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  • 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)

    1Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
    Enter two Gentlemen.
    1. Gent.
    YOu do not meet a man but Frownes.
    5Our bloods no more obey the Heauens
    Then our Courtiers:
    Still seeme, as do's the Kings.
    2 Gent. But what's the matter?
    1. His daughter, and the heire of's kingdome (whom
    10He purpos'd to his wiues sole Sonne, a Widdow
    That late he married) hath referr'd her selfe
    Vnto a poore, but worthy Gentleman. She's wedded,
    Her Husband banish'd; she imprison'd, all
    Is outward sorrow, though I thinke the King
    15Be touch'd at very heart.
    2 None but the King?
    1 He that hath lost her too: so is the Queene,
    That most desir'd the Match. But not a Courtier,
    Although they weare their faces to the bent
    20Of the Kings lookes, hath a heart that is not
    Glad at the thing they scowle at.
    2 And why so?
    1 He that hath miss'd the Princesse, is a thing
    Too bad, for bad report: and he that hath her,
    25(I meane, that married her, alacke good man,
    And therefore banish'd) is a Creature, such,
    As to seeke through the Regions of the Earth
    For one, his like; there would be something failing
    In him, that should compare. I do not thinke,
    30So faire an Outward, and such stuffe Within
    Endowes a man, but hee.
    2 You speake him farre.
    1 I do extend him (Sir) within himselfe,
    Crush him together, rather then vnfold
    35His measure duly.
    2 What's his name, and Birth?
    1 I cannot delue him to the roote: His Father
    Was call'd Sicillius, who did ioyne his Honor
    Against the Romanes, with Cassibulan,
    40But had his Titles by Tenantius, whom
    He seru'd with Glory, and admir'd Successe:
    So gain'd the Sur-addition, Leonatus.
    And had (besides this Gentleman in question)
    Two other Sonnes, who in the Warres o'th' time
    45Dy'de with their Swords in hand. For which, their Father
    Then old, and fond of yssue, tooke such sorrow
    That he quit Being; and his gentle Lady
    Bigge of this Gentleman (our Theame) deceast
    As he was borne. The King he takes the Babe
    50To his protection, cals him Posthumus Leonatus,
    Breedes him, and makes him of his Bed-chamber,
    Puts to him all the Learnings that his time
    Could make him the receiuer of, which he tooke
    As we do ayre, fast as 'twas ministred,
    55And in's Spring, became a Haruest: Liu'd in Court
    (Which rare it is to do) most prais'd, most lou'd,
    A sample to the yongest: to th' more Mature,
    A glasse that feated them: and to the grauer,
    A Childe that guided Dotards. To his Mistris,
    60(For whom he now is banish'd) her owne price
    Proclaimes how she esteem'd him; and his Vertue
    By her electiõ may be truly read, what kind of man he is.
    2 I honor him, euen out of your report.
    But pray you tell me, is she sole childe to'th' King?
    651 His onely childe:
    He had two Sonnes (if this be worth your hearing,
    Marke it) the eldest of them, at three yeares old
    I'th' swathing cloathes, the other from their Nursery
    Were stolne, and to this houre, no ghesse in knowledge
    70Which way they went.
    2 How long is this ago?
    1 Some twenty yeares.
    2 That a Kings Children should be so conuey'd,
    So slackely guarded, and the search so slow
    75That could not trace them.
    1 Howsoere, 'tis strange,
    Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at:
    Yet is it true Sir.
    2 I do well beleeue you.
    801 We must forbeare. Heere comes the Gentleman,
    The Queene, and Princesse. Exeunt
    Scena Secunda.
    Enter the Queene, Posthumus, and Imogen.
    Qu. No, be assur'd you shall not finde me (Daughter)
    85After the slander of most Step-Mothers,
    Euill-ey'd vnto you. You're my Prisoner, but
    Your Gaoler shall deliuer you the keyes
    370The Tragedie of Cymbeline.
    That locke vp your restraint. For you Posthumus,
    So soone as I can win th' offended King,
    90I will be knowne your Aduocate: marry yet
    The fire of Rage is in him, and 'twere good
    You lean'd vnto his Sentence, with what patience
    Your wisedome may informe you.
    Post. 'Please your Highnesse,
    95I will from hence to day.
    Qu. You know the perill:
    Ile fetch a turne about the Garden, pittying
    The pangs of barr'd Affections, though the King
    Hath charg'd you should not speake together. Exit
    100Imo. O dissembling Curtesie! How fine this Tyrant
    Can tickle where she wounds? My deerest Husband,
    I something feare my Fathers wrath, but nothing
    (Alwayes reseru'd my holy duty) what
    His rage can do on me. You must be gone,
    105And I shall heere abide the hourely shot
    Of angry eyes: not comforted to liue,
    But that there is this Iewell in the world,
    That I may see againe.
    Post. My Queene, my Mistris:
    110O Lady, weepe no more, least I giue cause
    To be suspected of more tendernesse
    Then doth become a man. I will remaine
    The loyall'st husband, that did ere plight troth.
    My residence in Rome, at one Filorio's,
    115Who, to my Father was a Friend, to me
    Knowne but by Letter; thither write (my Queene)
    And with mine eyes, Ile drinke the words you send,
    Though Inke be made of Gall.
    Enter Queene.
    120Qu. Be briefe, I pray you:
    If the King come, I shall incurre, I know not
    How much of his displeasure: yet Ile moue him
    To walke this way: I neuer do him wrong,
    But he do's buy my Iniuries, to be Friends:
    125Payes deere for my offences.
    Post. Should we be taking leaue
    As long a terme as yet we haue to liue,
    The loathnesse to depart, would grow: Adieu.
    Imo. Nay, stay a little:
    130Were you but riding forth to ayre your selfe,
    Such parting were too petty. Looke heere (Loue)
    This Diamond was my Mothers; take it (Heart)
    But keepe it till you woo another Wife,
    When Imogen is dead.
    135Post. How, how? Another?
    You gentle Gods, giue me but this I haue,
    And seare vp my embracements from a next,
    With bonds of death. Remaine, remaine thou heere,
    While sense can keepe it on: And sweetest, fairest,
    140As I (my poore selfe) did exchange for you
    To your so infinite losse; so in our trifles
    I still winne of you. For my sake weare this,
    It is a Manacle of Loue, Ile place it
    Vpon this fayrest Prisoner.
    145Imo. O the Gods!
    When shall we see againe?
    Enter Cymbeline, and Lords.
    Post. Alacke, the King.
    Cym. Thou basest thing, auoyd hence, from my sight:
    150If after this command thou fraught the Court
    With thy vnworthinesse, thou dyest. Away,
    Thou'rt poyson to my blood.
    Post. The Gods protect you,
    And blesse the good Remainders of the Court:
    155I am gone. Exit.
    Imo. There cannot be a pinch in death
    More sharpe then this is.
    Cym. O disloyall thing,
    That should'st repayre my youth, thou heap'st
    160A yeares age on mee.
    Imo. I beseech you Sir,
    Harme not your selfe with your vexation,
    I am senselesse of your Wrath; a Touch more rare
    Subdues all pangs, all feares.
    165Cym. Past Grace? Obedience?
    Imo. Past hope, and in dispaire, that way past Grace.
    Cym. That might'st haue had
    The sole Sonne of my Queene.
    Imo. O blessed, that I might not: I chose an Eagle,
    170And did auoyd a Puttocke.
    Cym. Thou took'st a Begger, would'st haue made my
    Throne, a Seate for basenesse.
    Imo. No, I rather added a lustre to it.
    Cym. O thou vilde one!
    175Imo. Sir,
    It is your fault that I haue lou'd Posthumus:
    You bred him as my Play-fellow, and he is
    A man, worth any woman: Ouer-buyes mee
    Almost the summe he payes.
    180Cym. What? art thou mad?
    Imo. Almost Sir: Heauen restore me: would I were
    A Neat-heards Daughter, and my Leonatus
    Our Neighbour-Shepheards Sonne.
    Enter Queene.
    185Cym. Thou foolish thing;
    They were againe together: you haue done
    Not after our command. Away with her,
    And pen her vp.
    Qu. Beseech your patience: Peace
    190Deere Lady daughter, peace. Sweet Soueraigne,
    Leaue vs to our selues, and make your self some comfort
    Out of your best aduice.
    Cym. Nay, let her languish
    A drop of blood a day, and being aged
    195Dye of this Folly. Exit.
    Enter Pisanio.
    Qu. Fye, you must giue way:
    Heere is your Seruant. How now Sir? What newes?
    Pisa. My Lord your Sonne, drew on my Master.
    200Qu. Hah?
    No harme I trust is done?
    Pisa. There might haue beene,
    But that my Master rather plaid, then fought,
    And had no helpe of Anger: they were parted
    205By Gentlemen, at hand.
    Qu. I am very glad on't.
    Imo. Your Son's my Fathers friend, he takes his part
    To draw vpon an Exile. O braue Sir,
    I would they were in Affricke both together,
    210My selfe by with a Needle, that I might pricke
    The goer backe. Why came you from your Master?
    Pisa. On his command: he would not suffer mee
    To bring him to the Hauen: left these Notes
    Of what commands I should be subiect too,
    215When't pleas'd you to employ me.
    Qu. This hath beene
    Your faithfull Seruant: I dare lay mine Honour
    He will remaine so.
    Pisa. I humbly thanke your Highnesse.
    The Tragedy of Cymbeline. 371
    220Qu. Pray walke a-while.
    Imo. About some halfe houre hence,
    Pray you speake with me;
    You shall (at least) go see my Lord aboord.
    For this time leaue me. Exeunt.
    225Scena Tertia.
    Enter Clotten, and two Lords.
    1. Sir, I would aduise you to shift a Shirt; the Vio-
    lence of Action hath made you reek as a Sacrifice: where
    ayre comes out, ayre comes in: There's none abroad so
    230wholesome as that you vent.
    Clot. If my Shirt were bloody, then to shift it.
    Haue I hurt him?
    2 No faith: not so much as his patience.
    1 Hurt him? His bodie's a passable Carkasse if he bee
    235not hurt. It is a through-fare for Steele if it be not hurt.
    2 His Steele was in debt, it went o'th' Backe-side the
    Clot. The Villaine would not stand me.
    2 No, but he fled forward still, toward your face.
    2401 Stand you? you haue Land enough of your owne:
    But he added to your hauing, gaue you some ground.
    2 As many Inches, as you haue Oceans (Puppies.)
    Clot. I would they had not come betweene vs.
    2 So would I, till you had measur'd how long a Foole
    245you were vpon the ground.
    Clot. And that shee should loue this Fellow, and re-
    fuse mee.
    2 If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damn'd.
    1 Sir, as I told you alwayes: her Beauty & her Braine
    250go not together. Shee's a good signe, but I haue seene
    small reflection of her wit.
    2 She shines not vpon Fooles, least the reflection
    Should hurt her.
    Clot. Come, Ile to my Chamber: would there had
    255beene some hurt done.
    2 I wish not so, vnlesse it had bin the fall of an Asse,
    which is no great hurt.
    Clot. You'l go with vs?
    1 Ile attend your Lordship.
    260Clot. Nay come, let's go together.
    2 Well my Lord. Exeunt.
    Scena Quarta.
    Enter Imogen, and Pisanio.
    Imo. I would thou grew'st vnto the shores o'th' Hauen,
    265And questioned'st euery Saile: if he should write,
    And I not haue it, 'twere a Paper lost
    As offer'd mercy is: What was the last
    That he spake to thee?
    Pisa. It was his Queene, his Queene.
    270Imo. Then wau'd his Handkerchiefe?
    Pisa. And kist it, Madam.
    Imo. Senselesse Linnen, happier therein then I:
    And that was all?
    Pisa. No Madam: for so long
    275As he could make me with his eye, or eare,
    Distinguish him from others, he did keepe
    The Decke, with Gloue, or Hat, or Handkerchife,
    Still wauing, as the fits and stirres of's mind
    Could best expresse how slow his Soule sayl'd on,
    280How swift his Ship.
    Imo. Thou should'st haue made him
    As little as a Crow, or lesse, ere left
    To after-eye him.
    Pisa. Madam, so I did.
    285Imo. I would haue broke mine eye-strings;
    Crack'd them, but to looke vpon him, till the diminution
    Of space, had pointed him sharpe as my Needle:
    Nay, followed him, till he had melted from
    The smalnesse of a Gnat, to ayre: and then
    290Haue turn'd mine eye, and wept. But good Pisanio,
    When shall we heare from him.
    Pisa. Be assur'd Madam,
    With his next vantage.
    Imo. I did not take my leaue of him, but had
    295Most pretty things to say: Ere I could tell him
    How I would thinke on him at certaine houres,
    Such thoughts, and such: Or I could make him sweare,
    The Shees of Italy should not betray
    Mine Interest, and his Honour: or haue charg'd him
    300At the sixt houre of Morne, at Noone, at Midnight,
    T' encounter me with Orisons, for then
    I am in Heauen for him: Or ere I could,
    Giue him that parting kisse, which I had set
    Betwixt two charming words, comes in my Father,
    305And like the Tyrannous breathing of the North,
    Shakes all our buddes from growing.
    Enter a Lady.
    La. The Queene (Madam)
    Desires your Highnesse Company.
    310Imo. Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch'd,
    I will attend the Queene.
    Pisa. Madam, I shall. Exeunt.
    Scena Quinta.
    Enter Philario, Iachimo: a Frenchman, a Dutch-
    315man, and a Spaniard.
    Iach. Beleeue it Sir, I haue seene him in Britaine; hee
    was then of a Cressent note, expected to proue so woor-
    thy, as since he hath beene allowed the name of. But I
    could then haue look'd on him, without the help of Ad-
    320miration, though the Catalogue of his endowments had
    bin tabled by his side, and I to peruse him by Items.
    Phil. You speake of him when he was lesse furnish'd,
    then now hee is, with that which makes him both with-
    out, and within.
    325French. I haue seene him in France: wee had very ma-
    ny there, could behold the Sunne, with as firme eyes as
    Iach. This matter of marrying his Kings Daughter,
    wherein he must be weighed rather by her valew, then
    330his owne, words him (I doubt not) a great deale from the
    French. And then his banishment.
    Iach. I, and the approbation of those that weepe this
    lamentable diuorce vnder her colours, are wonderfully
    372The Tragedy of Cymbeline.
    335to extend him, be it but to fortifie her iudgement, which
    else an easie battery might lay flat, for taking a Begger
    without lesse quality. But how comes it, he is to soiourne
    with you? How creepes acquaintance?
    Phil. His Father and I were Souldiers together, to
    340whom I haue bin often bound for no lesse then my life.
    Enter Posthumus.
    Heere comes the Britaine. Let him be so entertained a-
    mong'st you, as suites with Gentlemen of your knowing,
    to a Stranger of his quality. I beseech you all be better
    345knowne to this Gentleman, whom I commend to you,
    as a Noble Friend of mine. How Worthy he is, I will
    leaue to appeare hereafter, rather then story him in his
    owne hearing.
    French. Sir, we haue knowne togither in Orleance.
    350Post. Since when, I haue bin debtor to you for courte-
    sies, which I will be euer to pay, and yet pay still.
    French. Sir, you o're-rate my poore kindnesse, I was
    glad I did attone my Countryman and you: it had beene
    pitty you should haue beene put together, with so mor-
    355tall a purpose, as then each bore, vpon importance of so
    slight and triuiall a nature.
    Post. By your pardon Sir, I was then a young Trauel-
    ler, rather shun'd to go euen with what I heard, then in
    my euery action to be guided by others experiences: but
    360vpon my mended iudgement (if I offend to say it is men-
    ded) my Quarrell was not altogether slight.
    French. Faith yes, to be put to the arbiterment of
    Swords, and by such two, that would by all likelyhood
    haue confounded one the other, or haue falne both.
    365Iach. Can we with manners, aske what was the dif-
    French. Safely, I thinke, 'twas a contention in pub-
    licke, which may (without contradiction) suffer the re-
    port. It was much like an argument that fell out last
    370night, where each of vs fell in praise of our Country-
    Mistresses. This Gentleman, at that time vouching (and
    vpon warrant of bloody affirmation) his to be more
    Faire, Vertuous, Wise, Chaste, Constant, Qualified, and
    lesse attemptible then any, the rarest of our Ladies in
    Iach. That Lady is not now liuing; or this Gentle-
    mans opinion by this, worne out.
    Post. She holds her Vertue still, and I my mind.
    Iach. You must not so farre preferre her, 'fore ours of
    Posth. Being so farre prouok'd as I was in France: I
    would abate her nothing, though I professe my selfe her
    Adorer, not her Friend.
    Iach. As faire, and as good: a kind of hand in hand
    385comparison, had beene something too faire, and too
    good for any Lady in Britanie; if she went before others.
    I haue seene as that Diamond of yours out-lusters many
    I haue beheld, I could not beleeue she excelled many:
    but I haue not seene the most pretious Diamond that is,
    390nor you the Lady.
    Post. I prais'd her, as I rated her: so do I my Stone.
    Iach. What do you esteeme it at?
    Post. More then the world enioyes.
    Iach. Either your vnparagon'd Mistirs is dead, or
    395she's out-priz'd by a trifle.
    Post. You are mistaken: the one may be solde or gi-
    uen, or if there were wealth enough for the purchases, or
    merite for the guift. The other is not a thing for sale,
    and onely the guift of the Gods.
    400Iach. Which the Gods haue giuen you?
    Post. Which by their Graces I will keepe.
    Iach. You may weare her in title yours: but you
    know strange Fowle light vpon neighbouring Ponds.
    Your Ring may be stolne too, so your brace of vnprizea-
    405ble Estimations, the one is but fraile, and the other Casu-
    all;. A cunning Thiefe, or a (that way) accomplish'd
    Courtier, would hazzard the winning both of first and
    Post. Your Italy, containes none so accomplish'd a
    410Courtier to conuince the Honour of my Mistris: if in the
    holding or losse of that, you terme her fraile, I do no-
    thing doubt you haue store of Theeues, notwithstanding
    I feare not my Ring.
    Phil. Let vs leaue heere, Gentlemen?
    415Post. Sir, with all my heart. This worthy Signior I
    thanke him, makes no stranger of me, we are familiar at
    Iach. With fiue times so much conuersation, I should
    get ground of your faire Mistris; make her go backe, e-
    420uen to the yeilding, had I admittance, and opportunitie
    to friend.
    Post. No, no.
    Iach. I dare thereupon pawne the moytie of my E-
    state, to your Ring, which in my opinion o're-values it
    425something: but I make my wager rather against your
    Confidence, then her Reputation. And to barre your of-
    fence heerein to, I durst attempt it against any Lady in
    the world.
    Post. You are a great deale abus'd in too bold a per-
    430swasion, and I doubt not you sustaine what y'are worthy
    of, by your Attempt.
    Iach. What's that?
    Posth. A Repulse though your Attempt (as you call
    it) deserue more; a punishment too.
    435Phi. Gentlemen enough of this, it came in too so-
    dainely, let it dye as it was borne, and I pray you be bet-
    ter acquainted.
    Iach. Would I had put my Estate, and my Neighbors
    on th' approbation of what I haue spoke.
    440Post. What Lady would you chuse to assaile?
    Iach. Yours, whom in constancie you thinke stands
    so safe. I will lay you ten thousands Duckets to your
    Ring, that commend me to the Court where your La-
    dy is, with no more aduantage then the opportunitie of a
    445second conference, and I will bring from thence, that
    Honor of hers, which you imagine so reseru'd.
