Once more let me behold it. Is it that
Which I left with her?
Iach.
Sir, (I thank her) that:
She stripp'd it from her arm; I see her yet;
Her pretty action did outsell her gift,
And yet enrich'd it too. She gave it me,
And said, she priz'd it once.
Post. 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.
Quite besides
The government of patience!-You have won :
May be, she pluck'd it off, Let's follow him, and pervert the present wrath
He hath against himself.
Iach.
Iach.
She writes so to you, doth she?
Post. O! no, no, no; 'tis true. Here, take this too;
[Giving 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 !
Phi.
Have patience, sir,
And take your ring again; 'tis not yet won:
It may be probable she lost it; or,
Who knows, if one, her women, being corrupted,
Hath stolen it from her?
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.
Iach. By Jupiter, I had it from her arm.
Post. Hark you, he swears; by Jupiter he swears.
'Tis true;—nay, keep the ring-'tis true. I am sure,
She would not lose it: her attendants are
All sworn, and honourable :-they induc'd to steal it!
And by a stranger!—No, he hath enjoy'd her:
The cognizance of her incontinency
Is this she hath bought the name of whore thus
dearly.-
There, take thy hire; and all the fiends of hell
Divide themselves between you!
This is not strong enough to be believ'd
Of one persuaded well of.
She hath been colted by him.
Iach.
For farther 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
With all my heart. [Exeunt.
SCENE V.-The Same. Another Room in the Same.
Enter POSTHUMUS.
Post. 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 stamped; some coiner with his tools
Made me a counterfeit: yet my mother seemed
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,-was't not?—
Or less,―at first; perchance he spoke not, but,
Like a full-acorn'd boar, a foaming one,
Cry'd "oh!" and mounted; found no opposition
But what he look'd for should oppose, and she
Should from encounter guard. Could I find out
The woman's part in me! For there's no motion
That tends to vice in man, but I affirm
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 longings, slanders, mutability,
All faults that may be nam'd; 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.
SCENE I.-Britain. A Room of State in CYм-
BELINE'S Palace.
Enter CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN, and Lords, at
one Door; at another, CAIUS LUCIUS and Attendants.
Cym. Now say, what would Augustus Cæsar with us?
Ere such another Julius. Britain is
A world by itself; and we will nothing pay, For wearing our own noses.
That opportunity,
Which then they had to take from us, to resume
We have again.—Remember, sir, my liege,
The kings your ancestors, together with
The natural bravery of your isle; which stands
As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in
With rocks unscaleable, and roaring waters;
With sands, that will not bear your enemies' boats,
But suck them up to the top-mast. A kind of conquest
Cæsar made here; but made not here his brag
Of "came," and "saw," and "overcame:" with shame
(The first that ever touch'd him) he was carried
From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping,
(Poor ignorant baubles!) on our terrible seas,
Like egg-shells mov'd upon their surges, crack'd
As easily 'gainst our rocks. For joy whereof
The fam'd Cassibelan, who was once at point
(0, giglot fortune!) to master Cæsar's sword,
Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright,
And Britons strut with courage.
Clo. 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 more such Cæsars: other of them may have crooked noses; but, to owe such straight arms, none.
Cym. Son, let your mother end.
Clo. We have yet many among us can gripe as hard as Cassibelan: I do not say, I am one; but I have a hand. Why tribute? why should we pay tribute? If Cæsar can hide the sun from us with a blanket, or put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for light; else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now. Cym. You must know,
Till the injurious Romans did extort
This tribute from us, we were free: Cæsar's ambition,
(Which swell'd so much, that it did almost stretch
The sides o' the world) against all colour, here
Did put the yoke upon us; which to shake off,
Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon
Ourselves to be.
Say, then, to Cæsar,
Our ancestor was that Mulmutius, which
Ordain'd our laws; whose use the sword of Cæsar
Hath too much mangled; whose repair, and franchise,
Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed,
Though Rome be therefore angry. Mulmutius made
our laws,
Who was the first of Britain which did put
His brows within a golden crown, and call'd
Himself a king.
Luc.
I am sorry, Cymbeline,
That I am to pronounce Augustus Cæsar
(Cæsar, that hath more kings his servants, than
Thyself domestic officers) thine enemy.
Receive it from me, then.-War, and confusion,
In Cæsar's name pronounce I 'gainst thee: look
For fury not to be resisted. Thus defied,
I thank thee for myself.
Cym.
Thy Cæsar knighted me; my youth I spent
Much under him; of him I gather'd honour;
Which he, to seek of me again, perforce,
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 Cæsar shall not find them.
Luc.
Thou art welcome, Caius.
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Pis. How! of adultery? Wherefore write you not
What monsters her accuse ?-Leonatus !
