Cymbeline

FIRST LORD

You do not meet a man but frowns!

SECOND LORD

But what’s the matter?

FIRST LORD

The King’s daughter, heir of his 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; and all
Is outward sorrow, though I think the King
Be touch’d at very heart.

SECOND LORD

None but the King?

FIRST LORD

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 looks, hath a heart that is not
Glad at the thing they scowl at.

SECOND LORD

And why so?

FIRST LORD

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 – I do not think
So fair an outward and such stuff within
Endows a man but he.

SECOND LORD

You speak him far.
What’s his name and birth?

FIRST LORD

I cannot delve him to the root: his father
Died with his sword in hand i’the wars o’ the time:
For which his wife, big of our theme, deceased
As he was born. The King he takes the babe
To his protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus,
Puts to him all his learnings, which he took,
And in’s spring became a harvest.
To his mistress, for whom he now is banish’d,
By her election may be truly read
What kind of man he is.

SECOND LORD

I honour him
Even out of your report. But, pray you, tell me,
Is she sole child to th’ King?

FIRST LORD

His only child.
He had two more: 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 LORD

How long is this ago?

FIRST LORD

Some twenty years.

SECOND LORD

That a King’s children should be so convey’d,
So slackly guarded, and the search so slow,
That could not trace them!

FIRST LORD

We must forbear: here comes the Gentleman,
The Queen, and Princess.

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’ll be your advocate.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

So 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.

INNOGEN

O Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant
Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband,
I something fear my father’s wrath, but nothing 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,
Known to me but by letter: thither write,
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…

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

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

INNOGEN

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 Innogen is dead.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

How, how! another?
You gentle gods, give me but this I have.
Putting on the ring
And, sweetest, fairest, for my sake wear this:
It is a manacle of love; I’ll place it
Upon this fairest prisoner.

INNOGEN

O the gods!
When shall we see again?

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.

INNOGEN

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.

INNOGEN

I beseech you, sir,
Harm not yourself with your vexation
I am senseless of your wrath;

CYMBELINE

Past grace? obedience?

INNOGEN

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

CYMBELINE

That mightst have had the sole son of my Queen!

INNOGEN

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.

INNOGEN

No; I rather added
A lustre to it.

CYMBELINE

O thou vile one!

INNOGEN

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

Thou foolish thing;
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 –

CYMBELINE

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

QUEEN

Fie, you must give way.
Here is your companion. How now, sir! What news?

PISANIO

My Queen, your son drew on my master.

QUEEN

Ha?
No harm, I trust, is done?

PISANIO

There might have been,
But that Posthumus rather play’d than fought.

INNOGEN

To draw upon an exile, O brave sir!
Pisanio, Why came you from Posthumus?

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
She will remain so.

PISANIO

I humbly thank your highness.

QUEEN

Pray, walk awhile.

INNOGEN

What was the last thing that he spake to thee?

PISANIO

It was his queen, his queen!

INNOGEN

Then waved his handkerchief?

PISANIO

And kiss’d it, madam.

INNOGEN

Senseless Linen! happier therein than I!
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, comes in my father…
Good Pisanio, when shall we hear from him?

PISANIO

Be assured, madam, with his next vantage.

QUEEN

Innogen!

INNOGEN

You shall at least go see my lord aboard:
I will attend the queen.

PISANIO

Madam, I shall.

Exit

FIRST LORD

Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the violence of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice:

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…

CLOTEN

The villain would not stand me.

SECOND LORD

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

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!

FIRST LORD

Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain go not together:

CLOTEN

Come, I’ll to my chamber. Would there had been some hurt done! You’ll go with us?

FIRST LORD

I’ll attend your lordship.

SECOND LORD

Well, my 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 Innogen, what thou endurest…

Exit

IACHIMO

Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Britain: but I could then have looked on him without the help of Admiration–

PHILARIO

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

IACHIMO

This matter of marrying his King’s daughter, wherein he must be weighed rather by her value than his own –

FRENCHMAN

And then his banishment.

