jewel; see!
       And now 'tis up again: it must be married
       To that your diamond; I'll keep them.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Jove!
       Once more let me behold it: is it that
       Which I left with her?

IACHIMO Sir--I thank her--that:
       She stripp'd 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 prized it once.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      May be she pluck'd it off
       To send it me.

IACHIMO She writes so to you, doth she?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      O, no, no, no! 'tis true. Here, take this too;

       [Gives the ring]

       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!

PHILARIO        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 stol'n it from her?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      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 stolen.

IACHIMO By Jupiter, I had it from her arm.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      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
       All sworn and honourable:--they induced to steal it!
       And by a stranger!--No, he hath enjoyed her:
       The cognizance 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!

PHILARIO        Sir, be patient:
       This is not strong enough to be believed
       Of one persuaded well of--

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

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

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Ay, and it doth confirm
       Another stain, as big as hell can hold,
       Were there no more but it.

IACHIMO Will you hear more?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Spare your arithmetic: never count the turns;
       Once, and a million!

IACHIMO I'll be sworn--

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

IACHIMO I'll deny nothing.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      O, that I had her here, to tear her limb-meal!
       I will go there and do't, i' the court, before
       Her father. I'll do something--

       [Exit]

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

IACHIMO With an my heart.

       [Exeunt]




       CYMBELINE


ACT II



SCENE V Another room in Philario's house.


       [Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS]

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Is there no way for men to be but women
       Must be half-workers? We are all bastards;
       And that most venerable man which I
       Did call my father, was I know not where
       When I was stamp'd; some coiner with his tools
       Made me a counterfeit: yet my mother seem'd
       The Dian of that time so doth my wife
       The nonpareil of this. O, vengeance, vengeance!
       Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd
       And pray'd me 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 chaste as unsunn'd snow. O, all the devils!
       This yellow Iachimo, in an hour,--wast not?--
       Or less,--at first?--perchance he spoke not, but,
       Like a full-acorn'd boar, a German one,
       Cried 'O!' 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
       It is the woman's part: be it lying, note it,
       The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;
       Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers;
       Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,
       Nice longing, slanders, mutability,
       All faults that may be named, 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]




       CYMBELINE


ACT III



SCENE I Britain. A hall in Cymbeline's palace.


       [Enter in state, CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN,
       and Lords at one door, and at another,
       CAIUS LUCIUS and Attendants]

CYMBELINE       Now say, what would Augustus Caesar with us?

CAIUS LUCIUS    When Julius Caesar, whose remembrance yet
       Lives in men's 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 Caesar's praises, no whit less
       Than in his feats deserving it--for him
       And his succession granted Rome a tribute,
       Yearly three thousand pounds, which by thee lately
       Is left untender'd.

QUEEN   And, to kill the marvel,
       Shall be so ever.

CLOTEN  There be many Caesars,
       Ere such another Julius. Britain is
       A world by itself; and we will nothing pay
       For wearing our own noses.

QUEEN   That opportunity
       Which then they had to take from 's, to resume
       We have again. Remember, sir, my liege,
       The kings your ancestors, together with
       The natural bravery of your isle, which stands
       As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in
       With rocks unscalable and roaring waters,
       With sands that will not bear your enemies' boats,
       But suck them up to the topmast. A kind of conquest
       Caesar made here; but made not here his brag
       Of 'Came' and 'saw' and 'overcame: ' with shame--
       That first that ever touch'd him--he was carried
       From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping--
       Poor ignorant baubles!-- upon our terrible seas,
       Like egg-shells moved upon their surges, crack'd
       As easily 'gainst our rocks: for joy whereof
       The famed Cassibelan, who was once at point--
       O giglot fortune!--to master Caesar's sword,
       Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright
       And Britons strut with courage.

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

CYMBELINE       Son, let your mother end.

CLOTEN  We have yet many among us can gripe as hard as
       Cassibelan: I do not say I am one; but I have a
       hand. Why tribute? why should we pay tribute? If
       Caesar 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.

CYMBELINE       You must know,
       Till the injurious Romans did extort
       This tribute from us, we were free:
       Caesar's ambition,
       Which swell'd so much that it did almost stretch
       The sides o' the world, against all colour here
       Did put the yoke upon 's; which to shake off
       Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon
       Ourselves to be.

CLOTEN  |
       |                We do.
Lords   |

CYMBELINE       Say, then, to Caesar,
       Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which
       Ordain'd our laws, whose use the sword of Caesar
       Hath too much mangled; whose repair and franchise
       Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed,
       Though Rome be therefore angry: Mulmutius made our laws,
       Who was the first of Britain which did put
       His brows within a golden crown and call'd
       Himself a king.

CAIUS LUCIUS                      I am sorry, Cymbeline,
       That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar--
       Caesar, that hath more kings his servants than
       Thyself domestic officers--thine enemy:
       Receive it from me, then: war and confusion
       In Caesar's name pronounce I 'gainst thee: look
       For fury not to be resisted. Thus defied,
       I thank thee for myself.

CYMBELINE       Thou art welcome, Caius.
       Thy Caesar knighted me; my youth I spent
       Much under him; of him I gather'd honour;
       Which he to seek of me again, perforce,
       Behoves 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 show the Britons cold:
       So Caesar shall not find them.

CAIUS LUCIUS    Let proof speak.

CLOTEN  His majesty bids you welcome. Make
       pastime with us a day or two, or longer: if
       you seek us afterwards in other terms, you
       shall find us in our salt-water girdle: if you
       beat us out of it, it is yours; if you fall in
       the adventure, our crows shall fare the better
       for you; and there's an end.

CAIUS LUCIUS    So, sir.

CYMBELINE       I know your master's pleasure and he mine:
       All the remain is 'Welcome!'

       [Exeunt]




       CYMBELINE


ACT III



SCENE II        Another room in the palace.


       [Enter PISANIO, with a letter]

PISANIO How? of adultery? Wherefore write you not
       What monster's her accuser? Leonatus,
       O master! what a strange infection
       Is fall'n into thy ear! What false Italian,
       As poisonous-tongued 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 murder her?
       Upon the love and truth and vows which I
       Have made to thy command? I, her? her blood?
       If it be so to do good service, never
       Let me be counted serviceable. How look I,
       That I should seem to lack humanity
       so much as this fact comes to?

       [Reading]

               '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.
       I am ignorant in what I am commanded.

       [Enter IMOGEN]

IMOGEN  How now, Pisanio!

PISANIO Madam, here is a letter from my lord.

IMOGEN  Who? thy lord? that is my lord, Leonatus!
       O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer
       That knew the stars as I his characters;
       He'ld lay the future open. You good gods,
       Let what is here contain'd relish of love,
       Of my lord's health, of his content, yet not
       That we two are asunder; let that grieve him:
       Some griefs are med'cinable; that is one of them,
       For it doth physic love: of his content,
       All but in that! Good wax, thy leave. Blest be
       You bees that make these locks of counsel! Lovers
       And men in dangerous bonds pray not alike:
       Though forfeiters 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 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 you, follow. So he wishes you all
       happiness, that remains loyal to his vow, and your,
       increasing 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,--
       Who long'st, like me, to see thy lord; who long'st,--
       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
       And our return, to excuse: but first, how get hence:
       Why should excuse be born or e'er begot?
       We'll talk of that hereafter. Prithee, speak,
       How many score of miles may we well ride
       'Twixt hour and hour?

PISANIO One score 'twixt sun and sun,
       Madam, 's enough for you:

       [Aside]

                    and too much too.

IMOGEN  Why, one that rode to's 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
       A riding-suit, no costlier than would fit
       A franklin's housewife.

PISANIO Madam, you're best consider.

IMOGEN  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 prithee;
       Do as I bid thee: there's no more to say,
       Accessible is none but Milford way.

       [Exeunt]




       CYMBELINE


ACT III



SCENE III       Wales: a mountainous country with a cave.


       [Enter, from the cave, BELARIUS; GUIDERIUS,
       and ARVIRAGUS following]

BELARIUS        A goodly day not to keep house, with such
       Whose roof's as low as ours! Stoop, boys; this gate
       Instructs you how to adore the heavens and bows you
       To a morning's holy office: the gates of monarchs
       Are arch'd so high that giants may jet through
       And keep their impious turbans 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.

GUIDERIUS       Hail, heaven!

ARVIRAGUS       Hail, heaven!

BELARIUS        Now for our mountain sport: up to yond hill;
       Your legs are young; I'll tread these flats. Consider,
       When you above perceive me like a crow,
       That it is place which lessens and sets off;
       And you may then revolve what tales I have 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;
       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 cheque,
       Richer than doing nothing for a bauble,
       Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk:
       Such gain the cap of him that makes 'em fine,
       Yet keeps his book uncross'd: no life to ours.