    Posthmus. I will wage against your Gold, Gold to
    it: My Ring I holde deere as my finger, 'tis part of
    450Iach. You are a Friend, and there in the wiser: if you
    buy Ladies flesh at a Million a Dram, you cannot pre-
    seure it from tainting; but I see you haue some Religion
    in you, that you feare.
    Posthu. This is but a custome in your tongue: you
    455beare a grauer purpose I hope.
    Iach. I am the Master of my speeches, and would vn-
    der-go what's spoken, I sweare.
    Posthu. Will you? I shall but lend my Diamond till
    your returne: let there be Couenants drawne between's.
    460My Mistris exceedes in goodnesse, the hugenesse of your
    vnworthy thinking. I dare you to this match: heere's my
    Phil. I will haue it no lay.
    Iach. By the Gods it is one: if I bring you no suffi-
    465cient testimony that I haue enioy'd the deerest bodily
    part of your Mistris: my ten thousand Duckets are yours,
    The Tragedy of Cymbeline. 373
    so is your Diamond too: if I come off, and leaue her in
    such honour as you haue trust in; Shee your Iewell, this
    your Iewell, and my Gold are yours: prouided, I haue
    470your commendation, for my more free entertainment.
    Post. I embrace these Conditions, let vs haue Articles
    betwixt vs: onely thus farre you shall answere, if you
    make your voyage vpon her, and giue me directly to vn-
    derstand, you haue preuayl'd, I am no further your Ene-
    475my, shee is not worth our debate. If shee remaine vnse-
    duc'd, you not making it appeare otherwise: for your ill
    opinion, and th' assault you haue made to her chastity, you
    shall answer me with your Sword.
    Iach. Your hand, a Couenant: wee will haue these
    480things set downe by lawfull Counsell, and straight away
    for Britaine, least the Bargaine should catch colde, and
    sterue: I will fetch my Gold, and haue our two Wagers
    Post. Agreed.
    485French. Will this hold, thinke you.
    Phil. Signior Iachimo will not from it.
    Pray let vs follow 'em. Exeunt
    Scena Sexta.
    Enter Queene, Ladies, and Cornelius.
    490Qu. Whiles yet the dewe's on ground,
    Gather those Flowers,
    Make haste. Who ha's the note of them?
    Lady. I Madam.
    Queen. Dispatch. Exit Ladies.
    495Now Master Doctor, haue you brought those drugges?
    Cor. Pleaseth your Highnes, I: here they are, Madam:
    But I beseech your Grace, without offence
    (My Conscience bids me aske) wherefore you haue
    Commanded of me these most poysonous Compounds,
    500Which are the moouers of a languishing death:
    But though slow, deadly.
    Qu. I wonder, Doctor,
    Thou ask'st me such a Question: Haue I not bene
    Thy Pupill long? Hast thou not learn'd me how
    505To make Perfumes? Distill? Preserue? Yea so,
    That our great King himselfe doth woo me oft
    For my Confections? Hauing thus farre proceeded,
    (Vnlesse thou think'st me diuellish) is't not meete
    That I did amplifie my iudgement in
    510Other Conclusions? I will try the forces
    Of these thy Compounds, on such Creatures as
    We count not worth the hanging (but none humane)
    To try the vigour of them, and apply
    Allayments to their Act, and by them gather
    515Their seuerall vertues, and effects.
    Cor. Your Highnesse
    Shall from this practise, but make hard your heart:
    Besides, the seeing these effects will be
    Both noysome, and infectious.
    520Qu. O content thee.
    Enter Pisanio.
    Heere comes a flattering Rascall, vpon him
    Will I first worke: Hee's for his Master,
    And enemy to my Sonne. How now Pisanio?
    525Doctor, your seruice for this time is ended,
    Take your owne way.
    Cor. I do suspect you, Madam,
    But you shall do no harme.
    Qu. Hearke thee, a word.
    530Cor. I do not like her. She doth thinke she ha's
    Strange ling'ring poysons: I do know her spirit,
    And will not trust one of her malice, with
    A drugge of such damn'd Nature. Those she ha's,
    Will stupifie and dull the Sense a-while,
    535Which first (perchance) shee'l proue on Cats and Dogs,
    Then afterward vp higher: but there is
    No danger in what shew of death it makes,
    More then the locking vp the Spirits a time,
    To be more fresh, reuiuing. She is fool'd
    540With a most false effect: and I, the truer,
    So to be false with her.
    Qu. No further seruice, Doctor,
    Vntill I send for thee.
    Cor. I humbly take my leaue. Exit.
    545Qu. Weepes she still (saist thou?)
    Dost thou thinke in time
    She will not quench, and let instructions enter
    Where Folly now possesses? Do thou worke:
    When thou shalt bring me word she loues my Sonne,
    550Ile tell thee on the instant, thou art then
    As great as is thy Master: Greater, for
    His Fortunes all lye speechlesse, and his name
    Is at last gaspe. Returne he cannot, nor
    Continue where he is: To shift his being,
    555Is to exchange one misery with another,
    And euery day that comes, comes to decay
    A dayes worke in him. What shalt thou expect
    To be depender on a thing that leanes?
    Who cannot be new built, nor ha's no Friends
    560So much, as but to prop him? Thou tak'st vp
    Thou know'st not what: But take it for thy labour,
    It is a thing I made, which hath the King
    Fiue times redeem'd from death. I do not know
    What is more Cordiall. Nay, I prythee take it,
    565It is an earnest of a farther good
    That I meane to thee. Tell thy Mistris how
    The case stands with her: doo't, as from thy selfe;
    Thinke what a chance thou changest on, but thinke
    Thou hast thy Mistris still, to boote, my Sonne,
    570Who shall take notice of thee. Ile moue the King
    To any shape of thy Preferment, such
    As thou'lt desire: and then my selfe, I cheefely,
    That set thee on to this desert, am bound
    To loade thy merit richly. Call my women. Exit Pisa.
    575Thinke on my words. A slye, and constant knaue,
    Not to be shak'd: the Agent for his Master,
    And the Remembrancer of her, to hold
    The hand-fast to her Lord. I haue giuen him that,
    Which if he take, shall quite vnpeople her
    580Of Leidgers for her Sweete: and which, she after
    Except she bend her humor, shall be assur'd
    To taste of too.
    Enter Pisanio, and Ladies.
    So, so: Well done, well done:
    585The Violets, Cowslippes, and the Prime-Roses
    Beare to my Closset: Fare thee well, Pisanio.
    Thinke on my words. Exit Qu. and Ladies
    Pisa. And shall do:
    But when to my good Lord, I proue vntrue,
    590Ile choake my selfe: there's all Ile do for you. Exit.
    374The Tragedy of Cymbeline.
    Scena Septima.
    Enter Imogen alone.
    Imo. A Father cruell, and a Stepdame false,
    A Foolish Suitor to a Wedded-Lady,
    595That hath her Husband banish'd: O, that Husband,
    My supreame Crowne of griefe, and those repeated
    Vexations of it. Had I bin Theefe-stolne,
    As my two Brothers, happy: but most miserable
    Is the desires that's glorious. Blessed be those
    600How meane so ere, that haue their honest wills,
    Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fye.
    Enter Pisanio, and Iachimo.
    Pisa. Madam, a Noble Gentleman of Rome,
    Comes from my Lord with Letters.
    605Iach. Change you, Madam:
    The Worthy Leonatus is in safety,
    And greetes your Highnesse deerely.
    Imo. Thanks good Sir,
    You're kindly welcome.
    610Iach. All of her, that is out of doore, most rich:
    If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare
    She is alone th' Arabian-Bird; and I
    Haue lost the wager. Boldnesse be my Friend:
    Arme me Audacitie from head to foote,
    615Or like the Parthian I shall flying fight,
    Rather directly fly.
    Imogen reads.
    He is one of the Noblest note, to whose kindnesses I am most in-
    finitely tied. Reflect vpon him accordingly, as you value your
    620trust. Leonatus.
    So farre I reade aloud.
    But euen the very middle of my heart
    Is warm'd by'th' rest, and take it thankefully.
    You are as welcome (worthy Sir) as I
    625Haue words to bid you, and shall finde it so
    In all that I can do.
    Iach. Thankes fairest Lady:
    What are men mad? Hath Nature giuen them eyes
    To see this vaulted Arch, and the rich Crop
    630Of Sea and Land, which can distinguish 'twixt
    The firie Orbes aboue, and the twinn'd Stones
    Vpon the number'd Beach, and can we not
    Partition make with Spectales so pretious
    Twixt faire, and foule?
    635Imo. What makes your admiration?
    Iach. It cannot be i'th' eye: for Apes, and Monkeys
    'Twixt two such She's, would chatter this way, and
    Contemne with mowes the other. Nor i'th' iudgment:
    For Idiots in this case of fauour, would
    640Be wisely definit: Nor i'th' Appetite.
    Sluttery to such neate Excellence, oppos'd
    Should make desire vomit emptinesse,
    Not so allur'd to feed.
    Imo. What is the matter trow?
    645Iach. The Cloyed will:
    That satiate yet vnsatisfi'd desire, that Tub
    Both fill'd and running: Rauening first the Lambe,
    Longs after for the Garbage.
    Imo. What, deere Sir,
    650Thus rap's you? Are you well?
    Iach. Thanks Madam well: Beseech you Sir,
    Desire my Man's abode, where I did leaue him:
    He's strange and peeuish.
    Pisa. I was going Sir,
    655To giue him welcome. Exit.
    Imo. Continues well my Lord?
    His health beseech you?
    Iach. Well, Madam.
    Imo. Is he dispos'd to mirth? I hope he is.
    660Iach. Exceeding pleasant: none a stranger there,
    So merry, and so gamesome: he is call'd
    The Britaine Reueller.
    Imo. When he was heere
    He did incline to sadnesse, and oft times
    665Not knowiug why.
    Iach. I neuer saw him sad.
    There is a Frenchman his Companion, one
    An eminent Monsieur, that it seemes much loues
    A Gallian-Girle at home. He furnaces
    670The thicke sighes from him; whiles the iolly Britaine,
    (Your Lord I meane) laughes from's free lungs: cries oh,
    Can my sides hold, to think that man who knowes
    By History, Report, or his owne proofe
    What woman is, yea what she cannot choose
    675But must be: will's free houres languish:
    For assured bondage?
    Imo. Will my Lord say so?
    Iach. I Madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter,
    It is a Recreation to be by
    680And heare him mocke the Frenchman:
    But Heauen's know some men are much too blame.
    Imo. Not he I hope.
    Iach. Not he:
    But yet Heauen's bounty towards him, might
    685Be vs'd more thankfully. In himselfe 'tis much;
    In you, which I account his beyond all Talents.
    Whil'st I am bound to wonder, I am bound
    To pitty too.
    Imo. What do you pitty Sir?
    690Iach. Two Creatures heartyly.
    Imo. Am I one Sir?
    You looke on me: what wrack discerne you in me
    Deserues your pitty?
    Iach. Lamentable: what
    695To hide me from the radiant Sun, and solace
    I'th' Dungeon by a Snuffe.
    Imo. I pray you Sir,
    Deliuer with more opennesse your answeres
    To my demands. Why do you pitty me?
    700Iach. That others do,
    (I was about to say) enioy your--- but
    It is an office of the Gods to venge it,
    Not mine to speake on't.
    Imo. You do seeme to know
    705Something of me, or what concernes me; pray you
    Since doubting things go ill, often hurts more
    Then to be sure they do. For Certainties
    Either are past remedies; or timely knowing,
    The remedy then borne. Discouer to me
    710What both you spur and stop.
    Iach' Had I this cheeke
    To bathe my lips vpon: this hand, whose touch,
    (Whose euery touch) would force the Feelers soule
    To'th' oath of loyalty. This obiect, which
    715Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,
    Fiering it onely heere, should I (damn'd then)
    The Tragedy of Cymbeline. 375
    Slauuer with lippes as common as the stayres
    That mount the Capitoll: Ioyne gripes, with hands
    Made hard with hourely falshood (falshood as
    720With labour:) then by peeping in an eye
    Base and illustrious as the smoakie light
    That's fed with stinking Tallow: it were fit
    That all the plagues of Hell should at one time
    Encounter such reuolt.
    725Imo. My Lord, I feare
    Has forgot Brittaine.
    Iach. And himselfe, not I
    Inclin'd to this intelligence, pronounce
    The Beggery of his change: but 'tis your Graces'
    730That from my mutest Conscience, to my tongue,
    Charmes this report out.
    Imo. Let me heare no more.
    Iach. O deerest Soule: your Cause doth strike my hart
    With pitty, that doth make me sicke. A Lady
    735So faire, and fasten'd to an Emperie
    Would make the great'st King double, to be partner'd
    With Tomboyes hyr'd, with that selfe exhibition
    Which your owne Coffers yeeld: with diseas'd ventures
    That play with all Infirmities for Gold,
    740Which rottennesse can lend Nature. Such boyl'd stuffe
    As well might poyson Poyson. Be reueng'd,
    Or she that bore you, was no Queene, and you
    Recoyle from your great Stocke.
    Imo. Reueng'd:
    745How should I be reueng'd? If this be true,
    (As I haue such a Heart, that both mine eares
    Must not in haste abuse) if it be true,
    How should I be reueng'd?
    Iach. Should he make me
    750Liue like Diana's Priest, betwixt cold sheets,
    Whiles he is vaulting variable Rampes
    In your despight, vpon your purse: reuenge it.
    I dedicate my selfe to your sweet pleasure,
    More Noble then that runnagate to your bed,
    755And will continue fast to your Affection,
    Still close, as sure.
    Imo. What hoa, Pisanio?
    Iach. Let me my seruice tender on your lippes.
    Imo. Away, I do condemne mine eares, that haue
    760So long attended thee. If thou wert Honourable
    Thou would'st haue told this tale for Vertue, not
    For such an end thou seek'st, as base, as strange:
    Thou wrong'st a Gentleman, who is as farre
    From thy report, as thou from Honor: and
    765Solicites heere a Lady, that disdaines
    Thee, and the Diuell alike. What hoa, Pisanio?
    The King my Father shall be made acquainted
    Of thy Assault: if he shall thinke it fit,
    A sawcy Stranger in his Court, to Mart
    770As in a Romish Stew, and to expound
    His beastly minde to vs; he hath a Court
    He little cares for, and a Daughter, who
    He not respects at all. What hoa, Pisanio?
    Iach. O happy Leonatus I may say,
    775The credit that thy Lady hath of thee
    Deserues thy trust, and thy most perfect goodnesse
    Her assur'd credit. Blessed liue you long,
    A Lady to the worthiest Sir, that euer
    Country call'd his; and you his Mistris, onely
    780For the most worthiest fit. Giue me your pardon,
    I haue spoke this to know if your Affiance
    Were deeply rooted, and shall make your Lord,
    That which he is, new o're: And he is one
    The truest manner'd: such a holy Witch,
    785That he enchants Societies into him:
    Halfe all men hearts are his.
    Imo. You make amends.
    Iach. He sits 'mongst men, like a defended God;
    He hath a kinde of Honor sets him off,
    790More then a mortall seeming. Be not angrie
    (Most mighty Princesse) that I haue aduentur'd
    To try your taking of a false report, which hath
    Honour'd with confirmation your great Iudgement,
    In the election of a Sir, so rare,
    795Which you know, cannot erre. The loue I beare him,
    Made me to fan you thus, but the Gods made you
    (Vnlike all others) chaffelesse. Pray your pardon.
    Imo. All's well Sir:
    Take my powre i'th' Court for yours.
    800Iach. My humble thankes: I had almost forgot
    T' intreat your Grace, but in a small request,
    And yet of moment too, for it concernes:
    Your Lord, my selfe, and other Noble Friends
    Are partners in the businesse.
    805Imo. Pray what is't?
    Iach. Some dozen Romanes of vs, and your Lord
    (The best Feather of our wing) haue mingled summes
    To buy a Present for the Emperor:
    Which I (the Factor for the rest) haue done
    810In France: 'tis Plate of rare deuice, and Iewels
    Of rich, and exquisite forme, their valewes great,
    And I am something curious, being strange
    To haue them in safe stowage: May it please you
    To take them in protection.
    815Imo. Willingly:
    And pawne mine Honor for their safety, since
    My Lord hath interest in them, I will keepe them
    In my Bed-chamber.
    Iach. They are in a Trunke
    820Attended by my men: I will make bold
    To send them to you, onely for this night:
    I must aboord to morrow.
    Imo. O no, no.
    Iach. Yes I beseech: or I shall short my word
    825By length'ning my returne. From Gallia,
    I crost the Seas on purpose, and on promise
    To see your Grace.
    Imo. I thanke you for your paines:
    But not away to morrow.
    830Iach. O I must Madam.
    Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please
    To greet your Lord with writing, doo't to night,
    I haue out-stood my time, which is materiall
    To'th' tender of our Present.
    835Imo. I will write:
    Send your Trunke to me, it shall safe be kept,
    And truely yeelded you: you're very welcome. Exeunt.
    Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
    Enter Clotten, and the two Lords.
    840Clot. Was there euer man had such lucke? when I kist
    the Iacke vpon an vp-cast, to be hit away? I had a hun-
    dred pound on't: and then a whorson Iacke-an-Apes,
    376The Tragedy of Cymbeline.
    must take me vp for swearing, as if I borrowed mine
    oathes of him, and might not spend them at my pleasure.
    8451. What got he by that? you haue broke his pate
    with your Bowle.
    2. If his wit had bin like him that broke it: it would
    haue run all out.
    Clot. When a Gentleman is dispos'd to sweare: it is
    850not for any standers by to curtall his oathes. Ha?
    2. No my Lord; nor crop the eares of them.
    Clot. Whorson dog: I gaue him satisfaction? would
    he had bin one of my Ranke.
    2. To haue smell'd like a Foole.
    855Clot. I am not vext more at any thing in th' earth: a
    pox on't. I had rather not be so Noble as I am: they dare
    not fight with me, because of the Queene my Mo-
    ther: euery Iacke-Slaue hath his belly full of Fighting,
    and I must go vp and downe like a Cock, that no body
    860can match.
    2. You are Cocke and Capon too, and you crow
    Cock, with your combe on.
    Clot. Sayest thou?
    2. It is not fit you Lordship should vndertake euery
    865Companion, that you giue offence too.
    Clot. No, I know that: but it is fit I should commit
    offence to my inferiors.
    2. I, it is fit for your Lordship onely.
    Clot. Why so I say.
    8701. Did you heere of a Stranger that's come to Court
    Clot. A Stranger, and I not know on't?
    2. He's a strange Fellow himselfe, and knowes it not.
    1. There's an Italian come, and 'tis thought one of
    875Leonatus Friends.
    Clot. Leonatus? A banisht Rascall; and he's another,
    whatsoeuer he be. Who told you of this Stranger?
    1. One of your Lordships Pages.
    Clot. Is it fit I went to looke vpon him? Is there no
    880derogation in't?
    2. You cannot derogate my Lord.
    Clot. Not easily I thinke.
    2. You are a Foole graunted, therefore your Issues
    being foolish do not derogate.
    885Clot. Come, Ile go see this Italian: what I haue lost
    to day at Bowles, Ile winne to night of him. Come: go.
    2. Ile attend your Lordship. Exit.
    That such a craftie Diuell as is his Mother
    Should yeild the world this Asse: A woman, that
    890Beares all downe with her Braine, and this her Sonne,
    Cannot take two from twenty for his heart,
    And leaue eighteene. Alas poore Princesse,
    Thou diuine Imogen, what thou endur'st,
    Betwixt a Father by thy Step-dame gouern'd,
    895A Mother hourely coyning plots: A Wooer,
    More hatefull then the foule expulsion is
    Of thy deere Husband. Then that horrid Act
    Of the diuorce, heel'd make the Heauens hold firme
    The walls of thy deere Honour. Keepe vnshak'd
    900That Temple thy faire mind, that thou maist stand
    T' enioy thy banish'd Lord: and this great Land. Exeunt.