IACHIMO

Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this lamentable divorce under her colours...
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:
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:

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

By your pardon, sir, I was then a young traveller;

FRENCHMAN

’Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords, upon importance of so slight a nature.

IACHIMO

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

FRENCHMAN

Safely, I think: ’twas a contention in public.
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.

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: 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: 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. 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, I pray you –

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

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:

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 –

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

Agreed.

FRENCHMAN

Will this hold, think you?

PHILARIO

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

Exit

QUEEN

Whiles yet the dew’s on ground, gather these flowers;
Dispatch.
Now, Master Doctor, have you brought those drugs?

CORNELIUS

Pleaseth your highness, ay: here they are, madam:
But I beseech your Grace, without offence,--
My conscience bids me ask--wherefore you have
Commanded of me those most poisonous compounds…

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 their vigour, and so by them gather
Their several virtues and effects.

CORNELIUS

Your highness
Shall from this practise but make hard your heart –

QUEEN

O, content thee.
[Aside] Here comes a flattering rascal; upon her
Will I first work. How now, Pisanio!
Doctor, your service for this time is ended;

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.

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. What shalt thou expect,
To be depender on a thing that leans? –
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 prithee, 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.
I’ll move the King
To any shape of thy preferment such
As thou’lt desire;
Think on my words.
[Aside] A sly and constant knave,
Not to be shaked; I have given her that
Which, if she take, shall quite unpeople Innogen
Of liegers for her sweet, and which she after,
Except she bend her humour, shall be assured
To taste of too.
Fare thee well, Pisanio;
Think on my words.

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

INNOGEN

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! Had I been thief-stol’n,
As my two siblings, 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!

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.

INNOGEN

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!

INNOGEN

[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.
[To self] What, are men mad? Hath nature given them eyes
To see … and can we not
Partition make with spectacles so precious
’Twixt fair and foul?

INNOGEN

What is the matter? Dear sir, Are you well?

IACHIMO

Thanks, madam; well.
[To PISANIO] Beseech you, friend, desire
My man’s abode where I did leave him: he
Is strange and peevish.

PISANIO

I was going, sir,
To give him welcome.

INNOGEN

Continues well my lord? His health, beseech you?

IACHIMO

Well, madam.

INNOGEN

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.

INNOGEN

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
What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose
But must be, will his free hours languish for
Assured bondage?’

INNOGEN

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.

INNOGEN

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.

INNOGEN

What do you pity, sir?

IACHIMO

Two creatures heartily.

INNOGEN

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?

INNOGEN

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.

INNOGEN

You do seem to know
Something of me, or what concerns me: pray you,-
Since doubting things go ill often hurts more
Than to be sure they do– 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--it were fit
That all the plagues of hell should at one time
Encounter such revolt.

INNOGEN

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 my mutest conscience to my tongue
Charms this report out.

INNOGEN

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 such diseased ventures… Be revenged;
Or she that bore you was no queen,

INNOGEN

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.

INNOGEN

What, ho, Pisanio!

IACHIMO

Let me my service tender on your lips.

INNOGEN

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: 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!
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.

INNOGEN

You make amends.

IACHIMO

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.

INNOGEN

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.

INNOGEN

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?

INNOGEN

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.

INNOGEN

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.

INNOGEN

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.

INNOGEN

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

Exit

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.

CLOTEN

When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths, ha?
Whoreson dog! I give him satisfaction? Would he had been one of my rank!

SECOND LORD

[Aside] To have smelt like a fool.

CLOTEN

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.

FIRST LORD

Did you hear of a stranger that’s come to court to-night?

CLOTEN

A stranger, and I not know on’t!

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.
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

Divine Innogen, 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

INNOGEN

What hour is it? Sleep hath seized me wholly
To your protection I commend me, gods.
From fairies and the tempters of the night
Guard me, beseech ye.