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

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

BELARIUS        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
       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
       I' the name of fame and honour; which dies i'
       the search,
       And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph
       As record of fair act; nay, many times,
       Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse,
       Must court'sy at the censure:--O boys, this story
       The world may read in me: my body's mark'd
       With Roman swords, and my report was once
       First with the best of note: Cymbeline loved me,
       And when a soldier was the theme, my name
       Was not far off: then was I as a tree
       Whose boughs did bend with fruit: but in one night,
       A storm or robbery, call it what you will,
       Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves,
       And left me bare to weather.

GUIDERIUS       Uncertain favour!

BELARIUS        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 lived at honest freedom, paid
       More pious debts to heaven than in all
       The fore-end of my time. But up to the mountains!
       This is not hunters' language: he that strikes
       The venison first shall be the lord o' the feast;
       To him the other two shall minister;
       And we will fear no poison, which attends
       In place of greater state. I'll meet you in the valleys.

       [Exeunt GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS]

       How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature!
       These boys know little they are sons to the king;
       Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive.
       They think they are mine; and though train'd
       up thus meanly
       I' the cave wherein they bow, 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 Polydore,
       The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, who
       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 's 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 Arviragus, in as like a figure,
       Strikes life into my speech and shows much more
       His own conceiving.--Hark, the game is roused!
       O Cymbeline! heaven and my conscience knows
       Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon,
       At three and two years old, I stole these babes;
       Thinking to bar thee of succession, as
       Thou reft'st me of my lands. Euriphile,
       Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for
       their mother,
       And every day do honour to her grave:
       Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call'd,
       They take for natural father. The game is up.

       [Exit]




       CYMBELINE


ACT III



SCENE IV        Country near Milford-Haven.


       [Enter PISANIO and IMOGEN]

IMOGEN  Thou told'st me, when we came from horse, the place
       Was near at hand: ne'er long'd my mother so
       To see me first, as I have now. Pisanio! man!
       Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind,
       That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh
       From the inward of thee? One, but painted thus,
       Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd
       Beyond self-explication: put thyself
       Into a havior of less fear, ere wildness
       Vanquish my staider senses. What's the matter?
       Why tender'st thou that paper to me, with
       A look untender? If'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-craftied 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.

PISANIO Please you, read;
       And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing
       The most disdain'd of fortune.

IMOGEN  [Reads]  'Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the
       strumpet in my bed; the testimonies whereof lie
       bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak surmises,
       but from proof as strong as my grief and as certain
       as I expect my revenge. That part thou, Pisanio,
       must act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with
       the breach of hers. Let thine own hands take away
       her life: I shall give thee 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.'

PISANIO What shall I need to draw my sword? the paper
       Hath cut her throat already. No, 'tis slander,
       Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue
       Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose breath
       Rides on the posting winds and doth belie
       All corners of the world: kings, queens and states,
       Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave
       This viperous slander enters. What cheer, madam?

IMOGEN  False to his bed! What is it to be false?
       To lie in watch there and to think on him?
       To weep 'twixt clock and clock? if sleep
       charge nature,
       To break it with a fearful dream of him
       And cry myself awake? that's false to's bed, is it?

PISANIO Alas, good lady!

IMOGEN  I false! Thy conscience witness: Iachimo,
       Thou didst accuse him of incontinency;
       Thou then look'dst like a villain; now methinks
       Thy favour's good enough. Some jay of Italy
       Whose mother was 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 ripp'd:--to pieces with me!--O,
       Men's vows are women's traitors! All good seeming,
       By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought
       Put on for villany; not born where't grows,
       But worn a bait for ladies.

PISANIO Good madam, hear me.

IMOGEN  True honest men being heard, like false Aeneas,
       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 lay the leaven on all proper men;
       Goodly and gallant shall be false and perjured
       From thy great fall. Come, fellow, be thou honest:
       Do thou thy master's bidding: when thou see'st him,
       A little witness my obedience: look!
       I draw the sword myself: take it, and hit
       The innocent mansion of my love, my heart;
       Fear not; 'tis empty of all things but grief;
       Thy master is not there, who was indeed
       The riches of it: do his bidding; strike
       Thou mayst be valiant in a better cause;
       But now thou seem'st a coward.

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

IMOGEN  Why, I must die;
       And if I do not by thy hand, thou art
       No servant of thy master's. Against self-slaughter
       There is a prohibition so divine
       That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's my heart.
       Something's afore't. 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
       Stands in worse case of woe.
       And thou, Posthumus, thou that didst set up
       My disobedience 'gainst the king my father
       And make me 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 disedged by her
       That now thou tirest on, how thy memory
       Will then be pang'd by me. Prithee, dispatch:
       The lamb entreats the butcher: where's thy knife?
       Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding,
       When I desire it too.

PISANIO O gracious lady,
       Since I received command to do this business
       I have not slept one wink.

IMOGEN  Do't, and to bed then.

PISANIO I'll wake mine eye-balls blind first.

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

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

IMOGEN  Talk thy tongue weary; speak
       I have heard I am a strumpet; and mine ear
       Therein false struck, can take no greater wound,
       Nor tent to bottom that. But speak.

PISANIO Then, madam,
       I thought you would not back again.

IMOGEN  Most like;
       Bringing me here to kill me.

PISANIO Not so, neither:
       But if I were as wise as honest, then
       My purpose would prove well. It cannot be
       But that my master is abused:
       Some villain, ay, and singular in his art.
       Hath done you both this cursed injury.

IMOGEN  Some Roman courtezan.

PISANIO 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.

IMOGEN  Why good fellow,
       What shall I do the where? where bide? how live?
       Or in my life what comfort, when I am
       Dead to my husband?

PISANIO If you'll back to the court--

IMOGEN  No court, no father; nor no more ado
       With that harsh, noble, simple nothing,
       That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me
       As fearful as a siege.

PISANIO If not at court,
       Then not in Britain must you bide.

IMOGEN  Where then
       Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night,
       Are they not but in Britain? I' the world's volume
       Our Britain seems as of it, but not in 't;
       In a great pool a swan's nest: prithee, think
       There's livers out of Britain.

PISANIO I am most glad
       You think of other place. The ambassador,
       Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven
       To-morrow: now, if you could wear a mind
       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
       That though his actions were not visible, yet
       Report should render him hourly to your ear
       As truly as he moves.

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

PISANIO Well, then, here's the point:
       You must forget to be a woman; change
       Command into obedience: fear and niceness--
       The handmaids of all women, or, more truly,
       Woman its pretty self--into a waggish courage:
       Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy and
       As quarrelous as the weasel; nay, you must
       Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek,
       Exposing it--but, O, the harder heart!
       Alack, no remedy!--to the greedy touch
       Of common-kissing Titan, and forget
       Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein
       You made great Juno angry.

IMOGEN  Nay, be brief
       I see into thy end, and am almost
       A man already.

PISANIO 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 him know,
       If that his head have ear in music,--doubtless
       With joy he will embrace you, for he's honourable
       And doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad,
       You have me, rich; and I will never fail
       Beginning nor supplyment.

IMOGEN  Thou art all the comfort
       The gods will diet me with. Prithee, 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 prithee.

PISANIO Well, madam, we must take a short farewell,
       Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of
       Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress,
       Here is a box; I had it from the queen:
       What's in't is precious; if you are 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!

IMOGEN  Amen: I thank thee.

       [Exeunt, severally]




       CYMBELINE


ACT III



SCENE V A room in Cymbeline's palace.


       [Enter CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN, LUCIUS,
       Lords, and Attendants]

CYMBELINE       Thus far; and so farewell.

CAIUS LUCIUS    Thanks, royal sir.
       My emperor hath wrote, I must from hence;
       And am right sorry that I must report ye
       My master's enemy.

CYMBELINE                         Our subjects, sir,
       Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself
       To show less sovereignty than they, must needs
       Appear unkinglike.

CAIUS LUCIUS                      So, sir: I desire of you
       A conduct over-land to Milford-Haven.
       Madam, all joy befal your grace!

QUEEN   And you!

CYMBELINE       My lords, you are appointed for that office;
       The due of honour in no point omit.
       So farewell, noble Lucius.

CAIUS LUCIUS    Your hand, my lord.

CLOTEN  Receive it friendly; but from this time forth
       I wear it as your enemy.

CAIUS LUCIUS    Sir, the event
       Is yet to name the winner: fare you well.

CYMBELINE       Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords,
       Till he have cross'd the Severn. Happiness!

       [Exeunt LUCIUS and Lords]

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

CLOTEN  'Tis all the better;
       Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it.

CYMBELINE       Lucius hath wrote already to the emperor
       How it goes here. It fits us therefore ripely
       Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness:
       The powers that he already hath in Gallia
       Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves
       His war for Britain.