O, master! what a strange infection
Is fallen 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? "Do't. The letter
[Reading.
That I have sent her, by her own command
Shall give thee opportunity:"-O damn'd paper!
Black as the ink that's on thee. Senseless bauble,
Art thou a feodary for this act, and look'st
So virgin-like without? Lo! here she comes.
Enter IMOGEN.
I am ignorant in what I am commanded.
Imo. How now, Pisanio!
Pis. Madam, here is a letter from my lord.
Imo. Who? thy lord? that is my lord: Leonatus.
O! learn'd indeed were that astronomer,
That knew the stars, as I his characters;
He'd lay the future open.-You good gods,
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 medicinable; that is one of them,
For it doth physic love;-of his content,
All but in that!-Good wax, thy leave.-Bless'd 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!
"Justice, and your father's wrath, should he take me in his dominion, could not be so cruel to me, as you,
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,-
O, let me 'bate!-but not like me;-yet long'st,-
But in a fainter kind:-O! not like me,
For mine's beyond beyond) say, and speak thick,
(Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing,
To the smothering of the sense) how far it is
To this same blessed Milford: and, by the way,
Tell me how Wales was made so happy, as
T' 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. Pr'ythee, speak,
How many score of miles may we well ride
"Twixt hour and hour?
Pis.
One score 'twixt sun and sun,
Madam, 's enough for you, and too much, too.
Imo. Why, one that rode to '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 clocks by half.-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.
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SCENE III.-Wales. A mountainous Country, with a Cave.
Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.
Bel. A goodly day not to keep house, with such Whose roof's as low as ours. Stoop, boys: this gate Instructs you how t' 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 turbands on, without Good morrow to the sun.-Hail, thou fair heaven! We house i' the rock, yet use thee not so hardly As prouder livers do.
And often, to our comfort, shall we find
The sharded beetle in a safer hold
Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O! this life
Is nobler, than attending for a check;
Richer, than doing nothing for a bob;
Prouder, than rustling in unpaid-for silk:
Such gain the cap of him, that makes him fine,
Yet keeps his book uncross'd. No life to ours.
Gui. Out of your proof you speak: we, poor un-
fledg'd,
Have never wing'd from view o' the nest; nor know
What air's from home. Haply this life is best,
If quiet life be best; sweeter to you,
That have a sharper known, well corresponding
With your
stiff age; but unto us it is
A cell of ignorance, travelling abed,
A prison for a debtor, that not dares
To stride a limit.
Arv.
What should we speak of,
When we are old as you? when we shall hear
The 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.
Bel.
How you speak!
Did you but know the city's usuries,
And felt them knowingly: the art o' the court,
As hard to leave, as keep; whose top to climb
Is certain falling, or so slippery, that
The fear's as bad as falling: the toil of 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 lov'd me;
And when a soldier was the theme, my name
Was not far off: then, was I as a tree,
Whose boughs did bend with fruit; but, in one night,
A storm, or robbery, call it what you will,
Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves,
And left me bare to weather.
Uncertain favour! Bel. My fault being nothing (as I have told you oft) But that two villains, whose false oaths prevail'd Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline,
I was confederate with the Romans: so,
Follow'd my banishment; and this twenty years
This rock, and these demesnes, have been my world;
Where I have liv'd at honest freedom, paid
More pious debts to heaven, than in all
The fore-end of my time.-But, up to the mountains!
This is not hunter's language. He that strikes
The venison first shall be the lord o' the feast;
To him the other two shall minister,
Bel. Now, for our mountain sport. hill: Your legs are young; I'll tread these flats. 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, In place of greater state. I'll meet you in the valleys.
Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war: That 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 we will fear no poison, which attends
[Exeunt GUI. and ARV. How hard it is, to hide the sparks of nature! These boys know little, they are sons to the king; Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive.
They think, they are mine: and, though train'd up thus
meanly
I' the cave 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, whom
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 vigour,
Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more
His own conceiving. Hark! the game is rous'd.-
[Horns wind.
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. [Horn.]-The game is
[Exit.
SCENE IV.-Near Milford-Haven.
Enter PISANIO and IMOGEN.
Imo. Thou told'st me, when we came from horse,
the place
Was near at hand.-Ne'er long'd my mother so
To see me 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 th' inward of thee? One, but painted thus,
Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd
Beyond self-explication: put thyself
Into a haviour of less fear, ere wildness
Vanquish my staider senses. What's the matter?
Why tender'st thou that paper to me, with
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?
Imo. 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 his bed,
Is it?
Imo. 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,
Who smothers her with 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.
Good madam, hear me.
Imo. True honest men being heard, like false .Eneas,
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 perjur'd,
From thy great fail.-Come, fellow, be thou honest:
Do thou thy master's bidding. When thou seest him,
A little witness my obedience: look!
