Act I, Scene 1

Britain. The garden of Cymbeline’s palace.

[Enter two Gentlemen]

• First Gentleman. You do not meet a man but frowns: our bloods
  No more obey the heavens than our courtiers
  Still seem as does the king.

• Second Gentleman. But what's the matter? 5

• First Gentleman. His daughter, and the heir of's kingdom, whom
  He purposed to his wife's sole son—a widow
  That late he married—hath referr'd herself
  Unto a poor but worthy gentleman: she's wedded;
  Her husband banish'd; she imprison'd: all 10
  Is outward sorrow; though I think the king
  Be touch'd at very heart.

• Second Gentleman. None but the king?

• First Gentleman. He that hath lost her too; so is the queen,
  That most desired the match; but not a courtier, 15
  Although they wear their faces to the bent
  Of the king's look's, hath a heart that is not
  Glad at the thing they scowl at.

• Second Gentleman. And why so?

• First Gentleman. He that hath miss'd the princess is a thing 20
  Too bad for bad report: and he that hath her—
  I mean, that married her, alack, good man!
  And therefore banish'd—is a creature such
  As, to seek through the regions of the earth
  For one his like, there would be something failing 25
  In him that should compare. I do not think
  So fair an outward and such stuff within
  Endows a man but he.

• Second Gentleman. You speak him far.

• First Gentleman. I do extend him, sir, within himself, 30
  Crush him together rather than unfold
  His measure duly.

• Second Gentleman. What's his name and birth?

• First Gentleman. I cannot delve him to the root: his father
  Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour 35
  Against the Romans with Cassibelan,
  But had his titles by Tenantius whom
  He served with glory and admired success,
  So gain'd the sur-addition Leonatus;
  And had, besides this gentleman in question, 40
  Two other sons, who in the wars o' the time
  Died with their swords in hand; for which
  their father,
  Then old and fond of issue, took such sorrow
  That he quit being, and his gentle lady, 45
  Big of this gentleman our theme, deceased
  As he was born. The king he takes the babe
  To his protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus,
  Breeds him and makes him of his bed-chamber,
  Puts to him all the learnings that his time 50
  Could make him the receiver of; which he took,
  As we do air, fast as 'twas minister'd,
  And in's spring became a harvest, lived in court—
  Which rare it is to do—most praised, most loved,
  A sample to the youngest, to the more mature 55
  A glass that feated them, and to the graver
  A child that guided dotards; to his mistress,
  For whom he now is banish'd, her own price
  Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue;
  By her election may be truly read 60
  What kind of man he is.

• Second Gentleman. I honour him
  Even out of your report. But, pray you, tell me,
  Is she sole child to the king?

• First Gentleman. His only child. 65
  He had two sons: if this be worth your hearing,
  Mark it: the eldest of them at three years old,
  I' the swathing-clothes the other, from their nursery
  Were stol'n, and to this hour no guess in knowledge
  Which way they went. 70

• Second Gentleman. How long is this ago?

• First Gentleman. Some twenty years.

• Second Gentleman. That a king's children should be so convey'd,
  So slackly guarded, and the search so slow,
  That could not trace them! 75

• First Gentleman. Howsoe'er 'tis strange,
  Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at,
  Yet is it true, sir.

• Second Gentleman. I do well believe you.

• First Gentleman. We must forbear: here comes the gentleman, 80
  The queen, and princess.

[Exeunt]

[Enter the QUEEN, POSTHUMUS LEONATUS, and IMOGEN]

• Queen. No, be assured you shall not find me, daughter,
  After the slander of most stepmothers, 85
  Evil-eyed unto you: you're my prisoner, but
  Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys
  That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus,
  So soon as I can win the offended king,
  I will be known your advocate: marry, yet 90
  The fire of rage is in him, and 'twere good
  You lean'd unto his sentence with what patience
  Your wisdom may inform you.

• Posthumus Leonatus. Please your highness,
  I will from hence to-day. 95

• Queen. You know the peril.
  I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying
  The pangs of barr'd affections, though the king
  Hath charged you should not speak together.