QUEEN   'Tis not sleepy business;
       But must be look'd to speedily and strongly.

CYMBELINE       Our expectation that it would be thus
       Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen,
       Where is our daughter? She hath not appear'd
       Before the Roman, nor to us hath tender'd
       The duty of the day: she looks us like
       A thing more made of malice than of duty:
       We have noted it. Call her before us; for
       We have been too slight in sufferance.

       [Exit an Attendant]

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

       [Re-enter Attendant]

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

Attendant       Please you, sir,
       Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer
       That will be given to the loudest noise we make.

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

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

       [Exit]

QUEEN   Son, I say, follow the king.

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

QUEEN   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 seized her,
       Or, wing'd with fervor of her love, she's flown
       To her desired Posthumus: gone she is
       To death or to dishonour; and my end
       Can make good use of either: she being down,
       I have the placing of the British crown.

       [Re-enter CLOTEN]

       How now, my son!

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

QUEEN   [Aside]            All the better: may
       This night forestall him of the coming day!

       [Exit]

CLOTEN  I love and hate her: for she's fair and royal,
       And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite
       Than lady, ladies, woman; from every one
       The best she hath, and she, of all compounded,
       Outsells 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 choked; and in that point
       I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed,
       To be revenged upon her. For when fools Shall--

       [Enter PISANIO]

       Who is here? What, are you packing, sirrah?
       Come hither: ah, you precious pander! Villain,
       Where is thy lady? In a word; or else
       Thou art straightway with the fiends.

PISANIO O, good my lord!

CLOTEN  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.

PISANIO Alas, my lord,
       How can she be with him? When was she missed?
       He is in Rome.

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

PISANIO O, my all-worthy lord!

CLOTEN  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.

PISANIO Then, sir,
       This paper is the history of my knowledge
       Touching her flight.

       [Presenting a letter]

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

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

CLOTEN  Hum!

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

CLOTEN  Sirrah, is this letter true?

PISANIO Sir, as I think.

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

PISANIO Well, my good lord.

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

PISANIO Sir, I will.

CLOTEN  Give me thy hand; here's my purse. Hast any of thy
       late master's garments in thy possession?

PISANIO I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same suit he
       wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress.

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

PISANIO I shall, my lord.

       [Exit]

CLOTEN  Meet thee at Milford-Haven!--I forgot to ask him one
       thing; I'll remember't anon:--even there, thou
       villain Posthumus, will I kill thee. I would these
       garments were come. She said upon a time--the
       bitterness of it I now belch from my heart--that she
       held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect
       than my noble and natural person together with the
       adornment of my qualities. With that suit upon my
       back, will I ravish her: first kill him, and in her
       eyes; there shall she see my valour, which will then
       be a torment to her contempt. He on the ground, my
       speech of insultment ended on his dead body, and
       when my lust hath dined,--which, as I say, to vex
       her I will execute in the clothes that she so
       praised,--to the court I'll knock her back, foot
       her home again. She hath despised me rejoicingly,
       and I'll be merry in my revenge.

       [Re-enter PISANIO, with the clothes]

       Be those the garments?

PISANIO Ay, my noble lord.

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

PISANIO She can scarce be there yet.

CLOTEN  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]

PISANIO 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 pursuest. Flow, flow,
       You heavenly blessings, on her! This fool's speed
       Be cross'd with slowness; labour be his meed!

       [Exit]




       CYMBELINE


ACT III



SCENE VI        Wales. Before the cave of Belarius.


       [Enter IMOGEN, in boy's clothes]

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

       [Exit, to the cave]

       [Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS]

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

GUIDERIUS       I am thoroughly weary.

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

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

BELARIUS        [Looking into the cave]

       Stay; come not in.
       But that it eats our victuals, I should think
       Here were a fairy.

GUIDERIUS       What's the matter, sir?

BELARIUS        By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not,
       An earthly paragon! Behold divineness
       No elder than a boy!

       [Re-enter IMOGEN]

IMOGEN  Good masters, harm me not:
       Before I enter'd here, I call'd; and thought
       To have begg'd or bought what I have took:
       good troth,
       I have stol'n nought, nor would not, though I had found
       Gold strew'd i' the floor. Here's money for my meat:
       I would have left it on the board so soon
       As I had made my meal, and parted
       With prayers for the provider.

GUIDERIUS       Money, youth?

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

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

BELARIUS        Whither bound?

IMOGEN  To Milford-Haven.

BELARIUS        What's your name?

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

BELARIUS        Prithee, fair youth,
       Think us no churls, nor measure our good minds
       By this rude place we live in. Well encounter'd!
       'Tis almost night: you shall have better cheer
       Ere you depart: and thanks to stay and eat it.
       Boys, bid him welcome.

GUIDERIUS       Were you a woman, youth,
       I should woo hard but be your groom. In honesty,
       I bid for you as I'd buy.

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

IMOGEN  'Mongst friends,
       If brothers.

       [Aside]

       Would it had been so, that they
       Had been my father's sons! then had my prize
       Been less, and so more equal ballasting
       To thee, Posthumus.

BELARIUS        He wrings at some distress.

GUIDERIUS       Would I could free't!

ARVIRAGUS       Or I, whate'er it be,
       What pain it cost, what danger. God's!

BELARIUS        Hark, boys.

       [Whispering]

IMOGEN  Great men,
       That had a court no bigger than this cave,
       That did attend themselves and had the virtue
       Which their own conscience seal'd them--laying by
       That nothing-gift of differing multitudes--
       Could not out-peer these twain. Pardon me, gods!
       I'd change my sex to be companion with them,
       Since Leonatus's false.

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

GUIDERIUS       Pray, draw near.

ARVIRAGUS       The night to the owl and morn to the lark
       less welcome.

IMOGEN  Thanks, sir.

ARVIRAGUS       I pray, draw near.

       [Exeunt]




       CYMBELINE


ACT III



SCENE VII       Rome. A public place.


       [Enter two Senators and Tribunes]

First Senator   This is the tenor of the emperor's writ:
       That since the common men are now in action
       'Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians,
       And that the legions now in Gallia are
       Full weak to undertake our wars against
       The fall'n-off Britons, that we do incite
       The gentry to this business. He creates
       Lucius preconsul: and to you the tribunes,
       For this immediate levy, he commends
       His absolute commission. Long live Caesar!

First Tribune   Is Lucius general of the forces?

Second Senator  Ay.

First Tribune   Remaining now in Gallia?

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

First Tribune                     We will discharge our duty.

       [Exeunt]




       CYMBELINE


ACT IV



SCENE I Wales: near the cave of Belarius.


       [Enter CLOTEN]

CLOTEN  I am near to the place where they should meet, if
       Pisanio have mapped 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 own chamber--I mean, the lines of my body are
       as well drawn as his; no less young, more strong,
       not beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in the
       advantage of the time, above him in birth, alike
       conversant in general services, and more remarkable
       in single oppositions: yet this imperceiverant
       thing loves him in my despite. 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 tied 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]



       CYMBELINE


ACT IV



SCENE II        Before the cave of Belarius.


       [Enter, from the cave, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS,
       ARVIRAGUS, and IMOGEN]

BELARIUS        [To IMOGEN]  You are not well: remain here in the cave;
       We'll come to you after hunting.

ARVIRAGUS       [To IMOGEN]     Brother, stay here
       Are we not brothers?

IMOGEN  So man and man should be;
       But clay and clay differs in dignity,
       Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick.

GUIDERIUS       Go you to hunting; I'll abide with him.

IMOGEN  So sick I am not, yet I am not well;
       But not so citizen a wanton as
       To seem to die ere sick: so please you, leave me;
       Stick to your journal course: the breach of custom
       Is breach of all. I am ill, but your being by me
       Cannot amend me; society is no comfort
       To one not sociable: I am not very sick,
       Since I can reason of it. Pray you, trust me here:
       I'll rob none but myself; and let me die,
       Stealing so poorly.

GUIDERIUS       I love thee; I have spoke it
       How much the quantity, the weight as much,
       As I do love my father.

BELARIUS        What! how! how!

ARVIRAGUS       If it be sin to say so, I yoke me
       In my good brother's fault: I know not why
       I love this youth; and I have heard you say,
       Love's reason's without reason: the bier at door,
       And a demand who is't shall die, I'd say
       'My father, not this youth.'

BELARIUS        [Aside] O noble strain!
       O worthiness of nature! breed of greatness!
       Cowards father cowards and base things sire base:
       Nature hath meal and bran, contempt and grace.
       I'm not their father; yet who this should be,
       Doth miracle itself, loved before me.
       'Tis the ninth hour o' the morn.

ARVIRAGUS       Brother, farewell.

IMOGEN  I wish ye sport.

ARVIRAGUS                         You health. So please you, sir.