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 smoother 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…
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,
Would testify, to enrich mine inventory.
O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her!
Come off, come off:
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? 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.

The scene closes.

CLOTEN

It’s almost morning, is’t not?

FIRST LORD

Yes, my lord.

CLOTEN

I am advised to give her music o’ mornings; they say it will penetrate.
Come on; tune: if you can penetrate her with your fingering, so; we’ll try with tongue too: come on.

SONG

Hark, hark!
Hark, hark! the lark at heaven’s gate sings,
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes:
With every thing that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise:
Arise, arise. My lady sweet, arise.

CLOTEN

So, get you gone. If this penetrate, I will consider your music the better:

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:
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 –

MESSANGER

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;

CLOTEN

If she be up, I’ll speak with her; if not,
Let her lie still and dream.
By your leave, ho!

CLOTEN

Good morrow, fairest: sister, your sweet hand.

INNOGEN

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.

INNOGEN

If you swear still, your recompense is still
That I regard it not.

CLOTEN

This is no answer.

INNOGEN

But that you shall not say I yield being silent,
I would not speak. I pray you, spare me:

CLOTEN

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

INNOGEN

Fools are not mad folks.

CLOTEN

Do you call me fool?

INNOGEN

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 on scraps, it is no contract, none:
And though it be allow’d in meaner parties--
Yet you are curb’d from that enlargement by
The consequence o’ the crown, and must not soil
The precious note of it with squire’s cloth,
A pantler, not so eminent.

INNOGEN

Profane fellow
Wert thou the son of Jupiter and no more
But what thou art besides, thou wert too base
To be his groom: His meanest garment,
That ever hath but clipp’d his body, is dearer
In my respect than all the hairs above thee.
How now, Pisanio!

CLOTEN

’His garment!’ Now the devil–
’His meanest garment!’

INNOGEN

Ay, I said so, sir:

CLOTEN

I will inform your father.

INNOGEN

Your mother too:
She’s my good lady, and will conceive, I hope,
But the worst of me.

CLOTEN

I’ll be revenged:
’His meanest garment!’ Well.

INNOGEN

Go bid my woman
Search for a jewel that too casually
Hath left me: t’was thy master’s: I do think
I saw’t this morning: confident I am
Last night ’twas on mine arm –

PISANIO

’Twill not be lost.

INNOGEN

I hope so: go and search.

Exit

CYMBELINE

Now say, what would Augustus Caesar with us?

CAIUS LUCIUS

When Julius Caesar, whose remembrance yet
Lives in men’s eyes, was here in this Britain
And conquer’d it, Cassibelan, thine uncle,—
Famous in Caesar’s praises —for him, then,
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

[To Cymbeline] Remember, sir, my liege,
The Kings your ancestors, together with
The natural bravery of your isle, which stands
With rocks unscalable. [To Caius Lucius] A kind of conquest
Caesar made here; but made not here his brag
Of ’Came’ and ’saw’ and ’overcame: ’ with shame
From off our coast, twice beaten he was carried–

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 such straight arms?—

CYMBELINE

Son, let your mother end.

CLOTEN

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,
Did put the yoke upon’s; which to shake off
Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon
Ourselves to be. We do, then, say to Caesar,
Though Rome be therefore angry: Mulmutius (our ancestor) 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…
I know your master’s pleasure and he mine:
All the remain is ’Welcome!’

Exit

PHILARIO

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. Our countrymen
Are men more order’d than when Julius Caesar
Smiled at their lack of skill…

PHILARIO

See Iachimo.
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;

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

[Reading Innogen’s letter] 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,
And that, your ring.

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.

IACHIMO

I will confirm with oath my circumstances;
If you’ll give leave?

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 tapestry of silk and silver; the story
Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman,
a piece of work So bravely done, so rich,
In workmanship and value—

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 –

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–

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,
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;
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…
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:

PHILARIO

Sir, be patient:

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—

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 all my heart.

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; and 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; that I thought her
As chaste as unsunn’d snow. O, all the devils!
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; I’ll write against them….

