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The Tragedie of Cymbeline

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter two Gentlemen.

1.Gent. You do not meet a man but Frownes.
Our bloods no more obey the Heauens
Then our Courtiers:
Still seemeas do's the Kings

2 Gent. But what's the matter?

1. His daughterand the heire of's kingdome (whom
He purpos'd to his wiues sole Sonnea Widdow
That late he married) hath referr'd her selfe
Vnto a poorebut worthy Gentleman. She's wedded
Her Husband banish'd; she imprison'dall
Is outward sorrowthough I thinke the King
Be 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
Of the Kings lookeshath a heart that is not
Glad at the thing they scowle at

2 And why so?

1 He that hath miss'd the Princesseis a thing
Too badfor bad report: and he that hath her
(I meanethat married heralacke good man
And therefore banish'd) is a Creaturesuch
As to seeke through the Regions of the Earth
For onehis like; there would be something failing
In himthat should compare. I do not thinke
So faire an Outwardand such stuffe Within
Endowes a manbut hee

2 You speake him farre

1 I do extend him (Sir) within himselfe
Crush him togetherrather then vnfold
His measure duly

2 What's his nameand Birth?

1 I cannot delue him to the roote: His Father
Was call'd Sicilliuswho did ioyne his Honor
Against the Romaneswith Cassibulan
But had his Titles by Tenantiuswhom
He seru'd with Gloryand admir'd Successe:
So gain'd the Sur-additionLeonatus.
And had (besides this Gentleman in question)
Two other Sonneswho in the Warres o'th' time
Dy'de with their Swords in hand. For whichtheir Father
Then oldand fond of yssuetooke 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


To his protectioncals him Posthumus Leonatus
Breedes himand makes him of his Bed-chamber
Puts to him all the Learnings that his time
Could make him the receiuer ofwhich he tooke
As we do ayrefast as 'twas ministred
And in's Springbecame a Haruest: Liu'd in Court
(Which rare it is to do) most prais'dmost 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
(For whom he now is banish'd) her owne price
Proclaimes how she esteem'd him; and his Vertue
By her electio[n] may be truly readwhat kind of man he is


2 I honor himeuen out of your report.
But pray you tell meis she sole childe to'th' King?

1 His onely childe:
He had two Sonnes (if this be worth your hearing
Marke it) the eldest of themat three yeares old
I'th' swathing cloathesthe other from their Nursery
Were stolneand to this houreno ghesse in knowledge
Which 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 guardedand the search so slow
That 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

1 We must forbeare. Heere comes the Gentleman
The Queeneand Princesse.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter the QueenePosthumusand Imogen.

Qu. Nobe assur'd you shall not finde me (Daughter)
After the slander of most Step-Mothers
Euill-ey'd vnto you. You're my Prisonerbut
Your Gaoler shall deliuer you the keyes
That locke vp your restraint. For you Posthumus
So soone as I can win th' offended King
I will be knowne your Aduocate: marry yet
The fire of Rage is in himand 'twere good
You lean'd vnto his Sentencewith what patience
Your wisedome may informe you

Post. 'Please your Highnesse
I will from hence to day

Qu. You know the perill:
Ile fetch a turne about the Gardenpittying
The pangs of barr'd Affectionsthough the King
Hath charg'd you should not speake together.


Exit

Imo. O dissembling Curtesie! How fine this Tyrant
Can tickle where she wounds? My deerest Husband
I something feare my Fathers wrathbut nothing
(Alwayes reseru'd my holy duty) what
His rage can do on me. You must be gone
And 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 Queenemy Mistris:
O Ladyweepe no moreleast I giue cause
To be suspected of more tendernesse
Then doth become a man. I will remaine
The loyall'st husbandthat did ere plight troth.
My residence in Romeat one Filorio's
Whoto my Father was a Friendto me
Knowne but by Letter; thither write (my Queene)
And with mine eyesIle drinke the words you send
Though Inke be made of Gall.
Enter Queene.

Qu. Be briefeI pray you:
If the King comeI shall incurreI 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 Iniuriesto be Friends:
Payes deere for my offences

Post. Should we be taking leaue
As long a terme as yet we haue to liue
The loathnesse to departwould grow: Adieu

Imo. Naystay a little:
Were 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

Post. Howhow? Another?
You gentle Godsgiue me but this I haue
And seare vp my embracements from a next
With bonds of death. Remaineremaine thou heere
While sense can keepe it on: And sweetestfairest
As 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 LoueIle place it
Vpon this fayrest Prisoner

Imo. O the Gods!
When shall we see againe?
Enter Cymbelineand Lords.

Post. Alackethe King

Cym. Thou basest thingauoyd hencefrom my sight:
If after this command thou fraught the Court
With thy vnworthinessethou dyest. Away
Thou'rt poyson to my blood


Post. The Gods protect you
And blesse the good Remainders of the Court:
I am gone

Imo. There cannot be a pinch in death
More sharpe then this is

Cym. O disloyall thing
That should'st repayre my youththou heap'st
A 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 pangsall feares

Cym. Past Grace? Obedience?
Imo. Past hopeand in dispairethat way past Grace

Cym. That might'st haue had
The sole Sonne of my Queene

Imo. O blessedthat I might not: I chose an Eagle
And did auoyd a Puttocke

Cym. Thou took'st a Beggerwould'st haue made my
Thronea Seate for basenesse

Imo. NoI rather added a lustre to it

Cym. O thou vilde one!

Imo. Sir
It is your fault that I haue lou'd Posthumus:
You bred him as my Play-fellowand he is
A manworth any woman: Ouer-buyes mee
Almost the summe he payes

Cym. What? art thou mad?

Imo. Almost Sir: Heauen restore me: would I were
A Neat-heards Daughterand my Leonatus
Our Neighbour-Shepheards Sonne.
Enter Queene.

Cym. 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
Deere Lady daughterpeace. Sweet Soueraigne
Leaue vs to our seluesand make your self some comfort
Out of your best aduice

Cym. Naylet her languish
A drop of blood a dayand being aged
Dye of this Folly.
Enter.

Enter Pisanio.

Qu. Fyeyou must giue way:
Heere is your Seruant. How now Sir? What newes?
Pisa. My Lord your Sonnedrew on my Master


Qu. Hah?
No harme I trust is done?

Pisa. There might haue beene
But that my Master rather plaidthen fought
And had no helpe of Anger: they were parted
By Gentlemenat hand

Qu. I am very glad on't

Imo. Your Son's my Fathers friendhe takes his part
To draw vpon an Exile. O braue Sir
I would they were in Affricke both together
My selfe by with a Needlethat 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
When'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

Qu. 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.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Clottenand two Lords.

1. SirI would aduise you to shift a Shirt; the Violence
of Action hath made you reek as a Sacrifice: where
ayre comes outayre comes in: There's none abroad so
wholesome as that you vent
Clot. If my Shirt were bloodythen 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
not hurt. It is a through-fare for Steele if it be not hurt

2 His Steele was in debtit went o'th' Backe-side the
Towne

Clot. The Villaine would not stand me

2 Nobut he fled forward stilltoward your face

1 Stand you? you haue Land enough of your owne:
But he added to your hauinggaue you some ground

2 As many Inchesas you haue Oceans (Puppies.)
Clot. I would they had not come betweene vs



2 So would Itill you had measur'd how long a Foole
you were vpon the ground

Clot. And that shee should loue this Fellowand refuse
mee

2 If it be a sin to make a true electionshe is damn'd

1 Siras I told you alwayes: her Beauty & her Braine
go not together. Shee's a good signebut I haue seene
small reflection of her wit

2 She shines not vpon Foolesleast the reflection
Should hurt her

Clot. ComeIle to my Chamber: would there had
beene some hurt done

2 I wish not sovnlesse it had bin the fall of an Asse
which is no great hurt

Clot. You'l go with vs?
1 Ile attend your Lordship


Clot. Nay comelet's go together

2 Well my Lord.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Imogenand Pisanio.

Imo. I would thou grew'st vnto the shores o'th' Hauen
And 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 Queenehis Queene

Imo. Then wau'd his Handkerchiefe?
Pisa. And kist itMadam


Imo. Senselesse Linnenhappier therein then I:
And that was all?

Pisa. No Madam: for so long
As he could make me with his eyeor eare
Distinguish him from othershe did keepe
The Deckewith Gloueor Hator Handkerchife
Still wauingas the fits and stirres of's mind
Could best expresse how slow his Soule sayl'd on
How swift his Ship

Imo. Thou should'st haue made him
As little as a Crowor lesseere left
To after-eye him

Pisa. Madamso I did

Imo. I would haue broke mine eye-strings;
Crack'd thembut to looke vpon himtill the diminution
Of spacehad pointed him sharpe as my Needle:


Nayfollowed himtill he had melted from
The smalnesse of a Gnatto ayre: and then
Haue turn'd mine eyeand 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 himbut had
Most pretty things to say: Ere I could tell him
How I would thinke on him at certaine houres
Such thoughtsand such: Or I could make him sweare
The Shees of Italy should not betray
Mine Interestand his Honour: or haue charg'd him
At the sixt houre of Morneat Nooneat Midnight
T' encounter me with Orisonsfor then
I am in Heauen for him: Or ere I could
Giue him that parting kissewhich I had set
Betwixt two charming wordscomes in my Father
And like the Tyrannous breathing of the North
Shakes all our buddes from growing.
Enter a Lady.

La. The Queene (Madam)
Desires your Highnesse Company

Imo. Those things I bid you doget them dispatch'd
I will attend the Queene

Pisa. MadamI shall.

Exeunt.

Scena Quinta.

Enter PhilarioIachimo: a Frenchmana Dutchmanand a
Spaniard.

Iach. Beleeue it SirI haue seene him in Britaine; hee
was then of a Cressent noteexpected to proue so woorthy
as since he hath beene allowed the name of. But I
could then haue look'd on himwithout the help of Admiration
though the Catalogue of his endowments had
bin tabled by his sideand I to peruse him by Items

Phil. You speake of him when he was lesse furnish'd
then now hee iswith that which makes him both without
and within

French. I haue seene him in France: wee had very many
therecould behold the Sunnewith as firme eyes as
hee

Iach. This matter of marrying his Kings Daughter
wherein he must be weighed rather by her valewthen
his ownewords him (I doubt not) a great deale from the
matter

French. And then his banishment

Iach. Iand the approbation of those that weepe this
lamentable diuorce vnder her coloursare wonderfully
to extend himbe it but to fortifie her iudgementwhich


else an easie battery might lay flatfor taking a Begger
without lesse quality. But how comes ithe is to soiourne
with you? How creepes acquaintance?

Phil. His Father and I were Souldiers togetherto
whom I haue bin often bound for no lesse then my life.
Enter Posthumus.

Heere comes the Britaine. Let him be so entertained among'st
youas suites with Gentlemen of your knowing
to a Stranger of his quality. I beseech you all be better
knowne to this Gentlemanwhom I commend to you
as a Noble Friend of mine. How Worthy he isI will
leaue to appeare hereafterrather then story him in his
owne hearing

French. Sirwe haue knowne togither in Orleance

Post. Since whenI haue bin debtor to you for courtesies
which I will be euer to payand yet pay still

French. Siryou o're-rate my poore kindnesseI was
glad I did attone my Countryman and you: it had beene
pitty you should haue beene put togetherwith so mortall
a purposeas then each borevpon importance of so
slight and triuiall a nature

Post. By your pardon SirI was then a young Traueller
rather shun'd to go euen with what I heardthen in
my euery action to be guided by others experiences: but
vpon my mended iudgement (if I offend to say it is mended)
my Quarrell was not altogether slight

French. Faith yesto be put to the arbiterment of
Swordsand by such twothat would by all likelyhood
haue confounded one the otheror haue falne both

Iach. Can we with mannersaske what was the difference?

French. SafelyI thinke'twas a contention in publicke
which may (without contradiction) suffer the report.
It was much like an argument that fell out last
nightwhere each of vs fell in praise of our Country-Mistresses.
This Gentlemanat that time vouching (and
vpon warrant of bloody affirmation) his to be more
FaireVertuousWiseChasteConstantQualifiedand
lesse attemptible then anythe rarest of our Ladies in
Fraunce

Iach. That Lady is not now liuing; or this Gentlemans
opinion by thisworne out

Post. She holds her Vertue stilland I my mind

Iach. You must not so farre preferre her'fore ours of
Italy

Posth. Being so farre prouok'd as I was in France: I
would abate her nothingthough I professe my selfe her
Adorernot her Friend

Iach. As faireand as good: a kind of hand in hand
comparisonhad beene something too faireand 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 beheldI could not beleeue she excelled many:


but I haue not seene the most pretious Diamond that is
nor you the Lady

Post. I prais'd heras 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 Mistris is deador
she's out-priz'd by a trifle

Post. You are mistaken: the one may be solde or giuen
or if there were wealth enough for the purchasesor
merite for the guift. The other is not a thing for sale
and onely the guift of the Gods

Iach. 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 tooso your brace of vnprizeable
Estimationsthe one is but fraileand the other Casuall;
A cunning Thiefeor a (that way) accomplish'd
Courtierwould hazzard the winning both of first and
last

Post. Your Italycontaines none so accomplish'd a
Courtier to conuince the Honour of my Mistris: if in the
holding or losse of thatyou terme her fraileI do nothing
doubt you haue store of Theeuesnotwithstanding
I feare not my Ring

Phil. Let vs leaue heereGentlemen?

Post. Sirwith all my heart. This worthy Signior I
thanke himmakes no stranger of mewe are familiar at
first

Iach. With fiue times so much conuersationI should
get ground of your faire Mistris; make her go backeeuen
to the yeildinghad I admittanceand opportunitie
to friend

Post. Nono

Iach. I dare thereupon pawne the moytie of my Estate
to your Ringwhich in my opinion o're-values it
something: but I make my wager rather against your
Confidencethen her Reputation. And to barre your offence
heerein toI durst attempt it against any Lady in
the world

Post. You are a great deale abus'd in too bold a perswasion
and I doubt not you sustaine what y'are worthy
ofby your Attempt

Iach. What's that?
Posth. A Repulse though your Attempt (as you call
it) deserue more; a punishment too

Phi. Gentlemen enough of thisit came in too sodainely
let it dye as it was borneand I pray you be better
acquainted


Iach. Would I had put my Estateand my Neighbors
on th' approbation of what I haue spoke

Post. What Lady would you chuse to assaile?

Iach. Yourswhom in constancie you thinke stands
so safe. I will lay you ten thousands Duckets to your
Ringthat commend me to the Court where your Lady
iswith no more aduantage then the opportunitie of a
second conferenceand I will bring from thencethat
Honor of herswhich you imagine so reseru'd

Posthmus. I will wage against your GoldGold to
it: My Ring I holde deere as my finger'tis part of
it

Iach. You are a Friendand there in the wiser: if you
buy Ladies flesh at a Million a Dramyou cannot preserue
it from tainting; but I see you haue some Religion
in youthat you feare

Posthu. This is but a custome in your tongue: you
beare a grauer purpose I hope

Iach. I am the Master of my speechesand would vnder-go
what's spokenI sweare

Posthu. Will you? I shall but lend my Diamond till
your returne: let there be Couenants drawne between's.
My Mistris exceedes in goodnessethe hugenesse of your
vnworthy thinking. I dare you to this match: heere's my
Ring

Phil. I will haue it no lay

Iach. By the Gods it is one: if I bring you no sufficient
testimony that I haue enioy'd the deerest bodily
part of your Mistris: my ten thousand Duckets are yours
so is your Diamond too: if I come offand leaue her in
such honour as you haue trust in; Shee your Iewellthis
your Iewelland my Gold are yours: prouidedI haue
your commendationfor my more free entertainment

Post. I embrace these Conditionslet vs haue Articles
betwixt vs: onely thus farre you shall answereif you
make your voyage vpon herand giue me directly to vnderstand
you haue preuayl'dI am no further your Enemy
shee is not worth our debate. If shee remaine vnseduc'd
you not making it appeare otherwise: for your ill
opinionand th' assault you haue made to her chastityyou
shall answer me with your Sword

Iach. Your handa Couenant: wee will haue these
things set downe by lawfull Counselland straight away
for Britaineleast the Bargaine should catch coldeand
sterue: I will fetch my Goldand haue our two Wagers
recorded

Post. Agreed

French. Will this holdthinke you

Phil. Signior Iachimo will not from it.
Pray let vs follow 'em.


Exeunt.

Scena Sexta.