IMOGEN  [Aside]  These are kind creatures. Gods, what lies
       I have heard!
       Our courtiers say all's savage but at court:
       Experience, O, thou disprovest report!
       The imperious seas breed monsters, for the dish
       Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish.
       I am sick still; heart-sick. Pisanio,
       I'll now taste of thy drug.

       [Swallows some]

GUIDERIUS       I could not stir him:
       He said he was gentle, but unfortunate;
       Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest.

ARVIRAGUS       Thus did he answer me: yet said, hereafter
       I might know more.

BELARIUS        To the field, to the field!
       We'll leave you for this time: go in and rest.

ARVIRAGUS       We'll not be long away.

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

IMOGEN  Well or ill,
       I am bound to you.

BELARIUS        And shalt be ever.

       [Exit IMOGEN, to the cave]

       This youth, how'er distress'd, appears he hath had
       Good ancestors.

ARVIRAGUS                         How angel-like he sings!

GUIDERIUS       But his neat cookery! he cut our roots
       In characters,
       And sauced our broths, as Juno had been sick
       And he her dieter.

ARVIRAGUS       Nobly he yokes
       A smiling with a sigh, as if the sigh
       Was that it was, for not being such a smile;
       The smile mocking the sigh, that it would fly
       From so divine a temple, to commix
       With winds that sailors rail at.

GUIDERIUS       I do note
       That grief and patience, rooted in him both,
       Mingle their spurs together.

ARVIRAGUS       Grow, patience!
       And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine
       His perishing root with the increasing vine!

BELARIUS        It is great morning. Come, away!--
       Who's there?

       [Enter CLOTEN]

CLOTEN  I cannot find those runagates; that villain
       Hath mock'd me. I am faint.

BELARIUS        'Those runagates!'
       Means he not us? I partly know him: 'tis
       Cloten, the son o' the queen. I fear some ambush.
       I saw him not these many years, and yet
       I know 'tis he. We are held as outlaws: hence!

GUIDERIUS       He is but one: you and my brother search
       What companies are near: pray you, away;
       Let me alone with him.

       [Exeunt BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS]

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

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

CLOTEN  Thou art a robber,
       A law-breaker, a villain: yield thee, thief.

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

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

GUIDERIUS       No, nor thy tailor, rascal,
       Who is thy grandfather: he made those clothes,
       Which, as it seems, make thee.

CLOTEN  Thou precious varlet,
       My tailor made them not.

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

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

GUIDERIUS       What's thy name?

CLOTEN  Cloten, thou villain.

GUIDERIUS       Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name,
       I cannot tremble at it: were it Toad, or
       Adder, Spider,
       'Twould move me sooner.

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

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

CLOTEN  Art not afeard?

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

CLOTEN  Die the death:
       When I have slain thee with my proper hand,
       I'll follow those that even now fled hence,
       And on the gates of Lud's-town set your heads:
       Yield, rustic mountaineer.

       [Exeunt, fighting]

       [Re-enter BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS]

BELARIUS        No companies abroad?

ARVIRAGUS       None in the world: you did mistake him, sure.

BELARIUS        I cannot tell: long is it since I saw him,
       But time hath nothing blurr'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.

ARVIRAGUS                         In this place we left them:
       I wish my brother make good time with him,
       You say he is so fell.

BELARIUS        Being scarce made up,
       I mean, to man, he had not apprehension
       Of roaring terrors; for the effect of judgment
       Is oft the cause of fear. But, see, thy brother.

       [Re-enter GUIDERIUS, with CLOTEN'S head]

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

BELARIUS        What hast thou done?

GUIDERIUS       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'ld take us in
       Displace our heads where--thank the gods!--they grow,
       And set them on Lud's-town.

BELARIUS        We are all undone.

GUIDERIUS       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 the law? What company
       Discover you abroad?

BELARIUS        No single soul
       Can we set eye on; but in all safe reason
       He must have some attendants. Though his humour
       Was nothing but mutation, ay, and that
       From one bad thing to worse; not frenzy, not
       Absolute madness could so far have raved
       To bring him here alone; although perhaps
       It may be heard at court that such as we
       Cave here, hunt here, are outlaws, and in time
       May make some stronger head; the which he hearing--
       As it is like him--might break out, and swear
       He'ld 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.

ARVIRAGUS       Let ordinance
       Come as the gods foresay it: howsoe'er,
       My brother hath done well.

BELARIUS        I had no mind
       To hunt this day: the boy Fidele's sickness
       Did make my way long forth.

GUIDERIUS       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]

BELARIUS        I fear 'twill be revenged:
       Would, Polydote, thou hadst not done't! though valour
       Becomes thee well enough.

ARVIRAGUS       Would I had done't
       So the revenge alone pursued me! Polydore,
       I love thee brotherly, but envy much
       Thou hast robb'd me of this deed: I would revenges,
       That possible strength might meet, would seek us through
       And put us to our answer.

BELARIUS        Well, 'tis done:
       We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danger
       Where there's no profit. I prithee, to our rock;
       You and Fidele play the cooks: I'll stay
       Till hasty Polydote return, and bring him
       To dinner presently.

ARVIRAGUS       Poor sick Fidele!
       I'll weringly to him: to gain his colour
       I'ld let a parish of such Clotens' blood,
       And praise myself for charity.

       [Exit]

BELARIUS        O thou goddess,
       Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st
       In these two princely boys! They are as gentle
       As zephyrs blowing below the violet,
       Not wagging his sweet head; and yet as rough,
       Their royal blood enchafed, as the rudest wind,
       That by the top doth take the mountain pine,
       And make him stoop to the vale. 'Tis wonder
       That an invisible instinct 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]

GUIDERIUS       Where's my brother?
       I have sent Cloten's clotpoll down the stream,
       In embassy to his mother: his body's hostage
       For his return.

       [Solemn music]

BELARIUS                          My ingenious instrument!
       Hark, Polydore, it sounds! But what occasion
       Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark!

GUIDERIUS       Is he at home?

BELARIUS                          He went hence even now.

GUIDERIUS       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?

BELARIUS                          Look, here he comes,
       And brings the dire occasion in his arms
       Of what we blame him for.

       [Re-enter ARVIRAGUS, with IMOGEN, as dead,
       bearing her in his arms]

ARVIRAGUS       The bird is dead
       That we have made so much on. I had rather
       Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty,
       To have turn'd my leaping-time into a crutch,
       Than have seen this.

GUIDERIUS       O sweetest, fairest lily!
       My brother wears thee not the one half so well
       As when thou grew'st thyself.

BELARIUS        O melancholy!
       Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find
       The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare
       Might easiliest harbour in? Thou blessed thing!
       Jove knows what man thou mightst have made; but I,
       Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy.
       How found you him?

ARVIRAGUS       Stark, as you see:
       Thus smiling, as some fly hid tickled slumber,
       Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at; his
       right cheek
       Reposing on a cushion.

GUIDERIUS       Where?

ARVIRAGUS       O' the floor;
       His arms thus leagued: I thought he slept, and put
       My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness
       Answer'd my steps too loud.

GUIDERIUS       Why, he but sleeps:
       If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed;
       With female fairies will his tomb be haunted,
       And worms will not come to thee.

ARVIRAGUS       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 azured harebell, like thy veins, no, nor
       The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,
       Out-sweeten'd not thy breath: the ruddock would,
       With charitable bill,--O bill, sore-shaming
       Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie
       Without a monument!--bring thee all this;
       Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none,
       To winter-ground thy corse.

GUIDERIUS       Prithee, 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!

ARVIRAGUS       Say, where shall's lay him?

GUIDERIUS       By good Euriphile, our mother.

ARVIRAGUS       Be't so:
       And let us, Polydore, though now our voices
       Have got the mannish crack, sing him to the ground,
       As once our mother; use like note and words,
       Save that Euriphile must be Fidele.

GUIDERIUS       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 that lie.

ARVIRAGUS       We'll speak it, then.

BELARIUS        Great griefs, I see, medicine the less; for Cloten
       Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys;
       And though he came our enemy, remember
       He was paid for that: though mean and
       mighty, rotting
       Together, have one dust, yet reverence,
       That angel of the world, doth make distinction
       Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely
       And though you took his life, as being our foe,
       Yet bury him as a prince.

GUIDERIUS       Pray You, fetch him hither.
       Thersites' body is as good as Ajax',
       When neither are alive.

ARVIRAGUS       If you'll go fetch him,
       We'll say our song the whilst. Brother, begin.

       [Exit BELARIUS]

GUIDERIUS       Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the east;
       My father hath a reason for't.

ARVIRAGUS       'Tis true.

GUIDERIUS       Come on then, and remove him.

ARVIRAGUS       So. Begin.
       [SONG]

GUIDERIUS            Fear no more the heat o' 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.

