Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: Jennifer Forsyth
Peer Reviewed

Cymbeline (Folio 1, 1623)


The Tragedie of Cymbeline.
389
You'l giue me leaue to spare, when you shall finde
You neede it not.
1225Post. Proceed.
Iach. First, her Bed-chamber
(Where I confesse I slept not, but professe
Had that was well worth watching) it was hang'd
With Tapistry of Silke, and Siluer, the Story
1230Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman,
And Sidnus swell'd aboue the Bankes, or for
The presse of Boates, or Pride. A peece of Worke
So brauely done, so rich, that it did striue
In Workemanship, and Value, which I wonder'd
1235Could be so rarely, and exactly wrought
Since the true life on't was---
Post. This is true:
And this you might haue heard of heere, by me,
Or by some other.
1240Iach. More particulars
Must iustifie my knowledge.
Post. So they must,
Or doe your Honour iniury.
Iach. The Chimney
1245Is South the Chamber, and the Chimney-peece
Chaste Dian, bathing: neuer saw I figures
So likely to report themselues; the Cutter
Was as another Nature dumbe, out-went her,
Motion, and Breath left out.
1250Post. This is a thing
Which you might from Relation likewise reape,
Being, as it is, much spoke of.
Iach. The Roofe o'th'Chamber,
With golden Cherubins is fretted. Her Andirons
1255(I had forgot them) were two winking Cupids
Of Siluer, each on one foote standing, nicely
Depending on their Brands.
Post. This is her Honor:
Let it be granted you haue seene all this (and praise
1260Be giuen to your remembrance) the description
Of what is in her Chamber, nothing saues
The wager you haue laid.
Iach. Then if you can
Be pale, I begge but leaue to ayre this Iewell: See,
1265And now 'tis vp againe: it must be married
To that your Diamond, Ile keepe them.
Post. Ioue----
Once more let me behold it: Is it that
Which I left with her?
1270Iach. Sir (I thanke her) that
She stript it from her Arme: I see her yet:
Her pretty Action, did out-sell her guift,
And yet enrich'd it too: she gaue it me,
And said, she priz'd it once.
1275Post. May be, she pluck'd it off
To send it me.
Iach. She writes so to you? doth shee?
Post. O no, no, no, 'tis true. Heere, take this too,
It is a Basiliske vnto mine eye,
1280Killes me to looke on't: Let there be no Honor,
Where there is Beauty: Truth, where semblance: Loue,
Where there's another man. The Vowes of Women,
Of no more bondage be, to where they are made,
Then they are to their Vertues, which is nothing:
1285O, aboue measure false.
Phil. Haue patience Sir,
And take your Ring againe, 'tis not yet wonne:
It may be probable she lost it: or
Who knowes if one her women, being corrupted
1290Hath stolne it from her.
Post. Very true,
And so I hope he came by't: backe my Ring,
Render to me some corporall signe about her
More euident then this: for this was stolne.
1295Iach. By Iupiter, I had it from her Arme.
Post. Hearke you, he sweares: by Iupiter he sweares.
'Tis true, nay keepe the Ring; 'tis true: I am sure
She would not loose it: her Attendants are
All sworne, and honourable: they induc'd to steale it?
1300And by a Stranger? No, he hath enioy'd her,
The Cognisance of her incontinencie
Is this: she hath bought the name of Whore, thus deerly
There, take thy hyre, and all the Fiends of Hell
Diuide themselues betweene you.
1305Phil. Sir, be patient:
This is not strong enough to be beleeu'd
Of one perswaded well of.
Post. Neuer talke on't:
She hath bin colted by him.
1310Iach. If you seeke
For further satisfying, vnder her Breast
(Worthy her pressing) lyes a Mole, right proud
Of that most delicate Lodging. By my life
I kist it, and it gaue me present hunger
1315To feede againe, though full. You do remember
This staine vpon her?
Post. I, and it doth confirme
Another staine, as bigge as Hell can hold,
Were there no more but it.
1320Iach. Will you heare more?
Post. Spare your Arethmaticke,
Neuer count the Turnes: Once, and a Million.
Iach. Ile be sworne.
Post. No swearing:
1325If you will sweare you haue not done't, you lye,
And I will kill thee, if thou do'st deny
Thou'st made me Cuckold.
Iach. Ile deny nothing.
Post. O that I had her heere, to teare her Limb-meale:
1330I will go there and doo't, i'th'Court, before
Her Father. Ile do something.
Exit.
Phil. Quite besides
The gouernment of Patience. You haue wonne:
Let's follow him, and peruert the present wrath
1335He hath against himselfe.
Iach. With all my heart.
Exeunt.

Enter Posthumus.

Post. Is there no way for Men to be, but Women
Must be halfe-workers? We are all Bastards,
1340And that most venerable man, which I
Did call my Father, was, I know not where
When I was stampt. Some Coyner with his Tooles
Made me a counterfeit: yet my Mother seem'd
The Dian of that time: so doth my Wife
1345The Non-pareill of this. Oh Vengeance, Vengeance!
Me of my lawfull pleasure she restrain'd,
And pray'd me oft forbearance: did it with
A pudencie so Rosie, the sweet view on't
Might well haue warm'd olde Saturne;
1350That I thought her
As Chaste, as vn-Sunn'd Snow. Oh, all the Diuels!
This yellow Iachimo in an houre, was't not?
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