Enter QueeneLadiesand Cornelius.

Qu. 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.

Now Master Doctorhaue you brought those drugges?

Cor. Pleaseth your HighnesI: here they areMadam:
But I beseech your Gracewithout offence
(My Conscience bids me aske) wherefore you haue
Commanded of me these most poysonous Compounds
Which are the moouers of a languishing death:
But though slowdeadly

Qu. I wonderDoctor
Thou ask'st me such a Question: Haue I not bene
Thy Pupill long? Hast thou not learn'd me how
To 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
Other Conclusions? I will try the forces
Of these thy Compoundson such Creatures as
We count not worth the hanging (but none humane)
To try the vigour of themand apply
Allayments to their Actand by them gather
Their seuerall vertuesand effects

Cor. Your Highnesse
Shall from this practisebut make hard your heart:
Besidesthe seeing these effects will be
Both noysomeand infectious

Qu. O content thee.
Enter Pisanio.

Heere comes a flattering Rascallvpon him
Will I first worke: Hee's for his Master
And enemy to my Sonne. How now Pisanio?
Doctoryour seruice for this time is ended
Take your owne way

Cor. I do suspect youMadam
But you shall do no harme

Qu. Hearke theea word

Cor. 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 malicewith
A drugge of such damn'd Nature. Those she ha's
Will stupifie and dull the Sense a-while
Which 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 freshreuiuing. She is fool'd
With a most false effect: and Ithe truer
So to be false with her

Qu. No further seruiceDoctor
Vntill I send for thee

Cor. I humbly take my leaue.
Enter.

Qu. Weepes she still (saist thou?)
Dost thou thinke in time
She will not quenchand let instructions enter
Where Folly now possesses? Do thou worke:
When thou shalt bring me word she loues my Sonne
Ile tell thee on the instantthou art then
As great as is thy Master: Greaterfor
His Fortunes all lye speechlesseand his name
Is at last gaspe. Returne he cannotnor
Continue where he is: To shift his being
Is to exchange one misery with another
And euery day that comescomes to decay
A dayes worke in him. What shalt thou expect
To be depender on a thing that leanes?
Who cannot be new builtnor ha's no Friends
So muchas but to prop him? Thou tak'st vp
Thou know'st not what: But take it for thy labour
It is a thing I madewhich hath the King
Fiue times redeem'd from death. I do not know
What is more Cordiall. NayI prythee take it
It is an earnest of a farther good
That I meane to thee. Tell thy Mistris how
The case stands with her: doo'tas from thy selfe;
Thinke what a chance thou changest onbut thinke
Thou hast thy Mistris stillto bootemy Sonne
Who shall take notice of thee. Ile moue the King
To any shape of thy Prefermentsuch
As thou'lt desire: and then my selfeI cheefely
That set thee on to this desertam bound
To loade thy merit richly. Call my women.

Exit Pisa.


Thinke on my words. A slyeand constant knaue
Not to be shak'd: the Agent for his Master
And the Remembrancer of herto hold
The hand-fast to her Lord. I haue giuen him that
Which if he takeshall quite vnpeople her
Of Leidgers for her Sweete: and whichshe after
Except she bend her humorshall be assur'd
To taste of too.
Enter Pisanioand Ladies.


Soso: Well donewell done:
The VioletsCowslippesand the Prime-Roses
Beare to my Closset: Fare thee wellPisanio.
Thinke on my words.


Exit Qu. and Ladies


Pisa. And shall do:
But when to my good LordI proue vntrue


Ile choake my selfe: there's all Ile do for you.
Enter.

Scena Septima.

Enter Imogen alone.

Imo. A Father cruelland a Stepdame false
A Foolish Suitor to a Wedded-Lady
That hath her Husband banish'd: Othat Husband
My supreame Crowne of griefeand those repeated
Vexations of it. Had I bin Theefe-stolne
As my two Brothershappy: but most miserable
Is the desires that's glorious. Blessed be those
How meane so erethat haue their honest wills
Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fye.
Enter Pisanioand Iachimo.

Pisa. Madama Noble Gentleman of Rome
Comes from my Lord with Letters

Iach. Change youMadam:
The Worthy Leonatus is in safety
And greetes your Highnesse deerely

Imo. Thanks good Sir
You're kindly welcome

Iach. All of herthat is out of dooremost 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
Or like the Parthian I shall flying fight
Rather directly fly

Imogen reads. He is one of the Noblest noteto whose
kindnesses I am
most infinitely
tied. Reflect vpon him accordinglyas you value your
trust. Leonatus.
So farre I reade aloud.
But euen the very middle of my heart
Is warm'd by'th' restand take it thankefully.
You are as welcome (worthy Sir) as I
Haue words to bid youand 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 Archand the rich Crop
Of Sea and Landwhich can distinguish 'twixt
The firie Orbes aboueand the twinn'd Stones
Vpon the number'd Beachand can we not
Partition make with Spectacles so pretious
Twixt faireand foule?

Imo. What makes your admiration?

Iach. It cannot be i'th' eye: for Apesand Monkeys
'Twixt two such She'swould chatter this wayand
Contemne with mowes the other. Nor i'th' iudgment:
For Idiots in this case of fauourwould
Be wisely definit: Nor i'th' Appetite.
Sluttery to such neate Excellenceoppos'd


Should make desire vomit emptinesse
Not so allur'd to feed

Imo. What is the matter trow?

Iach. The Cloyed will:
That satiate yet vnsatisfi'd desirethat Tub
Both fill'd and running: Rauening first the Lambe
Longs after for the Garbage

Imo. Whatdeere Sir
Thus rap's you? Are you well?

Iach. Thanks Madam well: Beseech you Sir
Desire my Man's abodewhere I did leaue him:
He's strange and peeuish

Pisa. I was going Sir
To giue him welcome.
Enter.

Imo. Continues well my Lord?
His health beseech you?
Iach. WellMadam

Imo. Is he dispos'd to mirth? I hope he is

Iach. Exceeding pleasant: none a stranger there
So merryand so gamesome: he is call'd
The Britaine Reueller

Imo. When he was heere
He did incline to sadnesseand oft times
Not knowing why

Iach. I neuer saw him sad.
There is a Frenchman his Companionone
An eminent Monsieurthat it seemes much loues
A Gallian-Girle at home. He furnaces
The thicke sighes from him; whiles the iolly Britaine
(Your Lord I meane) laughes from's free lungs: cries oh
Can my sides holdto think that man who knowes
By HistoryReportor his owne proofe
What woman isyea what she cannot choose
But must be: will's free houres languish:
For assured bondage?

Imo. Will my Lord say so?

Iach. I Madamwith his eyes in flood with laughter
It is a Recreation to be by
And 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 himmight
Be vs'd more thankfully. In himselfe 'tis much;
In youwhich I account his beyond all Talents.
Whil'st I am bound to wonderI am bound
To pitty too

Imo. What do you pitty Sir?
Iach. Two Creatures heartyly


Imo. Am I one Sir?
You looke on me: what wrack discerne you in me


Deserues your pitty?

Iach. Lamentable: what
To hide me from the radiant Sunand 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?

Iach. 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
Something of meor what concernes me; pray you
Since doubting things go illoften hurts more
Then to be sure they do. For Certainties
Either are past remedies; or timely knowing
The remedy then borne. Discouer to me
What both you spur and stop

Iach. Had I this cheeke
To bathe my lips vpon: this handwhose touch
(Whose euery touch) would force the Feelers soule
To'th' oath of loyalty. This obiectwhich
Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye
Fiering it onely heereshould I (damn'd then)
Slauuer with lippes as common as the stayres
That mount the Capitoll: Ioyne gripeswith hands
Made hard with hourely falshood (falshood as
With 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

Imo. My LordI feare
Has forgot Brittaine

Iach. And himselfenot I
Inclin'd to this intelligencepronounce
The Beggery of his change: but 'tis your Graces
That from my mutest Conscienceto my tongue
Charmes this report out

Imo. Let me heare no more

Iach. O deerest Soule: your Cause doth strike my hart
With pittythat doth make me sicke. A Lady
So faireand fasten'd to an Emperie
Would make the great'st King doubleto be partner'd
With Tomboyes hyr'dwith that selfe exhibition
Which your owne Coffers yeeld: with diseas'd ventures
That play with all Infirmities for Gold
Which rottennesse can lend Nature. Such boyl'd stuffe
As well might poyson Poyson. Be reueng'd
Or she that bore youwas no Queeneand you
Recoyle from your great Stocke

Imo. Reueng'd:
How should I be reueng'd? If this be true
(As I haue such a Heartthat both mine eares
Must not in haste abuse) if it be true
How should I be reueng'd?


Iach. Should he make me
Liue like Diana's Priestbetwixt cold sheets
Whiles he is vaulting variable Rampes
In your despightvpon your purse: reuenge it.
I dedicate my selfe to your sweet pleasure
More Noble then that runnagate to your bed
And will continue fast to your Affection
Still closeas sure

Imo. What hoaPisanio?
Iach. Let me my seruice tender on your lippes

Imo. AwayI do condemne mine earesthat haue
So long attended thee. If thou wert Honourable
Thou would'st haue told this tale for Vertuenot
For such an end thou seek'stas baseas strange:
Thou wrong'st a Gentlemanwho is as farre
From thy reportas thou from Honor: and
Solicites heere a Ladythat disdaines
Theeand the Diuell alike. What hoaPisanio?
The King my Father shall be made acquainted
Of thy Assault: if he shall thinke it fit
A sawcy Stranger in his Courtto Mart
As in a Romish Stewand to expound
His beastly minde to vs; he hath a Court
He little cares forand a Daughterwho
He not respects at all. What hoaPisanio?

Iach. O happy Leonatus I may say
The credit that thy Lady hath of thee
Deserues thy trustand thy most perfect goodnesse
Her assur'd credit. Blessed liue you long
A Lady to the worthiest Sirthat euer
Country call'd his; and you his Mistrisonely
For the most worthiest fit. Giue me your pardon
I haue spoke this to know if your Affiance
Were deeply rootedand shall make your Lord
That which he isnew o're: And he is one
The truest manner'd: such a holy Witch
That he enchants Societies into him:
Halfe all men hearts are his

Imo. You make amends

Iach. He sits 'mongst menlike a defended God;
He hath a kinde of Honor sets him off
More then a mortall seeming. Be not angrie
(Most mighty Princesse) that I haue aduentur'd
To try your taking of a false reportwhich hath
Honour'd with confirmation your great Iudgement
In the election of a Sirso rare
Which you knowcannot erre. The loue I beare him
Made me to fan you thusbut the Gods made you
(Vnlike all others) chaffelesse. Pray your pardon

Imo. All's well Sir:
Take my powre i'th' Court for yours

Iach. My humble thankes: I had almost forgot
T' intreat your Gracebut in a small request
And yet of moment toofor it concernes:
Your Lordmy selfeand other Noble Friends
Are partners in the businesse

Imo. Pray what is't?


Iach. Some dozen Romanes of vsand 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
In France: 'tis Plate of rare deuiceand Iewels
Of richand exquisite formetheir valewes great
And I am something curiousbeing strange
To haue them in safe stowage: May it please you
To take them in protection

Imo. Willingly:
And pawne mine Honor for their safetysince
My Lord hath interest in themI will keepe them
In my Bed-chamber

Iach. They are in a Trunke
Attended by my men: I will make bold
To send them to youonely for this night:
I must aboord to morrow

Imo. O nono

Iach. Yes I beseech: or I shall short my word
By length'ning my returne. From Gallia
I crost the Seas on purposeand on promise
To see your Grace

Imo. I thanke you for your paines:
But not away to morrow

Iach. O I must Madam.
Therefore I shall beseech youif you please
To greet your Lord with writingdoo't to night
I haue out-stood my timewhich is materiall
To'th' tender of our Present

Imo. I will write:
Send your Trunke to meit shall safe be kept
And truely yeelded you: you're very welcome.

Exeunt.

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter Clottenand the two Lords.

Clot. Was there euer man had such lucke? when I kist
the Iacke vpon an vp-castto be hit away? I had a hundred
pound on't: and then a whorson Iacke-an-Apes
must take me vp for swearingas if I borrowed mine
oathes of himand might not spend them at my pleasure

1. 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
not 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
Clot. 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 mebecause of the Queene my Mother:
euery Iacke-Slaue hath his belly full of Fighting
and I must go vp and downe like a Cockthat no body
can match

2. You are Cocke and Capon tooand you crow
Cockwith your combe on
Clot. Sayest thou?

2. It is not fit your Lordship should vndertake euery
Companionthat you giue offence too
Clot. NoI know that: but it is fit I should commit
offence to my inferiors

2. Iit is fit for your Lordship onely
Clot. Why so I say

1. Did you heere of a Stranger that's come to Court
night?
Clot. A Strangerand I not know on't?

2. He's a strange Fellow himselfeand knowes it not
1. There's an Italian comeand 'tis thought one of
Leonatus 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
derogation in't?

2. You cannot derogate my Lord
Clot. Not easily I thinke

2. You are a Foole grauntedtherefore your Issues
being foolish do not derogate
Clot. ComeIle go see this Italian: what I haue lost
to day at BowlesIle winne to night of him. Come: go

2. Ile attend your Lordship.
Enter.
That such a craftie Diuell as is his Mother
Should yeild the world this Asse: A womanthat
Beares all downe with her Braineand this her Sonne
Cannot take two from twenty for his heart
And leaue eighteene. Alas poore Princesse
Thou diuine Imogenwhat thou endur'st
Betwixt a Father by thy Step-dame gouern'd
A Mother hourely coyning plots: A Wooer
More hatefull then the foule expulsion is
Of thy deere Husband. Then that horrid Act
Of the diuorceheel'd make the Heauens hold firme
The walls of thy deere Honour. Keepe vnshak'd



That Temple thy faire mindthat thou maist stand
T' enioy thy banish'd Lord: and this great Land.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Imogenin her Bedand a Lady.

Imo. Who's there? My woman: Helene?
La. Please you Madam


Imo. What houre is it?
Lady. Almost midnightMadam


Imo. I haue read three houres then:
Mine eyes are weake
Fold downe the leafe where I haue left: to bed.
Take not away the Taperleaue 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 meGods
From Fayriesand the Tempters of the night
Guard me beseech yee.

Sleepes.

Iachimo from the Trunke.

Iach. The Crickets singand mans ore-labor'd sense
Repaires it selfe by rest: Our Tarquine thus
Did softly presse the Rushesere 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 kisseone kisse. Rubies vnparagon'd
How deerely they doo't: 'Tis her breathing that
Perfumes the Chamber thus: the Flame o'th' Taper
Bowes toward herand would vnder-peepe her lids.
To see th' inclosed Lightsnow Canopied
Vnder these windowesWhite and Azure lac'd
With Blew of Heauens owne tinct. But my designe.
To note the ChamberI will write all downe

Suchand such pictures: There the windowsuch
Th' adornement of her Bed; the ArrasFigures
Why suchand such: and the Contents o'th' Story.
Ahbut some naturall notes about her Body
Aboue ten thousand meaner Moueables
Would testifiet' enrich mine Inuentorie.
O sleepethou Ape of deathlye dull vpon her
And be her Sense but as a Monument
Thus in a Chappell lying. Come offcome off;
As slippery as the Gordian-knot was hard.
'Tis mineand this will witnesse outwardly
As strongly as the Conscience do's within:
To'th' madding of her Lord. On her left brest
A 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 lockand t'ane
The treasure of her Honour. No more: to what end?
Why should I write this downethat's riueted



Screw'd to my memorie. She hath bin reading late
The Tale of Tereusheere the leaffe's turn'd downe
Where Philomele gaue vp. I haue enough
To'th' Truncke againeand shut the spring of it.
Swiftswiftyou Dragons of the nightthat dawning
May beare the Rauens eye: I lodge in feare
Though this a heauenly Angell: hell is heere.


Clocke strikes


Onetwothree: timetime.
Enter.


Scena Tertia.


Enter Clottenand Lords.


1. Your Lordship is the most patient man in lossethe
most coldest that euer turn'd vp Ace
Clot. It would make any man cold to loose

1. But not euery man patient after the noble temper
of your Lordship; You are most hotand furious when
you winne.
Winning will put any man into courage: if I could get
this foolish ImogenI should haue Gold enough: it's almost
morningis't not?
1 Daymy Lord

Clot. I would this Musicke would come: I am aduised
to giue her Musicke a morningsthey say it will penetrate.
Enter Musitians.