ARVIRAGUS            Fear no more the frown o' the great;
       Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
       Care no more to clothe and eat;
       To thee the reed is as the oak:
       The sceptre, learning, physic, must
       All follow this, and come to dust.

GUIDERIUS            Fear no more the lightning flash,

ARVIRAGUS               Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;

GUIDERIUS            Fear not slander, censure rash;

ARVIRAGUS               Thou hast finish'd joy and moan:


GUIDERIUS       |
       |  All lovers young, all lovers must
ARVIRAGUS       |   Consign to thee, and come to dust.


GUIDERIUS            No exorciser harm thee!

ARVIRAGUS               Nor no witchcraft charm thee!

GUIDERIUS            Ghost unlaid forbear thee!

ARVIRAGUS               Nothing ill come near thee!


GUIDERIUS       |
       |   Quiet consummation have;
ARVIRAGUS       |    And renowned be thy grave!


       [Re-enter BELARIUS, with the body of CLOTEN]

GUIDERIUS       We have done our obsequies: come, lay him down.

BELARIUS        Here's a few flowers; but 'bout midnight, more:
       The herbs that have on them cold dew o' the night
       Are strewings fitt'st for graves. Upon their faces.
       You were as flowers, now wither'd: even so
       These herblets shall, which we upon you strew.
       Come on, away: apart upon our knees.
       The ground that gave them first has them again:
       Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain.

       [Exeunt BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS]

IMOGEN  [Awaking]  Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; which is
       the way?--
       I thank you.--By yond bush?--Pray, how far thither?
       'Ods pittikins! can it be six mile yet?--
       I have gone all night. 'Faith, I'll lie down and sleep.
       But, soft! no bedfellow!--O gods and goddesses!

       [Seeing the body of CLOTEN]

       These flowers are like the pleasures of the world;
       This bloody man, the care on't. I hope I dream;
       For so I 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 stiff 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 imagined, felt.
       A headless man! The garments of Posthumus!
       I know the shape of's leg: this is his hand;
       His foot Mercurial; his Martial thigh;
       The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovial face
       Murder in heaven?--How!--'Tis gone. Pisanio,
       All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
       And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou,
       Conspired with that irregulous devil, Cloten,
       Hast here 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
       Struck 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 this head on. How should this be? Pisanio?
       'Tis he and Cloten: malice and lucre in them
       Have laid 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
       Murderous 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 to find us: O, my lord, my lord!

       [Falls on the body]

       [Enter LUCIUS, a Captain and other Officers,
       and a Soothsayer]

Captain To them the legions garrison'd in Gailia,
       After your will, have cross'd the sea, attending
       You here at Milford-Haven with your ships:
       They are in readiness.

CAIUS LUCIUS    But what from Rome?

Captain The senate hath stirr'd up the confiners
       And gentlemen of Italy, most willing spirits,
       That promise noble service: and they come
       Under the conduct of bold Iachimo,
       Syenna's brother.

CAIUS LUCIUS                      When expect you them?

Captain With the next benefit o' the wind.

CAIUS LUCIUS    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?

Soothsayer      Last night the very gods show'd me a vision--
       I fast and pray'd for their intelligence--thus:
       I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd
       From the spongy south to this part of the west,
       There vanish'd in the sunbeams: which portends--
       Unless my sins abuse my divination--
       Success to the Roman host.

CAIUS LUCIUS    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, or sleep upon the dead.
       Let's see the boy's face.

Captain He's alive, my lord.

CAIUS LUCIUS    He'll then instruct us of this body. Young one,
       Inform us of thy fortunes, for it seems
       They crave to be demanded. Who is this
       Thou makest thy bloody pillow? Or who was he
       That, otherwise than noble nature did,
       Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy interest
       In this sad wreck? How came it? Who is it?
       What art thou?

IMOGEN                    I am nothing: or if not,
       Nothing to be were better. This was my master,
       A very valiant Briton and a good,
       That here by mountaineers lies slain. Alas!
       There is no more such masters: I may wander
       From east to occident, cry out for service,
       Try many, all good, serve truly, never
       Find such another master.

CAIUS LUCIUS    'Lack, good youth!
       Thou movest no less with thy complaining than
       Thy master in bleeding: say his name, good friend.

IMOGEN  Richard du Champ.

       [Aside]

       If I do lie and do
       No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope
       They'll pardon it.--Say you, sir?

CAIUS LUCIUS    Thy name?

IMOGEN  Fidele, sir.

CAIUS LUCIUS    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 beloved. The Roman emperor's letters,
       Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner
       Than thine own worth prefer thee: go with me.

IMOGEN  I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please the gods,
       I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep
       As these poor pickaxes can dig; and when
       With wild wood-leaves and weeds I ha' strew'd his grave,
       And on it said a century of prayers,
       Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep and sigh;
       And leaving so his service, follow you,
       So please you entertain me.

CAIUS LUCIUS    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 daisied plot we can,
       And make him with our pikes and partisans
       A grave: come, arm him. Boy, he is preferr'd
       By thee to us, and he shall be interr'd
       As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes
       Some falls are means the happier to arise.

       [Exeunt]




       CYMBELINE


ACT IV



SCENE III       A room in Cymbeline's palace.


       [Enter CYMBELINE, Lords, PISANIO, and Attendants]

CYMBELINE       Again; and bring me word how 'tis with her.

       [Exit an Attendant]

       A fever with the absence of her son,
       A madness, of which her life's in danger. Heavens,
       How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen,
       The great 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: it strikes me, past
       The hope of comfort. But for thee, fellow,
       Who needs must know of her departure and
       Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee
       By a sharp torture.

PISANIO Sir, my life is yours;
       I humbly set it at your will; but, for my mistress,
       I nothing know where she remains, why gone,
       Nor when she purposes return. Beseech your highness,
       Hold me your loyal servant.

First Lord      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 will, no doubt, be found.

CYMBELINE       The time is troublesome.

       [To PISANIO]

       We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy
       Does yet depend.

First Lord                        So please your majesty,
       The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn,
       Are landed on your coast, with a supply
       Of Roman gentlemen, by the senate sent.

CYMBELINE       Now for the counsel of my son and queen!
       I am amazed with matter.

First Lord      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 in motion
       That long to move.

CYMBELINE                         I thank you. Let's withdraw;
       And meet the time as it seeks us. We fear not
       What can from Italy annoy us; but
       We grieve at chances here. Away!

       [Exeunt all but PISANIO]

PISANIO I heard no 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
       What is betid to Cloten; but remain
       Perplex'd in all. The heavens still must work.
       Wherein I am false I am honest; not true, to be true.
       These present wars shall find I love my country,
       Even to the note o' 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.

       [Exit]




       CYMBELINE


ACT IV



SCENE IV        Wales: before the cave of Belarius.


       [Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.

GUIDERIUS       The noise is round about us.

BELARIUS        Let us from it.

ARVIRAGUS       What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it
       From action and adventure?

GUIDERIUS       Nay, what hope
       Have we in hiding us? This way, the Romans
       Must or for Britons slay us, or receive us
       For barbarous and unnatural revolts
       During their use, and slay us after.

BELARIUS        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, not muster'd
       Among the bands--may drive us to a render
       Where we have lived, and so extort from's that
       Which we have done, whose answer would be death
       Drawn on with torture.

GUIDERIUS       This is, sir, a doubt
       In such a time nothing becoming you,
       Nor satisfying us.

ARVIRAGUS                         It is not likely
       That when they hear the Roman horses neigh,
       Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes
       And ears so cloy'd importantly as now,
       That they will waste their time upon our note,
       To know from whence we are.

BELARIUS        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 deserved my service nor your loves;
       Who find in my exile the want of breeding,
       The certainty of this hard life; aye hopeless
       To have the courtesy your cradle promised,
       But to be still hot summer's tamings and
       The shrinking slaves of winter.

GUIDERIUS       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'ergrown,
       Cannot be question'd.

ARVIRAGUS       By this sun that shines,
       I'll thither: what thing is it that I never
       Did see man die! 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 ashamed
       To look upon the holy sun, to have
       The benefit of his blest beams, remaining
       So long a poor unknown.

GUIDERIUS       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,
       The hazard therefore due fall on me by
       The hands of Romans!

ARVIRAGUS       So say I        amen.

BELARIUS        No reason I, since of your 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 die,
       That is my bed too, lads, an there I'll lie:
       Lead, lead.

       [Aside]

       The time seems long; their blood
       thinks scorn,
       Till it fly out and show them princes born.

       [Exeunt]




       CYMBELINE


ACT V



SCENE I Britain. The Roman camp.