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 Posthumus!
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.

(PISANIO and POSTHUMUS Reading)

’Do’t: the letter
that I have sent her, by her own command
Shall give thee opportunity.’
O damn’d paper! Lo, here she comes.
I am ignorant in what I am commanded.

INNOGEN

How now, Pisanio!

PISANIO

Madam, here is a letter from my lord.

INNOGEN

Who? thy lord? that is my lord, Leonatus!
O You good gods, let what is here contain’d
Relish of love. Good wax, thy leave. (breaking the seal) Blest be
You bees that make these locks of counsel!
’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,

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

’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 how far t’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, how to excuse:
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.

INNOGEN

Why, one that rode to’s execution, man,
Could never go so slow:

PISANIO

Madam, you’re best consider.

INNOGEN

I see before me, man: nor here, nor here,
Nor what ensues, but have a fog in them.
Away, I prithee; there’s no more to say,
Accessible is none but Milford way.

Exit

BELARIUS

A goodly day not to keep house, with such
Whose roof’s as low as ours! Stoop, stoop; 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 pass 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…
For 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;

ARVIRAGUS

What should we speak of
When we are old as you? In dark December,
How, in 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 yes, 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…
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.
How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature!
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.
These two know little they are kin to the King;
Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive.
They think they are mine; and though train’d up thus meanly
Their thoughts do hit the roofs of palaces…
But hark! The game is roused.

INNOGEN

Thou told’st me that the place was near at hand.
Where’s Posthumus? Pisanio? What’s the matter?
Why tender’st thou that paper to me, with
A look untender? My husband’s hand!

PISANIO

Please you to read; And you shall find me, wretched.

INNOGEN

[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. Let thine own hands take away her life: I shall give thee opportunity at Milford-Haven.
She hath my letter for the purpose.’

PISANIO

[Aside] What shall I need to draw my sword? the paper
Hath cut her throat already. What cheer, madam?

INNOGEN

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?

PISANIO

Alas, good lady!

INNOGEN

Some jay of Italy, she 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!

PISANIO

Madam, hear me.

INNOGEN

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 friend, he is not there, who was indeed
The riches of it: do his bidding; strike!

PISANIO

Ah Hence, vile instrument!

INNOGEN

Why, I must die;
Come, here’s my heart, Obedient as the scabbard.
And thou, Posthumus, thou that didst set up
My disobedience ’gainst the King my father,
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:

PISANIO

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

INNOGEN

Do’t, and to bed then.

PISANIO

I’ll wake mine eye-balls blind first.

INNOGEN

Wherefore then
Didst undertake it?

PISANIO

But to win some time!
Hear me with patience.

INNOGEN

Talk thy tongue weary; speak
I have heard I am a strumpet; and mine ear
Therein false struck, can take no greater wound,

PISANIO

I thought you would not back again –

INNOGEN

Most like;
Bringing me here to kill me.

PISANIO

Not so, neither:
It cannot be but that thy Lord’s abused:
Some villain hath done you both this injury.

INNOGEN

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.

INNOGEN

Why good fellow,
What shall I do then? How live, when I am
Dead to my husband?

PISANIO

If you’ll back to the court—

INNOGEN

No court, no father; no.

PISANIO

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

INNOGEN

Where then?
What, hath our Britain all the sun that shines?

PISANIO

Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven;
Present yourself, desire his service, doubtless
With joy he will embrace you, for he’s honourable.

INNOGEN

O, for such means–

PISANIO

Ay, 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:
Forget your dainty trims and–

INNOGEN

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:

INNOGEN

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.

PISANIO

My noble mistress,
O! Here is a vial; I had it from the queen:
if you are sick at sea, Or stomach-qualm’d,
a dram of this Will drive away distemper.
Now fit you to your manhood. May the gods
Direct you to the best!

INNOGEN

Amen: I thank thee.

Exit

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!

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 Milford-Haven. Farewell Noble Lucius.