[Exit]

• Imogen. O
  Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant
  Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband,
  I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing—
  Always reserved my holy duty—what 105
  His rage can do on me: you must be gone;
  And I shall here abide the hourly shot
  Of angry eyes, not comforted to live,
  But that there is this jewel in the world
  That I may see again. 110

• Posthumus Leonatus. My queen! my mistress!
  O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause
  To be suspected of more tenderness
  Than doth become a man. I will remain
  The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth: 115
  My residence in Rome at one Philario's,
  Who to my father was a friend, to me
  Known but by letter: thither write, my queen,
  And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send,
  Though ink be made of gall. 120

[Re-enter QUEEN]

• Queen. Be brief, I pray you:
  If the king come, I shall incur I know not
  How much of his displeasure.
  [Aside] 125
  Yet I'll move him
  To walk this way: I never do him wrong,
  But he does buy my injuries, to be friends;
  Pays dear for my offences.

[Exit]

• Posthumus Leonatus. Should we be taking leave
  As long a term as yet we have to live,
  The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu!

• Imogen. Nay, stay a little:
  Were you but riding forth to air yourself, 135
  Such parting were too petty. Look here, love;
  This diamond was my mother's: take it, heart;
  But keep it till you woo another wife,
  When Imogen is dead.

• Posthumus Leonatus. How, how! another? 140
  You gentle gods, give me but this I have,
  And sear up my embracements from a next
  With bonds of death!
  [Putting on the ring]
  Remain, remain thou here 145
  While sense can keep it on. And, sweetest, fairest,
  As I my poor self did exchange for you,
  To your so infinite loss, so in our trifles
  I still win of you: for my sake wear this;
  It is a manacle of love; I'll place it 150
  Upon this fairest prisoner.

[Putting a bracelet upon her arm]

• Imogen. O the gods!
  When shall we see again?

[Enter CYMBELINE and Lords]

• Posthumus Leonatus. Alack, the king!

• Cymbeline. Thou basest thing, avoid! hence, from my sight!
  If after this command thou fraught the court
  With thy unworthiness, thou diest: away!
  Thou'rt poison to my blood. 160

• Posthumus Leonatus. The gods protect you!
  And bless the good remainders of the court! I am gone.

[Exit]

• Imogen. There cannot be a pinch in death
  More sharp than this is. 165

• Cymbeline. O disloyal thing,
  That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap'st
  A year's age on me.

• Imogen. I beseech you, sir,
  Harm not yourself with your vexation 170
  I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare
  Subdues all pangs, all fears.

• Cymbeline. Past grace? obedience?

• Imogen. Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace.

• Cymbeline. That mightst have had the sole son of my queen! 175

• Imogen. O blest, that I might not! I chose an eagle,
  And did avoid a puttock.

• Cymbeline. Thou took'st a beggar; wouldst have made my throne
  A seat for baseness.

• Imogen. No; I rather added 180
  A lustre to it.

• Cymbeline. O thou vile one!

• Imogen. Sir,
  It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus:
  You bred him as my playfellow, and he is 185
  A man worth any woman, overbuys me
  Almost the sum he pays.

• Cymbeline. What, art thou mad?

• Imogen. Almost, sir: heaven restore me! Would I were
  A neat-herd's daughter, and my Leonatus 190
  Our neighbour shepherd's son!

• Cymbeline. Thou foolish thing!
  [Re-enter QUEEN]
  They were again together: you have done
  Not after our command. Away with her, 195
  And pen her up.

• Queen. Beseech your patience. Peace,
  Dear lady daughter, peace! Sweet sovereign,
  Leave us to ourselves; and make yourself some comfort
  Out of your best advice. 200

• Cymbeline. Nay, let her languish
  A drop of blood a day; and, being aged,
  Die of this folly!

[Exeunt CYMBELINE and Lords]

• Queen. Fie! you must give way. 205
  [Enter PISANIO]
  Here is your servant. How now, sir! What news?

• Pisanio. My lord your son drew on my master.

• Queen. Ha!
  No harm, I trust, is done? 210

• Pisanio. There might have been,
  But that my master rather play'd than fought
  And had no help of anger: they were parted
  By gentlemen at hand.