       [Enter POSTHUMUS, with a bloody handkerchief]

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee, for I wish'd
       Thou shouldst be colour'd thus. You married ones,
       If each of you should take this course, how many
       Must murder 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 lived to put on this: so had you saved
       The noble Imogen to repent, and struck
       Me, wretch more worth your vengeance. But, alack,
       You snatch some hence for little faults; that's love,
       To have them fall no more: you some permit
       To second ills with ills, each elder worse,
       And make them dread it, to the doers' thrift.
       But Imogen is your own: do your best wills,
       And make me blest to obey! I am brought hither
       Among 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 Briton peasant: so I'll fight
       Against the part I come with; so I'll die
       For thee, O Imogen, even for whom my life
       Is every breath a death; and thus, unknown,
       Pitied 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, less without and more within.

       [Exit]




       CYMBELINE


ACT V



SCENE II        Field of battle between the British and Roman camps.


       [Enter, from one side, LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and
       the Roman Army: from the other side, the
       British Army; POSTHUMUS LEONATUS following,
       like a poor soldier. They march over and go
       out. Then enter again, in skirmish, IACHIMO
       and POSTHUMUS LEONATUS he vanquisheth and disarmeth
       IACHIMO, and then leaves him]

IACHIMO The heaviness and guilt within my bosom
       Takes off my manhood: I have belied 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 subdued me
       In my profession? Knighthoods and honours, borne
       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 Britons fly; CYMBELINE is
       taken: then enter, to his rescue, BELARIUS,
       GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS]

BELARIUS        Stand, stand! We have the advantage of the ground;
       The lane is guarded: nothing routs us but
       The villany of our fears.


GUIDERIUS       |
       |  Stand, stand, and fight!
ARVIRAGUS       |


       [Re-enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS, and seconds the
       Britons: they rescue CYMBELINE, and exeunt. Then
       re-enter LUCIUS, and IACHIMO, with IMOGEN]

CAIUS LUCIUS    Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself;
       For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such
       As war were hoodwink'd.

IACHIMO 'Tis their fresh supplies.

CAIUS LUCIUS    It is a day turn'd strangely: or betimes
       Let's reinforce, or fly.

       [Exeunt]




       CYMBELINE


ACT V



SCENE III       Another part of the field.


       [Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and a British Lord]

Lord    Camest thou from where they made the stand?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      I did.
       Though you, it seems, come from the fliers.

Lord    I did.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost,
       But that the heavens fought: the king himself
       Of his wings destitute, the army broken,
       And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying
       Through a straight lane; the enemy full-hearted,
       Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having work
       More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down
       Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling
       Merely through fear; that the straight pass was damm'd
       With dead men hurt behind, and cowards living
       To die with lengthen'd shame.

Lord    Where was this lane?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd with turf;
       Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier,
       An honest one, I warrant; who deserved
       So long a breeding as his white beard came to,
       In doing this for's 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 cased, or shame--
       Made good the passage; cried to those that fled,
       'Our Britain s harts die 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,
       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 chaser, a retire, anon
       A rout, confusion thick; forthwith they fly
       Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles; slaves,
       The strides they victors made: and now our cowards,
       Like fragments in hard voyages, became
       The life o' the need: having found the backdoor open
       Of the unguarded hearts, heavens, how they wound!
       Some slain before; some dying; some their friends
       O'er borne i' the former wave: ten, chased by one,
       Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty:
       Those that would die 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.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Nay, do not wonder at it: you are made
       Rather to wonder at the things you hear
       Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon't,
       And vent it for a mockery? Here is one:
       'Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane,
       Preserved the Britons, was the Romans' bane.'

Lord    Nay, be not angry, sir.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      '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 rhyme.

Lord    Farewell; you're angry.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Still going?

       [Exit Lord]

       This is a lord! O noble misery,
       To be i' the field, and ask 'what news?' of me!
       To-day how many would have given their honours
       To have saved their carcasses! took heel to do't,
       And yet died too! I, in mine own woe charm'd,
       Could not find death where I did hear him groan,
       Nor feel him where he struck: 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 now a favourer to the Briton,
       No more a Briton, I have resumed 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
       Britons 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 British Captains and Soldiers]

First Captain   Great Jupiter be praised! Lucius is taken.
       'Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels.

Second Captain  There was a fourth man, in a silly habit,
       That gave the affront with them.

First Captain   So 'tis reported:
       But none of 'em can be found. Stand! who's there?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      A Roman,
       Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds
       Had answer'd him.

Second Captain                    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.

       [Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS,
       PISANIO, Soldiers, Attendants, and Roman Captives.
       The Captains present POSTHUMUS LEONATUS to
       CYMBELINE, who delivers him over to a Gaoler:
       then exeunt omnes]




       CYMBELINE


ACT V



SCENE IV        A British prison.


       [Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and two Gaolers]

First Gaoler    You shall not now be stol'n, you have locks upon you;
       So graze as you find pasture.

Second Gaoler   Ay, or a stomach.

       [Exeunt Gaolers]

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Most welcome, bondage! for thou art away,
       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 cured
       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 gyves,
       Desired more than constrain'd: to satisfy,
       If of my 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:
       'Tween man and man they weigh not every stamp;
       Though light, 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 bonds. O Imogen!
       I'll speak to thee in silence.

       [Sleeps]

       [Solemn music. Enter, as in an apparition,
       SICILIUS LEONATUS, father to Posthumus Leonatus,
       an old man, attired like a warrior; leading in
       his hand an ancient matron, his wife, and mother
       to Posthumus Leonatus, with music before them:
       then, after other music, follow the two young
       Leonati, brothers to Posthumus Leonatus, with
       wounds as they died in the wars. They circle
       Posthumus Leonatus round, as he lies sleeping]

Sicilius Leonatus       No more, thou thunder-master, show
       Thy spite on mortal flies:
       With Mars fall out, with Juno chide,
       That thy adulteries
       Rates and revenges.
       Hath my poor boy done aught but well,
       Whose face I never saw?
       I died whilst in the womb he stay'd
       Attending nature's law:
       Whose father then, as men report
       Thou orphans' father art,
       Thou shouldst have been, and shielded him
       From this earth-vexing smart.

Mother  Lucina lent not me her aid,
       But took me in my throes;
       That from me was Posthumus ript,
       Came crying 'mongst his foes,
       A thing of pity!

Sicilius Leonatus       Great nature, like his ancestry,
       Moulded the stuff so fair,
       That he deserved the praise o' the world,
       As great Sicilius' heir.

First Brother   When once he was mature for man,
       In Britain where was he
       That could stand up his parallel;
       Or fruitful object be
       In eye of Imogen, that best
       Could deem his dignity?

Mother  With marriage wherefore was he mock'd,
       To be exiled, and thrown
       From Leonati seat, and cast
       From her his dearest one,
       Sweet Imogen?

Sicilius Leonatus       Why did you suffer Iachimo,
       Slight thing of Italy,
       To taint his nobler heart and brain
       With needless jealosy;
       And to become the geck and scorn
       O' th' other's villany?

Second Brother  For this from stiller seats we came,
       Our parents and us twain,
       That striking in our country's cause
       Fell bravely and were slain,
       Our fealty and Tenantius' right
       With honour to maintain.

First Brother   Like hardiment Posthumus hath
       To Cymbeline perform'd:
       Then, Jupiter, thou king of gods,
       Why hast thou thus adjourn'd
       The graces for his merits due,
       Being all to dolours turn'd?

Sicilius Leonatus       Thy crystal window ope; look out;
       No longer exercise
       Upon a valiant race thy harsh
       And potent injuries.

Mother  Since, Jupiter, our son is good,
       Take off his miseries.

Sicilius Leonatus       Peep through thy marble mansion; help;
       Or we poor ghosts will cry
       To the shining synod of the rest
       Against thy deity.


First Brother   |   Help, Jupiter; or we appeal,
       |   And from thy justice fly.
Second Brother  |


       [Jupiter descends in thunder and lightning, sitting
       upon an eagle: he throws a thunderbolt. The
       Apparitions fall on their knees]

Jupiter No more, you petty spirits of region low,
       Offend our hearing; hush! How dare you ghosts
       Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt, you know,
       Sky-planted batters all rebelling coasts?
       Poor shadows of Elysium, hence, and rest
       Upon your never-withering banks of flowers:
       Be not with mortal accidents opprest;
       No care of yours it is; you know 'tis ours.
       Whom best I love I cross; to make my gift,
       The more delay'd, delighted. Be content;
       Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift:
       His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent.
       Our Jovial star reign'd at his birth, and in
       Our temple was he married. Rise, and fade.
       He shall be lord of lady Imogen,
       And happier much by his affliction made.
       This tablet lay upon his breast, wherein
       Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine:
       and so, away: no further with your din
       Express impatience, lest you stir up mine.
       Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline.

       [Ascends]

Sicilius Leonatus       He came in thunder; his celestial breath
       Was sulphurous to smell: the holy eagle
       Stoop'd as to foot us: his ascension is
       More sweet than our blest fields: his royal bird
       Prunes the immortal wing and cloys his beak,
       As when his god is pleased.

