Internet Shakespeare Editions

About this text

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

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

    Cymbeline (Folio 1, 1623)

    Scena 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.