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- Edition: Cymbeline
Cymbeline (Folio 1, 1623)
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382The Tragedy of Cymbeline.
1596The freezing houres away? We haue seene nothing:
1598Like warlike as the Wolfe, for what we eate:
1599Our Valour is to chace what flyes: Our Cage
1600We make a Quire, as doth the prison'd Bird,
1601And sing our Bondage freely.
1603Did you but know the Citties Vsuries,
1604And felt them knowingly: the Art o'th' Court,
1605As hard to leaue, as keepe: whose top to climbe
1607The feare's as bad as falling. The toyle o'th' Warre,
1610And hath as oft a sland'rous Epitaph,
1611As Record of faire Act. Nay, many times
1614The World may reade in me: My bodie's mark'd
1615With Roman Swords; and my report, was once
1617And when a Souldier was the Theame, my name
1618Was not farre off: then was I as a Tree
1619Whose boughes did bend with fruit. But in one night,
1620A Storme, or Robbery (call it what you will)
1621Shooke downe my mellow hangings: nay my Leaues,
1622And left me bare to weather.
1623Gui. Vncertaine fauour.
1624Bel. My fault being nothing (as I haue told you oft)
1627I was Confederate with the Romanes: so
1628Followed my Banishment, and this twenty yeeres,
1630Where I haue liu'd at honest freedome, payed
1631More pious debts to Heauen, then in all
1632The fore-end of my time. But, vp to'th' Mountaines,
1633This is not Hunters Language; he that strikes
1636And we will feare no poyson, which attends
1637In place of greater State:
1638Ile meete you in the Valleyes. Exeunt.
1639How hard it is to hide the sparkes of Nature?
1641Nor Cymbeline dreames that they are aliue.
1642They thinke they are mine,
1643And though train'd vp thus meanely
1644I'th' Caue, whereon the Bowe their thoughts do hit,
1645The Roofes of Palaces, and Nature prompts them
1646In simple and lowe things, to Prince it, much
1647Beyond the tricke of others. This Paladour,
1648The heyre of Cymbeline and Britaine, who
1649The King his Father call'd Guiderius. Ioue,
1652Into my Story: say thus mine Enemy fell,
1653And thus I set my foote on's necke, euen then
1656That acts my words. The yonger Brother Cadwall,
1659His owne conceyuing. Hearke, the Game is rows'd,
1660Oh Cymbeline, Heauen and my Conscience knowes
1663Thinking to barre thee of Succession, as
1664Thou refts me of my Lands. Euriphile,
1665Thou was't their Nurse, they took thee for their mother,
1666And euery day do honor to her graue:
1668They take for Naturall Father. The Game is vp. Exit.
1669Scena Quarta.
1670Enter Pisanio and Imogen.
1672Was neere at hand: Ne're long'd my Mother so
1676From th' inward of thee? One, but painted thus
1677Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd
1681Why tender'st thou that Paper to me, with
1682A looke vntender? If't be Summer Newes
1683Smile too't before: if Winterly, thou need'st
1684But keepe that count'nance stil. My Husbands hand?
1685That Drug-damn'd Italy, hath out-craftied him,
1686And hee's at some hard point. Speake man, thy Tongue
1688Would be euen mortall to me.
1692Imogen reades.
THy Mistris (Pisanio) hath plaide the Strumpet in my
1696greefe, and as certaine as I expect my Reuenge. That part, thou
1698breach of hers; let thine owne hands take away her life: I shall
1699giue thee opportunity at Milford Hauen. She hath my Letter
1701certaine it is done, thou art the Pander to her dishonour, and
1702equally to me disloyall.
1704Hath cut her throat alreadie? No, 'tis Slander,
1706Out-venomes all the Wormes of Nyle, whose breath
1707Rides on the posting windes, and doth belye
1708All corners of the World. Kings, Queenes, and States,
1709Maides, Matrons, nay the Secrets of the Graue
1710This viperous slander enters. What cheere, Madam?
1712To lye in watch there, and to thinke on him?
1713To weepe 'twixt clock and clock? If sleep charge Nature,
1714To breake it with a fearfull dreame of him,
1716Pisa. Alas good Lady.
1719Thou then look'dst like a Villaine: now, me thinkes
Thy