Come ontune: If you can penetrate her with your fingering
so: wee'l try with tongue too: if none will dolet
her remaine: but Ile neuer giue o're. Firsta very excellent
good conceyted thing; after a wonderful sweet aire
with admirable rich words to itand then let her consider.


SONG.


Hearkehearkethe Larke at Heauens gate sings
and Phoebus gins arise
His Steeds to water at those Springs
on chalic'd Flowres that lyes:
And winking Mary-buds begin to ope their Golden eyes
With euery thing that pretty ismy Lady sweet arise:
Arisearise.
Soget you gone: if this penetrateI will consider your
Musicke the better: if it do notit is a voyce in her eares
which Horse-hairesand Calues-gutsnor the voyce of
vnpaued Eunuch to bootcan neuer amend.
Enter Cymbalineand Queene.


2 Heere comes the King

Clot. I am glad I was vp so latefor that's the reason
I was vp so earely: he cannot choose but take this Seruice
I haue donefatherly. Good morrow to your Maiesty
and to my gracious Mother

Cym. Attend you here the doore of our stern daughter


Will she not forth?
Clot. I haue assayl'd her with Musickesbut she vouchsafes
no notice

Cym. The Exile of her Minion is too new
She hath not yet forgot himsome more time
Must 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 vantagesthat may
Preferre you to his daughter: Frame your selfe
To orderly solicityand be friended
With aptnesse of the season: make denials
Encrease your Seruices: so seemeas if
You were inspir'd to do those duties which
You tender to her: that you in all obey her
Saue 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

Cym. 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 himselfehis goodnesse fore-spent on vs
We must extend our notice: Our deere Sonne
When you haue giuen good morning to your Mistris
Attend the Queeneand vswe shall haue neede
T' employ you towards this Romane.
Come our Queene.

Exeunt.

Clot. If she be vpIle speake with her: if not
Let her lye stilland 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) yeaand makes
Diana's Rangers false themseluesyeeld vp
Their Deere to'th' stand o'th' Stealer: and 'tis Gold
Which makes the True-man kill'dand saues the Theefe:
Naysometime hangs both Theefeand True-man: what
Can it not doand vndoo? I will make
One of her women Lawyer to mefor
I yet not vnderstand the case my selfe.
By your leaue.

Knockes.

Enter a Lady.

La. Who's there that knockes?
Clot. A Gentleman


La. No more

Clot. Yesand a Gentlewomans Sonne

La. That's more


Then some whose Taylors are as deere as yours

Can iustly boast of: what's your Lordships pleasure?
Clot. Your Ladies personis she ready?
La. Ito keepe her Chamber

Clot. There is Gold for you
Sell me your good report

La. Howmy good name? or to report of you
What I shall thinke is good. The Princesse.
Enter Imogen.

Clot. Good morrow fairestSister your sweet hand

Imo. Good morrow Siryou lay out too much paines
For 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:
If you sweare stillyour recompence is still
That I regard it not

Clot. This is no answer

Imo. But that you shall not sayI yeeld being silent
I would not speake. I pray you spare me'faith
I 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

Imo. Fooles are not mad Folkes

Clot. Do you call me Foole?

Imo. As I am mad I do:
If you'l be patientIle no more be mad
That cures vs both. I am much sorry (Sir)
You put me to forget a Ladies manners
By being so verball: and learne nowfor all
That I which know my heartdo heere pronounce
By th' very truth of itI care not for you
And am so neere the lacke of Charitie
To accuse my selfeI hate you: which I had rather
You feltthen make't my boast

Clot. You sinne against
Obediencewhich you owe your Fatherfor
The Contract you pretend with that base Wretch
Onebred of Almesand foster'd with cold dishes
With scraps o'th' Court: It is no Contractnone;
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
But Brats and Beggery) in selfe-figur'd knot
Yet you are curb'd from that enlargementby
The consequence o'th' Crowneand must not foyle
The precious note of it; with a base Slaue
A Hilding for a Liuoriea Squires Cloth
A Pantler; not so eminent


Imo. Prophane Fellow:
Wert thou the Sonne of Iupiterand no more
But what thou art besides: thou wer't too base
To be his Groome: thou wer't dignified enough
Euen to the point of Enuie. If 'twere made
Comparatiue for your Vertuesto be stil'd
The vnder Hangman of his Kingdome; and hated
For being prefer'd so well

Clot. The South-Fog rot him

Imo. He neuer can meete more mischancethen come
To be but nam'd of thee. His mean'st Garment
That euer hath but clipt his body; is dearer
In my respectthen all the Heires aboue thee
Were they all made such men: How now Pisanio?
Enter 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
Frightedand angred worse: Go bid my woman
Search for a Iewellthat 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
I saw't this morning: Confident I am.
Last night 'twas on mine Arme; I kiss'd it
I hope it be not goneto tell my Lord
That I kisse aught but he

Pis. 'Twill not be lost

Imo. I hope so: go and search

Clot. You haue abus'd me:
His meanest Garment?
Imo. II said so Sir
If you will make't an Actioncall witnesse to't

Clot. I will enforme your Father

Imo. Your Mother too:
She's my good Lady; and will concieueI hope
But the worst of me. So I leaue you Sir
To'th' worst of discontent.
Enter.

Clot. Ile be reueng'd:
His mean'st Garment? Well.
Enter.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Posthumusand Philario.

Post. Feare it not Sir: I would I were so sure
To winne the Kingas I am boldher 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 stateand wish
That 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 goodnesseand your company
Ore-payes all I can do. By this your King
Hath 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 Romaineswhose remembrance
Is yet fresh in their griefe

Post. I do beleeue
(Statist though I am nonenor like to be)
That this will proue a Warre; and you shall heare
The Legion now in Galliasooner landed
In our not-fearing-Britainethen haue tydings
Of any penny Tribute paid. Our Countrymen
Are men more order'dthen when Iulius Caesar
Smil'd at their lacke of skillbut found their courage
Worthy his frowning at. Their discipline
(Now wing-led with their courages) will make knowne
To their Approuersthey are Peoplesuch
That mend vpon the world.
Enter Iachimo.

Phi. See Iachimo

Post. The swiftest Hartshaue posted you by land;
And Windes of all the Corners kiss'd your Sailes
To make your vessell nimble

Phil. Welcome Sir

Post. I hope the briefenesse of your answeremade
The speedinesse of your returne

Iachi. Your Lady
Is one of the fayrest that I haue look'd vpon

Post. And therewithall the bestor let her beauty
Looke thorough a Casement to allure false hearts
And be false with them

Iachi. Heere are Letters for you

Post. 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
But not approach'd

Post. All is well yet
Sparkles this Stone as it was wontor is't not
Too dull for your good wearing?

Iach. If I haue lost it
I should haue lost the worth of it in Gold
Ile make a iourney twice as farret' enioy


A second night of such sweet shortnessewhich
Was mine in Britainefor the Ring is wonne

Post. The Stones too hard to come by

Iach. Not a whit
Your Lady being so easy

Post. Make note Sir
Your losseyour Sport: I hope you know that we
Must not continue Friends

Iach. Good Sirwe must
If you keepe Couenant: had I not brought
The knowledge of your Mistris homeI grant
We were to question farther; but I now
Professe my selfe the winner of her Honor
Together with your Ring; and not the wronger
Of heror you hauing proceeded but
By both your willes

Post. If you can mak't apparant
That you haue tasted her in Bed; my hand
And Ring is yours. If notthe foule opinion
You had of her pure Honour; gainesor looses
Your Swordor mineor Masterlesse leaue both
To who shall finde them

Iach. Sirmy Circumstances
Being so nere the Truthas I will make them
Must first induce you to beleeue; whose strength
I will confirme with oathwhich I doubt not
You'l giue me leaue to sparewhen you shall finde
You neede it not

Post. Proceed

Iach. Firsther Bed-chamber
(Where I confesse I slept notbut professe
Had that was well worth watching) it was hang'd
With Tapistry of Silkeand Siluerthe Story
Proud Cleopatrawhen she met her Roman
And Sidnus swell'd aboue the Bankesor for
The presse of Boatesor Pride. A peece of Worke
So brauely doneso richthat it did striue
In Workemanshipand Valuewhich I wonder'd
Could be so rarelyand exactly wrought
Since the true life on't was


Post. This is true:
And this you might haue heard of heereby me
Or by some other

Iach. More particulars
Must iustifie my knowledge

Post. So they must
Or doe your Honour iniury

Iach. The Chimney
Is South the Chamberand the Chimney-peece
Chaste Dianbathing: neuer saw I figures
So likely to report themselues; the Cutter
Was as another Nature dumbeout-went her
Motionand Breath left out


Post. This is a thing
Which you might from Relation likewise reape
Beingas it ismuch spoke of

Iach. The Roofe o'th' Chamber
With golden Cherubins is fretted. Her Andirons
(I had forgot them) were two winking Cupids
Of Siluereach on one foote standingnicely
Depending on their Brands

Post. This is her Honor:
Let it be granted you haue seene all this (and praise
Be giuen to your remembrance) the description
Of what is in her Chambernothing saues
The wager you haue laid

Iach. Then if you can
Be paleI begge but leaue to ayre this Iewell: See
And now 'tis vp againe: it must be married
To that your DiamondIle keepe them

Post. Ioue-
Once more let me behold it: Is it that
Which I left with her?

Iach. Sir (I thanke her) that
She stript it from her Arme: I see her yet:
Her pretty Actiondid out-sell her guift
And yet enrich'd it too: she gaue it me
And saidshe priz'd it once

Post. May beshe pluck'd it off
To send it me

Iach. She writes so to you? doth shee?

Post. O nonono'tis true. Heeretake this too
It is a Basiliske vnto mine eye
Killes me to looke on't: Let there be no Honor
Where there is Beauty: Truthwhere semblance: Loue
Where there's another man. The Vowes of Women
Of no more bondage beto where they are made
Then they are to their Vertueswhich is nothing:
Oaboue 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 womenbeing corrupted
Hath 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

Iach. By IupiterI had it from her Arme

Post. Hearke youhe sweares: by Iupiter he sweares.
'Tis truenay keepe the Ring; 'tis true: I am sure
She would not loose it: her Attendants are
All sworneand honourable: they induc'd to steale it?
And by a Stranger? Nohe hath enioy'd her
The Cognisance of her incontinencie
Is this: she hath bought the name of Whorethus deerly


Theretake thy hyreand all the Fiends of Hell
Diuide themselues betweene you

Phil. Sirbe 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

Iach. If you seeke
For further satisfyingvnder her Breast
(Worthy her pressing) lyes a Moleright proud
Of that most delicate Lodging. By my life
I kist itand it gaue me present hunger
To feede againethough full. You do remember
This staine vpon her?

Post. Iand it doth confirme
Another staineas bigge as Hell can hold
Were there no more but it

Iach. Will you heare more?
Post. Spare your Arethmaticke
Neuer count the Turnes: Onceand a Million

Iach. Ile be sworne

Post. No swearing:
If you will sweare you haue not done'tyou lye
And I will kill theeif thou do'st deny
Thou'st made me Cuckold

Iach. Ile deny nothing

Post. O that I had her heereto teare her Limb-meale:
I will go there and doo'ti'th' Courtbefore
Her Father. Ile do something.
Enter.

Phil. Quite besides
The gouernment of Patience. You haue wonne:
Let's follow himand peruert the present wrath
He hath against himselfe

Iach. With all my heart.

Exeunt.

Enter Posthumus.

Post. Is there no way for Men to bebut Women
Must be halfe-workers? We are all Bastards
And that most venerable manwhich I
Did call my FatherwasI 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
The Non-pareill of this. Oh VengeanceVengeance!
Me of my lawfull pleasure she restrain'd
And pray'd me oft forbearance: did it with
A pudencie so Rosiethe sweet view on't
Might well haue warm'd olde Saturne;
That I thought her
As Chasteas vn-Sunn'd Snow. Ohall the Diuels!


This yellow Iachimo in an hourewas't not?
Or lesse; at first? Perchance he spoke notbut
Like a full Acorn'd Boarea Iarmen on
Cry'de ohand mounted; found no opposition
But what he look'd forshould opposeand she
Should from encounter guard. Could I finde out
The Womans part in mefor there's no motion
That tends to vice in manbut I affirme
It is the Womans part: be it Lyingnote it
The womans: Flatteringhers; Deceiuinghers:
Lustand ranke thoughtshershers: Reuenges hers:
AmbitionsCouetingschange of PridesDisdaine
Nice-longingSlandersMutability;
All Faults that namenaythat Hell knowes
Why hersin partor all: but rather all. For euen to Vice
They are not constantbut are changing still;
One Vicebut of a minute oldfor one
Not halfe so old as that. Ile write against them
Detest themcurse them: yet 'tis greater Skill
In a true Hateto pray they haue their will:
The very Diuels cannot plague them better.
Enter.


Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.


Enter in StateCymbelineQueeneClottenand Lords at one
dooreand at
anotherCaiusLucius; and Attendants.


Cym. Now saywhat would Augustus Caesar with vs?

Luc. When Iulius Caesar (whose remembrance yet
Liues in mens eyesand will to Eares and Tongues
Be Theameand hearing euer) was in this Britain
And Conquer'd itCassibulan thine Vnkle
(Famous in Caesars praysesno whit lesse
Then in his Feats deseruing it) for him
And his Successiongranted Rome a Tribute
Yeerely 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
Ere such another Iulius: Britaine's a world
By it selfeand we will nothing pay
For wearing our owne Noses

Qu. That opportunity
Which then they had to take from'sto resume
We haue againe. Remember Sirmy Liege
The Kings your Ancestorstogether with
The naturall brauery of your Islewhich stands
As Neptunes Parkeribb'dand pal'd in
With Oakes vnskaleableand roaring Waters
With Sands that will not beare your Enemies Boates
But sucke them vp to'th' Top-mast. A kinde of Conquest
Caesar made heerebut made not heere his bragge
Of Cameand Sawand Ouer-came: with shame
(The first that euer touch'd him) he was carried
From off our Coasttwice beaten: and his Shipping
(Poore ignorant Baubles) on our terrible Seas
Like Egge-shels mou'd vpon their Surgescrack'd


As easily 'gainst our Rockes. For ioy whereof
The fam'd Cassibulanwho was once at point
(Oh giglet Fortune) to master Caesars Sword
Made Luds-Towne with reioycing-Fires bright
And Britaines strut with Courage

Clot. Comethere's no more Tribute to be paid: our
Kingdome is stronger then it was at that time: and (as I
said) there is no mo such Caesarsother of them may haue
crook'd Nosesbut to owe such straite Armesnone

Cym. Sonlet your Mother end

Clot. We haue yet many among vscan gripe as hard
as CassibulanI doe not say I am one: but I haue a hand.
Why Tribute? Why should we pay Tribute? If Caesar
can hide the Sun from vs with a Blanketor put the Moon
in his pocketwe will pay him Tribute for light: else Sir
no more Tributepray you now

Cym. You must know
Till the iniurious Romansdid extort
This Tribute from vswe were free. Caesars Ambition
Which swell'd so muchthat it did almost stretch
The sides o'th' Worldagainst all colour heere
Did put the yoake vpon's; which to shake off
Becomes a warlike peoplewhom we reckon
Our selues to bewe do. Say then to Caesar
Our Ancestor was that Mulmutiuswhich
Ordain'd our Laweswhose vse the Sword of Caesar
Hath too much mangled; whose repayreand franchise
Shall (by the power we hold) be our good deed
Tho Rome be therfore angry. Mulmutius made our lawes
Who was the first of Britainewhich did put
His browes within a golden Crowneand call'd
Himselfe a King

Luc. I am sorry Cymbeline
That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar
(Caesarthat hath moe Kings his Seruantsthen
Thy selfe Domesticke Officers) thine Enemy:
Receyue it from me then. Warreand Confusion
In Caesars name pronounce I 'gainst thee: Looke
For furynot to be resisted. Thus defide
I thanke thee for my selfe

Cym. Thou art welcome Caius
Thy Caesar Knighted me; my youth I spent
Much vnder him; of himI gather'd Honour
Which heto seeke of me againeperforce
Behooues me keepe at vtterance. I am perfect
That the Pannonians and Dalmatiansfor
Their Liberties are now in Armes: a President
Which not to readewould shew the Britaines cold:
So Caesar shall not finde them

Luc. Let proofe speake

Clot. His Maiesty biddes you welcome. Make pastime
with vsa dayor twoor longer: if you seek vs afterwards
in other tearmesyou shall finde vs in our Saltwater-Girdle:
if you beate vs out of itit is yours: if you
fall in the aduentureour Crowes shall fare the better for
you: and there's an end


Luc. So sir

Cym. I know your Masters pleasureand he mine:
All the Remaineis welcome.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Pisanio reading of a Letter.