All     Thanks, Jupiter!

Sicilius Leonatus       The marble pavement closes, he is enter'd
       His radiant root. Away! and, to be blest,
       Let us with care perform his great behest.

       [The Apparitions vanish]

Posthumus Leonatus      [Waking]  Sleep, thou hast been a grandsire, and begot
       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:
       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 fangled 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 embraced by a piece of
       tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be
       lopped 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, or else such stuff as madmen
       Tongue and brain not; either both or nothing;
       Or senseless speaking or a speaking such
       As sense cannot untie. Be what it is,
       The action of my life is like it, which
       I'll keep, if but for sympathy.

       [Re-enter First Gaoler]

First Gaoler    Come, sir, are you ready for death?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Over-roasted rather; ready long ago.

First Gaoler    Hanging is the word, sir: if
       you be ready for that, you are well cooked.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      So, if I prove a good repast to the
       spectators, the dish pays the shot.

First Gaoler    A heavy reckoning 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
       flint for want of meat, depart reeling with too
       much drink; sorry that you have paid too much, and
       sorry that you are paid too much; purse and brain
       both empty; the brain the heavier for being too
       light, the purse too light, being drawn of
       heaviness: 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 acquittance follows.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      I am merrier to die than thou art to live.

First Gaoler    Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the
       tooth-ache: 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.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Yes, indeed do I, fellow.

First Gaoler    Your death has eyes in 's head then; I have not seen
       him so pictured: you must either be directed by
       some that take upon them to know, or do take upon
       yourself that which I am sure you do not know, or
       jump the after inquiry on your own peril: and how
       you shall speed in your journey's end, I think you'll
       never return to tell one.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to
       direct them the way I am going, but such as wink and
       will not use them.

First Gaoler    What an infinite mock is this, that a man should
       have the best use of eyes to see the way of
       blindness! I am sure hanging's the way of winking.

       [Enter a Messenger]

Messenger       Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the king.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Thou bring'st good news; I am called to be made free.

First Gaoler    I'll be hang'd then.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; no bolts for the dead.

       [Exeunt POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and Messenger]

First Gaoler    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 die 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 gaolers and
       gallowses! I speak against my present profit, but
       my wish hath a preferment in 't.

       [Exeunt]




       CYMBELINE


ACT V



SCENE V Cymbeline's tent.


       [Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS,
       PISANIO, Lords, Officers, and Attendants]

CYMBELINE       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,
       Whose rags shamed gilded arms, whose naked breast
       Stepp'd before larges of proof, cannot be found:
       He shall be happy that can find him, if
       Our grace can make him so.

BELARIUS        I never saw
       Such noble fury in so poor a thing;
       Such precious deeds in one that promises nought
       But beggary and poor looks.

CYMBELINE       No tidings of him?

PISANIO He hath been search'd among the dead and living,
       But no trace of him.

CYMBELINE       To my grief, I am
       The heir of his reward;

       [To BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS]

                   which I will add
       To you, the liver, heart and brain of Britain,
       By whom I grant she lives. 'Tis now the time
       To ask of whence you are. Report it.

BELARIUS        Sir,
       In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen:
       Further to boast were neither true nor modest,
       Unless I add, we are honest.

CYMBELINE       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.

CORNELIUS       Hail, great king!
       To sour your happiness, I must report
       The queen is dead.

CYMBELINE       Who worse than a physician
       Would this report become? But I consider,
       By medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death
       Will seize the doctor too. How ended she?

CORNELIUS       With horror, 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.

CYMBELINE       Prithee, say.

CORNELIUS       First, she confess'd she never loved you, only
       Affected greatness got by you, not you:
       Married your royalty, was wife to your place;
       Abhorr'd your person.

CYMBELINE       She alone knew this;
       And, but she spoke it dying, I would not
       Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.

CORNELIUS       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.

CYMBELINE       O most delicate fiend!
       Who is 't can read a woman? Is there more?

CORNELIUS       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 lingering
       By inches waste you: in which time she purposed,
       By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to
       O'ercome you with her show, and in time,
       When she had fitted you with her craft, to work
       Her son into the adoption of the crown:
       But, failing of her end by his strange absence,
       Grew shameless-desperate; open'd, in despite
       Of heaven and men, her purposes; repented
       The evils she hatch'd were not effected; so
       Despairing died.

CYMBELINE                         Heard you all this, her women?

First Lady      We did, so please your highness.

CYMBELINE       Mine eyes
       Were not in fault, for she was beautiful;
       Mine ears, that heard 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 mayst say,
       And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all!

       [Enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, the Soothsayer, and other
       Roman Prisoners, guarded; POSTHUMUS LEONATUS
       behind, and IMOGEN]

       Thou comest not, Caius, now for tribute that
       The Britons have razed out, though with the loss
       Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have made suit
       That their good souls may be appeased with slaughter
       Of you their captives, which ourself have granted:
       So think of your estate.

CAIUS LUCIUS    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
       For my peculiar care. This one thing only
       I will entreat; my boy, a Briton 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 make bold your highness
       Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm,
       Though he have served a Roman: save him, sir,
       And spare no blood beside.

CYMBELINE       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, wherefore,
       To say '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.

IMOGEN                    I humbly thank your highness.

CAIUS LUCIUS    I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad;
       And yet I know thou wilt.

IMOGEN  No, no: alack,
       There's other work in hand: I see a thing
       Bitter to me as death: your life, good master,
       Must shuffle for itself.

CAIUS LUCIUS    The boy disdains me,
       He leaves me, scorns me: briefly die their joys
       That place them on the truth of girls and boys.
       Why stands he so perplex'd?

CYMBELINE       What wouldst thou, boy?
       I love thee more and more: think more and more
       What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st on? speak,
       Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend?

IMOGEN  He is a Roman; no more kin to me
       Than I to your highness; who, being born your vassal,
       Am something nearer.

CYMBELINE       Wherefore eyest him so?

IMOGEN  I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please
       To give me hearing.

CYMBELINE       Ay, with all my heart,
       And lend my best attention. What's thy name?

IMOGEN  Fidele, sir.

CYMBELINE                         Thou'rt my good youth, my page;
       I'll be thy master: walk with me; speak freely.

       [CYMBELINE and IMOGEN converse apart]

BELARIUS        Is not this boy revived from death?

ARVIRAGUS       One sand another
       Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad
       Who died, and was Fidele. What think you?

GUIDERIUS       The same dead thing alive.

BELARIUS        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.

GUIDERIUS       But we saw him dead.

BELARIUS        Be silent; let's see further.

PISANIO [Aside] It is my mistress:
       Since she is living, let the time run on
       To good or bad.

       [CYMBELINE and IMOGEN come forward]

CYMBELINE                         Come, stand thou by our side;
       Make thy demand aloud.

       [To IACHIMO]
                 Sir, step you forth;
       Give answer to this boy, and do it freely;
       Or, by our greatness and the grace of it,
       Which is our honour, bitter torture shall
       Winnow the truth from falsehood. On, speak to him.

IMOGEN  My boon is, that this gentleman may render
       Of whom he had this ring.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      [Aside]                 What's that to him?

CYMBELINE       That diamond upon your finger, say
       How came it yours?

IACHIMO Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that
       Which, to be spoke, would torture thee.

CYMBELINE       How! me?

IACHIMO 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 didst banish; and--which more may
       grieve thee,
       As it doth me--a nobler sir ne'er lived
       'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord?

CYMBELINE       All that belongs to this.

IACHIMO That paragon, thy daughter,--
       For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits
       Quail to remember--Give me leave; I faint.

CYMBELINE       My daughter! what of her? Renew thy strength:
       I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will
       Than die ere I hear more: strive, man, and speak.

IACHIMO Upon a time,--unhappy was the clock
       That struck the hour!--it was in Rome,--accursed
       The mansion where!--'twas at a feast,--O, would
       Our viands had been poison'd, or at least
       Those which I heaved 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
       Amongst the rarest of good ones,--sitting sadly,
       Hearing us praise our loves of Italy
       For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast
       Of him that best could speak, for feature, laming
       The shrine of Venus, or straight-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--

CYMBELINE       I stand on fire:
       Come to the matter.

IACHIMO All too soon I shall,
       Unless thou wouldst 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 praised,--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 crack'd of kitchen-trolls, or his description
       Proved us unspeaking sots.

CYMBELINE       Nay, nay, to the purpose.