    Scena Secunda.
    Enter Imogen, in her Bed, and a Lady.
    Imo. Who's there? My woman: Helene?
    905La. Please you Madam.
    Imo. What houre is it?
    Lady. Almost midnight, Madam.
    Imo. I haue read three houres then:
    Mine eyes are weake,
    910Fold downe the leafe where I haue left: to bed.
    Take not away the Taper, leaue it burning:
    And if thou canst awake by foure o'th' clock,
    I prythee call me: Sleepe hath ceiz'd me wholly.
    To your protection I commend me, Gods,
    915From Fayries, and the Tempters of the night,
    Guard me beseech yee. Sleepes.
    Iachimo from the Trunke.
    Iach. The Crickets sing, and mans ore-labor'd sense
    Repaires it selfe by rest: Our Tarquine thus
    920Did softly presse the Rushes, ere he waken'd
    The Chastitie he wounded. Cytherea,
    How brauely thou becom'st thy Bed; fresh Lilly,
    And whiter then the Sheetes: that I might touch,
    But kisse, one kisse. Rubies vnparagon'd,
    925How deerely they doo't: 'Tis her breathing that
    Perfumes the Chamber thus: the Flame o'th' Taper
    Bowes toward her, and would vnder-peepe her lids.
    To see th' inclosed Lights, now Canopied
    Vnder these windowes, White and Azure lac'd
    930With Blew of Heauens owne tinct. But my designe.
    To note the Chamber, I will write all downe,
    Such, and such pictures: There the window, such
    Th' adornement of her Bed; the Arras, Figures,
    Why such, and such: and the Contents o'th' Story.
    935Ah, but some naturall notes about her Body,
    Aboue ten thousand meaner Moueables
    Would testifie, t' enrich mine Inuentorie.
    O sleepe, thou Ape of death, lye dull vpon her,
    And be her Sense but as a Monument,
    940Thus in a Chappell lying. Come off, come off;
    As slippery as the Gordian-knot was hard.
    'Tis mine, and this will witnesse outwardly,
    As strongly as the Conscience do's within:
    To'th' madding of her Lord. On her left brest
    945A mole Cinque-spotted: Like the Crimson drops
    I'th' bottome of a Cowslippe. Heere's a Voucher,
    Stronger then euer Law could make; this Secret
    Will force him thinke I haue pick'd the lock, and t'ane
    The treasure of her Honour. No more: to what end?
    950Why should I write this downe, that's riueted,
    Screw'd to my memorie. She hath bin reading late,
    The Tale of Tereus, heere the leaffe's turn'd downe
    Where Philomele gaue vp. I haue enough,
    To'th' Truncke againe, and shut the spring of it.
    955Swift, swift, you Dragons of the night, that dawning
    May beare the Rauens eye: I lodge in feare,
    Though this a heauenly Angell: hell is heere.
    Clocke strikes
    One, two, three: time, time. Exit.
    960Scena Tertia.
    Enter Clotten, and Lords.
    1. Your Lordship is the most patient man in losse, the
    most coldest that euer turn'd vp Ace.
    Clot. It would make any man cold to loose.
    9651. But not euery man patient after the noble temper
    of your Lordship; You are most hot, and furious when
    you winne.
    The Tragedie of Cymbeline. 377
    Winning will put any man into courage: if I could get
    this foolish Imogen, I should haue Gold enough: it's al-
    970most morning, is't not?
    1 Day, my Lord.
    Clot. I would this Musicke would come: I am adui-
    sed to giue her Musicke a mornings, they say it will pene-
    trate. Enter Musitians.
    975Come on, tune: If you can penetrate her with your fin-
    gering, so: wee'l try with tongue too: if none will do, let
    her remaine: but Ile neuer giue o're. First, a very excel-
    lent good conceyted thing; after a wonderful sweet aire,
    with admirable rich words to it, and then let her consi-
    Hearke, hearke, the Larke at Heauens gate sings,
    and Phoebus gins arise,
    His Steeds to water at those Springs
    985 on chalic'd Flowres that lyes:
    And winking Mary-buds begin to ope their Golden eyes
    With euery thing that pretty is, my Lady sweet arise:
    Arise, arise.
    So, get you gone: if this pen trate, I will consider your
    990Musicke the better: if it do not, it is a voyce in her eares
    which Horse-haires, and Calues-guts, nor the voyce of
    vnpaued Eunuch to boot, can neuer amed.
    Enter Cymbaline, and Queene.
    2 Heere comes the King.
    995Clot. I am glad I was vp so late, for that's the reason
    I was vp so earely: he cannot choose but take this Ser-
    uice I haue done, fatherly. Good morrow to your Ma-
    iesty, and to my gracious Mother.
    Cym. Attend you here the doore of our stern daughter
    1000Will she not forth?
    Clot. I haue assayl'd her with Musickes, but she vouch-
    safes no notice.
    Cym. The Exile of her Minion is too new,
    She hath not yet forgot him, some more time
    1005Must weare the print of his remembrance on't,
    And then she's yours.
    Qu. You are most bound to'th' King,
    Who let's go by no vantages, that may
    Preferre you to his daughter: Frame your selfe
    1010To orderly solicity, and be friended
    With aptnesse of the season: make denials
    Encrease your Seruices: so seeme, as if
    You were inspir'd to do those duties which
    You tender to her: that you in all obey her,
    1015Saue when command to your dismission tends,
    And therein you are senselesse.
    Clot. Senselesse? Not so.
    Mes. So like you (Sir) Ambassadors from Rome;
    The one is Caius Lucius.
    1020Cym. A worthy Fellow,
    Albeit he comes on angry purpose now;
    But that's no fault of his: we must receyue him
    According to the Honor of his Sender,
    And towards himselfe, his goodnesse fore-spent on vs
    1025We must extend our notice: Our deere Sonne,
    When you haue giuen good morning to your Mistris,
    Attend the Queene, and vs, we shall haue neede
    T' employ you towards this Romane.
    Come our Queene. Exeunt.
    1030Clot. If she be vp, Ile speake with her: if not
    Let her lye still, and dreame: by your leaue hoa,
    I know her women are about her: what
    If I do line one of their hands, 'tis Gold
    Which buyes admittance (oft it doth) yea, and makes
    1035Diana's Rangers false themselues, yeeld vp
    Their Deere to'th' stand o'th' Stealer: and 'tis Gold
    Which makes the True-man kill'd, and saues the Theefe:
    Nay, sometime hangs both Theefe, and True-man: what
    Can it not do, and vndoo? I will make
    1040One of her women Lawyer to me, for
    I yet not vnderstand the case my selfe.
    By your leaue. Knockes.
    Enter a Lady.
    La. Who's there that knockes?
    1045Clot. A Gentleman.
    La. No more.
    Clot. Yes, and a Gentlewomans Sonne.
    La. That's more
    Then some whose Taylors are as deere as yours,
    1050Can iustly boast of: what's your Lordships pleasure?
    Clot. Your Ladies person, is she ready?
    La. I, to keepe her Chamber.
    Clot. There is Gold for you,
    Sell me your good report.
    1055La. How, my good name? or to report of you
    What I shall thinke is good. The Princesse.
    Enter Imogen.
    Clot. Good morrow fairest, Sister your sweet hand.
    Imo. Good morrow Sir, you lay out too much paines
    1060For purchasing but trouble: the thankes I giue,
    Is telling you that I am poore of thankes,
    And scarse can spare them.
    Clot. Still I sweare I loue you.
    Imo. If you but said so, 'twere as deepe with me:
    1065If you sweare still, your recompence is still
    That I regard it not.
    Clot. This is no answer.
    Imo. But that you shall not say, I yeeld being silent,
    I would not speake. I pray you spare me, 'faith
    1070I shall vnfold equall discourtesie
    To your best kindnesse: one of your great knowing
    Should learne (being taught) forbearance.
    Clot. To leaue you in your madnesse, 'twere my sin,
    I will not.
    1075Imo. Fooles are not mad Folkes.
    Clot. Do you call me Foole?
    Imo. As I am mad, I do:
    If you'l be patient, Ile no more be mad,
    That cures vs both. I am much sorry (Sir)
    1080You put me to forget a Ladies manners
    By being so verball: and learne now, for all,
    That I which know my heart, do heere pronounce
    By th' very truth of it, I care not for you,
    And am so neere the lacke of Charitie
    1085To accuse my selfe, I hate you: which I had rather
    You felt, then make't my boast.
    Clot. You sinne against
    Obedience, which you owe your Father, for
    The Contract you pretend with that base Wretch,
    1090One, bred of Almes, and foster'd with cold dishes,
    With scraps o'th' Court: It is no Contract, none;
    And though it be allowed in meaner parties
    (Yet who then he more meane) to knit their soules
    (On whom there is no more dependancie
    1095But Brats and Beggery) in selfe-figur'd knot,
    Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement, by
    aaa The
    378The Tragedy of Cymbeline.
    The consequence o'th' Crowne, and must not foyle
    The precious note of it; with a base Slaue,
    A Hilding for a Liuorie, a Squires Cloth,
    1100A Pantler; not so eminent.
    Imo. Prophane Fellow:
    Wert thou the Sonne of Iupiter, and no more,
    But what thou art besides: thou wer't too base,
    To be his Groome: thou wer't dignified enough
    1105Euen to the point of Enuie. If 'twere made
    Comparatiue for your Vertues, to be stil'd
    The vnder Hangman of his Kingdome; and hated
    For being prefer'd so well.
    Clot. The South-Fog rot him.
    1110Imo. He neuer can meete more mischance, then come
    To be but nam'd of thee. His mean'st Garment
    That euer hath but clipt his body; is dearer
    In my respect, then all the Heires aboue thee,
    Were they all made such men: How now Pisanio?
    1115Enter Pisanio,
    Clot. His Garments? Now the diuell.
    Imo. To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently.
    Clot. His Garment?
    Imo. I am sprighted with a Foole,
    1120Frighted, and angred worse: Go bid my woman
    Search for a Iewell, that too casually
    Hath left mine Arme: it was thy Masters. Shrew me
    If I would loose it for a Reuenew,
    Of any Kings in Europe. I do think,
    1125I saw't this morning: Confident I am.
    Last night 'twas on mine Arme; I kiss'd it,
    I hope it be not gone, to tell my Lord
    That I kisse aught but he.
    Pis. 'Twill not be lost.
    1130Imo. I hope so: go and search.
    Clot. You haue abus'd me:
    His meanest Garment?
    Imo. I, I said so Sir,
    If you will make't an Action, call witnesse to't.
    1135Clot. I will enforme your Father.
    Imo. Your Mother too:
    She's my good Lady; and will concieue, I hope
    But the worst of me. So I leaue your Sir,
    To'th' worst of discontent. Exit.
    1140Clot. Ile be reueng'd:
    His mean'st Garment? Well. Exit.
    Scena Quarta.
    Enter Posthumus, and Philario.
    Post. Feare it not Sir: I would I were so sure
    1145To winne the King, as I am bold, her Honour
    Will remaine her's.
    Phil. What meanes do you make to him?
    Post. Not any: but abide the change of Time,
    Quake in the present winters state, and wish
    1150That warmer dayes would come: In these fear'd hope
    I barely gratifie your loue; they fayling
    I must die much your debtor.
    Phil. Your very goodnesse, and your company,
    Ore-payes all I can do. By this your King,
    1155Hath heard of Great Augustus: Caius Lucius,
    Will do's Commission throughly. And I think
    Hee'le grant the Tribute: send th' Arrerages,
    Or looke vpon our Romaines, whose remembrance
    Is yet fresh in their griefe.
    1160Post. I do beleeue
    (Statist though I am none, nor like to be)
    That this will proue a Warre; and you shall heare
    The Legion now in Gallia, sooner landed
    In our not-fearing-Britaine, then haue tydings
    1165Of any penny Tribute paid. Our Countrymen
    Are men more order'd, then when Iulius Caesar
    Smil'd at their lacke of skill, but found their courage
    Worthy his frowning at. Their discipline,
    (Now wing-led with their courages) will make knowne
    1170To their Approuers, they are People, such
    That mend vpon the world. Enter Iachimo.
    Phi. See Iachimo.
    Post. The swiftest Harts, haue posted you by land;
    And Windes of all the Corners kiss'd your Sailes,
    1175To make your vessell nimble.
    Phil. Welcome Sir.
    Post. I hope the briefenesse of your answere, made
    The speedinesse of your returne.
    Iachi. Your Lady,
    1180Is one of the fayrest that I haue look'd vpon
    Post. And therewithall the best, or let her beauty
    Looke thorough a Casement to allure false hearts,
    And be false with them.
    Iachi. Heere are Letters for you.
    1185Post. Their tenure good I trust.
    Iach. 'Tis very like.
    Post. Was Caius Lucius in the Britaine Court,
    When you were there?
    Iach. He was expected then,
    1190But not approach'd.
    Post. All is well yet,
    Sparkles this Stone as it was wont, or is't not
    Too dull for your good wearing?
    Iach. If I haue lost it,
    1195I should haue lost the worth of it in Gold,
    Ile make a iourney twice as farre, t' enioy
    A second night of such sweet shortnesse, which
    Was mine in Britaine, for the Ring is wonne.
    Post. The Stones too hard to come by.
    1200Iach. Not a whit,
    Your Lady being so easy.
    Post. Make note Sir
    Your losse, your Sport: I hope you know that we
    Must not continue Friends.
    1205Iach. Good Sir, we must
    If you keepe Couenant: had I not brought
    The knowledge of your Mistris home, I grant
    We were to question farther; but I now
    Professe my selfe the winner of her Honor,
    1210Together with your Ring; and not the wronger
    Of her, or you hauing proceeded but
    By both your willes.
    Post. If you can mak't apparant
    That yon haue tasted her in Bed; my hand,
    1215And Ring is yours. If not, the foule opinion
    You had of her pure Honour; gaines, or looses,
    Your Sword, or mine, or Masterlesse leaue both
    To who shall finde them.
    Iach. Sir, my Circumstances
    1220Being so nere the Truth, as I will make them,
    Must first induce you to beleeue; whose strength
    I will confirme wit h oath, which I doubt not
    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?
    aaa2 Or
    380The Tragedy of Cymbeline.
    Or lesse; at first? Perchance he spoke not, but
    Like a full Acorn'd Boare, a Iarmen on,
    1355Cry'de oh, and mounted; found no opposition
    But what he look'd for, should oppose, and she
    Should from encounter guard. Could I finde out
    The Womans part in me, for there's no motion
    That tends to vice in man, but I affirme
    1360It is the Womans part: be it Lying, note it,
    The womans: Flattering, hers; Deceiuing, hers:
    Lust, and ranke thoughts, hers, hers: Reuenges hers:
    Ambitions, Couetings, change of Prides, Disdaine,
    Nice-longing, Slanders, Mutability;
    1365All Faults that name, nay, that Hell knowes,
    Why hers, in part, or all: but rather all. For euen to Vice
    They are not constant, but are changing still;
    One Vice, but of a minute old, for one
    Not halfe so old as that. Ile write against them,
    1370Detest them, curse them: yet 'tis greater Skill
    In a true Hate, to pray they haue their will:
    The very Diuels cannot plague them better. Exit.
    Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
    Enter in State, Cymbeline, Queene, Clotten, and Lords at
    1375one doore, and at another, Caius, Lucius;
    and Attendants.
    Cym. Now say, what would Augustus Caesar with vs?
    Luc. When Iulius Caesar (whose remembrance yet
    Liues in mens eyes, and will to Eares and Tongues
    1380Be Theame, and hearing euer) was in this Britain,
    And Conquer'd it, Cassibulan thine Vnkle
    (Famous in Caesars prayses, no whit lesse
    Then in his Feats deseruing it) for him,
    And his Succession, granted Rome a Tribute,
    1385Yeerely three thousand pounds; which (by thee) lately
    Is left vntender'd.
    Qu. And to kill the meruaile,
    Shall be so euer.
    Clot. There be many Caesars,
    1390Ere such another Iulius: Britaine's a world
    By it selfe, and we will nothing pay
    For wearing our owne Noses.
    Qu. That opportunity
    Which then they had to take from's, to resume
    1395We haue againe. Remember Sir, my Liege,
    The Kings your Ancestors, together with
    The naturall brauery of your Isle, which stands
    As Neptunes Parke, ribb'd, and pal'd in
    With Oakes vnskaleable, and roaring Waters,
    1400With Sands that will not beare your Enemies Boates,
    But sucke them vp to'th' Top-mast. A kinde of Conquest
    Caesar made heere, but made not heere his bragge
    Of Came, and Saw, and Ouer-came: with shame
    (The first that euer touch'd him) he was carried
    1405From off our Coast, twice beaten: and his Shipping
    (Poore ignorant Baubles) on our terrible Seas
    Like Egge-shels mou'd vpon their Surges, crack'd
    As easily 'gainst our Rockes. For ioy whereof,
    The fam'd Cassibulan, who was once at point
    1410(Oh giglet Fortune) to master Caesars Sword,
    Made Luds-Towne with reioycing-Fires bright,
    And Britaines strut with Courage.
    Clot. Come, there's no more Tribute to be paid: our
    Kingdome is stronger then it was at that time: and (as I
    1415said) there is no mo such Caesars, other of them may haue
    crook'd Noses, but to owe such straite Armes, none.
    Cym. Son, let your Mother end.
    Clot. We haue yet many among vs, can gripe as hard
    as Cassibulan, I doe not say I am one: but I haue a hand.
    1420Why Tribute? Why should we pay Tribute? If Caesar
    can hide the Sun from vs with a Blanket, or put the Moon
    in his pocket, we will pay him Tribute for light: else Sir,
    no more Tribute, pray you now.
    Cym. You must know,
    1425Till the iniurious Romans, did extort
    This Tribute from vs, we were free. Caesars Ambition,
    Which swell'd so much, that it did almost stretch
    The sides o'th' World, against all colour heere,
    Did put the yoake vpon's; which to shake off
    1430Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon
    Our selues to be, we do. Say then to Caesar,
    Our Ancestor was that Mulmutius, which
    Ordain'd our Lawes, whose vse the Sword of Caesar
    Hath too much mangled; whose repayre, and franchise,
    1435Shall (by the power we hold) be our good deed,
    Tho Rome be therfore angry. Mulmutius made our lawes
    Who was the first of Britaine, which did put
    His browes within a golden Crowne, and call'd
    Himselfe a King.
    1440Luc. I am sorry Cymbeline,
    That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar
    (Caesar, that hath moe Kings his Seruants, then
    Thy selfe Domesticke Officers) thine Enemy:
    Receyue it from me then. Warre, and Confusion
    1445In Caesars name pronounce I 'gainst thee: Looke
    For fury, not to be resisted. Thus defide,
    I thanke thee for my selfe.
    Cym. Thou art welcome Caius,
    Thy Caesar Knighted me; my youth I spent
    1450Much vnder him; of him, I gather'd Honour,
    Which he, to seeke of me againe, perforce,
    Behooues me keepe at vtterance. I am perfect,
    That the Pannonians and Dalmatians, for
    Their Liberties are now in Armes: a President
    1455Which not to reade, would shew the Britaines cold:
    So Caesar shall not finde them.
    Luc. Let proofe speake.