Pis. How? of Adultery? Wherefore write you not

What Monsters her accuse? Leonatus:

Oh Masterwhat a strange infection

Is falne into thy eare? What false Italian

(As poysonous tongu'das handed) hath preuail'd

On thy too ready hearing? Disloyall? No.

She's punish'd for her Truth; and vndergoes

More Goddesse-likethen Wife-like; such Assaults

As would take in some Vertue. Oh my Master

Thy mind to heris now as loweas were

Thy Fortunes. How? That I should murther her

Vpon the Loueand Truthand Vowes; which I

Haue made to thy command? I her? Her blood?

If it be soto do good seruiceneuer

Let me be counted seruiceable. How looke I

That I should seeme to lacke humanity

So much as this Fact comes to? Doo't: The Letter.

That I haue sent herby 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

So Virgin-like without? Loe here she comes.

Enter Imogen.

I am ignorant in what I am commanded

Imo. How now Pisanio?
Pis. Madamheere is a Letter from my Lord


Imo. Whothy Lord? That is my Lord Leonatus?

Ohlearn'd indeed were that Astronomer

That knew the Starresas I his Characters

Heel'd lay the Future open. You good Gods

Let what is heere contain'drellish of Loue

Of my Lords healthof his content: yet not

That we two are asunderlet that grieue him;

Some griefes are medcinablethat is one of them

For it doth physicke Loueof his content

All but in that. Good Waxthy leaue: blest be

You Bees that make these Lockes of counsaile. Louers

And men in dangerous Bondes pray not alike

Though Forfeytours you cast in prisonyet

You claspe young Cupids Tables: good Newes Gods.

Iustice and your Fathers wrath (should he take me in his

Dominion) could not be so cruell to meas you: (oh the deerest

of Creatures) would euen renew me with your eyes. Take

notice that I am in Cambria at Milford-Hauen: what your

owne Louewill out of this aduise youfollow. So he wishes you

all happinessethat remaines loyall to his Vowand your

encreasing

in Loue. Leonatus Posthumus.


Oh for a Horse with wings: Hear'st thou Pisanio?
He is at Milford-Hauen: Readand tell me
How farre 'tis thither. If one of meane affaires
May plod it in a weekewhy may not I
Glide thither in a day? Then true Pisanio
Who long'st like meto 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 beyondbeyond: sayand speake thicke
(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 happyas
T' inherite such a Hauen. But first of all
How we may steale from hence: and for the gap
That we shall make in Timefrom our hence-going
And our returneto excuse: but firsthow get hence.
Why should excuse be borne or ere begot?
Weele talke of that heereafter. Prythee speake
How many store of Miles may we well rid
Twixt houreand houre?

Pis. One score 'twixt Sunand Sun
Madam's enough for you: and too much too

Imo. Whyone that rode to's Execution Man
Could 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
Gobid my Woman faigne a Sicknessesay
She'le home to her Father; and prouide me presently
A Riding Suit: No costlier then would fit
A Franklins Huswife

Pisa. Madamyou're best consider

Imo. I see before me (Man) nor heerenor heere;
Nor what ensues but haue a Fog in them
That I cannot looke through. AwayI prythee
Do as I bid thee: There's no more to say:
Accessible is none but Milford way.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter BelariusGuideriusand Aruiragus.

Bel. A goodly daynot to keepe house with such
Whose Roofe's as lowe as ours: Sleepe Boyesthis gate
Instructs you how t' adore the Heauens; and bowes you
To a mornings holy office. The Gates of Monarches
Are Arch'd so highthat Giants may iet through
And keepe their impious Turbonds onwithout
Good morrow to the Sun. Haile thou faire Heauen
We house i'th' Rockeyet vse thee not so hardly
As prouder liuers do

Guid. Haile Heauen

Aruir. Haile Heauen

Bela. Now for our Mountaine sportvp to yond hill
Your legges are yong: Ile tread these Flats. Consider


When you aboue perceiue me like a Crow
That it is Placewhich lessen'sand sets off
And you may then reuolue what TalesI haue told you
Of Courtsof Princes; of the Tricks in Warre.
This Seruiceis not Seruice; so being done
But being so allowed. To apprehend thus
Drawes vs a profit from all things we see:
And often to our comfortshall we finde
The sharded-Beetlein a safer hold
Then is the full-wing'd Eagle. Oh this life
Is Noblerthen attending for a checke:
Richerthen doing nothing for a Babe:
Prouderthen rustling in vnpayd-for Silke:
Such gaine the Cap of himthat 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

What 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 vsit is

A Cell of Ignorance: trauailing a bed

A Prisonor a Debtorthat 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

In this our pinching Caueshall we discourse

The freezing houres away? We haue seene nothing:

We are beastly; subtle as the Fox for prey

Like warlike as the Wolfefor what we eate:

Our Valour is to chace what flyes: Our Cage

We make a Quireas 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

As hard to leaueas keepe: whose top to climbe

Is certaine falling: or so slipp'rythat

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 Fameand Honorwhich dyes i'th' search

And hath as oft a sland'rous Epitaph

As Record of faire Act. Naymany times

Doth ill deserueby doing well: what's worse

Must curt'sie at the Censure. Oh Boyesthis Storie

The World may reade in me: My bodie's mark'd

With Roman Swords; and my reportwas once

Firstwith the best of Note. Cymbeline lou'd me

And when a Souldier was the Theamemy name

Was not farre off: then was I as a Tree

Whose boughes did bend with fruit. But in one night

A Stormeor 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)

But that two Villaineswhose false Oathes preuayl'd

Before my perfect Honorswore to Cymbeline


I was Confederate with the Romanes: so
Followed my Banishmentand this twenty yeeres
This Rockeand these Demesneshaue bene my World
Where I haue liu'd at honest freedomepayed
More pious debts to Heauenthen in all
The fore-end of my time. Butvp to'th' Mountaines
This is not Hunters Language; he that strikes
The Venison firstshall be the Lord o'th' Feast
To him the other two shall minister
And we will feare no poysonwhich attends
In place of greater State:
Ile meete you in the Valleyes.


Exeunt.


How hard it is to hide the sparkes of Nature?
These 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' Cauewhereon the Bowe their thoughts do hit
The Roofes of Palacesand Nature prompts them
In simple and lowe thingsto Prince itmuch
Beyond the tricke of others. This Paladour
The heyre of Cymbeline and Britainewho
The King his Father call'd Guiderius. Ioue
When on my three-foot stoole I sitand tell
The warlike feats I haue donehis spirits flye out
Into my Story: say thus mine Enemy fell
And thus I set my foote on's neckeeuen then
The Princely blood flowes in his Cheekehe sweats
Straines his yong Neruesand puts himselfe in posture
That acts my words. The yonger Brother Cadwall
Once Aruiragusin as like a figure
Strikes life into my speechand shewes much more
His owne conceyuing. Hearkethe Game is rows'd
Oh CymbelineHeauen and my Conscience knowes
Thou didd'st vniustly banish me: whereon
At threeand two yeeres oldI stole these Babes
Thinking to barre thee of Successionas
Thou refts me of my Lands. Euriphile
Thou was't their Nursethey took thee for their mother
And euery day do honor to her graue:
My selfe Belariusthat am Mergan call'd
They take for Naturall Father. The Game is vp.
Enter.


Scena Quarta.


Enter Pisanio and Imogen.


Imo. Thou told'st me when we came fro[m] horsey place

Was neere at hand: Ne're long'd my Mother so

To see me firstas I haue now. PisanioMan:

Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind

That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh

From th' inward of thee? Onebut painted thus

Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd

Beyond selfe-explication. Put thy selfe

Into a hauiour of lesse feareere wildnesse

Vanquish my stayder Senses. What's the matter?

Why render'st thou that Paper to mewith

A looke vntender? If't be Summer Newes


Smile too't before: if Winterlythou need'st
But keepe that count'nance stil. My Husbands hand?
That Drug-damn'd Italyhath out-craftied him
And hee's at some hard point. Speake manthy Tongue
May take off some extreamitiewhich to reade
Would be euen mortall to me

Pis. Please you reade
And 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 whereoflyes bleeding in me. I speak
not out of weake Surmisesbut from proofe as strong as my
greefeand as certaine as I expect my Reuenge. That partthou
(Pisanio) must acte for meif 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
for the purpose; whereif thou feare to strikeand to make mee
certaine it is donethou art the Pander to her dishonourand
equally to me disloyall

Pis. What shall I need to draw my Swordthe Paper
Hath cut her throat alreadie? No'tis Slander
Whose edge is sharper then the Swordwhose tongue
Out-venomes all the Wormes of Nylewhose breath
Rides on the posting windesand doth belye
All corners of the World. KingsQueenesand States
MaidesMatronsnay the Secrets of the Graue
This viperous slander enters. What cheereMadam?

Imo. False to his Bed? What is it to be false?
To lye in watch thereand to thinke on him?
To weepe 'twixt clock and clock? If sleep charge Nature
To breake it with a fearfull dreame of him
And 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: nowme thinkes
Thy fauours good enough. Some Iay of Italy
(Whose mother was her painting) hath betraid him:
Poore I am stalea Garment out of fashion
And for I am richer then to hang by th' walles
I must be ript: To peeces with me: Oh!
Mens 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 Madamheare me

Imo. True honest men being heardlike false Aeneas
Were in his time thought false: and Synons weeping
Did scandall many a holy teare: tooke pitty
From most true wretchednesse. So thouPosthumus
Wilt lay the Leauen on all proper men;
Goodlyand gallantshall be false and periur'd
From thy great faile: Come Fellowbe thou honest
Do thou thy Masters bidding. When thou seest him
A little witnesse my obedience. Looke
I draw the Sword my selfetake itand hit
The innocent Mansion of my Loue (my Heart:)


Feare not'tis empty of all thingsbut Greefe:
Thy Master is not therewho was indeede
The riches of it. Do his biddingstrike
Thou mayst be valiant in a better cause;
But now thou seem'st a Coward


Pis. Hence vile Instrument
Thou shalt not damne my hand

Imo. WhyI must dye:
And if I do not by thy handthou art
No Seruant of thy Masters. Against Selfe-slaughter
There is a prohibition so Diuine
That crauens my weake hand: Comeheere's my heart:
Something's a-foot: Softsoftwee'l no defence
Obedient as the Scabbard. What is heere
The Scriptures of the Loyall Leonatus
All turn'd to Heresie? Awayaway
Corrupters of my Faithyou shall no more
Be Stomachers to my heart: thus may pooru Fooles
Beleeue false Teachers: Though those that are betraid
Do feele the Treason sharpelyyet the Traitor
Stands in worse case of woe. And thou Posthumus
That didd'st set vp my disobedience 'gainst the King
My Fatherand makes me put into contempt the suites
Of Princely Fellowesshalt heereafter finde
It is no acte of common passagebut
A straine of Rarenesse: and I greeue my selfe
To thinkewhen thou shalt be disedg'd by her
That now thou tyrest onhow thy memory
Will then be pang'd by me. Prythee dispatch
The 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
I haue not slept one winke

Imo. Doo'tand to bed then

Pis. Ile wake mine eye-balles first

Imo. Wherefore then
Didd'st vndertake it? Why hast thou abus'd
So many Mileswith 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
To be vn-bent? when thou hast 'tane thy stand
Th' elected Deere before thee?

Pis. But to win time
To loose so bad employmentin the which
I haue consider'd of a course: good Ladie
Heare me with patience

Imo. Talke thy tongue wearyspeake:
I haue heard I am a Strumpetand mine eare
Therein false strookecan take no greater wound
Nor tentto bottome that. But speake

Pis. Then Madam
I thought you would not backe againe


Imo. Most like
Bringing me heere to kill me

Pis. Not so neither:
But if I were as wiseas honestthen
My purpose would proue well: it cannot be
But that my Master is abus'd. Some Villaine
Iand singular in his Arthath done you both
This cursed iniurie

Imo. Some Roman Curtezan?

Pisa. Noon my life:
Ile giue but notice you are deadand send him
Some bloody signe of it. For 'tis commanded
I should do so: you shall be mist at Court
And that will well confirme it

Imo. Why good Fellow
What shall I do the while? Where bide? How liue?
Or in my lifewhat comfortwhen I am
Dead to my Husband?

Pis. If you'l backe to'th' Court

Imo. No Courtno Fathernor no more adoe
With that harshnoblesimple nothing:
That Clottenwhose Loue-suite hath bene to me
As fearefull as a Siege

Pis. 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
Our Britaine seemes as of itbut not in't:
In a great Poolea Swannes-nestprythee thinke
There's liuers out of Britaine

Pis. I am most glad
You thinke of other place: Th' Ambassador
Lucius the Romane comes to Milford-Hauen
To morrow. Nowif you could weare a minde
Darkeas your Fortune isand but disguise
That which t' appeare it selfemust not yet be
But by selfe-dangeryou should tread a course
Prettyand full of view: yeahappilyneere
The residence of Posthumus; so nie (at least)
That though his Actions were not visibleyut
Report should render him hourely to your eare
As truely as he mooues

Imo. Oh for such meanes
Though perill to my modestienot death on't
I would aduenture

Pis. Well thenheere's the point:
You must forget to be a Woman: change
Commandinto obedience. Feareand Nicenesse
(The Handmaides of all Womenor more truely
Woman it pretty selfe) into a waggish courage
Ready in gybesquicke-answer'dsawcieand
As quarrellous as the Weazell: Nayyou must
Forget that rarest Treasure of your Cheeke


Exposing it (but oh the harder heart
Alacke no remedy) to the greedy touch
Of common-kissing Titan: and forget
Your laboursome and dainty Trimmeswherein
You made great Iuno angry

Imo. Nay be breefe?
I see into thy endand am almost
A man already

Pis. Firstmake your selfe but like one
Fore-thinking this. I haue already fit
('Tis in my Cloake-bagge) DoubletHatHoseall
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
Present your selfedesire his seruice: tell him
Wherein you're happy; which will make him know
If that his head haue eare in Musickedoubtlesse
With ioy he will imbrace you: for hee's Honourable
And doubling thatmost holy. Your meanes abroad:
You haue me richand I will neuer faile
Beginningnor 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
All that good time will giue vs. This attempt
I am Souldier tooand will abide it with
A Princes Courage. AwayI prythee

Pis. Well Madamwe must take a short farewell
Least being mistI be suspected of
Your carriage from the Court. My Noble Mistris
Heere is a boxeI had it from the Queene
What's in't is precious: If you are sicke at Sea
Or Stomacke-qualm'd at Landa Dramme of this
Will driue away distemper. To some shade
And fit you to your Manhood: may the Gods
Direct you to the best

Imo. Amen: I thanke thee.

Exeunt.

Scena Quinta.

Enter CymbelineQueeneClotenLuciusand Lords.

Cym. Thus farreand so farewell

Luc. ThankesRoyall Sir:
My Emperor hath wroteI must from hence
And am right sorrythat I must report ye
My Masters Enemy

Cym. Our Subiects (Sir)
Will not endure his yoake; and for our selfe
To shew lesse Soueraignty then theymust needs
Appeare vn-Kinglike

Luc. So Sir: I desire of you
A Conduct ouer Landto Milford-Hauen.


Madamall ioy befall your Graceand you

Cym. My Lordsyou are appointed for that Office:
The due of Honorin no point omit:
So farewell Noble Lucius

Luc. Your handmy Lord

Clot. Receiue it friendly: but from this time forth
I weare it as your Enemy

Luc. Sirthe Euent
Is yet to name the winner. Fare you well

Cym. Leaue not the worthy Luciusgood 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

Clot. '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 Chariotsand our Horsemen be in readinesse:
The Powres that he already hath in Gallia
Will soone be drawne to headfrom whence he moues
His warre for Britaine

Qu. 'Tis not sleepy businesse
But must be look'd too speedilyand strongly

Cym. 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 Romannor to vs hath tender'd
The duty of the day. She looke vs like
A thing more made of malicethen of duty
We haue noted it. Call her before vsfor
We haue beene too slight in sufferance

Qu. Royall Sir
Since the exile of Posthumusmost retyr'd
Hath her life bin: the Cure whereofmy Lord
'Tis time must do. Beseech your Maiesty
Forbeare sharpe speeches to her. Shee's a Lady
So tender of rebukesthat words are stroke;
And strokes death to her.
Enter a Messenger.

