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)

    Scena Sexta.
    Enter Imogen alone.
    Imo. I see a mans life is a tedious one,
    I haue tyr'd my selfe: and for two nights together
    Haue made the ground my bed. I should be sicke,
    2085But that my resolution helpes me: Milford,
    When from the Mountaine top, Pisanio shew'd thee,
    Thou was't within a kenne. Oh Ioue, I thinke
    Foundations flye the wretched: such I meane,
    Where they should be releeu'd. Two Beggers told me,
    2090I could not misse my way. Will poore Folkes lye
    That haue Afflictions on them, knowing 'tis
    A punishment, or Triall? Yes; no wonder,
    When Rich-ones scarse tell true. To lapse in Fulnesse
    Is sorer, then to lye for Neede: and Falshood
    2095Is worse in Kings, then Beggers. My deere Lord,
    Thou art one o'th' false Ones: Now I thinke on thee,
    My hunger's gone; but euen before, I was
    At point to sinke, for Food. But what is this?
    Heere is a path too't: 'tis some sauage hold:
    2100I were best not call; I dare not call: yet Famine
    Ere cleane it o're-throw Nature, makes it valiant.
    Plentie, and Peace breeds Cowards: Hardnesse euer
    Of Hardinesse is Mother. Hoa? who's heere?
    If any thing that's ciuill, speake: if sauage,
    2105Take, or lend. Hoa? No answer? Then Ile enter.
    Best draw my Sword; and if mine Enemy
    But feare the Sword like me, hee'l scarsely looke on't.
    Such a Foe, good Heauens.