IACHIMO 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 him
       Pieces of gold 'gainst this which then he wore
       Upon his honour'd finger, to attain
       In suit the place of's 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 Phoebus' wheel, and might so safely, had it
       Been all the worth of's car. Away to Britain
       Post I in this design: well may you, sir,
       Remember me at court; where I was taught
       Of your chaste 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 practise so prevail'd,
       That I return'd with simular proof enough
       To make the noble Leonatus mad,
       By wounding his belief in her renown
       With tokens thus, and thus; averting notes
       Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet,--
       O cunning, how I got it!--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--

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      [Advancing]             Ay, so thou dost,
       Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool,
       Egregious murderer, 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 lie--
       That caused a lesser villain than myself,
       A sacrilegious thief, to do't: the temple
       Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself.
       Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set
       The dogs o' the street to bay me: every villain
       Be call'd Posthumus Leonitus; and
       Be villany less than 'twas! O Imogen!
       My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,
       Imogen, Imogen!

IMOGEN                    Peace, my lord; hear, hear--

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful page,
       There lie thy part.

       [Striking her: she falls]

PISANIO O, gentlemen, help!
       Mine and your mistress! O, my lord Posthumus!
       You ne'er kill'd Imogen til now. Help, help!
       Mine honour'd lady!

CYMBELINE       Does the world go round?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      How come these staggers on me?

PISANIO Wake, my mistress!

CYMBELINE       If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me
       To death with mortal joy.

PISANIO How fares thy mistress?

IMOGEN  O, get thee from my sight;
       Thou gavest me poison: dangerous fellow, hence!
       Breathe not where princes are.

CYMBELINE       The tune of Imogen!

PISANIO Lady,
       The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if
       That box I gave you was not thought by me
       A precious thing: I had it from the queen.

CYMBELINE       New matter still?

IMOGEN                    It poison'd me.

CORNELIUS       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
       Which I gave him for cordial, she is served
       As I would serve a rat.'

CYMBELINE       What's this, Comelius?

CORNELIUS       The queen, sir, very oft importuned 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
       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?

IMOGEN  Most like I did, for I was dead.

BELARIUS        My boys,
       There was our error.

GUIDERIUS       This is, sure, Fidele.

IMOGEN  Why did you throw your wedded lady from you?
       Think that you are upon a rock; and now
       Throw me again.

       [Embracing him]

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Hang there like a fruit, my soul,
       Till the tree die!

CYMBELINE                         How now, my flesh, my child!
       What, makest thou me a dullard in this act?
       Wilt thou not speak to me?

IMOGEN  [Kneeling]               Your blessing, sir.

BELARIUS        [To GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS]  Though you did love
       this youth, I blame ye not:
       You had a motive for't.

CYMBELINE       My tears that fall
       Prove holy water on thee! Imogen,
       Thy mother's dead.

IMOGEN  I am sorry for't, my lord.

CYMBELINE       O, she was nought; and long of her it was
       That we meet here so strangely: but her son
       Is gone, we know not how nor where.

PISANIO 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,
       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 enforced from me, away he posts
       With unchaste purpose and with oath to violate
       My lady's honour: what became of him
       I further know not.

GUIDERIUS       Let me end the story:
       I slew him there.

CYMBELINE       Marry, the gods forfend!
       I would not thy good deeds should from my lips
       Pluck a bard sentence: prithee, valiant youth,
       Deny't again.

GUIDERIUS                         I have spoke it, and I did it.

CYMBELINE       He was a prince.

GUIDERIUS       A most incivil 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.

CYMBELINE       I am sorry for thee:
       By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must
       Endure our law: thou'rt dead.

IMOGEN  That headless man
       I thought had been my lord.

CYMBELINE       Bind the offender,
       And take him from our presence.

BELARIUS        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.

       [To the Guard]

       Let his arms alone;
       They were not born for bondage.

CYMBELINE       Why, old soldier,
       Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for,
       By tasting of our wrath? How of descent
       As good as we?

ARVIRAGUS                         In that he spake too far.

CYMBELINE       And thou shalt die for't.

BELARIUS        We will die all three:
       But I will prove that two on's 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.

ARVIRAGUS       Your danger's ours.

GUIDERIUS       And our good his.

BELARIUS                          Have at it then, by leave.
       Thou hadst, great king, a subject who
       Was call'd Belarius.

CYMBELINE       What of him? he is
       A banish'd traitor.

BELARIUS        He it is that hath
       Assumed this age; indeed a banish'd man;
       I know not how a traitor.

CYMBELINE       Take him hence:
       The whole world shall not save him.

BELARIUS        Not too hot:
       First pay me for the nursing of thy sons;
       And let it be confiscate all, so soon
       As I have received it.

CYMBELINE       Nursing of my sons!

BELARIUS        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.

CYMBELINE       How! my issue!

BELARIUS        So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan,
       Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd:
       Your pleasure was my mere 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; my breeding was, sir, as
       Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile,
       Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children
       Upon my banishment: I moved her to't,
       Having received 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 shaped
       Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir,
       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.

CYMBELINE       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.

BELARIUS        Be pleased awhile.
       This gentleman, whom I call Polydore,
       Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius:
       This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus,
       Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lapp'd
       In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand
       Of his queen mother, which for more probation
       I can with ease produce.

CYMBELINE       Guiderius had
       Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star;
       It was a mark of wonder.

BELARIUS        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.

CYMBELINE       O, what, am I
       A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother
       Rejoiced deliverance more. Blest pray you be,
       That, after this strange starting from your orbs,
       may reign in them now! O Imogen,
       Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.

IMOGEN  No, my lord;
       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,
       When ye were so indeed.

CYMBELINE       Did you e'er meet?

ARVIRAGUS       Ay, my good lord.

GUIDERIUS                         And at first meeting loved;
       Continued so, until we thought he died.

CORNELIUS       By the queen's dram she swallow'd.

CYMBELINE       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 lived You?
       And when came you to serve our Roman captive?
       How parted with your brothers? how first met them?
       Why fled you from the court? and whither? These,
       And your three motives to the battle, with
       I know not how much more, should be demanded;
       And all the other by-dependencies,
       From chance to chance: but nor the time nor place
       Will serve our long inter'gatories. See,
       Posthumus anchors upon Imogen,
       And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye
       On him, her brother, me, her master, hitting
       Each object with a joy: the counterchange
       Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground,
       And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.

       [To BELARIUS]

       Thou art my brother; so we'll hold thee ever.

IMOGEN  You are my father too, and did relieve me,
       To see this gracious season.

CYMBELINE       All o'erjoy'd,
       Save these in bonds: let them be joyful too,
       For they shall taste our comfort.

IMOGEN  My good master,
       I will yet do you service.

CAIUS LUCIUS    Happy be you!

CYMBELINE       The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought,
       He would have well becomed this place, and graced
       The thankings of a king.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      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, Iachimo: I had you down and might
       Have made you finish.

IACHIMO [Kneeling]          I am down again:
       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 first;
       And here the bracelet of the truest princess
       That ever swore her faith.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      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.

CYMBELINE       Nobly doom'd!
       We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law;
       Pardon's the word to all.

ARVIRAGUS       You holp us, sir,
       As you did mean indeed to be our brother;
       Joy'd are we that you are.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS      Your servant, princes. Good my lord of Rome,
       Call forth your soothsayer: as I slept, methought
       Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back'd,
       Appear'd to me, with other spritely shows
       Of mine own kindred: when I waked, I found
       This label on my bosom; whose containing
       Is so from sense in hardness, that I can
       Make no collection of it: let him show
       His skill in the construction.

CAIUS LUCIUS    Philarmonus!

Soothsayer      Here, my good lord.

CAIUS LUCIUS    Read, and declare the meaning.

Soothsayer      [Reads]  'When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself
       unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a
       piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar
       shall be lopped 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 lion's whelp;
       The fit and apt construction of thy name,
       Being Leonatus, doth import so much.

       [To CYMBELINE]

       The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter,
       Which we call 'mollis aer;' and 'mollis aer'
       We term it 'mulier:' which 'mulier' I divine
       Is this most constant wife; who, even now,
       Answering the letter of the oracle,
       Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about
       With this most tender air.

CYMBELINE       This hath some seeming.

Soothsayer      The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline,
       Personates thee: and thy lopp'd branches point
       Thy two sons forth; who, by Belarius stol'n,
       For many years thought dead, are now revived,
       To the majestic cedar join'd, whose issue
       Promises Britain peace and plenty.

CYMBELINE       Well
       My peace we will begin. And, Caius Lucius,
       Although the victor, we submit to Caesar,
       And to the Roman empire; promising
       To pay our wonted tribute, from the which
       We were dissuaded by our wicked queen;
       Whom heavens, in justice, both on her and hers,
       Have laid most heavy hand.

Soothsayer      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 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 foreshow'd our princely eagle,
       The imperial Caesar, should again unite
       His favour with the radiant Cymbeline,
       Which shines here in the west.

CYMBELINE       Laud we the gods;
       And let our crooked smokes 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.

       [Exeunt]