Cym. Where is she Sir? How
Can her contempt be answer'd?

Mes. Please you Sir
Her Chambers are all lock'dand there's no answer
That will be giuen to'th' lowd of noisewe make

Qu. My Lordwhen 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
Which 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 Heauensthat which I
Feareproue false.
Enter.

Qu. SonneI sayfollow the King

Clot. That man of hersPisanioher old Seruant
I haue not seene these two dayes.
Enter.

Qu. Golooke after:
Pisaniothou that stand'st so for Posthumus
He hath a Drugge of mine: I prayhis 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:
Or wing'd with feruour of her loueshe's flowne
To her desir'd Posthumus: gone she is
To deathor to dishonorand my end
Can make good vse of either. Shee being downe
I haue the placing of the Brittish Crowne.
Enter Cloten.

How nowmy Sonne?

Clot. 'Tis certaine she is fled:
Go in and cheere the Kinghe ragesnone
Dare come about him

Qu. All the better: may
This night fore-stall him of the comming day.

Exit Qu.

Clo. I loueand hate her: for she's Faire and Royall
And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite
Then LadyLadiesWomanfrom euery one
The best she hathand she of all compounded
Out-selles them all. I loue her thereforebut
Disdaining meand throwing Fauours on
The low Posthumusslanders so her iudgement
That what's else rareis choak'd: and in that point
I will conclude to hate hernay indeede
To be reueng'd vpon her. Forwhen Fooles shall-
Enter Pisanio.

Who is heere? Whatare you packing sirrah?
Come hither: Ah you precious PandarVillaine
Where is thy Lady? In a wordor else
Thou art straightway with the Fiends


Pis. Ohgood my Lord

Clo. Where is thy Lady? Orby Iupiter
I will not aske againe. Close Villaine
Ile haue this Secret from thy heartor rip
Thy heart to finde it. Is she with Posthumus?
From whose so many waights of basenessecannot
A dram of worth be drawne

Pis. Alasnay Lord
How 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?

Pis. Ohmy all-worthy Lord

Clo. All-worthy Villaine
Discouer where thy Mistris isat once
At the next word: no more of worthy Lord:
Speakeor thy silence on the instantis
Thy condemnationand 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
Euen to Augustus Throne

Pis. Or thisor perish.
She's farre enoughand what he learnes by this
May proue his trauellnot her danger

Clo. Humh

Pis. Ile write to my Lord she's dead: Oh Imogen
Safe mayst thou wandersafe returne agen

Clot. Sirrais this Letter true?
Pis. Siras I thinke


Clot. It is Posthumus handI know't. Sirrahif thou
would'st not be a Villainbut do me true seruice: vndergo
those Imployments wherin I should haue cause to vse
thee with a serious industrythat iswhat villainy soere I
bid thee do to performe itdirectly and truelyI would
thinke thee an honest man: thou should'st neither want
my meanes for thy releefenor my voyce for thy preferment

Pis. Wellmy good Lord

Clot. Wilt thou serue mee? For since patiently and
constantly thou hast stucke to the bare Fortune of that
Begger Posthumusthou canst not in the course of gratitude
but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou serue
mee?

Pis. SirI will

Clo. Giue mee thy handheere's my purse. Hast any
of thy late Masters Garments in thy possession?
Pisan. I haue (my Lord) at my Lodgingthe same
Suite he worewhen he tooke leaue of my Ladie & Mistresse

Clo. The first seruice thou dost meefetch that Suite
hitherlet it be thy first seruicego

Pis. I shall my Lord.
Enter.

Clo. Meet thee at Milford-Hauen: (I forgot to aske
him one thingIle remember't anon:) euen therethou
villaine Posthumus will I kill thee. I would these Garments
were come. She saide vpon a time (the bitternesse


of itI now belch from my heart) that shee held the very
Garment of Posthumusin more respectthen my Noble
and naturall person; together with the adornement of
my Qualities. With that Suite vpon my backe wil I rauish
her: first kill himand in her eyes; there shall she see
my valourwhich wil then be a torment to hir contempt.
He on the groundmy speech of insulment ended on his
dead bodieand when my Lust hath dined (whichas I
sayto vex herI will execute in the Cloathes that she so
prais'd:) to the Court Ile knock her backefoot her home
againe. She hath despis'd mee reioycinglyand Ile bee
merry in my Reuenge.
Enter Pisanio.

Be those the Garments?
Pis. Imy 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 Chamberthat is
the second thing that I haue commanded thee. The third
isthat thou wilt be a voluntarie Mute to my designe. Be
but dutiousand true preferment shall tender it selfe to
thee. My Reuenge is now at Milfordwould I had wings
to follow it. Comeand be true.

Exit

Pis. Thou bid'st me to my losse: for true to thee
Were to proue falsewhich I will neuer bee
To him that is most true. To Milford go
And finde not herwhom thou pursuest. Flowflow
You Heauenly blessings on her: This Fooles speede
Be crost with slownesse; Labour be his meede.

Exit

Scena Sexta.

Enter Imogen alone.

Imo. I see a mans life is a tedious one
I haue tyr'd my selfe: and for two nights together
Haue made the ground my bed. I should be sicke
But that my resolution helpes me: Milford
When from the Mountaine topPisanio shew'd thee
Thou was't within a kenne. Oh IoueI thinke
Foundations flye the wretched: such I meane
Where they should be releeu'd. Two Beggers told me
I could not misse my way. Will poore Folkes lye
That haue Afflictions on themknowing 'tis
A punishmentor Triall? Yes; no wonder
When Rich-ones scarse tell true. To lapse in Fulnesse
Is sorerthen to lye for Neede: and Falshood
Is worse in Kingsthen Beggers. My deere Lord
Thou art one o'th' false Ones: Now I thinke on thee
My hunger's gone; but euen beforeI was
At point to sinkefor Food. But what is this?
Heere is a path too't: 'tis some sauage hold:
I were best not call; I dare not call: yet Famine
Ere cleane it o're-throw Naturemakes it valiant.
Plentieand Peace breeds Cowards: Hardnesse euer


Of Hardinesse is Mother. Hoa? who's heere?
If any thing that's ciuillspeake: if sauage
Takeor lend. Hoa? No answer? Then Ile enter.
Best draw my Sword; and if mine Enemy
But feare the Sword like mehee'l scarsely looke on't.
Such a Foegood Heauens.
Enter.


Scena Septima.


Enter BelariusGuideriusand Aruiragus


Bel. You Polidore haue prou'd best Woodmanand
Are Master of the Feast: Cadwalland I
Will play the Cookeand Seruant'tis our match:
The sweat of industry would dryand dye
But for the end it workes too. Comeour stomackes
Will make what's homelysauoury: Wearinesse
Can snore vpon the Flintwhen restie Sloth
Findes the Downe-pillow hard. Now peace be heere
Poore housethat keep'st thy selfe

Gui. I am throughly weary

Arui. I am weake with toyleyet strong in appetite

Gui. There is cold meat i'th' Cauewe'l brouz on that
Whil'st what we haue kill'dbe Cook'd

Bel. Staycome not in:
But that it eates our victuallesI should thinke
Heere were a Faiery

Gui. What's the matterSir?

Bel. By Iupiter an Angell: or if not
An earthly Paragon. Behold Diuinenesse
No elder then a Boy.
Enter Imogen.

Imo. Good masters harme me not:
Before I enter'd heereI call'dand thought
To haue begg'dor boughtwhat I haue took: good troth
I haue stolne noughtnor would notthough I had found
Gold strew'd i'th' Floore. Heere's money for my Meate
I would haue left it on the Boordso soone
As I had made my Meale; and parted
With Pray'rs for the Prouider

Gui. Money? Youth

Aru. All Gold and Siluer rather turne to durt
As 'tis no better reckon'dbut of those
Who worship durty Gods

Imo. I see you're angry:
Knowif you kill me for my faultI should
Haue dyedhad I not made it

Bel. Whether bound?
Imo. To Milford-Hauen


Bel. What's your name?
Imo. Fidele Sir: I haue a Kinsmanwho



Is bound for Italy; he embark'd at Milford
To whom being goingalmost spent with hunger
I am falne in this offence

Bel. Prythee (faire youth)
Thinke vs no Churles: nor measure our good mindes
By this rude place we liue in. Well encounter'd
'Tis almost nightyou shall haue better cheere
Ere you depart; and thankes to stayand eate it:
Boyesbid him welcome

Gui. Were you a womanyouth
I should woo hardbut be your Groome in honesty:
I bid for youas I do buy

Arui. Ile make't my Comfort
He is a manIle loue him as my Brother:
And such a welcome as I'ld giue to him
(After long absence) such is yours. Most welcome:
Be sprightlyfor you fall 'mongst Friends

Imo. 'Mongst Friends?
If Brothers: would it had bin sothat they
Had bin my Fathers Sonnesthen had my prize
Bin lesseand so more equall ballasting
To thee Posthumus

Bel. He wrings at some distresse

Gui. Would I could free't

Arui. Or Iwhat ere it be
What paine it costwhat danger: Gods!
Bel. Hearke Boyes

Imo. Great men
That had a Court no bigger then this Caue
That did attend themseluesand 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
Since Leonatus false

Bel. It shall be so:
Boyes wee'l go dresse our Hunt. Faire youth come in;
Discourse is heauyfasting: when we haue supp'd
Wee'l mannerly demand thee of thy Story
So 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

Arui. I pray draw neere.

Exeunt.

Scena Octaua.


Enter two Roman Senatorsand Tribunes.

1.Sen. This is the tenor of the Emperors Writ;

That since the common men are now in Action

'Gainst the Pannoniansand Dalmatians

And that the Legions now in Galliaare

Full weake to vndertake our Warres against

The falne-off Britainesthat we do incite

The Gentry to this businesse. He creates

Lucius Pro-Consull: and to you the Tribunes

For this immediate Leuyhe commands

His absolute Commission. Long liue Caesar

Tri. Is Lucius Generall of the Forces?
2.Sen. I


Tri. Remaining now in Gallia?

1.Sen. With those Legions

Which I haue spoke ofwhereunto your leuie

Must be suppliant: the words of your Commission

Will tye you to the numbersand the time

Of 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

if Pisanio haue mapp'd it truely. How fit his Garments

serue me? Why should his Mistris who was made by him

that made the Taylornot be fit too? The rather (sauing

reuerence of the Word) for 'tis saide a Womans fitnesse

comes by fits: therein I must play the WorkmanI dare

speake it to my selfefor it is not Vainglorie for a man

and his Glasseto confer in his owne Chamber; I meane

the Lines of my body are as well drawne as his; no lesse

youngmore strongnot beneath him in Fortunesbeyond

him in the aduantage of the timeaboue him in

Birthalike conuersant in generall seruicesand more remarkeable

in single oppositions; yet this imperseuerant

Thing loues him in my despight. What Mortalitie is?

Posthumusthy head (which now is growing vppon thy

shoulders) shall within this houre be offthy Mistris inforced

thy Garments cut to peeces before thy face: and

all this donespurne her home to her Fatherwho may

(happily) be a little angry for my so rough vsage: but my

Mother hauing power of his testinesseshall turne all into

my commendations. My Horse is tyed vp safeout

Swordand 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.

Enter.

Scena Secunda.

Enter BelariusGuideriusAruiragusand Imogen from the Caue.

Bel. You are not well: Remaine heere in the Caue


Wee'l come to you after Hunting

Arui. Brotherstay heere:
Are we not Brothers?

Imo. So man and man should be
But Clay and Claydiffers in dignitie
Whose dust is both alike. I am very sicke

Gui. Go you to HuntingIle abide with him

Imo. So sicke I am notyet I am not well:
But not so Citizen a wantonas
To seeme to dyeere sicke: So please youleaue me
Sticke to your Iournall course: the breach of Custome
Is breach of all. I am illbut your being by me
Cannot amend me. Societyis no comfort
To one not sociable: I am not very sicke
Since I can reason of it: pray you trust me heere
Ile rob none but my selfeand let me dye
Stealing so poorely

Gui. I loue thee: I haue spoke it
How much the quantitythe 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
I loue this youthand I haue heard you say
Loue's reason'swithout reason. The Beere at doore
And a demand who is't shall dyeI'ld say
My Fathernot this youth

Bel. Oh noble straine!
O worthinesse of Naturebreed of Greatnesse!
``Cowards father Cowards& Base things Syre Bace;
``Nature hath Mealeand Bran; Contemptand Grace.
I'me not their Fatheryet who this should bee
Doth myracle it selfelou'd before mee.
'Tis the ninth houre o'th' Morne

Arui. Brotherfarewell

Imo. I wish ye sport

Arui. You health. - So please you Sir

Imo. These are kinde Creatures.
Godswhat lyes I haue heard:
Our Courtiers sayall's sauagebut at Court;
Experienceoh thou disproou'st Report.
Th' emperious Seas breeds Monsters; for the Dish
Poore Tributary Riuersas sweet Fish:
I am sicke stillheart-sicke; Pisanio
Ile now taste of thy Drugge

Gui. I could not stirre him:
He said he was gentlebut vnfortunate;
Dishonestly afflictedbut yet honest

Arui. Thus did he answer me: yet said heereafter
I might know more

Bel. To'th' Fieldto'th' Field:
Wee'l leaue you for this timego inand rest


Arui. Wee'l not be long away

Bel. Pray be not sicke
For you must be our Huswife

Imo. Wellor ill
I am bound to you.
Enter.

Bel. And shal't be euer.
This youthhow ere distrestappeares he hath had
Good Ancestors

Arui. How Angell-like he sings?
Gui. But his neate Cookerie?
Arui. He cut our Rootes in Charracters


And sawc'st our Brothesas Iuno had bin sicke
And he her Dieter

Arui. Nobly he yoakes
A smilingwith a sigh; as if the sighe
Was that it wasfor not being such a Smile:
The Smilemocking the Sighthat it would flye
From so diuine a Templeto commix
With windesthat Saylors raile at

Gui. I do note
That greefe and patience rooted in them both
Mingle their spurres together

Arui. Grow patient
And let the stinking-Elder (Greefe) vntwine
His perishing rootewith the encreasing Vine

Bel. It is great morning. Come away: Who's there?
Enter Cloten.

Clo. I cannot finde those Runnagatesthat Villaine
Hath mock'd me. I am faint

Bel. Those Runnagates?
Meanes he not vs? I partly know him'tis
Clotenthe Sonne o'th' Queene. I feare some Ambush:
I saw him not these many yearesand yet
I know 'tis he: We are held as Out-Lawes: Hence

Gui. He is but one: youand my Brother search
What Companies are neere: pray you away
Let me alone with him

Clot. Softwhat are you
That flye me thus? Some villaine-Mountainers?
I haue heard of such. What Slaue art thou?

Gui. A thing
More slauish did I ne'rethen answering
A Slaue without a knocke

Clot. Thou art a Robber
A Law-breakera Villaine: yeeld thee Theefe

Gui. To who? to thee? What art thou? Haue not I
An arme as bigge as thine? A heartas bigge:
Thy words I grant are bigger: for I weare not


My Dagger in my mouth. Say what thou art:
Why I should yeeld to thee?
Clot. Thou Villaine base
Know'st me not by my Cloathes?

Gui. Nonor thy TaylorRascall:
Who is thy Grandfather? He made those cloathes
Which (as it seemes) make thee

Clo. Thou precious Varlet
My Taylor made them not

Gui. Hence thenand thanke
The man that gaue them thee. Thou art some Foole
I am loath to beate thee

Clot. Thou iniurious Theefe
Heare but my nameand tremble

Gui. What's thy name?
Clo. Clotenthou Villaine


Gui. Clotenthou double Villaine be thy name
I cannot tremble at itwere it Toador AdderSpider
'Twould moue me sooner

Clot. To thy further feare
Nayto thy meere Confusionthou shalt know
I am Sonne to'th' Queene

Gui. I am sorry for't: not seeming
So worthy as thy Birth

Clot. Art not afeard?
Gui. Those that I reuerencethose I feare: the Wise:
At Fooles I laugh: not feare them

Clot. Dye the death:
When 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.

Bel. 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
And 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

Bel. 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.


