Internet Shakespeare Editions

About this text

  • Title: Cymbeline (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editor: Jennifer Forsyth
  • ISBN: 1-55058-300-X

    Copyright Jennifer Forsyth. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Jennifer Forsyth
    Peer Reviewed

    Cymbeline (Folio 1, 1623)

    The Tragedy of Cymbeline.
    Why I should yeeld to thee?
    Clot. Thou Villaine base,
    2350Know'st me not by my Cloathes?
    Gui. No, nor thy Taylor, Rascall:
    Who is thy Grandfather? He made those cloathes,
    Which (as it seemes) make thee.
    Clo. Thou precious Varlet,
    2355My Taylor made them not.
    Gui. Hence then, and thanke
    The man that gaue them thee. Thou art some Foole,
    I am loath to beate thee.
    Clot. Thou iniurious Theefe,
    2360Heare but my name, and tremble.
    Gui. What's thy name?
    Clo. Cloten, thou Villaine.
    Gui. Cloten, thou double Villaine be thy name,
    I cannot tremble at it, were it Toad, or Adder, Spider,
    2365'Twould moue me sooner.
    Clot. To thy further feare,
    Nay, to thy meere Confusion, thou shalt know
    I am Sonne to'th' Queene.
    Gui. I am sorry for't: not seeming
    2370So worthy as thy Birth.
    Clot. Art not afeard?
    Gui. Those that I reuerence, those I feare: the Wise:
    At Fooles I laugh: not feare them.
    Clot. Dye the death:
    2375When I haue slaine thee with my proper hand,
    Ile follow those that euen now fled hence:
    And on the Gates of Luds-Towne set your heads:
    Yeeld Rusticke Mountaineer.
    Fight and Exeunt.
    Enter Belarius and Aruiragus.
    2380Bel. No Companie's abroad?
    Arui. None in the world: you did mistake him sure.
    Bel. I cannot tell: Long is it since I saw him,
    But Time hath nothing blurr'd those lines of Fauour
    Which then he wore: the snatches in his voice,
    2385And burst of speaking were as his: I am absolute
    'Twas very Cloten.
    Arui. In this place we left them;
    I wish my Brother make good time with him,
    You say he is so fell.
    2390Bel. Being scarse made vp,
    I meane to man; he had not apprehension
    Of roaring terrors: For defect of iudgement
    Is oft the cause of Feare.
    Enter Guiderius.
    2395But see thy Brother.
    Gui. This Cloten was a Foole, an empty purse,
    There was no money in't: Not Hercules
    Could haue knock'd out his Braines, for he had none:
    Yet I not doing this, the Foole had borne
    2400My head, as I do his.
    Bel. What hast thou done?
    Gui. I am perfect what: cut off one Clotens head,
    Sonne to the Queene (after his owne report)
    Who call'd me Traitor, Mountaineer, and swore
    2405With his owne single hand heel'd take vs in,
    Displace our heads, where (thanks the Gods) they grow
    And set them on Luds-Towne.
    Bel. We are all vndone.
    Gui. Why, worthy Father, what haue we to loose,
    2410But that he swore to take our Liues? the Law
    Protects not vs, then why should we be tender,
    To let an arrogant peece of flesh threat vs?
    Play Iudge, and Executioner, all himselfe?
    For we do feare the Law. What company
    2415Discouer you abroad?
    Bel. No single soule
    Can we set eye on: but in all safe reason
    He must haue some Attendants. Though his Honor
    Was nothing but mutation, I, and that
    2420From one bad thing to worse: Not Frenzie,
    Not absolute madnesse could so farre haue rau'd
    To bring him heere alone: although perhaps
    It may be heard at Court, that such as wee
    Caue heere, hunt heere, are Out-lawes, and in time
    2425May make some stronger head, the which he hearing,
    (As it is like him) might breake out, and sweare
    Heel'd fetch vs in, yet is't not probable
    To come alone, either he so vndertaking,
    Or they so suffering: then on good ground we feare,
    2430If we do feare this Body hath a taile
    More perillous then the head.
    Arui. Let Ord'nance
    Come as the Gods fore-say it: howsoere,
    My Brother hath done well.
    2435Bel. I had no minde
    To hunt this day: The Boy Fideles sickenesse
    Did make my way long forth.
    Gui. With his owne Sword,
    Which he did waue against my throat, I haue tane
    2440His head from him: Ile throw't into the Creeke
    Behinde our Rocke, and let it to the Sea,
    And tell the Fishes, hee's the Queenes Sonne, Cloten,
    That's all I reake.
    Bel. I feare 'twill be reueng'd:
    2445Would (Polidore) thou had'st not done't: though valour
    Becomes thee well enough.
    Arui. Would I had done't:
    So the Reuenge alone pursu'de me: Polidore
    I loue thee brotherly, but enuy much
    2450Thou hast robb'd me of this deed: I would Reuenges
    That possible strength might meet, wold seek vs through
    And put vs to our answer.
    Bel. Well, 'tis done:
    Wee'l hunt no more to day, nor seeke for danger
    2455Where there's no profit. I prythee to our Rocke,
    You and Fidele play the Cookes: Ile stay
    Till hasty Polidore returne, and bring him
    To dinner presently.
    Arui. Poore sicke Fidele.
    2460Ile willingly to him, to gaine his colour,
    Il'd let a parish of such Clotens blood,
    And praise my selfe for charity.
    Bel. Oh thou Goddesse,
    Thou diuine Nature; thou thy selfe thou blazon'st
    2465In these two Princely Boyes: they are as gentle
    As Zephires blowing below the Violet,
    Not wagging his sweet head; and yet, as rough
    (Their Royall blood enchaf'd) as the rud'st winde,
    That by the top doth take the Mountaine Pine,
    2470And make him stoope to th' Vale. 'Tis wonder
    That an inuisible instinct should frame them
    To Royalty vnlearn'd, Honor vntaught,
    Ciuility not seene from other: valour
    That wildely growes in them, but yeelds a crop
    2475As if it had beene sow'd: yet still it's strange
    What Clotens being heere to vs portends,
    Or what his death will bring vs.
    Enter Guidereus.
    Gui. Where's my Brother?