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? Call her now before us;

QUEEN

Beseech your majesty,
Since the exile of Posthumus, most retired
Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord,
’Tis time must do.

CYMBELINE

Where is she?

CLOTEN

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

CYMBELINE

Her doors lock’d?
Grant, heavens, that which I fear prove false!

QUEEN

Son, I say, follow the King.

CLOTEN

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

QUEEN

Go, look after.
Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seized her,
Or, wing’d with fervor, flown to Posthumus.
To death or to dishonour; both my end
Can make good use of: and so, she being down,
I have the placing of the British crown.
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!

CLOTEN

I love and hate her: for she’s fair and royal,
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—
Who is here? What, are you packing, mistress?
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. With Posthumus?

PISANIO

How can she be with him? When was she missed?
He is in Rome.

CLOTEN

Where is she, minion?

PISANIO

O, my all-worthy lord!

CLOTEN

All-worthy villain!
Discover where thy mistress is or else
Thy silence on the instant is thy death.

PISANIO

This paper is the history of my knowledge.

CLOTEN

Let’s see it, villain.

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!
Minion, is this letter true?

PISANIO

Sir, as I think.

CLOTEN

It is Posthumus’ hand; I know’t, if thou wouldst not be a villain, do me true service.
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.

CLOTEN

The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit hither.

PISANIO

I shall, my lord.

CLOTEN

Meet thee at Milford-Haven!— I forgot to ask her 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. With that suit upon my
back, will I ravish her: first kill him, and in her eyes; there shall she see my valour. She hath despised me rejoicingly, and I’ll be merry in my revenge.
Be those the garments?

PISANIO

Ay, my noble lord.

CLOTEN

Bring this apparel to my chamber; thou wilt be a voluntary mute to my design. 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!

Exeunt

INNOGEN

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… Ho! who’s here?
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!

BELARIUS

You, Polydor, have proved best woodman and
Are master of the feast: Cadwal and I
Will play the cook and servant; Come; our stomachs
Will make what’s homely savoury.
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!

INNOGEN

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!

BELARIUS

Whither bound?

INNOGEN

To Milford-Haven.

BELARIUS

What’s your name?

INNOGEN

Fidele, Ma’am.

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.
Here, bid him welcome.

GUIDERIUS

Were you a woman, youth,
I should woo hard to be your groom.

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.

INNOGEN

’Mongst friends,
If brothers.
[Aside] Would it had been so, that they
Had been my father’s children! Pardon, gods!
I’d change my sex to be companion with them,
Since Leonatus’s false.

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

Come, 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.

INNOGEN

Thanks, friend.

Exit

IACHIMO

Long live Caesar!

PHILARIO

Long live Caesar!

IACHIMO

Is Lucius general of the forces?

PHILARIO

Ay.

IACHIMO

Remaining now in Gallia?

PHILARIO

With those legions whereunto your levy
Must be supplyant.

IACHIMO

We will discharge our duty.

Exit

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?
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, above him in birth…
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.
Fortune, put them into my hand!

Exit

BELARIUS

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

ARVIRAGUS

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

INNOGEN

I am very sick.

GUIDERIUS

Go you to hunting; I’ll abide with him.

INNOGEN

So sick I am not, yet I am not well;
I am ill, but your being by me
Cannot amend me; I am not so sick,
Since I can reason of it. Pray you, trust me here:
I’ll rob none but myself.

GUIDERIUS

I love thee; I have spoke it
As much as I do love my mother.

BELARIUS

What?

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; but I have heard you say,
Love’s reason’s without reason:

BELARIUS

[Aside] O noble strain!
I’m not their mother; yet who this should be,
Doth miracle itself, loved before me.

ARVIRAGUS

Brother, farewell.

INNOGEN

I wish ye sport.

ARVIRAGUS

You health. So please you, sir.

INNOGEN

[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!
I am sick still; heart-sick. Pisanio,
I’ll now taste of thy drug.

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.