    Clot. His Maiesty biddes you welcome. Make pa-
    stime with vs, a day, or two, or longer: if you seek vs af-
    1460terwards in other tearmes, you shall finde vs in our Salt-
    water-Girdle: if you beate vs out of it, it is yours: if you
    fall in the aduenture, our Crowes shall fare the better for
    you: and there's an end.
    Luc. So sir.
    1465Cym. I know your Masters pleasure, and he mine:
    All the Remaine, is welcome. Exeunt.
    Scena Secunda.
    Enter Pisanio reading of a Letter.
    Pis. How? of Adultery? Wherefore write you not
    1470What Monsters her accuse? Leonatus:
    Oh Master, what a strange infection
    The Tragedie of Cymbeline. 381
    Is falne into thy eare? What false Italian,
    (As poysonous tongu'd, as handed) hath preuail'd
    On thy too ready hearing? Disloyall? No.
    1475She's punish'd for her Truth; and vndergoes
    More Goddesse-like, then Wife-like; such Assaults
    As would take in some Vertue. Oh my Master,
    Thy mind to her, is now as lowe, as were
    Thy Fortunes. How? That I should murther her,
    1480Vpon the Loue, and Truth, and Vowes; which I
    Haue made to thy command? I her? Her blood?
    If it be so, to do good seruice, neuer
    Let me be counted seruiceable. How looke I,
    That I should seeme to lacke humanity,
    1485So much as this Fact comes to? Doo't: The Letter.
    That I haue sent her, by her owne command,
    Shall giue thee opportunitie. Oh damn'd paper,
    Blacke as the Inke that's on thee: senselesse bauble,
    Art thou a Foedarie for this Act; and look'st
    1490So Virgin-like without? Loe here she comes.
    Enter Imogen.
    I am ignorant in what I am commanded.
    Imo. How now Pisanio?
    Pis. Madam, heere is a Letter from my Lord.
    1495Imo. Who, thy Lord? That is my Lord Leonatus?
    Oh, learn'd indeed were that Astronomer
    That knew the Starres, as I his Characters,
    Heel'd lay the Future open. You good Gods,
    Let what is heere contain'd, rellish of Loue,
    1500Of my Lords health, of his content: yet not
    That we two are asunder, let that grieue him;
    Some griefes are medcinable, that is one of them,
    For it doth physicke Loue, of his content,
    All but in that. Good Wax, thy leaue: blest be
    1505You Bees that make these Lockes of counsaile. Louers,
    And men in dangerous Bondes pray not alike,
    Though Forfeytours you cast in prison, yet
    You claspe young Cupids Tables: good Newes Gods.
    IVstice and your Fathers wrath (should he take me in his
    1510Dominion) could not be so cruell to me, as you: (oh the dee-
    rest of Creatures) would euen renew me with your eyes. Take
    notice that I am in Cambria at Milford-Hauen: what your
    owne Loue, will out of this aduise you, follow. So he wishes you
    all happinesse, that remaines loyall to his Vow, and your encrea-
    1515sing in Loue. Leonatus Posthumus.
    Oh for a Horse with wings: Hear'st thou Pisanio?
    He is at Milford-Hauen: Read, and tell me
    How farre 'tis thither. If one of meane affaires
    May plod it in a weeke, why may not I
    1520Glide thither in a day? Then true Pisanio,
    Who long'st like me, to see thy Lord; who long'st
    (Oh let me bate) but not like me: yet long'st
    But in a fainter kinde. Oh not like me:
    For mine's beyond, beyond: say, and speake thicke
    1525(Loues Counsailor should fill the bores of hearing,
    To'th' smothering of the Sense) how farre it is
    To this same blessed Milford. And by'th' way
    Tell me how Wales was made so happy, as
    T' inherite such a Hauen. But first of all,
    1530How we may steale from hence: and for the gap
    That we shall make in Time, from our hence-going,
    And our returne, to excuse: but first, how get hence.
    Why should excuse be borne or ere begot?
    Weele talke of that heereafter. Prythee speake,
    1535How many store of Miles may we well rid
    Twixt houre, and houre?
    Pis. One score 'twixt Sun, and Sun,
    Madam's enough for you: and too much too.
    Imo. Why, one that rode to's Execution Man,
    1540Could neuer go so slow: I haue heard of Riding wagers,
    Where Horses haue bin nimbler then the Sands
    That run i'th' Clocks behalfe. But this is Foolrie,
    Go, bid my Woman faigne a Sicknesse, say
    She'le home to her Father; and prouide me presently
    1545A Riding Suit: No costlier then would fit
    A Franklins Huswife.
    Pisa. Madam, you're best consider.
    Imo. I see before me (Man) nor heere, not heere;
    Nor what ensues but haue a Fog in them
    1550That I cannot looke through. Away, I prythee,
    Do as I bid thee: There's no more to say:
    Accessible is none but Milford way. Exeunt.
    Scena Tertia.
    Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Aruiragus.
    1555Bel. A goodly day, not to keepe house with such,
    Whose Roofe's as lowe as ours: Sleepe Boyes, this gate
    Instructs you how t'adore the Heauens; and bowes you
    To a mornings holy office. The Gates of Monarches
    Are Arch'd so high, that Giants may iet through
    1560And keepe their impious Turbonds on, without
    Good morrow to the Sun. Haile thou faire Heauen,
    We house i'th' Rocke, yet vse thee not so hardly
    As prouder liuers do.
    Guid. Haile Heauen.
    1565Aruir. Haile Heauen.
    Bela. Now for our Mountaine sport, vp to yond hill
    Your legges are yong: Ile tread these Flats. Consider,
    When you aboue perceiue me like a Crow,
    That it is Place, which lessen's, and sets off,
    1570And you may then reuolue what Tales, I haue told you,
    Of Courts, of Princes; of the Tricks in Warre.
    This Seruice, is not Seruice; so being done,
    But being so allowed. To apprehend thus,
    Drawes vs a profit from all things we see:
    1575And often to our comfort, shall we finde
    The sharded-Beetle, in a safer hold
    Then is the full-wing'd Eagle. Oh this life,
    Is Nobler, then attending for a checke:
    Richer, then doing nothing for a Babe:
    1580Prouder, then rustling in vnpayd-for Silke:
    Such gaine the Cap of him, that makes him fine,
    Yet keepes his Booke vncros'd: no life to ours.
    Gui. Out of your proofe you speak: we poore vnfledg'd
    Haue neuer wing'd from view o'th' nest; nor knowes not
    1585What Ayre's from home. Hap'ly this life is best,
    (If quiet life be best) sweeter to you
    That haue a sharper knowne. Well corresponding
    With your stiffe Age; but vnto vs, it is
    A Cell of Ignorance: trauailing a bed,
    1590A Prison, or a Debtor, that not dares
    To stride a limit.
    Arui. What should we speake of
    When we are old as you? When we shall heare
    The Raine and winde beate darke December? How
    1595In this our pinching Caue, shall we discourse
    aaa 3 The
    382The Tragedy of Cymbeline.
    The freezing houres away? We haue seene nothing:
    We are beastly; subtle as the Fox for prey,
    Like warlike as the Wolfe, for what we eate:
    Our Valour is to chace what flyes: Our Cage
    1600We make a Quire, as doth the prison'd Bird,
    And sing our Bondage freely.
    Bel. How you speake.
    Did you but know the Citties Vsuries,
    And felt them knowingly: the Art o'th' Court,
    1605As hard to leaue, as keepe: whose top to climbe
    Is certaine falling: or so slipp'ry, that
    The feare's as bad as falling. The toyle o'th' Warre,
    A paine that onely seemes to seeke out danger
    I'th' name of Fame, and Honor, which dyes i'th' search,
    1610And hath as oft a sland'rous Epitaph,
    As Record of faire Act. Nay, many times
    Doth ill deserue, by doing well: what's worse
    Must curt'sie at the Censure. Oh Boyes, this Storie
    The World may reade in me: My bodie's mark'd
    1615With Roman Swords; and my report, was once
    First, with the best of Note. Cymbeline lou'd me,
    And when a Souldier was the Theame, my name
    Was not farre off: then was I as a Tree
    Whose boughes did bend with fruit. But in one night,
    1620A Storme, or Robbery (call it what you will)
    Shooke downe my mellow hangings: nay my Leaues,
    And left me bare to weather.
    Gui. Vncertaine fauour.
    Bel. My fault being nothing (as I haue told you oft)
    1625But that two Villaines, whose false Oathes preuayl'd
    Before my perfect Honor, swore to Cymbeline,
    I was Confederate with the Romanes: so
    Followed my Banishment, and this twenty yeeres,
    This Rocke, and these Demesnes, haue bene my World,
    1630Where I haue liu'd at honest freedome, payed
    More pious debts to Heauen, then in all
    The fore-end of my time. But, vp to'th' Mountaines,
    This is not Hunters Language; he that strikes
    The Venison first, shall be the Lord o'th' Feast,
    1635To him the other two shall minister,
    And we will feare no poyson, which attends
    In place of greater State:
    Ile meete you in the Valleyes. Exeunt.
    How hard it is to hide the sparkes of Nature?
    1640These Boyes know little they are Sonnes to'th' King,
    Nor Cymbeline dreames that they are aliue.
    They thinke they are mine,
    And though train'd vp thus meanely
    I'th' Caue, whereon the Bowe their thoughts do hit,
    1645The Roofes of Palaces, and Nature prompts them
    In simple and lowe things, to Prince it, much
    Beyond the tricke of others. This Paladour,
    The heyre of Cymbeline and Britaine, who
    The King his Father call'd Guiderius. Ioue,
    1650When on my three-foot stoole I sit, and tell
    The warlike feats I haue done, his spirits flye out
    Into my Story: say thus mine Enemy fell,
    And thus I set my foote on's necke, euen then
    The Princely blood flowes in his Cheeke, he sweats,
    1655Straines his yong Nerues, and puts himselfe in posture
    That acts my words. The yonger Brother Cadwall,
    Once Aruiragus, in as like a figure
    Strikes life into my speech, and shewes much more
    His owne conceyuing. Hearke, the Game is rows'd,
    1660Oh Cymbeline, Heauen and my Conscience knowes
    Thou didd'st vniustly banish me: whereon
    At three, and two yeeres old, I stole these Babes,
    Thinking to barre thee of Succession, as
    Thou refts me of my Lands. Euriphile,
    1665Thou was't their Nurse, they took thee for their mother,
    And euery day do honor to her graue:
    My selfe Belarius, that am Mergan call'd
    They take for Naturall Father. The Game is vp. Exit.
    Scena Quarta.
    1670Enter Pisanio and Imogen.
    Imo. Thou told'st me when we came frõ horse, ye place
    Was neere at hand: Ne're long'd my Mother so
    To see me first, as I haue now. Pisanio, Man:
    Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind
    1675That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh
    From th' inward of thee? One, but painted thus
    Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd
    Beyond selfe-explication. Put thy selfe
    Into a hauiour of lesse feare, ere wildnesse
    1680Vanquish my stayder Senses. What's the matter?
    Why tender'st thou that Paper to me, with
    A looke vntender? If't be Summer Newes
    Smile too't before: if Winterly, thou need'st
    But keepe that count'nance stil. My Husbands hand?
    1685That Drug-damn'd Italy, hath out-craftied him,
    And hee's at some hard point. Speake man, thy Tongue
    May take off some extreamitie, which to reade
    Would be euen mortall to me.
    Pis. Please you reade,
    1690And you shall finde me (wretched man) a thing
    The most disdain'd of Fortune.
    Imogen reades.
    THy Mistris (Pisanio) hath plaide the Strumpet in my
    Bed: the Testimonies whereof, lyes bleeding in me. I speak
    1695not out of weake Surmises, but from proofe as strong as my
    greefe, and as certaine as I expect my Reuenge. That part, thou
    (Pisanio) must acte for me, if thy Faith be not tainted with the
    breach of hers; let thine owne hands take away her life: I shall
    giue thee opportunity at Milford Hauen. She hath my Letter
    1700for the purpose; where, if thou feare to strike, and to make mee
    certaine it is done, thou art the Pander to her dishonour, and
    equally to me disloyall.
    Pis. What shall I need to draw my Sword, the Paper
    Hath cut her throat alreadie? No, 'tis Slander,
    1705Whose edge is sharper then the Sword, whose tongue
    Out-venomes all the Wormes of Nyle, whose breath
    Rides on the posting windes, and doth belye
    All corners of the World. Kings, Queenes, and States,
    Maides, Matrons, nay the Secrets of the Graue
    1710This viperous slander enters. What cheere, Madam?
    Imo. False to his Bed? What is it to be false?
    To lye in watch there, and to thinke on him?
    To weepe 'twixt clock and clock? If sleep charge Nature,
    To breake it with a fearfull dreame of him,
    1715And cry my selfe awake? That's false to's bed? Is it?
    Pisa. Alas good Lady.
    Imo. I false? Thy Conscience witnesse: Iachimo,
    Thou didd'st accuse him of Incontinencie,
    Thou then look'dst like a Villaine: now, me thinkes
    The Tragedie of Cymbeline. 383
    1720Thy fauours good enough. Some Iay of Italy
    (Whose mother was her painting) hath betraid him:
    Poore I am stale, a Garment out of fashion,
    And for I am richer then to hang by th' walles,
    I must be ript: To peeces with me: Oh!
    1725Mens Vowes are womens Traitors. All good seeming
    By thy reuolt (oh Husband) shall be thought
    Put on for Villainy; not borne where't growes,
    But worne a Baite for Ladies.
    Pisa. Good Madam, heare me.
    1730Imo. True honest men being heard, like false AEneas,
    Were in his time thought false: and Synons weeping
    Did scandall many a holy teare: tooke pitty
    From most true wretchednesse. So thou, Posthumus
    Wilt lay the Leauen on all proper men;
    1735Goodly, and gallant, shall be false and periur'd
    From thy great faile: Come Fellow, be thou honest,
    Do thou thy Masters bidding. When thou seest him,
    A little witnesse my obedience. Looke
    I draw the Sword my selfe, take it, and hit
    1740The innocent Mansion of my Loue (my Heart:)
    Feare not, 'tis empty of all things, but Greefe:
    Thy Master is not there, who was indeede
    The riches of it. Do his bidding, strike,
    Thou mayst be valiant in a better cause;
    1745But now thou seem'st a Coward.
    Pis. Hence vile Instrument,
    Thou shalt not damne my hand.
    Imo. Why, I must dye:
    And if I do not by thy hand, thou art
    1750No Seruant of thy Masters. Against Selfe-slaughter,
    There is a prohibition so Diuine,
    That crauens my weake hand: Come, heere's my heart:
    Something's a-foot: Soft, soft, wee'l no defence,
    Obedient as the Scabbard. What is heere,
    1755The Scriptures of the Loyall Leonatus,
    All turn'd to Heresie? Away, away
    Corrupters of my Faith, you shall no more
    Be Stomachers to my heart: thus may poore Fooles
    Beleeue false Teachers: Though those that are betraid
    1760Do feele the Treason sharpely, yet the Traitor
    Stands in worse case of woe. And thou Posthumus,
    That didd'st set vp my disobedience 'gainst the King
    My Father, and makes me put into contempt the suites
    Of Princely Fellowes, shalt heereafter finde
    1765It is no acte of common passage, but
    A straine of Rarenesse: and I greeue my selfe,
    To thinke, when thou shalt be disedg'd by her,
    That now thou tyrest on, how thy memory
    Will then be pang'd by me. Prythee dispatch,
    1770The Lambe entreats the Butcher. Wher's thy knife?
    Thou art too slow to do thy Masters bidding
    When I desire it too.
    Pis. Oh gracious Lady:
    Since I receiu'd command to do this businesse,
    1775I haue not slept one winke.
    Imo. Doo't, and to bed then.
    Pis. Ile wake mine eye-balles first.
    Imo. Wherefore then
    Didd'st vndertake it? Why hast thou abus'd
    1780So many Miles, with a pretence? This place?
    Mine Action? and thine owne? Our Horses labour?
    The Time inuiting thee? The perturb'd Court
    For my being absent? whereunto I neuer
    Purpose returne. Why hast thou gone so farre
    1785To be vn-bent? when thou hast 'tane thy stand,
    Th' elected Deere before thee?
    Pis. But to win time
    To loose so bad employment, in the which
    I haue consider'd of a course: good Ladie
    1790Heare me with patience.
    Imo. Talke thy tongue weary, speake:
    I haue heard I am a Strumpet, and mine eare
    Therein false strooke, can take no greater wound,
    Nor tent, to bottome that. But speake.
    1795Pis. Then Madam,
    I thought you would not backe againe.
    Imo. Most like,
    Bringing me heere to kill me.
    Pis. Not so neither:
    1800But if I were as wise, as honest, then
    My purpose would proue well: it cannot be,
    But that my Master is abus'd. Some Villaine,
    I, and singular in his Art, hath done you both
    This cursed iniurie.
    1805Imo. Some Roman Curtezan?
    Pisa. No, on my life:
    Ile giue but notice you are dead, and send him
    Some bloody signe of it. For 'tis commanded
    I should do so: you shall be mist at Court,
    1810And that will well confirme it.
    Imo. Why good Fellow,
    What shall I do the while? Where bide? How liue?
    Or in my life, what comfort, when I am
    Dead to my Husband?
    1815Pis. If you'l backe to'th' Court.
    Imo. No Court, no Father, nor no more adoe
    With that harsh, noble, simple nothing:
    That Clotten, whose Loue-suite hath bene to me
    As fearefull as a Siege.
    1820Pis. If not at Court,
    Then not in Britaine must you bide.
    Imo. Where then?
    Hath Britaine all the Sunne that shines? Day? Night?
    Are they not but in Britaine? I'th' worlds Volume
    1825Our Britaine seemes as of it, but not in't:
    In a great Poole, a Swannes-nest, prythee thinke
    There's liuers out of Britaine.
    Pis. I am most glad
    You thinke of other place: Th' Ambassador,
    1830Lucius the Romane comes to Milford-Hauen
    To morrow. Now, if you could weare a minde
    Darke, as your Fortune is, and but disguise
    That which t' appeare it selfe, must not yet be,
    But by selfe-danger, you should tread a course
    1835Pretty, and full of view: yea, happily, neere
    The residence of Posthumus; so nie (at least)
    That though his Actions were not visible, yet
    Report should render him hourely to your eare,
    As truely as he mooues.
    1840Imo. Oh for such meanes,
    Though perill to my modestie, not death on't
    I would aduenture.
    Pis. Well then, heere's the point:
    You must forget to be a Woman: change
    1845Command, into obedience. Feare, and Nicenesse
    (The Handmaides of all Women, or more truely
    Woman it pretty selfe) into a waggish courage,
    Ready in gybes, quicke-answer'd, sawcie, and
    As quarrellous as the Weazell: Nay, you must
    1850Forget that rarest Treasure of your Cheeke,
    Exposing it (but oh the harder heart,
    384The Tragedy of Cymbeline.
    Alacke no remedy) to the greedy touch
    Of common-kissing Titan: and forget
    Your laboursome and dainty Trimmes, wherein
    1855You made great Iuno angry.
    Imo. Nay be breefe?
    I see into thy end, and am almost
    A man already.
    Pis. First, make your selfe but like one,
    1860Fore-thinking this. I haue already fit
    ('Tis in my Cloake-bagge) Doublet, Hat, Hose, all
    That answer to them: Would you in their seruing,
    (And with what imitation you can borrow
    From youth of such a season) 'fore Noble Lucius
    1865Present your selfe, desire his seruice: tell him
    Wherein you're happy; which will make him know,
    If that his head haue eare in Musicke, doubtlesse
    With ioy he will imbrace you: for hee's Honourable,
    And doubling that, most holy. Your meanes abroad:
    1870You haue me rich, and I will neuer faile
    Beginning, nor supplyment.