But see thy Brother

Gui. This Cloten was a Foolean empty purse
There was no money in't: Not Hercules
Could haue knock'd out his Brainesfor he had none:
Yet I not doing thisthe Foole had borne
My headas 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 TraitorMountaineerand swore
With his owne single hand heel'd take vs in
Displace our headswhere (thanks the Gods) they grow
And set them on Luds-Towne

Bel. We are all vndone

Gui. Whyworthy Fatherwhat haue we to loose
But that he swore to take our Liues? the Law
Protects not vsthen why should we be tender
To let an arrogant peece of flesh threat vs?
Play Iudgeand Executionerall himselfe?
For we do feare the Law. What company
Discouer 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 mutationIand that
From 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 Courtthat such as wee
Caue heerehunt heereare Out-lawesand in time
May make some stronger headthe which he hearing
(As it is like him) might breake outand sweare
Heel'd fetch vs inyet is't not probable
To come aloneeither he so vndertaking
Or they so suffering: then on good ground we feare
If 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

Bel. 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 throatI haue tane
His head from him: Ile throw't into the Creeke
Behinde our Rockeand let it to the Sea
And tell the Fisheshee's the Queenes SonneCloten
That's all I reake.
Enter.

Bel. I feare 'twill be reueng'd:
Would (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 brotherlybut enuy much
Thou hast robb'd me of this deed: I would Reuenges
That possible strength might meetwold seek vs through
And put vs to our answer

Bel. Well'tis done:
Wee'l hunt no more to daynor seeke for danger
Where there's no profit. I prythee to our Rocke
You and Fidele play the Cookes: Ile stay
Till hasty Polidore returneand bring him
To dinner presently

Arui. Poore sicke Fidele.
Ile willingly to himto gaine his colour
Il'd let a parish of such Clotens blood
And praise my selfe for charity.
Enter.

Bel. Oh thou Goddesse
Thou diuine Nature; thou thy selfe thou blazon'st
In these two Princely Boyes: they are as gentle
As Zephires blowing below the Violet
Not wagging his sweet head; and yetas rough
(Their Royall blood enchaf'd) as the rud'st winde
That by the top doth take the Mountaine Pine
And make him stoope to th' Vale. 'Tis wonder
That an inuisible instinct should frame them
To Royalty vnlearn'dHonor vntaught
Ciuility not seene from other: valour
That wildely growes in thembut yeelds a crop
As 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?
I 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
Hath 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
It did not speake before. All solemne things
Should answer solemne Accidents. The matter?
Triumphes for nothingand lamenting Toyes
Is iollity for Apesand greefe for Boyes.
Is Cadwall mad?
Enter Aruiraguswith Imogen deadbearing her in his Armes.

Bel. Lookeheere he comes
And brings the dire occasion in his Armes
Of what we blame him for

Arui. The Bird is dead


That we haue made so much on. I had rather
Haue skipt from sixteene yeares of Ageto sixty:
To haue turn'd my leaping time into a Crutch
Then haue seene this


Gui. Oh sweetestfayrest 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
The Oozeto 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 Boyof Melancholly.
How found you him?

Arui. Starkeas you see:
Thus smilingas some Fly had tickled slumber
Not as deaths dart being laugh'd at: his right Cheeke
Reposing on a Cushion

Gui. Where?

Arui. O'th' floore:
His armes thus leagu'dI thought he sleptand put
My clowted Brogues from off my feetewhose rudenesse
Answer'd my steps too lowd

Gui. Whyhe but sleepes:
If he be gonehee'l make his Grauea Bed:
With female Fayries will his Tombe be haunted
And Wormes will not come to thee

Arui. With fayrest Flowers
Whil'st Sommer lastsand I liue heereFidele
Ile sweeten thy sad graue: thou shalt not lacke
The Flower that's like thy face. Pale-Primrosenor
The azur'd Hare-Belllike thy Veines: nonor
The leafe of Eglantinewhom not to slander
Out-sweetned not thy breath: the Raddocke would
With Charitable bill (Oh bill sore shaming
Those rich-left-heyresthat let their Fathers lye
Without a Monument) bring thee all this
Yeaand furr'd Mosse besides. When Flowres are none
To winter-ground thy Coarse


Gui. 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 admirationwhat
Is now due debt. To'th' graue

Arui. Saywhere shall's lay him?
Gui. By good Euriphileour Mother


Arui. Bee't so:
And let vs (Polidore) though now our voyces
Haue got the mannish crackesing him to'th' ground
As once to our Mother: vse like noteand words
Saue that Euriphilemust be Fidele

Gui. Cadwall
I cannot sing: Ile weepeand word it with thee;
For Notes of sorrowout of tuneare worse
Then Priestsand 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 SonneBoyes
And though he came our Enemyremember
He was paid for that: though meaneand mighty rotting
Together haue one dustyet Reuerence
(That Angell of the world) doth make distinction
Of place 'tweene highand low. Our Foe was Princely
And though you tooke his lifeas being our Foe
Yet bury himas 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
Wee'l say our Song the whil'st: Brother begin

Gui. Nay Cadwallwe must lay his head to th' East
My Father hath a reason for't

Arui. 'Tis true

Gui. Come on thenand remoue him

Arui. Sobegin.

SONG.

Guid. Feare no more the heate o'th' Sun
Nor the furious Winters rages
Thou thy worldly task hast don
Home art gonand tane thy wages.
Golden Ladsand Girles all must
As Chimney-Sweepers come to dust

Arui. Feare no more the frowne o'th' Great
Thou art past the Tirants stroake
Care no more to cloath and eate
To thee the Reede is as the Oake:
The ScepterLearningPhysicke must
All follow this and come to dust

Guid. Feare no more the Lightning flash

Arui. Nor th' all-dreaded Thunderstone

Gui. Feare not SlanderCensure rash

Arui. Thou hast finish'd Ioy and mone

Both. All Louers youngall Louers must
Consigne to thee and come to dust

Guid. 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
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 Flowresbut 'bout midnight more:

The hearbes that haue on them cold dew o'th' night

Are strewings fit'st for Graues: vpon their Faces.

You were as Flowresnow wither'd: euen so

These Herbelets shallwhich we vpon you strew.

Come onawayapart vpon our knees:

The ground that gaue them firstha's them againe:

Their pleasures here are pastso are their paine.

Exeunt.


Imogen awakes.


Yes Sirto Milford-Hauenwhich is the way?
I thanke you: by yond bush? pray how farre thether?
'Ods pittikins: can it be sixe mile yet?
I haue gone all night: 'FaithIle lye downeand sleepe.
But soft; no Bedfellow? Oh Godsand Goddesses!
These Flowres are like the pleasures of the World;
This bloody man the care on't. I hope I dreame:
For so I thought I was a Caue-keeper
And Cooke to honest Creatures. But 'tis not so:
'Twas but a bolt of nothingshot of nothing
Which the Braine makes of Fumes. Our very eyes
Are sometimes like our Iudgementsblinde. Good faith
I tremble still with feare: but if there be
Yet left in Heauenas small a drop of pittie
As a Wrens eye; fear'd Godsa part of it.
The Dreame's heere still: euen when I wake it is
Without meas within me: not imagin'dfelt.
A 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
All Curses madded Hecuba gaue the Greekes
And mine to bootbe darted on thee: thou
Conspir'd with that Irregulous diuell Cloten
Hath heere cut off my Lord. To writeand read
Be henceforth treacherous. Damn'd Pisanio
Hath with his forged Letters (damn'd Pisanio)
From this most brauest vessell of the world
Strooke the maine top! Oh Posthumusalas
Where is thy head? where's that? Aye me! where's that?
Pisanio might haue kill'd thee at the heart
And left this head on. How should this bePisanio?
'Tis heand Cloten: Maliceand Lucre in them
Haue laid this Woe heere. Oh 'tis pregnantpregnant!
The Drugge he gaue mewhich hee said was precious
And Cordiall to mehaue I not found it
Murd'rous to'th' Senses? That confirmes it home:
This is Pisanio's deedeand Cloten: Oh!
Giue colour to my pale cheeke with thy blood
That we the horrider may seeme to those
Which chance to finde vs. Ohmy Lord! my Lord!
Enter LuciusCaptainesand a Soothsayer.


Cap. To themthe Legions garrison'd in Gallia
After your willhaue crost the Seaattending


You heere at Milford-Hauenwith your Shippes:
They are heere in readinesse

Luc. But what from Rome?

Cap. The Senate hath stirr'd vp the Confiners
And Gentlemen of Italymost willing Spirits
That promise Noble Seruice: and they come
Vnder the Conduct of bold Iachimo
Syenna'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
Be muster'd: bid the Captaines looke too't. Now Sir
What haue you dream'd of late of this warres purpose

Sooth. Last nightthe very Gods shew'd me a vision
(I fastand pray'd for their Intelligence) thus:
I saw Ioues Birdthe Roman Eagle wing'd
From the spungy Southto this part of the West
There vanish'd in the Sun-beameswhich portends
(Vnlesse my sinnes abuse my Diuination)
Successe to th' Roman hoast

Luc. Dreame often so
And neuer false. Soft hoawhat truncke is heere?
Without his top? The ruine speakesthat sometime
It was a worthy building. How? a Page?
Or deador sleeping on him? But dead rather:
For Nature doth abhorre to make his bed
With the defunctor 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 Fortunesfor it seemes
They 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?
What art thou?

Imo. I am nothing; or if not
Nothing to be were better: This was my Master
A very valiant Britaineand a good
That heere by Mountaineers lyes slaine: Alas
There is no more such Masters: I may wander
From East to Occidentcry out for Seruice
Try manyall good: serue truly: neuer
Finde such another Master

Luc. 'Lackegood youth:
Thou mou'st no lesse with thy complainingthen
Thy Maister in bleeding: say his namegood Friend

Imo. Richard du Champ: If I do lyeand do
No harme by itthough the Gods heareI hope
They'l pardon it. Say you Sir?

Luc. Thy name?
Imo. Fidele Sir



Luc. Thou doo'st approue thy selfe the very same:
Thy Name well fits thy Faith; thy Faiththy Name:
Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say
Thou shalt be so well master'dbut be sure
No lesse belou'd. The Romane Emperors Letters
Sent by a Consull to meshould not sooner
Then thine owne worth preferre thee: Go with me

Imo. Ile follow Sir. But firstand't please the Gods
Ile hide my Master from the Fliesas deepe
As these poore Pickaxes can digge: and when
With wild wood-leaues & weedsI ha' strew'd his graue
And on it said a Century of prayers
(Such as I can) twice o'reIle weepeand sighe
And leauing so his seruicefollow you
So please you entertaine mee

Luc. I good youth
And rather Father theethen Master thee: My Friends
The Boy hath taught vs manly duties: Let vs
Finde out the prettiest Dazied-Plot we can
And make him with our Pikes and Partizans
A Graue: ComeArme him: Boy hee's preferr'd
By theeto vsand he shall be interr'd
As Souldiers can. Be cheerefull; wipe thine eyes
Some Falles are meanes the happier to arise.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter CymbelineLordsand Pisanio.

Cym. Againe: and bring me word how 'tis with her
A Feauour with the absence of her Sonne;
A madnesseof which her life's in danger: Heauens
How deeply you at once do touch me. Imogen
The great part of my comfortgone: My Queene
Vpon a desperate bedand in a time
When fearefull Warres point at me: Her Sonne gone
So needfull for this present? It strikes mepast
The hope of comfort. But for theeFellow
Who needs must know of her departureand
Dost seeme so ignorantwee'l enforce it from thee
By a sharpe Torture

Pis. Sirmy 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

Lord. Good my Liege
The day that she was missinghe was heere;
I dare be bound hee's trueand shall performe
All parts of his subiection loyally. For Cloten
There wants no diligence in seeking him
And will no doubt be found

Cym. The time is troublesome:
Wee'l slip you for a seasonbut our iealousie
Do's yet depend

Lord. So please your Maiesty


The Romaine Legionsall from Gallia drawne
Are landed on your Coastwith a supply
Of Romaine Gentlemenby the Senate sent

Cym. Now for the Counsaile of my Son and Queen
I am amaz'd with matter

Lord. Good my Liege
Your preparation can affront no lesse
Then what you heare of. Come morefor more you're ready:
The want isbut to put those Powres in motion
That long to moue

Cym. I thanke you: let's withdraw
And meete the Timeas it seekes vs. We feare not
What can from Italy annoy vsbut
We greeue at chances heere. Away.

Exeunt.

Pisa. I heard no Letter from my Mastersince
I wrote him Imogen was slaine. 'Tis strange:
Nor heare I from my Mistriswho did promise
To yeeld me often tydings. Neither know I
What is betide to Clotenbut remaine
Perplext in all. The Heauens still must worke:
Wherein I am falseI am honest: not trueto be true.
These present warres shall finde I loue my Country
Euen to the note o'th' Kingor Ile fall in them:
All other doubtsby time let them be cleer'd
Fortune brings in some Boatsthat are not steer'd.
Enter.

Scena Quarta.

Enter BelariusGuiderius& Aruiragus.

Gui. The noyse is round about vs

Bel. Let vs from it

Arui. What pleasure Sirwe finde in lifeto locke it
From Actionand Aduenture

Gui. Naywhat hope
Haue we in hiding vs? This way the Romaines
Mustor for Britaines slay vsor receiue vs
For barbarous and vnnaturall Reuolts
During their vseand slay vs after

Bel. Sonnes
Wee'l higher to the Mountainesthere secure vs.
To the Kings party there's no going: newnesse
Of Clotens death (we being not knownenor muster'd
Among the Bands) may driue vs to a render
Where we haue liu'd; and so extort from's that
Which we haue donewhose answer would be death
Drawne on with Torture

Gui. This is (Sir) a doubt
In such a timenothing 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
And eares so cloyd importantly as now
That they will waste their time vpon our note
To know from whence we are

Bel. OhI am knowne
Of many in the Army: Many yeeres
(Though Cloten then but young) you seenot wore him
From my remembrance. And besidesthe King
Hath not deseru'd my Seruicenor your Loues
Who finde in my Exilethe want of Breeding;
The certainty of this heard lifeaye hopelesse
To haue the courtesie your Cradle promis'd
But to be still hot Summers Tanlingsand
The shrinking Slaues of Winter

Gui. Then be so
Better to cease to be. Pray Sirto'th' Army:
Iand my Brother are not knowne; your selfe
So out of thoughtand thereto so ore-growne
Cannot be question'd

Arui. By this Sunne that shines
Ile thither: What thing is'tthat I neuer
Did see man dyescarse euer look'd on blood
But that of Coward Hareshot Goatsand Venison?
Neuer bestrid a Horse saue onethat had
A Rider like my selfewho ne're wore Rowell
Nor Iron on his heele? I am asham'd
To looke vpon the holy Sunneto haue
The benefit of his blest Beamesremaining
So long a poore vnknowne

Gui. By heauens Ile go
If you will blesse me Sirand giue me leaue
Ile take the better care: but if you will not
The hazard therefore due fall on meby
The hands of Romaines

Arui. So say IAmen

Bel. No reason I (since of your liues you set
So 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.
Leadlead; the time seems longtheir blood thinks scorn
Till it flye outand shew them Princes borne.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Posthumus alone.

Post. Yea bloody clothIle keep thee: for I am wisht
Thou should'st be colour'd thus. You married ones
If each of you should take this coursehow many
Must murther Wiues much better then themselues
For wrying but a little? Oh Pisanio
Euery good Seruant do's not all Commands:


No Bondbut to do iust ones. Godsif you
Should haue 'tane vengeance on my faultsI neuer
Had liu'd to put on this: so had you saued
The noble Imogento repentand strooke
Me (wretch) more worth your Vengeance. But alacke
You snatch some hence for little faults; that's loue
To haue them fall no more: you some permit
To second illes with illeseach elder worse
And make them dread itto the dooers thrift.
But Imogen is your ownedo your best willes
And make me blest to obey. I am brought hither
Among th' Italian Gentryand 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
Of these Italian weedesand 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 breatha death: and thusvnknowne
Pittiednor hatedto the face of perill
My selfe Ile dedicate. Let me make men know
More valour in methen my habits show.
Godsput the strength o'th'Leonati in me:
To shame the guize o'th' worldI will begin
The fashion lesse withoutand more within.
Enter.

Scena Secunda.

Enter LuciusIachimoand the Romane Army at one doore: and
the Britaine
Army at another: Leonatus Posthumus following like a poore
Souldier. They
march ouerand goe out. Then enter againe in Skirmish Iachimo
and
Posthumus: he vanquisheth and disarmeth Iachimoand then
leaues him.