INNOGEN

Well or ill,
I am bound to you.

BELARIUS

And shalt be ever.
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.

ARVIRAGUS

Nobly he yokes
A smiling with a sigh,

GUIDERIUS

I do note
That grief and patience, rooted in him both,

BELARIUS

It is great morning. Come, away!—
Who’s there?

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 know ’tis he. We are held as outlaws: hence!

GUIDERIUS

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

CLOTEN

Soft! What are you
That fly me thus? some villain mountaineers?
I have heard of such. 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?
Why I should yield to thee?

CLOTEN

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

GUIDERIUS

No, nor thy tailor, rascal,

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

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.

BELARIUS

No companies abroad?

ARVIRAGUS

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

BELARIUS

Long is it since I saw him, but I know
’Twas very Cloten.

ARVIRAGUS

In this place we left them:

BELARIUS

But, see, thy brother.

GUIDERIUS

This Cloten was a fool: not Hercules
Could have knock’d out his brains, for he had none.

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 mother, what have we to lose,
But that he swore to take, our lives? The law
Protects not us: What company
Discover you abroad?

BELARIUS

No single soul
Can we set eye on; yet is’t not probable
He came alone: 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.

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.

BELARIUS

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

ARVIRAGUS

Would I had done’t
So the revenge alone pursued me!

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 Polydore return.

ARVIRAGUS

Poor sick Fidele!
I’ll willingly 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 royal children! They’re 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…

GUIDERIUS

I have sent Cloten’s clotpoll down the stream,
In embassy to his mother:

ARVIRAGUS

[Offstage] No, no, no, no…

BELARIUS

Hark, Polydore, Hark!

GUIDERIUS

Is Cadwal mad?

BELARIUS

Look, here she comes,

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,
Than have seen this.

GUIDERIUS

O sweetest, fairest lily!

BELARIUS

O melancholy! O Thou blessed thing!
Jove knows what man thou mightst have made;
How found you him?

ARVIRAGUS

Stark, as you see:
Thus smiling, his right cheek
Reposing on a cushion on the floor…

GUIDERIUS

Why, he but sleeps:
If he be gone, he’ll make his grave a bed;
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:
Let us, sing him to the ground,

GUIDERIUS

Cadwal,
I cannot sing: I’ll weep.

BELARIUS

Great griefs, I see, medicine the less; for Cloten
Is quite forgot. He was a queen’s son, loves;
And though he came our enemy, remember
He has paid for that: so mean and mighty, rotting
Together, have one dust. Our foe was princely:
Let’s bury him as a prince.

ARVIRAGUS

If you’ll go fetch him,
We’ll say our song the whilst.

BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS (SONG)

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.
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.
Fear no more the lightning flash,
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finish’d joy and moan:
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.

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:
The ground that gave them first has them again:
Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain.

INNOGEN

[Awaking] Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; which is the way?—
But, soft! no bedfellow!—O gods and goddesses!
These flowers, This bloody man,...I hope I dream;
For so I thought I was a cave-keeper,
And cook to honest creatures: but ’tis not so;
Good faith,I tremble stiff with fear:
A headless man! The garments of Posthumus!
I know the shape of’s leg: this is his hand;
The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovial face
Murder in heaven?—How!—’Tis gone. Pisanio,
Thou,
Conspired with that irregulous devil, Cloten,
Hast here cut off my lord. Damn’d Pisanio
Hath with his forged letters,—damn’d Pisanio—
O Posthumus! Alas, Where is thy head?
Pisanio might have kill’d thee at the heart,
And left this head on. How should this be? Pisanio?
’Tis he and Cloten Have laid this woe here.
The drug he gave 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!

IACHIMO

The legions garrison’d in Gallia,
They are in readiness.

CAIUS LUCIUS

Our present numbers
Command them to be muster’d; bid the captains look to’t. Now, sir,
What have you dream’d of late of this war’s purpose?

IACHIMO

Last night the very gods show’d me a vision:
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?