    Imo. Thou art all the comfort
    The Gods will diet me with. Prythee away,
    There's more to be consider'd: but wee'l euen
    1875All that good time will giue vs. This attempt,
    I am Souldier too, and will abide it with
    A Princes Courage. Away, I prythee.
    Pis. Well Madam, we must take a short farewell,
    Least being mist, I be suspected of
    1880Your carriage from the Court. My Noble Mistris,
    Heere is a boxe, I had it from the Queene,
    What's in't is precious: If you are sicke at Sea,
    Or Stomacke-qualm'd at Land, a Dramme of this
    Will driue away distemper. To some shade,
    1885And fit you to your Manhood: may the Gods
    Direct you to the best.
    Imo. Amen: I thanke thee. Exeunt.
    Scena Quinta.
    Enter Cymbeline, Queene, Cloten, Lucius,
    1890and Lords.
    Cym. Thus farre, and so farewell.
    Luc. Thankes, Royall Sir:
    My Emperor hath wrote, I must from hence,
    And am right sorry, that I must report ye
    1895My Masters Enemy.
    Cym. Our Subiects (Sir)
    Will not endure his yoake; and for our selfe
    To shew lesse Soueraignty then they, must needs
    Appeare vn-Kinglike.
    1900Luc. So Sir: I desire of you
    A Conduct ouer Land, to Milford-Hauen.
    Madam, all ioy befall your Grace, and you.
    Cym. My Lords, you are appointed for that Office:
    The due of Honor, in no point omit:
    1905So farewell Noble Lucius.
    Luc. Your hand, my Lord.
    Clot. Receiue it friendly: but from this time forth
    I weare it as your Enemy.
    Luc. Sir, the Euent
    1910Is yet to name the winner. Fare you well.
    Cym. Leaue not the worthy Lucius, good my Lords
    Till he haue crost the Seuern. Happines. Exit Lucius, &c
    Qu. He goes hence frowning: but it honours vs
    That we haue giuen him cause.
    1915Clot. 'Tis all the better,
    Your valiant Britaines haue their wishes in it.
    Cym. Lucius hath wrote already to the Emperor
    How it goes heere. It fits vs therefore ripely
    Our Chariots, and our Horsemen be in readinesse:
    1920The Powres that he already hath in Gallia
    Will soone be drawne to head, from whence he moues
    His warre for Britaine.
    Qu. 'Tis not sleepy businesse,
    But must be look'd too speedily, and strongly.
    1925Cym. Our expectation that it would be thus
    Hath made vs forward. But my gentle Queene,
    Where is our Daughter? She hath not appear'd
    Before the Roman, nor to vs hath tender'd
    The duty of the day. She looke vs like
    1930A thing more made of malice, then of duty,
    We haue noted it. Call her before vs, for
    We haue beene too slight in sufferance.
    Qu. Royall Sir,
    Since the exile of Posthumus, most retyr'd
    1935Hath her life bin: the Cure whereof, my Lord,
    'Tis time must do. Beseech your Maiesty,
    Forbeare sharpe speeches to her. Shee's a Lady
    So tender of rebukes, that words are stroke;,
    And strokes death to her.
    1940Enter a Messenger.
    Cym. Where is she Sir? How
    Can her contempt be answer'd?
    Mes. Please you Sir,
    Her Chambers are all lock'd, and there's no answer
    1945That will be giuen to'th' lowd of noise, we make.
    Qu. My Lord, when last I went to visit her,
    She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close,
    Whereto constrain'd by her infirmitie,
    She should that dutie leaue vnpaide to you
    1950Which dayly she was bound to proffer: this
    She wish'd me to make knowne: but our great Court
    Made me too blame in memory.
    Cym. Her doores lock'd?
    Not seene of late? Grant Heauens, that which I
    1955Feare, proue false. Exit.
    Qu. Sonne, I say, follow the King.
    Clot. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old Seruant
    I haue not seene these two dayes. Exit.
    Qu. Go, looke after:
    1960Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus,
    He hath a Drugge of mine: I pray, his absence
    Proceed by swallowing that. For he beleeues
    It is a thing most precious. But for her,
    Where is she gone? Haply dispaire hath seiz'd her:
    1965Or wing'd with feruour of her loue, she's flowne
    To her desir'd Posthumus: gone she is,
    To death, or to dishonor, and my end
    Can make good vse of either. Shee being downe,
    I haue the placing of the Brittish Crowne.
    1970Enter Cloten.
    How now, my Sonne?
    Clot. 'Tis certaine she is fled:
    Go in and cheere the King, he rages, none
    Dare come about him.
    1975Qu. All the better: may
    This night fore-stall him of the comming day. Exit Qu.
    Clo. I loue, and hate her: for she's Faire and Royall,
    And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite
    The Tragedie of Cymbeline. 385
    Then Lady, Ladies, Woman, from euery one
    1980The best she hath, and she of all compounded
    Out-selles them all. I loue her therefore, but
    Disdaining me, and throwing Fauours on
    The low Posthumus, slanders so her iudgement,
    That what's else rare, is choak'd: and in that point
    1985I will conclude to hate her, nay indeede,
    To be reueng'd vpon her. For, when Fooles shall---
    Enter Pisanio.
    Who is heere? What, are you packing sirrah?
    Come hither: Ah you precious Pandar, Villaine,
    1990Where is thy Lady? In a word, or else
    Thou art straightway with the Fiends.
    Pis. Oh, good my Lord.
    Clo. Where is thy Lady? Or, by Iupiter,
    I will not aske againe. Close Villaine,
    1995Ile haue this Secret from thy heart, or rip
    Thy heart to finde it. Is she with Posthumus?
    From whose so many waights of basenesse, cannot
    A dram of worth be drawne.
    Pis. Alas, my Lord,
    2000How can she be with him? When was she miss'd?
    He is in Rome.
    Clot. Where is she Sir? Come neerer:
    No farther halting: satisfie me home,
    What is become of her?
    2005Pis. Oh, my all-worthy Lord.
    Clo. All-worthy Villaine,
    Discouer where thy Mistris is, at once,
    At the next word: no more of worthy Lord:
    Speake, or thy silence on the instant, is
    2010Thy condemnation, and thy death.
    Pis. Then Sir:
    This Paper is the historie of my knowledge
    Touching her flight.
    Clo. Let's see't: I will pursue her
    2015Euen to Augustus Throne.
    Pis. Or this, or perish.
    She's farre enough, and what he learnes by this,
    May proue his trauell, not her danger.
    Clo. Humh.
    2020Pis. Ile write to my Lord she's dead: Oh Imogen,
    Safe mayst thou wander, safe returne agen.
    Clot. Sirra, is this Letter true?
    Pis. Sir, as I thinke.
    Clot. It is Posthumus hand, I know't. Sirrah, if thou
    2025would'st not be a Villain, but do me true seruice: vnder-
    go those Imployments wherin I should haue cause to vse
    thee with a serious industry, that is, what villainy soere I
    bid thee do to performe it, directly and truely, I would
    thinke thee an honest man: thou should'st neither want
    2030my meanes for thy releefe, nor my voyce for thy prefer-
    Pis. Well, my good Lord.
    Clot. Wilt thou serue mee? For since patiently and
    constantly thou hast stucke to the bare Fortune of that
    2035Begger Posthumus, thou canst not in the course of grati-
    tude, but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou serue
    Pis. Sir, I will.
    Clo. Giue mee thy hand, heere's my purse. Hast any
    2040of thy late Masters Garments in thy possession?
    Pisan. I haue (my Lord) at my Lodging, the same
    Suite he wore, when he tooke leaue of my Ladie & Mi-
    Clo. The first seruice thou dost mee, fetch that Suite
    2045hither, let it be thy first seruice, go.
    Pis. I shall my Lord. Exit.
    Clo. Meet thee at Milford-Hauen: (I forgot to aske
    him one thing, Ile remember't anon:) euen there, thou
    villaine Posthumus will I kill thee. I would these Gar-
    2050ments were come. She saide vpon a time (the bitternesse
    of it, I now belch from my heart) that shee held the very
    Garment of Posthumus, in more respect, then my Noble
    and naturall person; together with the adornement of
    my Qualities. With that Suite vpon my backe wil I ra-
    2055uish her: first kill him, and in her eyes; there shall she see
    my valour, which wil then be a torment to hir contempt.
    He on the ground, my speech of insulment ended on his
    dead bodie, and when my Lust hath dined (which, as I
    say, to vex her, I will execute in the Cloathes that she so
    2060prais'd:) to the Court Ile knock her backe, foot her home
    againe. She hath despis'd mee reioycingly, and Ile bee
    merry in my Reuenge.
    Enter Pisanio.
    Be those the Garments?
    2065Pis. I, my Noble Lord.
    Clo. How long is't since she went to Milford-Hauen?
    Pis. She can scarse be there yet.
    Clo. Bring this Apparrell to my Chamber, that is
    the second thing that I haue commanded thee. The third
    2070is, that thou wilt be a voluntarie Mute to my designe. Be
    but dutious, and true preferment shall tender it selfe to
    thee. My Reuenge is now at Milford, would I had wings
    to follow it. Come, and be true. Exit
    Pis. Thou bid'st me to my losse: for true to thee,
    2075Were to proue false, which I will neuer bee
    To him that is most true. To Milford go,
    And finde not her, whom thou pursuest. Flow, flow
    You Heauenly blessings on her: This Fooles speede
    Be crost with slownesse; Labour be his meede. Exit
    2080Scena 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,
    386The Tragedy of Cymbeline.
    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. Exit.
    Scena Septima.
    2110Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Aruiragus.
    Bel. You Polidore haue prou'd best Woodman, and
    Are Master of the Feast: Cadwall, and I
    Will play the Cooke, and Seruant, 'tis our match:
    The sweat of industry would dry, and dye
    2115But for the end it workes too. Come, our stomackes
    Will make what's homely, sauoury: Wearinesse
    Can snore vpon the Flint, when restie Sloth
    Findes the Downe-pillow hard. Now peace be heere,
    Poore house, that keep'st thy selfe.
    2120Gui. I am throughly weary.
    Arui. I am weake with toyle, yet strong in appetite.
    Gui. There is cold meat i'th' Caue, we'l brouz on that
    Whil'st what we haue kill'd, be Cook'd.
    Bel. Stay, come not in:
    2125But that it eates our victualles, I should thinke
    Heere were a Faiery.
    Gui. What's the matter, Sir?
    Bel. By Iupiter an Angell: or if not
    An earthly Paragon. Behold Diuinenesse
    2130No elder then a Boy.
    Enter Imogen.
    Imo. Good masters harme me not:
    Before I enter'd heere, I call'd, and thought
    To haue begg'd, or bought, what I haue took: good troth
    2135I haue stolne nought, nor would not, though I had found
    Gold strew'd i'th' Floore. Heere's money for my Meate,
    I would haue left it on the Boord, so soone
    As I had made my Meale; and parted
    With Pray'rs for the Prouider.
    2140Gui. Money? Youth.
    Aru. All Gold and Siluer rather turne to durt,
    As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those
    Who worship durty Gods.
    Imo. I see you're angry:
    2145Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should
    Haue dyed, had I not made it.
    Bel. Whether bound?
    Imo. To Milford-Hauen.
    Bel. What's your name?
    2150Imo. Fidele Sir: I haue a Kinsman, who
    Is bound for Italy; he embark'd at Milford,
    To whom being going, almost spent with hunger,
    I am falne in this offence.
    Bel. Prythee (faire youth)
    2155Thinke vs no Churles: nor measure our good mindes
    By this rude place we liue in. Well encounter'd,
    'Tis almost night, you shall haue better cheere
    Ere you depart; and thankes to stay, and eate it:
    Boyes, bid him welcome.
    2160Gui. Were you a woman, youth,
    I should woo hard, but be your Groome in honesty:
    I bid for you, as I do buy.
    Arui. Ile make't my Comfort
    He is a man, Ile loue him as my Brother:
    2165And such a welcome as I'ld giue to him
    (After long absence) such is yours. Most welcome:
    Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst Friends.
    Imo. 'Mongst Friends?
    If Brothers: would it had bin so, that they
    2170Had bin my Fathers Sonnes, then had my prize
    Bin lesse, and so more equall ballasting
    To thee Posthumus.
    Bel. He wrings at some distresse.
    Gui. Would I could free't.
    2175Arui. Or I, what ere it be,
    What paine it cost, what danger: Gods!
    Bel. Hearke Boyes.
    Imo. Great men
    That had a Court no bigger then this Caue,
    2180That did attend themselues, and had the vertue
    Which their owne Conscience seal'd them: laying by
    That nothing-guift of differing Multitudes
    Could not out-peere these twaine. Pardon me Gods,
    I'ld change my sexe to be Companion with them,
    2185Since Leonatus false.
    Bel. It shall be so:
    Boyes wee'l go dresse our Hunt. Faire youth come in;
    Discourse is heauy, fasting: when we haue supp'd
    Wee'l mannerly demand thee of thy Story,
    2190So farre as thou wilt speake it.
    Gui. Pray draw neere.
    Arui. The Night to'th' Owle,
    And Morne to th' Larke lesse welcome.
    Imo. Thankes Sir.
    2195Arui. I pray draw neere. Exeunt.
    Scena Octaua.
    Enter two Roman Senators, and Tribunes.
    1. Sen. This is the tenor of the Emperors Writ;
    That since the common men are now in Action
    2200'Gainst the Pannonians, and Dalmatians,
    And that the Legions now in Gallia, are
    Full weake to vndertake our Warres against
    The falne-off Britaines, that we do incite
    The Gentry to this businesse. He creates
    2205Lucius Pro-Consull: and to you the Tribunes
    For this immediate Leuy, he commands
    His absolute Commission. Long liue Caesar.
    Tri. Is Lucius Generall of the Forces?
    2. Sen. I.
    2210Tri. Remaining now in Gallia?
    1. Sen. With those Legions
    Which I haue spoke of, whereunto your leuie
    Must be suppliant: the words of your Commission
    Will tye you to the numbers, and the time
    2215Of their dispatch.
    Tri. We will discharge our duty. Exeunt.
    Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
    Enter Clotten alone.
    Clot I am neere to'th' place where they should meet,
    2220if Pisanio haue mapp'd it truely. How fit his Garments
    serue me? Why should his Mistris who was made by him
    The Tragedie of Cymbeline. 387
    that made the Taylor, not be fit too? The rather (sauing
    reuerence of the Word) for 'tis saide a Womans fitnesse
    comes by fits: therein I must play the Workman, I dare
    2225speake it to my selfe, for it is not Vainglorie for a man,
    and his Glasse, to confer in his owne Chamber; I meane,
    the Lines of my body are as well drawne as his; no lesse
    young, more strong, not beneath him in Fortunes, be-
    yond him in the aduantage of the time, aboue him in
    2230Birth, alike conuersant in generall seruices, and more re-
    markeable in single oppositions; yet this imperseuerant
    Thing loues him in my despight. What Mortalitie is?
    Posthumus, thy head (which now is growing vppon thy
    shoulders) shall within this houre be off, thy Mistris in-
    2235forced, thy Garments cut to peeces before thy face: and
    all this done, spurne her home to her Father, who may
    (happily) be a little angry for my so rough vsage: but my
    Mother hauing power of his testinesse, shall turne all in-
    to my commendations. My Horse is tyed vp safe, out
    2240Sword, and to a sore purpose: Fortune put them into my
    hand: This is the very description of their meeting place
    and the Fellow dares not deceiue me. Exit.
    Scena Secunda.
    Enter Belarius, Guiderius, Aruiragus, and
    2245Imogen from the Caue.
    Bel. You are not well: Remaine heere in the Caue,
    Wee'l come to you after Hunting.
    Arui. Brother, stay heere:
    Are we not Brothers?
    2250Imo. So man and man should be,
    But Clay and Clay, differs in dignitie,
    Whose dust is both alike. I am very sicke,
    Gui. Go you to Hunting, Ile abide with him.
    Imo. So sicke I am not, yet I am not well:
    2255But not so Citizen a wanton, as
    To seeme to dye, ere sicke: So please you, leaue me,
    Sticke to your Iournall course: the breach of Custome,
    Is breach of all. I am ill, but your being by me
    Cannot amend me. Society, is no comfort
    2260To one not sociable: I am not very sicke,
    Since I can reason of it: pray you trust me heere,
    Ile rob none but my selfe, and let me dye
    Stealing so poorely.
    Gui. I loue thee: I haue spoke it,
    2265How much the quantity, the waight as much,
    As I do loue my Father.
    Bel. What? How? how?
    Arui. If it be sinne to say so (Sir) I yoake mee
    In my good Brothers fault: I know not why
    2270I loue this youth, and I haue heard you say,
    Loue's reason's, without reason. The Beere at doore,
    And a demand who is't shall dye, I'ld say
    My Father, not this youth.
    Bel. Oh noble straine!
    2275O worthinesse of Nature, breed of Greatnesse!
    "Cowards father Cowards, & Base things Syre Bace;
    "Nature hath Meale, and Bran; Contempt, and Grace.
    I'me not their Father, yet who this should bee,
    Doth myracle it selfe, lou'd before mee.
    2280'Tis the ninth houre o'th' Morne.
    Arui. Brother, farewell.
    Imo. I wish ye sport.
    Arui. You health.---- So please you Sir.
    Imo. These are kinde Creatures.
    2285Gods, what lyes I haue heard:
    Our Courtiers say, all's sauage, but at Court;
    Experience, oh thou disproou'st Report.
    Th' emperious Seas breeds Monsters; for the Dish,
    Poore Tributary Riuers, as sweet Fish:
    2290I am sicke still, heart-sicke; Pisanio,
    Ile now taste of thy Drugge.
    Gui. I could not stirre him:
    He said he was gentle, but vnfortunate;
    Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest.
    2295Arui. Thus did he answer me: yet said heereafter,
    I might know more.
    Bel. To'th' Field, to'th' Field:
    Wee'l leaue you for this time, go in, and rest.
    Arui. Wee'l not be long away.
    2300Bel. Pray be not sicke,
    For you must be our Huswife.
    Imo. Well, or ill,
    I am bound to you. Exit.
    Bel. And shal't be euer.
    2305This youth, how ere distrest, appeares he hath had
    Good Ancestors.
    Arui. How Angell-like he sings?
    Gui. But his neate Cookerie?
    Arui. He cut our Rootes in Charracters,
    2310And sawc'st our Brothes, as Iuno had bin sicke,
    And he her Dieter.
    Arui. Nobly he yoakes
    A smiling, with a sigh; as if the sighe
    Was that it was, for not being such a Smile:
    2315The Smile, mocking the Sigh, that it would flye
    From so diuine a Temple, to commix
    With windes, that Saylors raile at.
    Gui. I do note,
    That greefe and patience rooted in them both,
    2320Mingle their spurres together.
    Arui. Grow patient,
    And let the stinking-Elder (Greefe) vntwine
    His perishing roote, with the encreasing Vine.
    Bel. It is great morning. Come away: Who's there?
    2325Enter Cloten.
    Clo. I cannot finde those Runnagates, that Villaine
    Hath mock'd me. I am faint.
    Bel. Those Runnagates?
    Meanes he not vs? I partly know him, 'tis
    2330Cloten, the Sonne o'th' Queene. I feare some Ambush:
    I saw him not these many yeares, and yet
    I know 'tis he: We are held as Out-Lawes: Hence.
    Gui. He is but one: you, and my Brother search
    What Companies are neere: pray you away,
    2335Let me alone with him.