Iac. The heauinesse and guilt within my bosome
Takes off my manhood: I haue belyed a Lady
The Princesse of this Country; and the ayre on't
Reuengingly enfeebles meor could this Carle
A very drudge of Natureshaue subdu'de me
In my profession? Knighthoodsand Honors borne
As I weare mine) are titles but of scorne.
If that thy Gentry (Britaine) go before
This Lowtas he exceeds our Lordsthe oddes
Isthat we scarse are menand you are Goddes.
Enter.

The Battaile continuesthe Britaines flyCymbeline is taken: Then
enter
to his rescueBellariusGuideriusand Aruiragus.

Bel. Standstandwe haue th' aduantage of the ground
The Lane is guarded: Nothing rowts vsbut
The villany of our feares

Gui. Arui. Standstandand fight.
Enter Posthumusand seconds the Britaines. They Rescue
Cymbelineand


Exeunt.

Then enter LuciusIachimoand Imogen.

Luc. Away boy from the Troopesand saue thy selfe:
For friends kil friendsand the disorder's such
As warre were hood-wink'd

Iac. 'Tis their fresh supplies

Luc. It is a day turn'd strangely: or betimes
Let's re-inforceor fly.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Posthumusand 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

Post. No blame be to you Sirfor all was lost
But that the Heauens fought: the King himselfe
Of his wings destitutethe Army broken
And but the backes of Britaines seene; all flying
Through a strait Lanethe Enemy full-heart'd
Lolling the Tongue with slaught'ring: hauing worke
More plentifullthen Tooles to doo't: strooke downe
Some mortallysome slightly touch'dsome falling
Meerely through fearethat the strait passe was damm'd
With deadmenhurt behindeand Cowards liuing
To dye with length'ned shame

Lo. Where was this Lane?

Post. Close by the battellditch'd& wall'd with turph
Which gaue aduantage to an ancient Soldiour
(An honest one I warrant) who deseru'd
So long a breedingas his white beard came to
In doing this for's Country. Athwart the Lane
Hewith two striplings (Lads more like to run
The Country basethen to commit such slaughter
With faces fit for Maskesor rather fayrer
Then those for preseruation cas'dor shame)
Made good the passagecryed to those that fled.
Our Britaines hearts dye flyingnot our men
To darknesse fleete soules that flye backwards; stand
Or we are Romanesand will giue you that
Like beastswhich you shun beastlyand may saue
But to looke backe in frowne: Standstand. These three
Three thousand confidentin acte as many:
For three performers are the Filewhen all
The rest do nothing. With this word standstand
Accomodated by the Place; more Charming
With their owne Noblenessewhich could haue turn'd
A Distaffeto a Lanceguilded pale lookes;
Part shamepart spirit renew'dthat some turn'd coward
But by example (Oh a sinne in Warre
Damn'd in the first beginners) gan to looke
The way that they didand to grin like Lyons
Vpon the Pikes o'th' Hunters. Then beganne
A stop i'th' Chaser; a Retyre: Anon


A Rowtconfusion thicke: forthwith they flye
Chickensthe 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: heauenshow they wound
Some slaine before some dying; some their Friends
Ore-borne i'th' former waueten chac'd by one
Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty:
Those that would dyeor ere resistare growne
The mortall bugs o'th' Field

Lord. This was strange chance:
A narrow Lanean old manand two Boyes

Post. Naydo not wonder at it: you are made
Rather to wonder at the things you heare
Then to worke any. Will you Rime vpon't
And vent it for a Mock'rie? Heere is one:
``Two Boyesan Oldman (twice a Boy) a Lane
``Preseru'd the Britaineswas the Romanes bane

Lord. Naybe not angry Sir

Post. Lacketo what end?
Who dares not stand his FoeIle be his Friend:
For if hee'l doas he is made to doo
I know hee'l quickly flye my friendship too.
You haue put me into Rime

Lord. Farewellyou're angry.
Enter.

Post. Still going? This is a Lord: Oh Noble misery
To be i'th' Fieldand aske what newes of me:
To dayhow many would haue giuen their Honours
To haue sau'd their Carkasses? Tooke heele to doo't
And yet dyed too. Iin mine owne woe charm'd
Could not finde deathwhere I did heare him groane
Nor feele him where he strooke. Being an vgly Monster
'Tis strange he hides him in fresh Cupssoft Beds
Sweet words; or hath moe ministers then we
That draw his kniues i'th' War. Well I will finde him:
For being now a Fauourer to the Britaine
No more a BritaineI haue resum'd againe
The part I came in. Fight I will no more
But yeeld me to the veriest Hindethat shall
Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is
Heere made by'th' Romane; great the Answer be
Britaines must take. For memy Ransome's death
On eyther side I come to spend my breath;
Which neyther heere Ile keepenor beare agen
But end it by some meanes for Imogen.
Enter two Captainesand Soldiers.

1 Great Iupiter be prais'dLucius is taken
'Tis thought the old manand his sonneswere Angels

2 There was a fourth manin a silly habit
That gaue th' Affront with them

1 So 'tis reported:
But none of 'em can be found. Standwho's there?
Post. A Roman


Who had not now beene drooping heereif Seconds
Had answer'd him

2 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 CymbelineBelariusGuideriusAruiragusPisanioand
Romane
Captiues. The Captaines present Posthumus to Cymbelinewho
deliuers him
ouer to a Gaoler.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Posthumusand Gaoler.

Gao. You shall not now be stolne
You haue lockes vpon you:
So grazeas you finde Pasture

2.Gao. Ior a stomacke

Post. Most welcome bondage; for thou art a way
(I thinke) to liberty: yet am I better
Then one that's sicke o'th' Gowtsince he had rather
Groane so in perpetuitythen be cur'd
By'th' sure PhysitianDeath; who is the key
T' vnbarre these Lockes. My Consciencethou art fetter'd
More then my shanks& wrists: you good Gods giue me
The 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
Desir'dmore then constrain'dto satisfie
If of my Freedome 'tis the maine parttake
No stricter render of methen my All.
I know you are more clement then vilde men
Who of their broken Debtors take a third
A sixta tenthletting them thriue againe
On their abatement; that's not my desire.
For Imogens deere lifetake mineand though
'Tis not so deereyet 'tis a life; you coyn'd it
'Tweene manand manthey waigh not euery stampe:
Though lighttake Peeces for the figures sake
(You rather) mine being yours: and so great Powres
If you will take this Audittake this life
And cancell these cold Bonds. Oh Imogen
Ile speake to thee in silence.

Solemne Musicke. Enter (as in an Apparation) Sicillius Leonatus
Father
to Posthumusan old manattyred like a warriourleading in his
hand an
ancient Matron (his wife& Mother to Posthumus) with Musicke
before them.
Then after other Musickefollowes the two young Leonati
(Brothers 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 spighton Mortall Flies:
With Mars fall out with Iuno chidethat thy Adulteries
Ratesand 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.
Whose Father then (as men report
thou Orphanes Father art)
Thou should'st haue binand sheelded him
from this earth-vexing smart

Moth. Lucina lent not me her ayde
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
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
That could stand vp his paralell?
Or fruitfull obiect bee?
In eye of Imogenthat best could deeme
his dignitie

Mo. With Marriage wherefore was he mockt
to be exil'dand throwne
From Leonati Seateand cast from her
his deerest one:
Sweete Imogen?

Sic. Why did you suffer Iachimoslight thing of Italy
To taint his Nobler hart & brainewith needlesse ielousy
And to become the geeke and scorne o'th' others vilany?

2 Bro. For thisfrom stiller Seats we came
our Parentsand vs twaine
That striking in our Countries cause
fell brauelyand were slaine
Our Fealty& Tenantius rightwith Honor to maintaine

1 Bro. Like hardiment Posthumus hath
to Cymbeline perform'd:
Then Iupitery King of Godswhy hast y thus adiourn'd
The Graces for his Merits duebeing all to dolors turn'd?

Sicil. Thy Christall window ope; looke
looke outno longer exercise
Vpon a valiant Racethy harshand potent iniuries:

Moth. Since (Iupiter) our Son is good
take off his miseries

Sicil. Peepe through thy Marble Mansionhelpe
or we poore Ghosts will cry
To'th' shining Synod of the restagainst thy Deity

Brothers. Helpe (Iupiter) or we appeale
and from thy iustice flye.


Iupiter descends in Thunder and Lightningsitting vppon an Eagle:
hee
throwes a Thunder-bolt. The Ghostes fall on their knees.


Iupiter. No more you petty Spirits of Region low
Offend our hearing: hush. How dare you Ghostes
Accuse the Thundererwhose Bolt (you know)
Sky-plantedbatters all rebelling Coasts.
Poore shadowes of Eliziumhenceand rest
Vpon your neuer-withering bankes of Flowres.
Be not with mortall accidents opprest
No care of yours it isyou know 'tis ours.
Whom best I loueI crosse; to make my guift
The more delay'ddelighted. Be content
Your low-laide Sonneour Godhead will vplift:
His Comforts thriuehis Trials well are spent:
Our Iouiall Starre reign'd at his Birthand in
Our Temple was he married: Riseand fade
He shall be Lord of Lady Imogen
And happier much by his Affliction made
This Tablet lay vpon his Brestwherein
Our pleasurehis full Fortunedoth confine
And so away: no farther with your dinne
Expresse Impatienceleast you stirre vp mine:
Mount Eagleto my Palace Christalline.

Ascends

Sicil. He came in Thunderhis Celestiall breath
Was sulphurous to smell: the holy Eagle
Stoop'das to foote vs: his Ascension is
More sweet then our blest Fields: his Royall Bird
Prunes the immortall wingand cloyes his Beake
As when his God is pleas'd

All. Thankes Iupiter

Sic. The Marble Pauement clozeshe is enter'd
His radiant Roofe: Awayand to be blest
Let vs with care performe his great behest.

Vanish

Post. Sleepethou hast bin a Grandsireand begot
A Father to me: and thou hast created
A Motherand two Brothers. But (oh scorne)
Gonethey went hence so soone as they were borne:
And so I am awake. Poore Wretchesthat depend
On GreatnesseFauour; Dreame as I haue done
Wakeand finde nothing. But (alas) I swerue:
Many Dreame not to findeneither deserue
And yet are steep'd in Fauours; so am I
That haue this Golden chanceand know not why:
What Fayeries haunt this ground? A Book? Oh rare one
Be notas is our fangled worlda Garment
Nobler then that it couers. Let thy effects
So followto be most vnlike our Courtiers
As goodas promise.

Reades.

When as a Lyons whelpeshall to himselfe vnknownwithout
seeking findeand bee embrac'd by a peece of tender
Ayre: And when from a stately Cedar shall be lopt branches


which being dead many yearesshall after reuiuebee ioynted to
the old Stockeand freshly growthen shall Posthumus end his
miseriesBritaine be fortunateand flourish in Peace and Plentie.
'Tis still a Dreame: or else such stuffe as Madmen
Tongueand braine not: either bothor nothing
Or senselesse speakingor a speaking such
As sense cannot vntye. Be what it is
The Action of my life is like itwhich Ile keepe
If but for simpathy.
Enter Gaoler.

Gao. Come Sirare you ready for death?
Post. Ouer-roasted rather: ready long ago


Gao. Hanging is the wordSirif you bee readie for
thatyou are well Cook'd

Post. So if I proue a good repast to the Spectatorsthe
dish payes the shot

Gao. A heauy reckoning for you Sir: But the comfort
is you shall be called to no more paymentsfear no more
Tauerne Bilswhich are often the sadnesse of partingas
the procuring of mirth: you come in faint for want of
meatedepart reeling with too much drinke: sorrie that
you haue payed too muchand sorry that you are payed
too much: Purse and Braineboth empty: the Brain the
heauierfor being too light; the Purse too lightbeing
drawne of heauinesse. Ohof this contradiction you shall
now be quit: Oh the charity of a penny Cordit summes
vp thousands in a trice: you haue no true Debitorand
Creditor but it: of what's pastisand to comethe discharge:
your necke (Sir) is PenBookeand Counters; so
the Acquittance followes

Post. I am merrier to dyethen thou art to liue

Gao. Indeed Sirhe that sleepesfeeles not the Tooth-Ache:
but a man that were to sleepe your sleepeand a
Hangman to helpe him to bedI think he would change
places with his Officer: forlook you Siryou know not
which way you shall go

Post. Yes indeed do Ifellow

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 knowor to take vpon your
selfe 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 endI thinke you'l neuer returne
to tell one

Post. I tell theeFellowthere are none want eyesto
direct them the way I am goingbut such as winkeand
will not vse them

Gao. What an infinite mocke is thisthat a man shold
haue the best vse of eyesto see the way of blindnesse: I
am sure hanging's the way of winking.
Enter a Messenger.

Mes. Knocke off his Manaclesbring your Prisoner to
the King


Post. Thou bring'st good newesI am call'd to bee
made free

Gao. Ile be hang'd then

Post. Thou shalt be then freer then a Gaoler; no bolts
for the dead

Gao. Vnlesse a man would marry a Gallowes& beget
yong GibbetsI neuer saw one so prone: yet on my
Consciencethere are verier Knaues desire to liuefor all
he be a Roman; and there be some of them too that dye
against their willes; so should Iif I were one. I would
we were all of one mindeand one minde good: O there
were desolation of Gaolers and Galowses: I speake against
my present profitbut my wish hath a preferment
in't.

Exeunt.

Scena Quinta.

Enter CymbelineBellariusGuideriusAruiragusPisanioand
Lords.

Cym. Stand by my side youwhom the Gods haue made
Preseruers of my Throne: woe is my heart
That the poore Souldier that so richly fought
Whose raggessham'd gilded Armeswhose naked brest
Stept before Targes of proofecannot be found:
He shall be happy that can finde himif
Our Grace can make him so

Bel. I neuer saw
Such Noble fury in so poore a Thing;
Such precious deedsin one that promist nought
But beggeryand 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 greefeI am
The heyre of his Rewardwhich I will adde
To you (the LiuerHeartand Braine of Britaine)
By whom (I grant) she liues. 'Tis now the time
To aske of whence you are. Report it

Bel. Sir
In Cambria are we borneand Gentlemen:
Further to boastwere neyther truenor modest
Vnlesse I addewe are honest

Cym. Bow your knees:
Arise my Knights o'th' BattellI create you
Companions to our personand 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
And not o'th' Court of Britaine


Corn. Hayle great King
To sowre your happinesseI must report
The Queene is dead

Cym. Who worse then a Physitian
Would this report become? But I consider
By Med'cine life may be prolong'dyet death
Will seize the Doctor too. How ended she?

Cor. With horrormadly dyinglike her life
Which (being cruell to the world) concluded
Most cruell to her selfe. What she confest
I will reportso please you. These her Women
Can trip meif I errewho with wet cheekes
Were present when she finish'd

Cym. Prythee say

Cor. Firstshe confest she neuer lou'd you: onely
Affected Greatnesse got by you: not you:
Married your Royaltywas wife to your place:
Abhorr'd your person

Cym. She alone knew this:
And but she spoke it dyingI would not
Beleeue her lips in opening it. Proceed

Corn. Your daughterwhom she bore in hand to loue
With such integrityshe did confesse
Was as a Scorpion to her sightwhose life
(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 Sirand worse. She did confesse she had
For you a mortall Minerallwhich being tooke
Should by the minute feede on lifeand ling'ring
By inches waste you. In which timeshe purpos'd
By watchingweepingtendancekissingto
Orecome you with her shew; and in time
(When she had fitted you with her craftto worke
Her Sonne into th' adoption of the Crowne:
But fayling of her end by his strange absence
Grew shamelesse desperateopen'd (in despight
Of Heauenand Men) her purposes: repented
The euils she hatch'dwere not effected: so
Dispayringdyed

Cym. Heard you all thisher Women?
La. We didso please your Highnesse


Cym. Mine eyes
Were not in faultfor she was beautifull:
Mine eares that heare her flatterynor 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 methou mayst say
And proue it in thy feeling. Heauen mend all.
Enter LuciusIachimoand other Roman prisonersLeonatus
behindand
Imogen.