• Queen. I am very glad on't. 215

• Imogen. Your son's my father's friend; he takes his part.
  To draw upon an exile! O brave sir!
  I would they were in Afric both together;
  Myself by with a needle, that I might prick
  The goer-back. Why came you from your master? 220

• Pisanio. On his command: he would not suffer me
  To bring him to the haven; left these notes
  Of what commands I should be subject to,
  When 't pleased you to employ me.

• Queen. This hath been 225
  Your faithful servant: I dare lay mine honour
  He will remain so.

• Pisanio. I humbly thank your highness.

• Queen. Pray, walk awhile.

• Imogen. About some half-hour hence, 230
  I pray you, speak with me: you shall at least
  Go see my lord aboard: for this time leave me.

[Exeunt]

Act I, Scene 2

The same. A public place.

[Enter CLOTEN and two Lords]

• First Lord. Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the 235
  violence of action hath made you reek as a
  sacrifice: where air comes out, air comes in:
  there's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent.

• Cloten. If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Have I hurt him?

• Second Lord. [Aside] No, 'faith; not so much as his patience. 240

• First Lord. Hurt him! his body's a passable carcass, if he be
  not hurt: it is a thoroughfare for steel, if it be not hurt.

• Second Lord. [Aside] His steel was in debt; it went o' the
  backside the town.

• Cloten. The villain would not stand me. 245

• Second Lord. [Aside] No; but he fled forward still, toward your face.

• First Lord. Stand you! You have land enough of your own: but
  he added to your having; gave you some ground.

• Second Lord. [Aside] As many inches as you have oceans. Puppies!

• Cloten. I would they had not come between us. 250

• Second Lord. [Aside] So would I, till you had measured how long
  a fool you were upon the ground.

• Cloten. And that she should love this fellow and refuse me!

• Second Lord. [Aside] If it be a sin to make a true election, she
  is damned. 255

• First Lord. Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain
  go not together: she's a good sign, but I have seen
  small reflection of her wit.

• Second Lord. [Aside] She shines not upon fools, lest the
  reflection should hurt her. 260

• Cloten. Come, I'll to my chamber. Would there had been some
  hurt done!

• Second Lord. [Aside] I wish not so; unless it had been the fall
  of an ass, which is no great hurt.

• Cloten. You'll go with us? 265

• First Lord. I'll attend your lordship.

• Cloten. Nay, come, let's go together.

• Second Lord. Well, my lord.

[Exeunt]

Act I, Scene 3

A room in Cymbeline’s palace.

[Enter IMOGEN and PISANIO]

• Imogen. I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' the haven,
  And question'dst every sail: if he should write
  And not have it, 'twere a paper lost,
  As offer'd mercy is. What was the last
  That he spake to thee? 275

• Pisanio. It was his queen, his queen!

• Imogen. Then waved his handkerchief?

• Pisanio. And kiss'd it, madam.

• Imogen. Senseless Linen! happier therein than I!
  And that was all? 280

• Pisanio. No, madam; for so long
  As he could make me with this eye or ear
  Distinguish him from others, he did keep
  The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief,
  Still waving, as the fits and stirs of 's mind 285
  Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on,
  How swift his ship.

• Imogen. Thou shouldst have made him
  As little as a crow, or less, ere left
  To after-eye him. 290

• Pisanio. Madam, so I did.

• Imogen. I would have broke mine eye-strings; crack'd them, but
  To look upon him, till the diminution
  Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle,
  Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from 295
  The smallness of a gnat to air, and then
  Have turn'd mine eye and wept. But, good Pisanio,
  When shall we hear from him?

• Pisanio. Be assured, madam,
  With his next vantage. 300

• Imogen. I did not take my leave of him, but had
  Most pretty things to say: ere I could tell him
  How I would think on him at certain hours
  Such thoughts and such, or I could make him swear
  The shes of Italy should not betray 305
  Mine interest and his honour, or have charged him,
  At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight,
  To encounter me with orisons, for then
  I am in heaven for him; or ere I could
  Give him that parting kiss which I had set 310
  Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father
  And like the tyrannous breathing of the north
  Shakes all our buds from growing.

[Enter a Lady]

• Lady. The queen, madam, 315
  Desires your highness' company.

• Imogen. Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch'd.
  I will attend the queen.

• Pisanio. Madam, I shall.

[Exeunt]

Act I, Scene 4

Rome. Philario’s house.