    Clot. Soft, what are you
    That flye me thus? Some villaine-Mountainers?
    I haue heard of such. What Slaue art thou?
    Gui. A thing
    2340More slauish did I ne're, then answering
    A Slaue without a knocke.
    Clot. Thou art a Robber,
    A Law-breaker, a Villaine: yeeld thee Theefe.
    Gui. To who? to thee? What art thou? Haue not I
    2345An arme as bigge as thine? A heart, as bigge:
    Thy words I grant are bigger: for I weare not
    My Dagger in my mouth. Say what thou art:
    388The 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. Exit.
    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. Exit.
    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?
    The Tragedie of Cymbeline. 389
    2480I haue sent Clotens Clot-pole downe the streame,
    In Embassie to his Mother; his Bodie's hostage
    For his returne. Solemn Musick.
    Bel. My ingenuous Instrument,
    (Hearke Polidore) it sounds: but what occasion
    2485Hath Cadwal now to giue it motion? Hearke.
    Gui. Is he at home?
    Bel. He went hence euen now.
    Gui. What does he meane?
    Since death of my deer'st Mother
    2490It did not speake before. All solemne things
    Should answer solemne Accidents. The matter?
    Triumphes for nothing, and lamenting Toyes,
    Is iollity for Apes, and greefe for Boyes.
    Is Cadwall mad?
    2495Enter Aruiragus, with Imogen dead, bearing
    her in his Armes.
    Bel. Looke, heere he comes,
    And brings the dire occasion in his Armes,
    Of what we blame him for.
    2500Arui. The Bird is dead
    That we haue made so much on. I had rather
    Haue skipt from sixteene yeares of Age, to sixty:
    To haue turn'd my leaping time into a Crutch,
    Then haue seene this.
    2505Gui. Oh sweetest, fayrest Lilly:
    My Brother weares thee not the one halfe so well,
    As when thou grew'st thy selfe.
    Bel. Oh Melancholly,
    Who euer yet could sound thy bottome? Finde
    2510The Ooze, to shew what Coast thy sluggish care
    Might'st easilest harbour in. Thou blessed thing,
    Ioue knowes what man thou might'st haue made: but I,
    Thou dyed'st a most rare Boy, of Melancholly.
    How found you him?
    2515Arui. Starke, as you see:
    Thus smiling, as some Fly had tickled slumber,
    Not as deaths dart being laugh'd at: his right Cheeke
    Reposing on a Cushion.
    Gui. Where?
    2520Arui. O'th' floore:
    His armes thus leagu'd, I thought he slept, and put
    My clowted Brogues from off my feete, whose rudenesse
    Answer'd my steps too lowd.
    Gui. Why, he but sleepes:
    2525If he be gone, hee'l make his Graue, a Bed:
    With female Fayries will his Tombe be haunted,
    And Wormes will not come to thee.
    Arui. With fayrest Flowers
    Whil'st Sommer lasts, and I liue heere, Fidele,
    2530Ile sweeten thy sad graue: thou shalt not lacke
    The Flower that's like thy face. Pale-Primrose, nor
    The azur'd Hare-Bell, like thy Veines: no, nor
    The leafe of Eglantine, whom not to slander,
    Out-sweetned not thy breath: the Raddocke would
    2535With Charitable bill (Oh bill sore shaming
    Those rich-left-heyres, that let their Fathers lye
    Without a Monument) bring thee all this,
    Yea, and furr'd Mosse besides. When Flowres are none
    To winter-ground thy Coarse----
    2540Gui. Prythee haue done,
    And do not play in Wench-like words with that
    Which is so serious. Let vs bury him,
    And not protract with admiration, what
    Is now due debt. To'th' graue.
    2545Arui. Say, where shall's lay him?
    Gui. By good Euriphile, our Mother.
    Arui. Bee't so:
    And let vs (Polidore) though now our voyces
    Haue got the mannish cracke, sing him to'th' ground
    2550As once to our Mother: vse like note, and words,
    Saue that Euriphile, must be Fidele.
    Gui. Cadwall,
    I cannot sing: Ile weepe, and word it with thee;
    For Notes of sorrow, out of tune, are worse
    2555Then Priests, and Phanes that lye.
    Arui. Wee'l speake it then.
    Bel. Great greefes I see med'cine the lesse: For Cloten
    Is quite forgot. He was a Queenes Sonne, Boyes,
    And though he came our Enemy, remember
    2560He was paid for that: though meane, and mighty rotting
    Together haue one dust, yet Reuerence
    (That Angell of the world) doth make distinction
    Of place 'tweene high, and low. Our Foe was Princely,
    And though you tooke his life, as being our Foe,
    2565Yet bury him, as a Prince.
    Gui. Pray you fetch him hither,
    Thersites body is as good as Aiax,
    When neyther are aliue.
    Arui. If you'l go fetch him,
    2570Wee'l say our Song the whil'st: Brother begin.
    Gui. Nay Cadwall, we must lay his head to th' East,
    My Father hath a reason for't.
    Arui. 'Tis true.
    Gui. Come on then, and remoue him.
    2575Arui. So, begin.
    Guid. Feare no more the heate o'th' Sun,
    Nor the furious Winters rages,
    Thou thy worldly task hast don,
    2580Home art gon, and tane thy wages.
    Golden Lads, and Girles all must,
    As Chimney-Sweepers come to dust.
    Arui. Feare no more the frowne o'th' Great,
    Thou art past the Tirants stroake,
    2585Care no more to cloath and eate,
    To thee the Reede is as the Oake:
    The Scepter, Learning, Physicke must,
    All follow this and come to dust.
    Guid. Feare no more the Lightning flash.
    2590Arui. Nor th' all-dreaded Thunderstone.
    Gui. Feare not Slander, Censure rash.
    Arui. Thou hast finish'd Ioy and mone.
    Both. All Louers young, all Louers must,
    Consigne to thee and come to dust.
    2595Guid. No Exorcisor harme thee,
    Arui. Nor no witch-craft charme thee.
    Guid. Ghost vnlaid forbeare thee.
    Arui. Nothing ill come neere thee.
    Both. Quiet consumation haue,
    2600 And renowned be thy graue.
    Enter Belarius with the body of Cloten.
    Gui. We haue done our obsequies:
    Come lay him downe.
    Bel. Heere's a few Flowres, but 'bout midnight more:
    2605The hearbes that haue on them cold dew o'th' night
    Are strewings fit'st for Graues: vpon their Faces.
    You were as Flowres, now wither'd: euen so
    These Herbelets shall, which we vpon you strew.
    Come on, away, apart vpon our knees:
    2610The ground that gaue them first, ha's them againe:
    Their pleasures here are past, so are their paine. Exeunt.
    bbb Imogen
    390The Tragedie of Cymbeline.
    Imogen awakes.
    Yes Sir, to Milford-Hauen, which is the way?
    I thanke you: by yond bush? pray how farre thether?
    2615'Ods pittikins: can it be sixe mile yet?
    I haue gone all night: 'Faith, Ile lye downe, and sleepe.
    But soft; no Bedfellow? Oh Gods, and Goddesses!
    These Flowres are like the pleasures of the World;
    This bloody man the care on't. I hope I dreame:
    2620For so I thought I was a Caue-keeper,
    And Cooke to honest Creatures. But 'tis not so:
    'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing,
    Which the Braine makes of Fumes. Our very eyes,
    Are sometimes like our Iudgements, blinde. Good faith
    2625I tremble still with feare: but if there be
    Yet left in Heauen, as small a drop of pittie
    As a Wrens eye; fear'd Gods, a part of it.
    The Dreame's heere still: euen when I wake it is
    Without me, as within me: not imagin'd, felt.
    2630A headlesse man? The Garments of Posthumus?
    I know the shape of's Legge: this is his Hand:
    His Foote Mercuriall: his martiall Thigh
    The brawnes of Hercules: but his Iouiall face---
    Murther in heauen? How? 'tis gone. Pisanio,
    2635All Curses madded Hecuba gaue the Greekes,
    And mine to boot, be darted on thee: thou
    Conspir'd with that Irregulous diuell Cloten,
    Hath heere cut off my Lord. To write, and read,
    Be henceforth treacherous. Damn'd Pisanio,
    2640Hath with his forged Letters (damn'd Pisanio)
    From this most brauest vessell of the world
    Strooke the maine top! Oh Posthumus, alas,
    Where is thy head? where's that? Aye me! where's that?
    Pisanio might haue kill'd thee at the heart,
    2645And left this head on. How should this be, Pisanio?
    'Tis he, and Cloten: Malice, and Lucre in them
    Haue laid this Woe heere. Oh 'tis pregnant, pregnant!
    The Drugge he gaue me, which hee said was precious
    And Cordiall to me, haue I not found it
    2650Murd'rous to'th' Senses? That confirmes it home:
    This is Pisanio's deede, and Cloten: Oh!
    Giue colour to my pale cheeke with thy blood,
    That we the horrider may seeme to those
    Which chance to finde vs. Oh, my Lord! my Lord!
    2655Enter Lucius, Captaines, and a Soothsayer.
    Cap. To them, the Legions garrison'd in Gallia
    After your will, haue crost the Sea, attending
    You heere at Milford-Hauen, with your Shippes:
    They are heere in readinesse.
    2660Luc. But what from Rome?
    Cap, The Senate hath stirr'd vp the Confiners,
    And Gentlemen of Italy, most willing Spirits,
    That promise Noble Seruice: and they come
    Vnder the Conduct of bold Iachimo,
    2665Syenna's Brother.
    Luc. When expect you them?
    Cap. With the next benefit o'th' winde.
    Luc. This forwardnesse
    Makes our hopes faire. Command our present numbers
    2670Be muster'd: bid the Captaines looke too't. Now Sir,
    What haue you dream'd of late of this warres purpose.
    Sooth. Last night, the very Gods shew'd me a vision
    (I fast, and pray'd for their Intelligence) thus:
    I saw Ioues Bird, the Roman Eagle wing'd
    2675From the spungy South, to this part of the West,
    There vanish'd in the Sun-beames, which portends
    (Vnlesse my sinnes abuse my Diuination)
    Successe to th' Roman hoast.
    Luc. Dreame often so,
    2680And neuer false. Soft hoa, what truncke is heere?
    Without his top? The ruine speakes, that sometime
    It was a worthy building. How? a Page?
    Or dead, or sleeping on him? But dead rather:
    For Nature doth abhorre to make his bed
    2685With the defunct, or sleepe vpon the dead.
    Let's see the Boyes face.
    Cap. Hee's aliue my Lord.
    Luc. Hee'l then instruct vs of this body: Young one,
    Informe vs of thy Fortunes, for it seemes
    2690They craue to be demanded: who is this
    Thou mak'st thy bloody Pillow? Or who was he
    That (otherwise then noble Nature did)
    Hath alter'd that good Picture? What's thy interest
    In this sad wracke? How came't? Who is't?
    2695What art thou?
    Imo. I am nothing; or if not,
    Nothing to be were better: This was my Master,
    A very valiant Britaine, and a good,
    That heere by Mountaineers lyes slaine: Alas,
    2700There is no more such Masters: I may wander
    From East to Occident, cry out for Seruice,
    Try many, all good: serue truly: neuer
    Finde such another Master.
    Luc. 'Lacke, good youth:
    2705Thou mou'st no lesse with thy complaining, then
    Thy Maister in bleeding: say his name, good Friend.
    Imo. Richard du Champ: If I do lye, and do
    No harme by it, though the Gods heare, I hope
    They'l pardon it. Say you Sir?
    2710Luc. Thy name?
    Imo. Fidele Sir.
    Luc. Thou doo'st approue thy selfe the very same:
    Thy Name well fits thy Faith; thy Faith, thy Name:
    Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say
    2715Thou shalt be so well master'd, but be sure
    No lesse belou'd. The Romane Emperors Letters
    Sent by a Consull to me, should not sooner
    Then thine owne worth preferre thee: Go with me.
    Imo. Ile follow Sir. But first, and't please the Gods,
    2720Ile hide my Master from the Flies, as deepe
    As these poore Pickaxes can digge: and when
    With wild wood-leaues & weeds, I ha' strew'd his graue
    And on it said a Century of prayers
    (Such as I can) twice o're, Ile weepe, and sighe,
    2725And leauing so his seruice, follow you,
    So please you entertaine mee.
    Luc. I good youth,
    And rather Father thee, then Master thee: My Friends,
    The Boy hath taught vs manly duties: Let vs
    2730Finde out the prettiest Dazied-Plot we can,
    And make him with our Pikes and Partizans
    A Graue: Come, Arme him: Boy hee's preferr'd
    By thee, to vs, and he shall be interr'd
    As Souldiers can. Be cheerefull; wipe thine eyes,
    2735Some Falles are meanes the happier to arise. Exeunt
    Scena Tertia.
    Enter Cymbeline, Lords, and Pisanio.
    Cym. Againe: and bring me word how 'tis with her,
    A Feauour with the absence of her Sonne;
    The Tragedie of Cymbeline. 391
    2740A madnesse, of which her life's in danger: Heauens,
    How deeply you at once do touch me. Imogen,
    The great part of my comfort, gone: My Queene
    Vpon a desperate bed, and in a time
    When fearefull Warres point at me: Her Sonne gone,
    2745So needfull for this present? It strikes me, past
    The hope of comfort. But for thee, Fellow,
    Who needs must know of her departure, and
    Dost seeme so ignorant, wee'l enforce it from thee
    By a sharpe Torture.
    2750Pis. Sir, my life is yours,
    I humbly set it at your will: But for my Mistris,
    I nothing know where she remaines: why gone,
    Nor when she purposes returne. Beseech your Highnes,
    Hold me your loyall Seruant.
    2755Lord. Good my Liege,
    The day that she was missing, he was heere;
    I dare be bound hee's true, and shall performe
    All parts of his subiection loyally. For Cloten,
    There wants no diligence in seeking him,
    2760And will no doubt be found.
    Cym. The time is troublesome:
    Wee'l slip you for a season, but our iealousie
    Do's yet depend.
    Lord. So please your Maiesty,
    2765The Romaine Legions, all from Gallia drawne,
    Are landed on your Coast, with a supply
    Of Romaine Gentlemen, by the Senate sent.
    Cym. Now for the Counsaile of my Son and Queen,
    I am amaz'd with matter.
    2770Lord. Good my Liege,
    Your preparation can affront no lesse
    Then what you heare of. Come more, for more you're (ready:
    The want is, but to put those Powres in motion,
    That long to moue.
    2775Cym. I thanke you: let's withdraw
    And meete the Time, as it seekes vs. We feare not
    What can from Italy annoy vs, but
    We greeue at chances heere. Away. Exeunt
    Pisa. I heard no Letter from my Master, since
    2780I wrote him Imogen was slaine. 'Tis strange:
    Nor heare I from my Mistris, who did promise
    To yeeld me often tydings. Neither know I
    What is betide to Cloten, but remaine
    Perplext in all. The Heauens still must worke:
    2785Wherein I am false, I am honest: not true, to be true.
    These present warres shall finde I loue my Country,
    Euen to the note o'th' King, or Ile fall in them:
    All other doubts, by time let them be cleer'd,
    Fortune brings in some Boats, that are not steer'd. Exit.
    2790Scena Quarta.
    Enter Belarius, Guiderius, & Aruiragus.
    Gui. The noyse is round about vs.
    Bel. Let vs from it.
    Arui. What pleasure Sir, we finde in life, to locke it
    2795From Action, and Aduenture.
    Gui. Nay, what hope
    Haue we in hiding vs? This way the Romaines
    Must, or for Britaines slay vs or receiue vs
    For barbarous and vnnaturall Reuolts
    2800During their vse, and slay vs after.
    Bel. Sonnes,
    Wee'l higher to the Mountaines, there secure v..
    To the Kings party there's no going: newnesse
    Of Clotens death (we being not knowne, not muster'd
    2805Among the Bands) may driue vs to a render
    Where we haue liu'd; and so extort from's that
    Which we haue done, whose answer would be death
    Drawne on with Torture.
    Gui. This is (Sir) a doubt
    2810In such a time, nothing becomming you,
    Nor satisfying vs.
    Arui. It is not likely,
    That when they heare their Roman horses neigh,
    Behold their quarter'd Fires; haue both their eyes
    2815And eares so cloyd importantly as now,
    That they will waste their time vpon our note,
    To know from whence we are.
    Bel. Oh, I am knowne
    Of many in the Army: Many yeeres
    2820(Though Cloten then but young) you see, not wore him
    From my remembrance. And besides, the King
    Hath not deseru'd my Seruice, nor your Loues,
    Who finde in my Exile, the want of Breeding;
    The certainty of this heard life, aye hopelesse
    2825To haue the courtesie your Cradle promis'd,
    But to be still hot Summers Tanlings, and
    The shrinking Slaues of Winter.
    Gui. Then be so,
    Better to cease to be. Pray Sir, to'th' Army:
    2830I, and my Brother are not knowne; your selfe
    So out of thought, and thereto so ore-growne,
    Cannot be question'd.
    Arui. By this Sunne that shines
    Ile thither: What thing is't, that I neuer
    2835Did see man dye, scarse euer look'd on blood,
    But that of Coward Hares, hot Goats, and Venison?
    Neuer bestrid a Horse saue one, that had
    A Rider like my selfe, who ne're wore Rowell,
    Nor Iron on his heele? I am asham'd
    2840To looke vpon the holy Sunne, to haue
    The benefit of his blest Beames, remaining
    So long a poore vnknowne.
    Gui. By heauens Ile go,
    If you will blesse me Sir, and giue me leaue,
    2845Ile take the better care: but if you will not,
    The hazard therefore due fall on me, by
    The hands of Romaines.
    Arui. So say I, Amen.
    Bel. No reason I (since of your liues you set
    2850So slight a valewation) should reserue
    My crack'd one to more care. Haue with you Boyes:
    If in your Country warres you chance to dye,
    That is my Bed too (Lads) and there Ile lye.
    Lead, lead; the time seems long, their blood thinks scorn
    2855Till it flye out, and shew them Princes borne. Exeunt.
    Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
    Enter Posthumus alone.
    Post. Yea bloody cloth, Ile keep thee: for I am wisht
    Thou should'st be colour'd thus. You married ones,
    2860If each of you should take this course, how many
    Must murther Wiues much better then themselues
    bbb 2 For
    392The Tragedy of Cymbeline.
    For wrying but a little? Oh Pisanio,
    Euery good Seruant do's not all Commands:
    No Bond, but to do iust ones. Gods, if you
    2865Should haue 'tane vengeance on my faults, I neuer
    Had liu'd to put on this: so had you saued
    The noble Imogen, to repent, and strooke
    Me (wretch) more worth your Vengeance. But alacke,
    You snatch some hence for little faults; that's loue
    2870To haue them fall no more: you some permit
    To second illes with illes, each elder worse,
    And make them dread it, to the dooers thrift.
    But Imogen is your owne, do your best willes,
    And make me blest to obey. I am brought hither
    2875Among th' Italian Gentry, and to fight
    Against my Ladies Kingdome: 'Tis enough
    That (Britaine) I haue kill'd thy Mistris: Peace,
    Ile giue no wound to thee: therefore good Heauens,
    Heare patiently my purpose. Ile disrobe me
    2880Of these Italian weedes, and suite my selfe
    As do's a Britaine Pezant: so Ile fight
    Against the part I come with: so Ile dye
    For thee (O Imogen) euen for whom my life
    Is euery breath, a death: and thus, vnknowne,
    2885Pittied, nor hated, to the face of perill
    My selfe Ile dedicate. Let me make men know
    More valour in me, then my habits show.