IACHIMO

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 was this?
What art thou?

INNOGEN

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:

CAIUS LUCIUS

What’s thy name?

INNOGEN

Fidele, sir.

CAIUS LUCIUS

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.

INNOGEN

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.

CAIUS LUCIUS

My friend,
This 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, take 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.

Exit

CYMBELINE

Again; and bring me word how ’tis with her.
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! Innogen,
The great part of my comfort, gone; my queen
Upon a desperate bed, and in a time
Of fearful war…

PISANIO

So please your majesty,
The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn,
Are landed on your coast, with fresh supply.

CYMBELINE

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

PISANIO

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.

PISANIO

I had no letter from Posthumus since
I wrote him Innogen was slain: ’tis strange:
Nor hear I from my mistress; neither know I
What is betid to Cloten; but remain
Perplex’d in all. The heavens still must work.
These present wars shall find I love my country,
All other doubts, by time let them be clear’d:
Fortune brings in some boats that are not steer’d.

Exit

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.

GUIDERIUS

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

ARVIRAGUS

It is not likely
That they will waste their time upon our note,

BELARIUS

O, I am known of many in the army:
Besides, the King
Hath not deserved my service nor your loves;

ARVIRAGUS

By this sun I’ll thither: 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, here, 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, and there I’ll lie:
Lead, lead.
[Aside] The time seems long; their blood thinks scorn,
Till it fly out and show them royal born.

Exit

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

Yea, bloody cloth, I’ll keep thee, for I wish’d
Thou shouldst be colour’d thus. O Pisanio!
Every good servant does not all commands:
No bond but to do just ones. 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 Innogen, 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

BELARIUS

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

GUIDERIUS ARVIRAGUS

Stand, stand, and fight!

IACHIMO

The heaviness and guilt within my bosom
Takes off my manhood: I have belied a lady,
and the air on’t Revengingly enfeebles me…

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.

Exit

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

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;
Well, I will find him. I’ll resume again
The part I came in: fight I will no more,
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 Innogen.

PISANIO

Great Jupiter be praised! Lucius is taken.
’Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels.
There was a fourth man, in a silly habit,
That gave the affront with them.
So ’tis reported:
But none of ’em can be found. Stand! who’s there?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

A Roman,

PISANIO

Lay hands on him; a dog!
bring him to the King.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

Most welcome, bondage!
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.
For Innogen’s dear life take mine; and though
’Tis not so dear, yet ’tis a life; you coin’d it:
and so, great powers,
If you will take this audit, take this life,
And cancel these cold bonds. O Innogen!
I’ll speak to thee in silence.

JUPITER

’When the lion shall
Without expectation
Truly seek repentance,
Then Shall the air
Revived from death
Embrace him;
And when the stately cedar
Whose branches have been broken
Shall freshly grow
And fear give way to forgiveness
Then shall life flourish
In peace and plenty.
Until that moment
Everything is war...’

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

“...shall flourish in peace and plenty.”
’Tis still a dream…

GAOLER

Come, sir, are you ready for death?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

Over-roasted rather; ready long ago.

Exit

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, 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;

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; which I will add
To you, the liver, heart and brain of Britain,
By whom I grant she lives. Bow your knees.
Arise my knights o’ the battle:

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? 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:

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,
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

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!
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: 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, so true;
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;
So ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt,
Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner,
The noblest ta’en.

INNOGEN

I humbly thank your highness.

CAIUS LUCIUS

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

INNOGEN

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.

CYMBELINE

What wouldst thou, boy?
I love thee more and more: Know’st him thou look’st on?
Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend?

INNOGEN

He is a Roman; no more kin to me
Than I to your highness;

CYMBELINE

Wherefore eyest him so?

INNOGEN

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

CYMBELINE

Ay, with all my heart,

BELARIUS

Is not this boy revived from death?

GUIDERIUS

Fidele! The same dead lad 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

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;

INNOGEN

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

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 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,—

CYMBELINE

My daughter! what of her? 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 –

CYMBELINE

I stand on fire: the matter.