I draw the sword myself: take it; and hit
The innocent mansion of my love, my heart.
Fear not; 'tis empty of all things, but grief:
Thy master is not there, who was, indeed,
The riches of it. Do his bidding; strike.
Thou may'st be valiant in a better cause,
But now thou seem'st a coward.
Thou shalt not damn my hand.
Why, I must die;
And if I do not by thy hand, thou art
[Pis. offers a Letter. No servant of thy master's. Against self-slaughter
There is a prohibition so divine,
A look untender? If it 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.
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
Please you, read; [Giving it. 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.
Pis.
And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing
The most disdain'd of fortune.
Imo. [Reads.] "Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the strumpet in my bed; the testimonies whereof lie 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 pander to her dishonour, and equally to me disloyal." Pis. What shall I need to draw my sword? the paper Hath cut her throat already.-No; 'tis slander, Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath
And thou, Posthumus, that didst set up
My disobedience 'gainst the king my father,
And make me put into contempt the suits
Of princely followers, shalt hereafter find
It is no act of common passage, but
A strain of rareness: and I grieve myself,
To think, when thou shalt be disedg'd by her
That now thou tir'st on, how thy memory
Will then be pang'd by me.-Pr'ythee, despatch:
The lamb entreats the butcher: where's thy knife?
Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding,
When I desire it too.
Pis.
O gracious lady!
Since I receiv'd command to do this business,
I have not slept one wink. Imo.
Command into obedience; fear, and niceness, (The handmaids of all women, or more truly, Woman it pretty self) into a waggish carriage: And wherefore, then, Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy, and
Do't, and to bed, then.
Pis. I'll crack mine eye-balls first.
Imo.
Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abus'd
So many miles with a pretence? this place?
Mine action, and thine own? our horses' labour?
The time inviting thee? the perturb'd court,
For my being absent; whereunto I never
Purpose return? Why hast thou gone so far,
To be unbent, when thou hast ta'en thy stand,
Th' elected deer before thee?
Pis.
But to win time,
To lose so bad employment; in the which
I have consider'd of a course. Good lady,
Hear me with patience.
Imo.
Talk thy tongue weary; speak:
I have heard I am a strumpet, and mine ear,
Therein false struck, can take no greater wound,
Nor tent to bottom that. But speak.
Pis.
I thought you would not back again.
Imo.
Bringing me here to kill me.
I'll give but notice you are dead, and send him
Some bloody sign of it; for 'tis commanded
I should do so: you shall be miss'd at court,
And that will well confirm it.
Imo.
Why, good fellow,
What shall I do the while? where bide? how live?
Or in my life what comfort, when I am
Dead to my husband?
Pis. If you'll back to the court, Imo. No court, no father; nor no more ado With that harsh, noble, simple, empty nothing, That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me As fearful as a siege.
If not at court, Then not in Britain must you bide.
Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night,
Are they not but in Britain? I' the world's volume
Our Britain seems as of it, but not in it;
In a great pool, a swan's nest: pr'ythee, think
There's livers out of Britain.
Pis.
I am most glad
You think of other place. Th' 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, t' appear itself, must not yet be,
But by self-danger, you should tread a course
Privy, yet full of view: yea, haply, near
The residence of Posthumus; so nigh, at least,
That though his actions were not visible, yet
Report should render him hourly to your ear,
As truly as he moves.
Imo.
O, for such means!
Though peril to my modesty, not death on't,
I would adventure.
Well then, here's the point. You must forget to be a woman; change
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.
Nay, be brief: I see into thy end, and am almost A man already.
First, make yourself but like one. Forethinking this, I have already fit ('Tis in my cloak-bag) doublet, hat, hose, all That answer to them: would you, in their serving, And with what imitation you can borrow From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius Present yourself, desire his service, tell him Wherein you are happy, (which you will 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.
The gods will diet me with.
Thou art all the comfort
Pr'ythee, away:
There's more to be consider'd, but we'll even
All that good time will give us.
This attempt
I'm soldier to, and will abide it with
A prince's courage. Away, I pr'ythee.
Pis. Well, madam, we must take a short farewell, Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of
Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress,
Here is a box; I had it from the queen:
What's in't is precious; if you are sick at sea,
Or stomach-qualm'd at land, a dram of this
Will drive away distemper.-To some shade,
And fit you to your manhood.-May the gods
Direct you to the best!
Imo.
Amen. I thank thee. [Exeunt.
SCENE V.-A Room in CYMBELINE's Palace.
Enter CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN, LUCIUS, and Lords.
Cym. Thus far; and so farewell.
Luc.
Thanks, royal sir. My emperor hath wrote, I must from hence; And am right sorry that I must report ye My master's enemy.
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