Thou comm'st not Caius now for Tributethat


The Britaines haue rac'd outthough with the losse
Of many a bold one: whose Kinsmen haue made suite
That their good soules may be appeas'dwith slaughter
Of you their Captiueswhich our selfe haue granted
So thinke of your estate

Luc. Consider Sirthe chance of Warrethe day
Was yours by accident: had it gone with vs
We should not when the blood was coolhaue threatend
Our Prisoners with the Sword. But since the Gods
Will haue it thusthat nothing but our liues
May be call'd ransomelet it come: Sufficeth
A Romanwith a Romans heart can suffer:
Augustus liues to thinke on't: and so much
For my peculiar care. This one thing onely
I will entreatemy Boy (a Britaine borne)
Let him be ransom'd: Neuer Master had
A Page so kindeso duteousdiligent
So tender ouer his occasionstrue
So feateso Nurse-like: let his vertue ioyne
With my requestwhich Ile make bold your Highnesse
Cannot deny: he hath done no Britaine harme
Though 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
And art mine owne. I know not whywherefore
To sayliue boy: ne're thanke thy Masterliue;
And aske of Cymbeline what Boone thou wilt
Fitting my bountyand thy stateIle giue it:
Yeathough thou do demand a Prisoner
The Noblest tane

Imo. I humbly thanke your Highnesse

Luc. I do not bid thee begge my lifegood Lad
And yet I know thou wilt

Imo. Nonoalacke
There's other worke in hand: I see a thing
Bitter to meas death: your lifegood Master
Must shuffle for it selfe

Luc. The Boy disdaines me
He leaues mescornes me: briefely dye their ioyes
That place them on the truth of Gyrlesand Boyes.
Why stands he so perplext?

Cym. What would'st thou Boy?
I loue thee moreand more: thinke more and more
What's best to aske. Know'st him thou look'st on? speak
Wilt haue him liue? Is he thy Kin? thy Friend?

Imo. He is a Romaneno more kin to me
Then I to your Highnessewho being born your vassaile
Am something neerer

Cym. Wherefore ey'st him so?
Imo. Ile tell you (Sir) in priuateif you please
To giue me hearing

Cym. Iwith all my heart
And lend my best attention. What's thy name?
Imo. Fidele Sir


Cym. 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:
Who dyedand was Fidele: what thinke you?

Gui. The same dead thing aliue

Bel. Peacepeacesee further: he eyes vs notforbeare
Creatures may be alike: were't heI am sure
He would haue spoke to vs

Gui. But we see him dead

Bel. Be silent: let's see further

Pisa. It is my Mistris:
Since she is liuinglet the time run on
To goodor bad

Cym. Comestand thou by our side
Make thy demand alowd. Sirstep you forth
Giue answer to this Boyand do it freely
Or by our Greatnesseand the grace of it
(Which is our Honor) bitter torture shall
Winnow the truth from falshood. One speake to him

Imo. My boone isthat this Gentleman may render
Of whom he had this Ring

Post. What's that to him?
Cym. That Diamond vpon your Fingersay
How came it yours?
Iach. Thou'lt torture me to leaue vnspokenthat
Which to be spokewou'd torture thee

Cym. How? me?

Iach. I am glad to be constrain'd to vtter that
Which 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 Sirne're liu'd
'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou heare more my Lord?

Cym. All that belongs to this

Iach. That Paragonthy daughter
For whom my heart drops bloodand my false spirits
Quaile to remember. Giue me leaueI faint

Cym. My Daughter? what of hir? Renew thy strength
I had rather thou should'st liuewhile Nature will
Then dye ere I heare more: striue manand speake

Iach. Vpon a timevnhappy was the clocke
That strooke the houre: it was in Romeaccurst
The Mansion where: 'twas at a Feastoh would
Our 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 wereand was the best of all
Among'st the rar'st of good ones) sitting sadly
Hearing vs praise our Loues of Italy


For Beautythat made barren the swell'd boast
Of him that best could speake: for Featurelaming
The Shrine of Venusor straight-pight Minerua
Posturesbeyond breefe Nature. For Condition
A shop of all the qualitiesthat man
Loues woman forbesides that hooke of Wiuing
Fairenessewhich strikes the eye

Cym. I stand on fire. Come to the matter

Iach. All too soone I shall
Vnlesse thou would'st greeue quickly. This Posthumus
Most like a Noble Lordin loueand one
That had a Royall Louertooke his hint
And (not dispraising whom we prais'dtherein
He was as calme as vertue) he began
His Mistris picturewhichby his tonguebeing made
And then a minde put in'teither our bragges
Were crak'd of Kitchin-Trullesor his description
Prou'd vs vnspeaking sottes

Cym. Naynayto'th' purpose

Iach. Your daughters Chastity(there it beginnes)
He spake of heras Dian had hot dreames
And she alonewere cold: WhereatI wretch
Made scruple of his praiseand wager'd with him
Peeces of Gold'gainst thiswhich then he wore
Vpon his honour'd finger) to attaine
In suite the place of's bedand winne this Ring
By hersand mine Adultery: he (true Knight)
No lesser of her Honour confident
Then I did truly finde herstakes this Ring
And would sohad it beene a Carbuncle
Of Phoebus Wheele; and might so safelyhad it
Bin all the worth of's Carre. Away to Britaine
Poste I in this designe: Well may you (Sir)
Remember me at Courtwhere I was taught
Of your chaste Daughterthe wide difference
'Twixt Amorousand Villanous. Being thus quench'd
Of hopenot longing; mine Italian braine
Gan in your duller Britaine operate
Most vildely: for my vantage excellent.
And to be breefemy 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 thusand thus: auerring notes
Of Chamber-hangingPicturesthis her Bracelet
(Oh cunning how I got) nay some markes
Of secret on her personthat he could not
But thinke her bond of Chastity quite crack'd
I hauing 'tane the forfeyt. Whereupon
Me thinkes I see him now

Post. I so thou do'st
Italian Fiend. Aye memost credulous Foole
Egregious murthererTheefeany thing
That's due to all the Villaines pastin being
To come. Oh giue me Cordor knifeor poyson
Some vpright Iusticer. Thou Kingsend out
For Torturors ingenious: it is I
That all th' abhorred things o'th' earth amend
By being worse then they. I am Posthumus


That kill'd thy Daughter: Villain-likeI lye
That caus'd a lesser villaine then my selfe
A sacrilegious Theefe to doo't. The Temple
Of Vertue was she; yeaand she her selfe.
Spitand throw stonescast myre vpon meset
The dogges o'th' street to bay me: euery villaine
Be call'd Posthumus Leonatusand
Be villany lesse then 'twas. Oh Imogen!
My Queenemy lifemy wife: oh Imogen
ImogenImogen


Imo. Peace my Lordheareheare

Post. Shall's haue a play of this?
Thou scornfull Pagethere lye thy part

Pis. Oh Gentlemenhelpe
Mine and your Mistris: Oh my Lord Posthumus
You ne're kill'd Imogen till now: helpehelpe
Mine honour'd Lady

Cym. Does the world go round?
Posth. How comes these staggers on mee?
Pisa. Wake my Mistris


Cym. If this be sothe Gods do meane to strike me
To deathwith mortall ioy

Pisa. How fares my Mistris?

Imo. Oh get thee from my sight
Thou gau'st me poyson: dangerous Fellow hence
Breath not where Princes are

Cym. The tune of Imogen

Pisa. Ladythe Gods throw stones of sulpher on meif
That box I gaue youwas not thought by mee
A precious thingI had it from the Queene

Cym. 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
Haue (said she) giuen his Mistris that Confection
Which I gaue him for Cordiallshe is seru'd
As I would serue a Rat

Cym. What's thisCornelius?

Corn. The Queene (Sir) very oft importun'd me
To temper poysons for herstill pretending
The satisfaction of her knowledgeonely
In killing Creatures vildeas Cats and Dogges
Of no esteeme. I dreadingthat her purpose
Was of more dangerdid compound for her
A certaine stuffewhich being tanewould cease
The present powre of lifebut in short time
All Offices of Natureshould againe
Do their due Functions. Haue you tane of it?

Imo. Most like I didfor I was dead

Bel. My Boyesthere was our error


Gui. This is sure Fidele

Imo. Why did you throw your wedded Lady fro[m] you?
Thinke that you are vpon a Rockeand now
Throw me againe

Post. Hang there like fruitemy soule
Till the Tree dye

Cym. How nowmy Flesh? my Childe?
Whatmak'st thou me a dullard in this Act?
Wilt thou not speake to me?

Imo. Your blessingSir

Bel. Though you did loue this youthI blame ye not
You had a motiue for't

Cym. My teares that fall
Proue holy-water on thee; Imogen
Thy Mothers dead

Imo. I am sorry for'tmy Lord

Cym. Ohshe was naught; and long of her it was
That we meet heere so strangely: but her Sonne
Is gonewe know not hownor where

Pisa. My Lord
Now feare is from meIle speake troth. Lord Cloten
Vpon my Ladies missingcame to me
With his Sword drawnefoam'd at the mouthand swore
If I discouer'd not which way she was gone
It was my instant death. By accident
I had a feigned Letter of my Masters
Then in my pocketwhich directed him
To seeke her on the Mountaines neere to Milford
Where in a frenziein my Masters Garments
(Which he inforc'd from me) away he postes
With vnchaste purposeand with oath to violate
My Ladies honorwhat became of him
I further know not

Gui. Let me end the Story: I slew him there

Cym. Marrythe Gods forefend.
I would not thy good deedsshould from my lips
Plucke a hard sentence: Prythee valiant youth
Deny't againe

Gui. I haue spoke itand I did it

Cym. 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
And 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'dand must
Endure our Law: Thou'rt dead


Imo. That headlesse man I thought had bin my Lord
Cym. Binde the Offender
And take him from our presence

Bel. StaySir King.
This man is better then the man he slew
As well descended as thy selfeand hath
More of thee meritedthen a Band of Clotens
Had euer scarre for. Let his Armes alone
They were not borne for bondage

Cym. Why old Soldier:
Wilt 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

Bel. We will dye all three
But I will proue that two one's are as good
As I haue giuen out him. My SonnesI must
For mine owne partvnfold a dangerous speech
Though haply well for you

Arui. Your danger's ours

Guid. And our good his

Bel. Haue at it thenby leaue
Thou hadd'st (great King) a Subiectwho
Was call'd Belarius

Cym. What of him? He is a banish'd Traitor

Bel. He it isthat hath
Assum'd this age: indeed a banish'd man
I know not howa Traitor

Cym. Take him hence
The whole world shall not saue him

Bel. Not too hot;
First pay me for the Nursing of thy Sonnes
And let it be confiscate allso soone
As I haue receyu'd it

Cym. Nursing of my Sonnes?

Bel. I am too bluntand sawcy: heere's my knee:
Ere I ariseI will preferre my Sonnes
Then spare not the old Father. Mighty Sir
These two young Gentlemen that call me Father
And thinke they are my Sonnesare none of mine
They are the yssue of your Loynesmy Liege
And blood of your begetting

Cym. How? my Issue

Bel. So sure as youyour Fathers: I (old Morgan)
Am that Belariuswhom you sometime banish'd:
Your pleasure was my neere offencemy punishment
It selfeand all my Treason that I suffer'd
Was all the harme I did. These gentle Princes


(For suchand so they are) these twenty yeares
Haue I train'd vp; those Arts they haueas 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
Hauing 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 feltthe more it shap'd
Vnto my end of stealing them. But gracious Sir
Heere are your Sonnes againeand I must loose
Two of the sweet'st Companions in the World.
The benediction of these couering Heauens
Fall on their heads like dewfor they are worthie
To in-lay Heauen with Starres

Cym. Thou weep'stand speak'st:
The Seruice that you three haue doneis more
Vnlikethen this thou tell'st. I lost my Children
If these be theyI know not how to wish
A payre of worthier Sonnes

Bel. Be pleas'd awhile;
This Gentlemanwhom I call Polidore
Most worthy Princeas yoursis true Guiderius:
This Gentlemanmy CadwallAruiragus.
Your yonger Princely Sonhe Sirwas lapt
In a most curious Mantlewrought by th' hand
Of his Queene Motherwhich for more probation
I can with ease produce

Cym. Guiderius had
Vpon his necke a Molea sanguine Starre
It was a marke of wonder

Bel. This is he
Who hath vpon him still that naturall stampe:
It was wise Natures endin the donation
To be his euidence now

Cym. Ohwhat am I
A Mother to the byrth of three? Nere Mother
Reioyc'd deliuerance more: Blestpray you be
That after this strange starting from your Orbes
You may reigne in them now: Oh Imogen
Thou hast lost by this a Kingdome

Imo. Nomy 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
When 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
Continew'd sovntill 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 brancheswhich
Distinction 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
I know not how much more should be demanded
And all the other by-dependances
From chance to chance? But nor the Timenor Place
Will serue our long Interrogatories. See
Posthumus Anchors vpon Imogen;
And she (like harmlesse Lightning) throwes her eye
On him: her BrothersMe: 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.
Thou art my Brotherso wee'l hold thee euer


Imo. You are my Father tooand did releeue me:
To see this gracious season

Cym. All ore-ioy'd
Saue these in bondslet them be ioyfull too
For they shall taste our Comfort

Imo. My good MasterI will yet do you seruice

Luc. Happy be you

Cym. The forlorne Souldierthat so Nobly fought
He would haue well becom'd this placeand grac'd
The 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
Speake IachimoI had you downeand 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 lifebeseech you
Which I so often owe: but your Ring first
And heere the Bracelet of the truest Princesse
That euer swore the Faith

Post. Kneele not to me:
The powre that I haue on youis to spare you:
The malice towards youto forgiue you. Liue
And deale with others better

Cym. Nobly doom'd:
Wee'l learne our Freenesse of a Sonne-in-Law:
Pardon's the word to all

Arui. You holpe vs Sir
As you did meane indeed to be our Brother
Ioy'd are wethat you are

Post. Your Seruant Princes. Good my Lord of Rome
Call forth your Sooth-sayer: As I sleptme thought
Great Iupiter vpon his Eagle back'd


Appear'd to mewith other sprightly shewes
Of mine owne Kindred. When I wak'dI found
This Labell on my bosome; whose containing
Is so from sense in hardnessethat I can
Make no Collection of it. Let him shew
His skill in the construction

Luc. Philarmonus

Sooth. Heeremy good Lord

Luc. Readand declare the meaning.

Reades.

When as a Lyons whelpeshall to himselfe vnknownwithout
seeking findeand bee embrac'd by a peece of tender
Ayre: And when from a stately Cedar shall be lopt branches
which being dead many yearesshall after reuiuebee ioynted to
the old Stockeand freshly growthen shall Posthumus end his
miseriesBritaine be fortunateand flourish in Peace and Plentie.
Thou Leonatus art the Lyons Whelpe
The fit and apt Construction of thy name
Being Leonatusdoth import so much:
The peece of tender Ayrethy vertuous Daughter
Which we call Mollis Aerand Mollis Aer
We terme it Mulier; which Mulier I diuine
Is this most constant Wifewho euen now
Answering the Letter of the Oracle
Vnknowne to you vnsoughtwere clipt about
With this most tender Aire

Cym. This hath some seeming

Sooth. The lofty CedarRoyall Cymbeline
Personates thee: And thy lopt Branchespoint
Thy two Sonnes forth: who by Belarius stolne
For many yeares thought deadare now reuiu'd
To the Maiesticke Cedar ioyn'd; whose Issue
Promises BritainePeace and Plenty

Cym. Well
My Peace we will begin: And Caius Lucius
Although the Victorwe submit to Caesar
And to the Romane Empire; promising
To pay our wonted Tributefrom the which
We were disswaded by our wicked Queene
Whom heauens in Iustice both on herand hers
Haue laid most heauy hand

Sooth. The fingers of the Powres abouedo tune
The harmony of this Peace: the Vision
Which I made knowne to Lucius ere the stroke
Of yet this scarse-cold-Battaileat this instant
Is full accomplish'd. For the Romaine Eagle
From South to Weston wing soaring aloft
Lessen'd her selfeand in the Beames o'th' Sun
So vanish'd; which fore-shew'd our Princely Eagle
Th' Imperiall Caesarshould againe vnite
His Fauourwith the Radiant Cymbeline
Which shines heere in the West

Cym. Laud we the Gods
And let our crooked Smoakes climbe to their Nostrils


From our blest Altars. Publish we this Peace
To all our Subiects. Set we forward: Let
A Romanand a Brittish Ensigne waue
Friendly together: so through Luds-Towne march
And in the Temple of great Iupiter
Our Peace wee'l ratifie: Seale it with Feasts.
Set on there: Neuer was a Warre did cease
(Ere bloodie hands were wash'd) with such a Peace.

Exeunt.

FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF CYMBELINE.