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; You may, sir,
Remember me at court; where I was taught
Of your chaste daughter the wide difference
’Twixt amorous and villanous.
But, 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!—, that he could not
But think her bond quite forfeit. Whereupon—
Methinks, I see him now—

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

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 stone s, cast mire upon me, set
The dogs o’ the street to bay me. Innogen!
My queen, my life, my wife! O Innogen!

INNOGEN

Peace, my lord; hear, hear—

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

Shall’s have a play of this? Thou scornful page!
Striking her: she falls

PISANIO

O, gentlemen, help! my lord Posthumus!
You ne’er kill’d Innogen til now. Help, help!
Mine honour’d lady!

CYMBELINE

Does the world go round?

CYMBELINE

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

PISANIO

How fares my mistress?

INNOGEN

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

CYMBELINE

The tune of Innogen!

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?

INNOGEN

It poison’d me.

CORNELIUS

O gods!
I left out one thing which the queen confess’d.

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;
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?

INNOGEN

Most like I did, for I was dead.

BELARIUS

My girl,
There was our error.

ARVIRAGUS

This is, sure, Fidele.

INNOGEN

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

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?

INNOGEN

Your blessing, sir.

BELARIUS

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! Innogen,
Thy mother’s dead.

INNOGEN

I am sorry for’t, my lord.

CYMBELINE

O, she was nought; 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!
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.

INNOGEN

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

CYMBELINE

How of descent
As good as we?

BELARIUS

My children now, I must,
For mine own part, unfold a dangerous speech,
Though, haply, well for you.

ARVIRAGUS

Your danger’s ours.

GUIDERIUS

And our good yours.

BELARIUS

Have at it then, by leave.
Thou hadst, great King, a subject who
Was call’d Belarius.

CYMBELINE

What of her? she is a banish’d traitor.

BELARIUS

Indeed banish’d my liege;
I know not how a traitor.

CYMBELINE

Take him hence:

BELARIUS

First pay me for the nursing of thy children;

CYMBELINE

Nursing of my children!

BELARIUS

I am too blunt and saucy: here’s my knee:
Ere I arise, I will prefer my kin;
Then spare not the old mother. Mighty sir,
These two young gentles here, that call me mother
And think they are my heirs, 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. Yes, King
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. But, gracious sir,
Welcome them back 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 heirs.

BELARIUS

Be pleased awhile.
This gentleman, whom I call Polydore,
Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius:
This gentle one, my Cadwal, Arviragus,
Your younger firstborn princess.

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 Innogen,
Thou hast lost by this a Kingdom.

INNOGEN

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.

PISANIO

By the queen’s dram she swallow’d.

CYMBELINE

O rare instinct!
When shall I hear all through? Where, how lived You?
And when came you to serve our Roman captive?
but nor the time nor place
Will serve our long inter’gatories. See,
Posthumus anchors upon Innogen,
And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye
On him, her brother, me – Each object with a joy:
Let’s quit this ground,
And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.
(To BELARIUS) Thou art my sister; so we’ll hold thee ever.

INNOGEN

You are my mother 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.

INNOGEN

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

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:

INNOGEN

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.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

Good my lord, as I slept, methought
Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back’d,
Appear’d to me, and when I waked, I found
This was on my bosom;

CYMBELINE

Read.

IACHIMO

[Reads] ’When the lion shall
Without expectation
Truly sek repentance,
Then Shall the air
Revived from death
Embrace him;
And when the stately cedar
Whose branches have been broken
Shall freshly grow
And fear give way to forgiveness
Then shall life flourish
In peace and plenty.
Until that moment
Everything is war.’
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,

CYMBELINE

This hath some seeming.

IACHIMO

The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline,
Personates thee: and thy lopp’d branches point
Thy children; who, 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,

PISANIO

The fingers of the powers above do tune
The harmony of this peace.

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.
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.

Exit