    Gods, put the strength o'th' Leonati in me:
    To shame the guize o'th' world, I will begin,
    2890The fashion lesse without, and more within.
    Scena Secunda.
    Enter Lucius, Iachimo, and the Romane Army at one doore:
    and the Britaine Army at another: Leonatus Posthumus
    following like a poore Souldier. They march ouer, and goe
    2895out. Then enter againe in Skirmish Iachimo and Posthu-
    mus: he vanquisheth and disarmeth Iachimo, and then
    leaues him.
    Iac. The heauinesse and guilt within my bosome,
    Takes off my manhood: I haue belyed a Lady,
    2900The Princesse of this Country; and the ayre on't
    Reuengingly enfeebles me, or could this Carle,
    A very drudge of Natures, haue subdu'de me
    In my profession? Knighthoods, and Honors borne
    As I weare mine) are titles but of scorne.
    2905If that thy Gentry (Britaine) go before
    This Lowt, as he exceeds our Lords, the oddes
    Is, that we scarse are men, and you are Goddes. Exit.
    The Battaile continues, the Britaines fly, Cymbeline is
    taken: Then enter to his rescue, Bellarius, Guiderius,
    2910and Aruiragus.
    Bel. Stand, stand, we haue th' aduantage of the ground,
    The Lane is guarded: Nothing rowts vs, but
    The villany of our feares.
    Gui. Arui. Stand, stand, and fight.
    2915Enter Posthumus, and seconds the Britaines. They Rescue
    Cymbeline, and Exeunt.
    Then enter Lucius, Iachimo, and Imogen.
    Luc. Away boy from the Troopes, and saue thy selfe:
    For friends kil friends, and the disorder's such
    2920As warre were hood-wink'd.
    Iac. 'Tis their fresh supplies.
    Luc. It is a day turn'd strangely: or betimes
    Let's re-inforce, or fly. Exeunt
    Scena Tertia.
    2925Enter Posthumus, and a Britaine Lord.
    Lor. Cam'st thou from where they made the stand?
    Post. I did,
    Though you it seemes come from the Fliers?
    Lo, I did.
    2930Post. No blame be to you Sir, for all was lost,
    But that the Heauens fought: the King himselfe
    Of his wings destitute, the Army broken,
    And but the backes of Britaines seene; all flying
    Through a strait Lane, the Enemy full-heart'd,
    2935Lolling the Tongue with slaught'ring: hauing worke
    More plentifull, then Tooles to doo't: strooke downe
    Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling
    Meerely through feare, that the strait passe was damm'd
    With deadmen, hurt behinde, and Cowards liuing
    2940To dye with length'ned shame.
    Lo. Where was this Lane?
    Post. Close by the battell, ditch'd, & wall'd with turph,
    Which gaue aduantage to an ancient Soldiour
    (An honest one I warrant) who deseru'd
    2945So long a breeding, as his white beard came to,
    In doing this for's Country. Athwart the Lane,
    He, with two striplings (Lads more like to run
    The Country base, then to commit such slaughter,
    With faces fit for Maskes, or rather fayrer
    2950Then those for preseruation cas'd, or shame)
    Made good the passage, cryed to those that fled.
    Our Britaines hearts dye flying, not our men,
    To darknesse fleete soules that flye backwards; stand,
    Or we are Romanes, and will giue you that
    2955Like beasts, which you shun beastly, and may saue
    But to looke backe in frowne: Stand, stand. These three,
    Three thousand confident, in acte as many:
    For three performers are the File, when all
    The rest do nothing. With this word stand, stand,
    2960Accomodated by the Place; more Charming
    With their owne Noblenesse, which could haue turn'd
    A Distaffe, to a Lance, guilded pale lookes;
    Part shame, part spirit renew'd, that some turn'd coward
    But by example (Oh a sinne in Warre,
    2965Damn'd in the first beginners) gan to looke
    The way that they did, and to grin like Lyons
    Vpon the Pikes o'th' Hunters. Then beganne
    A stop i'th' Chaser; a Retyre: Anon
    A Rowt, confusion thicke: forthwith they flye
    2970Chickens, the way which they stopt Eagles: Slaues
    The strides the Victors made: and now our Cowards
    Like Fragments in hard Voyages became
    The life o'th' need: hauing found the backe doore open
    Of the vnguarded hearts: heauens, how they wound,
    2975Some slaine before some dying; some their Friends
    Ore-borne i'th' former waue, ten chac'd by one,
    Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty:
    Those that would dye, or ere resist, are growne
    The mortall bugs o'th' Field.
    The Tragedie of Cymbeline. 393
    2980Lord. This was strange chance:
    A narrow Lane, an old man, and two Boyes.
    Post. Nay, do not wonder at it: you are made
    Rather to wonder at the things you heare,
    Then to worke any. Will you Rime vpon't,
    2985And vent it for a Mock'rie? Heere is one:
    "Two Boyes, an Oldman (twice a Boy) a Lane,
    "Preseru'd the Britaines, was the Romanes bane.
    Lord. Nay, be not angry Sir.
    Post. Lacke, to what end?
    2990Who dares not stand his Foe, Ile be his Friend:
    For if hee'l do, as he is made to doo,
    I know hee'l quickly flye my friendship too.
    You haue put me into Rime.
    Lord. Farewell, you're angry. Exit.
    2995Post. Still going? This is a Lord: Oh Noble misery
    To be i'th' Field, and aske what newes of me:
    To day, how many would haue giuen their Honours
    To haue sau'd their Carkasses? Tooke heele to doo't,
    And yet dyed too. I, in mine owne woe charm'd
    3000Could not finde death, where I did heare him groane,
    Nor feele him where he strooke. Being an vgly Monster,
    'Tis strange he hides him in fresh Cups, soft Beds,
    Sweet words; or hath moe ministers then we
    That draw his kniues i'th' War. Well I will finde him:
    3005For being now a Fauourer to the Britaine,
    No more a Britaine, I haue resum'd againe
    The part I came in. Fight I will no more,
    But yeeld me to the veriest Hinde, that shall
    Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is
    3010Heere made by'th' Romane; great the Answer be
    Britaines must take. For me, my Ransome's death,
    On eyther side I come to spend my breath;
    Which neyther heere Ile keepe, nor beare agen,
    But end it by some meanes for Imogen.
    3015Enter two Captaines, and Soldiers.
    1 Great Iupiter be prais'd, Lucius is taken,
    'Tis thought the old man, and his sonnes, were Angels.
    2 There was a fourth man, in a silly habit,
    That gaue th' Affront with them.
    30201 So 'tis reported:
    But none of 'em can be found. Stand, who's there?
    Post. A Roman,
    Who had not now beene drooping heere, if Seconds
    Had answer'd him.
    30252 Lay hands on him: a Dogge,
    A legge of Rome shall not returne to tell
    What Crows haue peckt them here: he brags his seruice
    As if he were of note: bring him to'th' King.
    Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, Aruiragus, Pisanio, and
    3030 Romane Captiues. The Captaines present Posthumus to
    Cymbeline, who deliuers him ouer to a Gaoler.
    Scena Quarta.
    Enter Posthumus, and Gaoler.
    Gao. You shall not now be stolne,
    3035You haue lockes vpon you:
    So graze, as you finde Pasture.
    2. Gao. I, or a stomacke.
    Post. Most welcome bondage; for thou art a way
    (I thinke) to liberty: yet am I better
    3040Then one that's sicke o'th' Gowt, since he had rather
    Groane so in perpetuity, then be cur'd
    By'th' sure Physitian, Death; who is the key
    T' vnbarre these Lockes. My Conscience, thou art fetter'd
    More then my shanks, & wrists: you good Gods giue me
    3045The penitent Instrument to picke that Bolt,
    Then free for euer. Is't enough I am sorry?
    So Children temporall Fathers do appease;
    Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent,
    I cannot do it better then in Gyues,
    3050Desir'd, more then constrain'd, to satisfie
    If of my Freedome 'tis the maine part, take
    No stricter render of me, then my All.
    I know you are more clement then vilde men,
    Who of their broken Debtors take a third,
    3055A sixt, a tenth, letting them thriue againe
    On their abatement; that's not my desire.
    For Imogens deere life, take mine, and though
    'Tis not so deere, yet 'tis a life; you coyn'd it,
    'Tweene man, and man, they waigh not euery stampe:
    3060Though light, take Peeces for the figures sake,
    (You rather) mine being yours: and so great Powres,
    If you will take this Audit, take this life,
    And cancell these cold Bonds. Oh Imogen,
    Ile speake to thee in silence.
    3065 Solemne Musicke. Enter (as in an Apparation) Sicillius Leo-
    natus, Father to Posthumus, an old man, attyred like a war-
    riour, leading in his hand an ancient Matron (his wife, &
    Mother to Posthumus) with Musicke before them. Then
    after other Musicke, followes the two young Leonati (Bro-
    3070thers to Posthumus) with wounds as they died in the warrs.
    They circle Posthumus round as he lies sleeping.
    Sicil. No more thou Thunder-Master
    shew thy spight, on Mortall Flies:
    With Mars fall out with Iuno chide, that thy Adulteries
    3075 Rates, and Reuenges.
    Hath my poore Boy done ought but well,
    whose face I neuer saw:
    I dy'de whil'st in the Wombe he staide,
    attending Natures Law.
    3080Whose Father then (as men report,
    thou Orphanes Father art)
    Thou should'st haue bin, and sheelded him,
    from this earth-vexing smart.
    Moth. Lucina lent not me her ayde,
    3085 but tooke me in my Throwes,
    That from me was Posthumus ript,
    came crying 'mong'st his Foes.
    A thing of pitty.
    Sicil. Great Nature like his Ancestrie,
    3090 moulded the stuffe so faire:
    That he deseru'd the praise o'th' World,
    as great Sicilius heyre.
    1. Bro. When once he was mature for man,
    in Britaine where was hee
    3095That could stand vp his paralell?
    Or fruitfull obiect bee?
    In eye of Imogen, that best could deeme
    his dignitie.
    Mo. With Marriage wherefore was he mockt
    3100 to be exil'd, and throwne
    From Leonati Seate, and cast from her,
    his deerest one:
    Sweete Imogen?
    Sic. Why did you suffer Iachimo, slight thing of Italy,
    bbb 3 To
    394The Tragedy of Cymbeline.
    3105To taint his Nobler hart & braine, with needlesse ielousy,
    And to become the geeke and scorne o'th' others vilany?
    2 Bro. For this, from stiller Seats we came,
    our Parents, and vs twaine,
    That striking in our Countries cause,
    3110 fell brauely, and were slaine,
    Our Fealty, & Tenantius right, with Honor to maintaine.
    1 Bro. Like hardiment Posthumus hath
    to Cymbeline perform'd:
    Then Iupiter, yu King of Gods, why hast yu thus adiourn'd
    3115The Graces for his Merits due, being all to dolors turn'd?
    Sicil. Thy Christall window ope; looke,
    looke out, no longer exercise
    Vpon a valiant Race, thy harsh, and potent iniuries:
    Moth. Since (Iupiter) our Son is good,
    3120 take off his miseries.
    Sicil. Peepe through thy Marble Mansion, helpe,
    or we poore Ghosts will cry
    To'th' shining Synod of the rest, against thy Deity.
    Brothers. Helpe (Iupiter) or we appeale,
    3125 and from thy iustice flye.
    Iupiter descends in Thunder and Lightning, sitting vppon an
    Eagle: hee throwes a Thunder-bolt. The Ghostes fall on
    their knees.
    Iupiter. No more you petty Spirits of Region low
    3130Offend our hearing: hush. How dare you Ghostes
    Accuse the Thunderer, whose Bolt (you know)
    Sky-planted, batters all rebelling Coasts.
    Poore shadowes of Elizium, hence, and rest
    Vpon your neuer-withering bankes of Flowres.
    3135Be not with mortall accidents opprest,
    No care of yours it is, you know 'tis ours.
    Whom best I loue, I crosse; to make my guift
    The more delay'd, delighted. Be content,
    Your low-laide Sonne, our Godhead will vplift:
    3140His Comforts thriue, his Trials well are spent:
    Our Iouiall Starre reign'd at his Birth, and in
    Our Temple was he married: Rise, and fade,
    He shall be Lord of Lady Imogen,
    And happier much by his Affliction made.
    3145This Tablet lay vpon his Brest, wherein
    Our pleasure, his full Fortune, doth confine,
    And so away: no farther with your dinne
    Expresse Impatience, least you stirre vp mine:
    Mount Eagle, to my Palace Christalline. Ascends
    3150Sicil. He came in Thunder, his Celestiall breath
    Was sulphurous to smell: the holy Eagle
    Stoop'd, as to foote vs: his Ascension is
    More sweet then our blest Fields: his Royall Bird
    Prunes the immortall wing, and cloyes his Beake,
    3155As when his God is pleas'd.
    All. Thankes Iupiter.
    Sic. The Marble Pauement clozes, he is enter'd
    His radiant Roofe: Away, and to be blest
    Let vs with care performe his great behest. Vanish
    3160Post. Sleepe, thou hast bin a Grandsire, and begot
    A Father to me: and thou hast created
    A Mother, and two Brothers. But (oh scorne)
    Gone, they went hence so soone as they were borne:
    And so I am awake. Poore Wretches, that depend
    3165On Greatnesse, Fauour; Dreame as I haue done,
    Wake, and finde nothing. But (alas) I swerue:
    Many Dreame not to finde, neither deserue,
    And yet are steep'd in Fauours; so am I
    That haue this Golden chance, and know not why:
    3170What Fayeries haunt this ground? A Book? Oh rare one,
    Be not, as is our fangled world, a Garment
    Nobler then that it couers. Let thy effects
    So follow, to be most vnlike our Courtiers,
    As good, as promise.
    WHen as a Lyons whelpe, shall to himselfe vnknown, with-
    out seeking finde, and bee embrac'd by a peece of tender
    Ayre: And when from a stately Cedar shall be lopt branches,
    which being dead many yeares, shall after reuiue, bee ioynted to
    3180the old Stocke, and freshly grow, then shall Posthumus end his
    miseries, Britaine be fortunate, and flourish in Peace and Plen-
    'Tis still a Dreame: or else such stuffe as Madmen
    Tongue, and braine not: either both, or nothing,
    3185Or senselesse speaking, or a speaking such
    As sense cannot vntye. Be what it is,
    The Action of my life is like it, which Ile keepe
    If but for simpathy.
    Enter Gaoler.
    3190Gao. Come Sir, are you ready for death?
    Post. Ouer-roasted rather: ready long ago.
    Gao. Hanging is the word, Sir, if you bee readie for
    that, you are well Cook'd.
    Post. So if I proue a good repast to the Spectators, the
    3195dish payes the shot.
    Gao. A heauy reckoning for you Sir: But the comfort
    is you shall be called to no more payments, fear no more
    Tauerne Bils, which are often the sadnesse of parting, as
    the procuring of mirth: you come in faint for want of
    3200meate, depart reeling with too much drinke: sorrie that
    you haue payed too much, and sorry that you are payed
    too much: Purse and Braine, both empty: the Brain the
    heauier, for being too light; the Purse too light, being
    drawne of heauinesse. Oh, of this contradiction you shall
    3205now be quit: Oh the charity of a penny Cord, it summes
    vp thousands in a trice: you haue no true Debitor, and
    Creditor but it: of what's past, is, and to come, the dis-
    charge: your necke (Sis) is Pen, Booke, and Counters; so
    the Acquittance followes.
    3210Post. I am merrier to dye, then thou art to liue.
    Gao. Indeed Sir, he that sleepes, feeles not the Tooth-
    Ache: but a man that were to sleepe your sleepe, and a
    Hangman to helpe him to bed, I think he would change
    places with his Officer: for, look you Sir, you know not
    3215which way you shall go.
    Post. Yes indeed do I, fellow.
    Gao. Your death has eyes in's head then: I haue not
    seene him so pictur'd: you must either bee directed by
    some that take vpon them to know, or to take vpon your
    3220selfe that which I am sure you do not know: or iump the
    after-enquiry on your owne perill: and how you shall
    speed in your iournies end, I thinke you'l neuer returne
    to tell one.
    Post. I tell thee, Fellow, there are none want eyes, to
    3225direct them the way I am going, but such as winke, and
    will not vse them.
    Gao. What an infinite mocke is this, that a man shold
    haue the best vse of eyes, to see the way of blindnesse: I
    am sure hanging's the way of winking.
    3230Enter a Messenger.
    Mes. Knocke off his Manacles, bring your Prisoner to
    the King.
    Post. Thou bring'st good newes, I am call'd to bee
    made free.
    3235Gao. Ile be hang'd then.
    Post. Thou shalt be then freer then a Gaoler; no bolts
    The Tragedie of Cymbeline. 395
    for the dead.
    Gao. Vnlesse a man would marry a Gallowes, & be-
    get yong Gibbets, I neuer saw one so prone: yet on my
    3240Conscience, there are verier Knaues desire to liue, for all
    he be a Roman; and there be some of them too that dye
    against their willes; so should I, if I were one. I would
    we were all of one minde, and one minde good: O there
    were desolation of Gaolers and Galowses: I speake a-
    3245gainst my present profit, but my wish hath a preferment
    in't. Exeunt.
    Scena Quinta.
    Enter Cymbeline, Bellarius, Guiderius, Arui-
    ragus, Pisanio, and Lords.
    3250Cym. Stand by my side you, whom the Gods haue made
    Preseruers of my Throne: woe is my heart,
    That the poore Souldier that so richly fought,
    Whose ragges, sham'd gilded Armes, whose naked brest
    Stept before Targes of proofe, cannot be found:
    3255He shall be happy that can finde him, if
    Our Grace can make him so.
    Bel. I neuer saw
    Such Noble fury in so poore a Thing;
    Such precious deeds, in one that promist nought
    3260But beggery, and poore lookes.
    Cym. No tydings of him?
    Pisa. He hath bin search'd among the dead, & liuing;
    But no trace of him.
    Cym. To my greefe, I am
    3265The heyre of his Reward, which I will adde
    To you (the Liuer, Heart, and Braine of Britaine)
    By whom (I grant) she liues. 'Tis now the time
    To aske of whence you are. Report it.
    Bel. Sir,
    3270In Cambria are we borne, and Gentlemen:
    Further to boast, were neyther true, nor modest,
    Vnlesse I adde, we are honest.
    Cym. Bow your knees:
    Arise my Knights o'th' Battell, I create you
    3275Companions to our person, and will fit you
    With Dignities becomming your estates.
    Enter Cornelius and Ladies.
    There's businesse in these faces: why so sadly
    Greet you our Victory? you looke like Romaines,
    3280And not o'th' Court of Britaine.
    Corn. Hayle great King,
    To sowre your happinesse, I must report
    The Queene is dead.
    Cym. Who worse then a Physitian
    3285Would this report become? But I consider,
    By Med'cine life may be prolong'd, yet death
    Will seize the Doctor too. How ended she?
    Cor. With horror, madly dying, like her life,
    Which (being cruell to the world) concluded
    3290Most cruell to her selfe. What she confest,
    I will report, so please you. These her Women
    Can trip me, if I erre, who with wet cheekes
    Were present when she finish'd.
    Cym. Prythee say.
    3295Cor. First, she confest she neuer lou'd you: onely
    Affected Greatnesse got by you: not you:
    Married your Royalty, was wife to your place:
    Abhorr'd your person.
    Cym. She alone knew this:
    3300And but she spoke it dying, I would not
    Beleeue her lips in opening it. Proceed.
    Corn. Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to loue
    With such integrity, she did confesse
    Was as a Scorpion to her sight, whose life
    3305(But that her flight preuented it) she had
    Tane off by poyson.
    Cym. O most delicate Fiend!
    Who is't can reade a Woman? Is there more?
    Corn. More Sir, and worse. She did confesse she had
    3310For you a mortall Minerall, which being tooke,
    Should by the minute feede on life, and ling'ring,
    By inches waste you. In which time, she purpos'd
    By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to
    Orecome you with her shew; and in time
    3315(When she had fitted you with her craft, to worke
    Her Sonne into th' adoption of the Crowne:
    But fayling of her end by his strange absence,
    Grew shamelesse desperate, open'd (in despight
    Of Heauen, and Men) her purposes: repented
    3320The euils she hatch'd, were not effected: so
    Dispayring, dyed.
    Cym. Heard you all this, her Women?
    La. We did, so please your Highnesse.
    Cym. Mine eyes
    3325Were not in fault, for she was beautifull:
    Mine eares that heare her flattery, nor my heart,
    That thought her like her seeming. It had beene vicious
    To haue mistrusted her: yet (Oh my Daughter)
    That it was folly in me, thou mayst say,
    3330And proue it in thy feeling. Heauen mend all.
    Enter Lucius, Iachimo, and other Roman prisoners,
    Leonatus behind, and Imogen.
    Thou comm'st not Caius now for Tribute, that
    The Britaines haue rac'd out, though with the losse
    3335Of many a bold one: whose Kinsmen haue made suite
    That their good soules may be appeas'd, with slaughter
    Of you their Captiues, which our selfe haue granted,
    So thinke of your estate.
    Luc. Consider Sir, the chance of Warre, the day
    3340Was yours by accident: had it gone with vs,
    We should not when the blood was cool, haue threatend
    Our Prisoners with the Sword. But since the Gods
    Will haue it thus, that nothing but our liues
    May be call'd ransome, let it come: Sufficeth,
    3345A Roman, with a Romans heart can suffer:
    Augustus liues to thinke on't: and so much
    For my peculiar care. This one thing onely
    I will entreate, my Boy (a Britaine borne)
    Let him be ransom'd: Neuer Master had
    3350A Page so kinde, so duteous, diligent,
    So tender ouer his occasions, true,
    So feate, so Nurse-like: let his vertue ioyne
    With my request, which Ile make bold, your Highnesse
    Cannot deny: he hath done no Britaine harme,
    3355Though he haue seru'd a Roman. Saue him (Sir)
    And spare no blood beside.
    Cym. I haue surely seene him:
    His fauour is familiar to me: Boy,
    Thou hast look'd thy selfe into my grace,
    3360And art mine owne. I know not why, wherefore,
    To say, liue boy: ne're thanke thy Master, liue;
    And aske of Cymbeline what Boone thou wilt,
    Fitting my bounty, and thy state, Ile giue it:
    396The Tragedy of Cymbeline.
    Yea, though thou do demand a Prisoner
    3365The Noblest tane.
    Imo. I humbly thanke your Highnesse.
    Luc. I do not bid thee begge my life, good Lad,
    And yet I know thou wilt.
    Imo. No, no, alacke,
    3370There's other worke in hand: I see a thing
    Bitter to me, as death: your life, good Master,
    Must shuffle for it selfe.
    Luc. The Boy disdaines me,
    He leaues me, scornes me: briefely dye their ioyes,
    3375That place them on the truth of Gyrles, and Boyes.
    Why stands he so perplext?
    Cym. What would'st thou Boy?
    I loue thee more, and more: thinke more and more
    What's best to aske. Know'st him thou look'st on? speak
    3380Wilt haue him liue? Is he thy Kin? thy Friend?
    Imo. He is a Romane, no more kin to me,
    Then I to your Highnesse, who being born your vassaile
    Am something neerer.
    Cym. Wherefore ey'st him so?
    3385Imo. Ile tell you (Sir) in priuate, if you please
    To giue me hearing.
    Cym. I, with all my heart,
    And lend my best attention. What's thy name?
    Imo. Fidele Sir.
    3390Cym. Thou'rt my good youth: my Page
    Ile be thy Master: walke with me: speake freely.
    Bel. Is not this Boy reuiu'd from death?
    Arui. One Sand another
    Not more resembles that sweet Rosie Lad:
    3395Who dyed, and was Fidele: what thinke you?
    Gui. The same dead thing aliue.
    Bel. Peace, peace, see further: he eyes vs not, forbeare
    Creatures may be alike: were't he, I am sure
    He would haue spoke to vs.
    3400Gui. But we see him dead.
    Bel. Be silent: let's see further.
    Pisa. It is my Mistris:
    Since she is liuing, let the time run on,
    To good, or bad.
    3405Cym. Come, stand thou by our side,
    Make thy demand alowd. Sir, step you forth,
    Giue answer to this Boy, and do it freely,
    Or by our Greatnesse, and the grace of it
    (Which is our Honor) bitter torture shall
    3410Winnow the truth from falshood. One speake to him.
    Imo. My boone is, that this Gentleman may render
    Of whom he had this Ring.
    Post. What's that to him?
    Cym. That Diamond vpon your Finger, say
    3415How came it yours?
    Iach. Thou'lt torture me to leaue vnspoken, that
    Which to be spoke, wou'd torture thee.
    Cym. How? me?
    Iach. I am glad to be constrain'd to vtter that
    3420Which torments me to conceale. By Villany
    I got this Ring: 'twas Leonatus Iewell,
    Whom thou did'st banish: and which more may greeue (thee,
    As it doth me: a Nobler Sir, ne're liu'd
    'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou heare more my Lord?
    3425Cym. All that belongs to this.
    Iach. That Paragon, thy daughter,
    For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits
    Quaile to remember. Giue me leaue, I faint.
    Cym. My Daughter? what of hir? Renew thy strength
    3430I had rather thou should'st liue, while Nature will,
    Then dye ere I heare more: striue man, and speake.
    Iach. Vpon a time, vnhappy was the clocke
    That strooke the houre: it was in Rome, accurst
    The Mansion where: 'twas at a Feast, oh would
    3435Our Viands had bin poyson'd (or at least
    Those which I heau'd to head:) the good Posthumus,
    (What should I say? he was too good to be
    Where ill men were, and was the best of all
    Among'st the rar'st of good ones) sitting sadly,
    3440Hearing vs praise our Loues of Italy
    For Beauty, that made barren the swell'd boast
    Of him that best could speake: for Feature, laming
    The Shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerua,
    Postures, beyond breefe Nature. For Condition,
    3445A shop of all the qualities, that man
    Loues woman for, besides that hooke of Wiuing,
    Fairenesse, which strikes the eye.
    Cym. I stand on fire. Come to the matter.
    Iach. All too soone I shall,
    3450Vnlesse thou would'st greeue quickly. This Posthumus,
    Most like a Noble Lord, in loue, and one
    That had a Royall Louer, tooke his hint,
    And (not dispraising whom we prais'd, therein
    He was as calme as vertue) he began
    3455His Mistris picture, which, by his tongue, being made,
    And then a minde put in't, either our bragges
    Were crak'd of Kitchin-Trulles, or his description
    Prou'd vs vnspeaking sottes.
    Cym. Nay, nay, to'th' purpose.
    3460Iach. Your daughters Chastity, (there it beginnes)
    He spake of her, as Dian had hot dreames,
    And she alone, were cold: Whereat, I wretch
    Made scruple of his praise, and wager'd with him
    Peeces of Gold, 'gainst this, which then he wore
    3465Vpon his honour'd finger) to attaine
    In suite the place of's bed, and winne this Ring
    By hers, and mine Adultery: he (true Knight)
    No lesser of her Honour confident
    Then I did truly finde her, stakes this Ring,
    3470And would so, had it beene a Carbuncle
    Of Phoebus Wheele; and might so safely, had it
    Bin all the worth of's Carre. Away to Britaine
    Poste I in this designe: Well may you (Sir)
    Remember me at Court, where I was taught
    3475Of your chaste Daughter, the wide difference
    'Twixt Amorous, and Villanous. Being thus quench'd
    Of hope, not longing; mine Italian braine,
    Gan in your duller Britaine operate
    Most vildely: for my vantage excellent.
    3480And to be breefe, my practise so preuayl'd
    That I return'd with simular proofe enough,
    To make the Noble Leonatus mad,
    By wounding his beleefe in her Renowne,
    With Tokens thus, and thus: auerring notes
    3485Of Chamber-hanging, Pictures, this her Bracelet
    (Oh cunning how I got) nay some markes
    Of secret on her person, that he could not
    But thinke her bond of Chastity quite crack'd,
    I hauing 'tane the forfeyt. Whereupon,
    3490Me thinkes I see him now.
    Post. I so thou do'st,
    Italian Fiend. Aye me, most credulous Foole,
    Egregious murtherer, Theefe, any thing
    That's due to all the Villaines past, in being
    3495To come. Oh giue me Cord, or knife, or poyson,
    The Tragedie of Cymbeline. 397
    Some vpright Iusticer. Thou King, send out
    For Torturors ingenious: it is I
    That all th' abhorred things o'th' earth amend
    By being worse then they. I am Posthumus,
    3500That kill'd thy Daughter: Villain-like, I lye,
    That caus'd a lesser villaine then my selfe,
    A sacrilegious Theefe to doo't. The Temple
    Of Vertue was she; yea, and she her selfe.
    Spit, and throw stones, cast myre vpon me, set
    3505The dogges o'th' street to bay me: euery villaine
    Be call'd Posthumus Leonatus, and
    Be villany lesse then 'twas. Oh Imogen!
    My Queene, my life, my wife: oh Imogen,
    Imogen, Imogen.
    3510Imo. Peace my Lord, heare, heare.
    Post. Shall's haue a play of this?
    Thou scornfull Page, there lye thy part.
    Pi s. Oh Gentlemen, helpe,
    Mine and your Mistris: Oh my Lord Posthumus,
    3515You ne're kill'd Imogen till now: helpe, helpe,
    Mine honour'd Lady.
    Cym. Does the world go round?
    Posth. How comes these staggers on mee?
    Pisa. Wake my Mistris.
    3520Cym. If this be so, the Gods do meane to strike me
    To death, with mortall ioy.
    Pisa. How fares my Mistris?
    Imo. Oh get thee from my sight,
    Thou gau'st me poyson: dangerous Fellow hence,
    3525Breath not where Princes are.
    Cym. The tune of Imogen.
    Pisae. Lady, the Gods throw stones of sulpher on me, if
    That box I gaue you, was not thought by mee
    A precious thing, I had it from the Queene.
    3530Cym. New matter still.
    Imo. It poyson'd me.
    Corn. Oh Gods!
    I left out one thing which the Queene confest,
    Which must approue thee honest. If Pasanio
    3535Haue (said she) giuen his Mistris that Confection
    Which I gaue him for Cordiall, she is seru'd,
    As I would serue a Rat.
    Cym. What's this, Cornelius?
    Corn. The Queene (Sir) very oft importun'd me
    3540To temper poysons for her, still pretending
    The satisfaction of her knowledge, onely
    In killing Creatures vilde, as Cats and Dogges
    Of no esteeme. I dreading, that her purpose
    Was of more danger, did compound for her
    3545A certaine stuffe, which being tane, would cease
    The present powre of life, but in short time,
    All Offices of Nature, should againe
    Do their due Functions. Haue you tane of it?
    Imo. Most like I did, for I was dead.
    3550Bel. My Boyes, there was our error.
    Gui. This is sure Fidele.
    Imo. Why did you throw your wedded Lady fro you?
    Thinke that you are vpon a Rocke, and now
    Throw me againe.
    3555Post. Hang there like fruite, my soule,
    Till the Tree dye.
    Cym. How now, my Flesh? my Childe?
    What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this Act?
    Wilt thou not speake to me?
    3560Imo. Your blessing, Sir.
    Bel. Though you did loue this youth, I blame ye not,
    You had a motiue for't.
    Cym. My teares that fall
    Proue holy-water on thee; Imogen,
    3565Thy Mothers dead.
    Imo. I am sorry for't, my Lord.
    Cym. Oh, she was naught; and long of her it was
    That we meet heere so strangely: but her Sonne
    Is gone, we know not how, nor where.
    3570Pisa. My Lord,
    Now feare is from me, Ile speake troth. Lord Cloten
    Vpon my Ladies missing, came to me
    With his Sword drawne, foam'd at the mouth, and swore
    If I discouer'd not which way she was gone,
    3575It was my instant death. By accident,
    I had a feigned Letter of my Masters
    Then in my pocket, which directed him
    To seeke her on the Mountaines neere to Milford,
    Where in a frenzie, in my Masters Garments
    3580(Which he inforc'd from me) away he postes
    With vnchaste purpose, and with oath to violate
    My Ladies honor, what became of him,
    I further know not.
    Gui. Let me end the Story: I slew him there.
    3585Cym. Marry, the Gods forefend.
    I would not thy good deeds, should from my lips
    Plucke a hard sentence: Prythee valiant youth
    Deny't againe.
    Gui. I haue spoke it, and I did it.
    3590Cym. He was a Prince.
    Gui. A most inciuill one. The wrongs he did mee
    Were nothing Prince-like; for he did prouoke me
    With Language that would make me spurne the Sea,
    If it could so roare to me. I cut off's head,
    3595And am right glad he is not standing heere
    To tell this tale of mine.
    Cym. I am sorrow for thee:
    By thine owne tongue thou art condemn'd, and must
    Endure our Law: Thou'rt dead.
    3600Imo. That headlesse man I thought had bin my Lord
    Cym. Binde the Offender,
    And take him from our presence.
    Bel. Stay, Sir King.
    This man is better then the man he slew,
    3605As well descended as thy selfe, and hath
    More of thee merited, then a Band of Clotens
    Had euer scarre for. Let his Armes alone,
    They were not borne for bondage.
    Cym. Why old Soldier:
    3610Wilt thou vndoo the worth thou art vnpayd for
    By tasting of our wrath? How of descent
    As good as we?
    Arui. In that he spake too farre.
    Cym. And thou shalt dye for't.
    3615Bel. We will dye all three,
    But I will proue that two one's are as good
    As I haue giuen out him. My Sonnes, I must
    For mine owne part, vnfold a dangerous speech,
    Though haply well for you.
    3620Arui. Your danger's ours.
    Guid. And our good his.
    Bel. Haue at it then, by leaue
    Thou hadd'st (great King) a Subiect, who
    Was call'd Belarius.
    3625Cym. What of him? He is a banish'd Traitor.
    Bel. He it is, that hath
    Assum'd this age: indeed a banish'd man,
    398The Tragedy of Cymbeline.
    I know not how, a Traitor.
    Cym. Take him hence,
    3630The whole world shall not saue him.
    Bel. Not too hot;
    First pay me for the Nursing of thy Sonnes,
    And let it be confiscate all, so soone
    As I haue receyu'd it.
    3635Cym. Nursing of my Sonnes?
    Bel. I am too blunt, and sawcy: heere's my knee:
    Ere I arise, I will preferre my Sonnes,
    Then spare not the old Father. Mighty Sir,
    These two young Gentlemen that call me Father,
    3640And thinke they are my Sonnes, are none of mine,
    They are the yssue of your Loynes, my Liege,
    And blood of your begetting.
    Cym. How? my Issue.
    Bel. So sure as you, your Fathers: I (old Morgan)
    3645Am that Belarius, whom you sometime banish'd:
    Your pleasure was my neere offence, my punishment
    It selfe, and all my Treason that I suffer'd,
    Was all the harme I did. These gentle Princes
    (For such, and so they are) these twenty yeares
    3650Haue I train'd vp; those Arts they haue, as I
    Could put into them. My breeding was (Sir)
    As your Highnesse knowes: Their Nurse Euriphile
    (Whom for the Theft I wedded) stole these Children
    Vpon my Banishment: I moou'd her too't,
    3655Hauing receyu'd the punishment before
    For that which I did then. Beaten for Loyaltie,
    Excited me to Treason. Their deere losse,
    The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd
    Vnto my end of stealing them. But gracious Sir,
    3660Heere are your Sonnes againe, and I must loose
    Two of the sweet'st Companions in the World.
    The benediction of these couering Heauens
    Fall on their heads like dew, for they are worthie
    To in-lay Heauen with Starres.
    3665Cym. Thou weep'st, and speak'st:
    The Seruice that you three haue done, is more
    Vnlike, then this thou tell'st. I lost my Children,
    If these be they, I know not how to wish
    A payre of worthier Sonnes.
    3670Bel. Be pleas'd awhile;
    This Gentleman, whom I call Polidore,
    Most worthy Prince, as yours, is true Guiderius:
    This Gentleman, my Cadwall, Aruiragus.
    Your yonger Princely Son, he Sir, was lapt
    3675In a most curious Mantle, wrought by th' hand
    Of his Queene Mother, which for more probation
    I can with ease produce.
    Cym. Guiderius had
    Vpon his necke a Mole, a sanguine Starre,
    3680It was a marke of wonder.
    Bel. This is he,
    Who hath vpon him still that naturall stampe:
    It was wise Natures end, in the donation
    To be his euidence now.
    3685Cym. Oh, what am I
    A Mother to the byrth of three? Nere Mother
    Reioyc'd deliuerance more: Blest, pray you be,
    That after this strange starting from your Orbes,
    You may reigne in them now: Oh Imogen,
    3690Thou hast lost by this a Kingdome.
    Imo. No, my Lord:
    I haue got two Worlds by't. Oh my gentle Brothers,
    Haue we thus met? Oh neuer say heereafter
    But I am truest speaker. You call'd me Brother
    3695When I was but your Sister: I you Brothers,
    When we were so indeed.
    Cym. Did you ere meete?
    Arui. I my good Lord.
    Gui. And at first meeting lou'd,
    3700Continew'd so, vntill we thought he dyed.
    Corn. By the Queenes Dramme she swallow'd.
    Cym. O rare instinct!
    When shall I heare all through? This fierce abridgment,
    Hath to it Circumstantiall branches, which
    3705Distinction should be rich in. Where? how liu'd you?
    And when came you to serue our Romane Captiue?
    How parted with your Brother? How first met them?
    Why fled you from the Court? And whether these?
    And your three motiues to the Battaile? with
    3710I know not how much more should be demanded,
    And all the other by-dependances
    From chance to chance? But nor the Time, nor Place
    Will serue our long Interrogatories. See,
    Posthumus Anchors vpon Imogen;
    3715And she (like harmlesse Lightning) throwes her eye
    On him: her Brothers, Me: her Master hitting
    Each obiect with a Ioy: the Counter-change
    Is seuerally in all. Let's quit this ground,
    And smoake the Temple with our Sacrifices.
    3720Thou art my Brother, so wee'l hold thee euer.
    Imo. You are my Father too, and did releeue me:
    To see this gracious season.
    Cym. All ore-ioy'd
    Saue these in bonds, let them be ioyfull too,
    3725For they shall taste our Comfort.
    Imo. My good Master, I will yet do you seruice.
    Luc. Happy be you.
    Cym. The forlorne Souldier, that no Nobly fought
    He would haue well becom'd this place, and grac'd
    3730The thankings of a King.
    Post. I am Sir
    The Souldier that did company these three
    In poore beseeming: 'twas a fitment for
    The purpose I then follow'd. That I was he,
    3735Speake Iachimo, I had you downe, and might
    Haue made you finish.
    Iach. I am downe againe:
    But now my heauie Conscience sinkes my knee,
    As then your force did. Take that life, beseech you
    3740Which I so often owe: but your Ring first,
    And heere the Bracelet of the truest Princesse