[Enter PHILARIO, IACHIMO, a Frenchman, a] [p]Dutchman, and a Spaniard]

• Iachimo. Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Britain: he was
  then of a crescent note, expected to prove so worthy
  as since he hath been allowed the name of; but I 325
  could then have looked on him without the help of
  admiration, though the catalogue of his endowments
  had been tabled by his side and I to peruse him by items.

• Philario. You speak of him when he was less furnished than now
  he is with that which makes him both without and within. 330

• Frenchman. I have seen him in France: we had very many there
  could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he.

• Iachimo. This matter of marrying his king's daughter, wherein
  he must be weighed rather by her value than his own,
  words him, I doubt not, a great deal from the matter. 335

• Frenchman. And then his banishment.

• Iachimo. Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this
  lamentable divorce under her colours are wonderfully
  to extend him; be it but to fortify her judgment,
  which else an easy battery might lay flat, for 340
  taking a beggar without less quality. But how comes
  it he is to sojourn with you? How creeps
  acquaintance?

• Philario. His father and I were soldiers together; to whom I
  have been often bound for no less than my life. 345
  Here comes the Briton: let him be so entertained
  amongst you as suits, with gentlemen of your
  knowing, to a stranger of his quality.
  [Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS]
  I beseech you all, be better known to this 350
  gentleman; whom I commend to you as a noble friend
  of mine: how worthy he is I will leave to appear
  hereafter, rather than story him in his own hearing.

• Frenchman. Sir, we have known together in Orleans.

• Posthumus Leonatus. Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies, 355
  which I will be ever to pay and yet pay still.

• Frenchman. Sir, you o'er-rate my poor kindness: I was glad I
  did atone my countryman and you; it had been pity
  you should have been put together with so mortal a
  purpose as then each bore, upon importance of so 360
  slight and trivial a nature.

• Posthumus Leonatus. By your pardon, sir, I was then a young traveller;
  rather shunned to go even with what I heard than in
  my every action to be guided by others' experiences:
  but upon my mended judgment—if I offend not to say 365
  it is mended—my quarrel was not altogether slight.

• Frenchman. 'Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords,
  and by such two that would by all likelihood have
  confounded one the other, or have fallen both.

• Iachimo. Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference? 370

• Frenchman. Safely, I think: 'twas a contention in public,
  which may, without contradiction, suffer the report.
  It was much like an argument that fell out last
  night, where each of us fell in praise of our
  country mistresses; this gentleman at that time 375
  vouching—and upon warrant of bloody
  affirmation—his to be more fair, virtuous, wise,
  chaste, constant-qualified and less attemptable
  than any the rarest of our ladies in France.

• Iachimo. That lady is not now living, or this gentleman's 380
  opinion by this worn out.

• Posthumus Leonatus. She holds her virtue still and I my mind.

• Iachimo. You must not so far prefer her 'fore ours of Italy.

• Posthumus Leonatus. Being so far provoked as I was in France, I would
  abate her nothing, though I profess myself her 385
  adorer, not her friend.

• Iachimo. As fair and as good—a kind of hand-in-hand
  comparison—had been something too fair and too good
  for any lady in Britain. If she went before others
  I have seen, as that diamond of yours outlustres 390
  many I have beheld. I could not but believe she
  excelled many: but I have not seen the most
  precious diamond that is, nor you the lady.

• Posthumus Leonatus. I praised her as I rated her: so do I my stone.

• Iachimo. What do you esteem it at? 395

• Posthumus Leonatus. More than the world enjoys.

• Iachimo. Either your unparagoned mistress is dead, or she's
  outprized by a trifle.

• Posthumus Leonatus. You are mistaken: the one may be sold, or given, if
  there were wealth enough for the purchase, or merit 400
  for the gift: the other is not a thing for sale,
  and only the gift of the gods.

• Iachimo. Which the gods have given you?

• Posthumus Leonatus. Which, by their graces, I will keep.

• Iachimo. You may wear her in title yours: but, you know, 405
  strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds. Your
  ring may be stolen too: so your brace of unprizable
  estimations; the one is but frail and the other
  casual; a cunning thief, or a that way accomplished
  courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and last. 410

• Posthumus Leonatus. Your Italy contains none so accomplished a courtier
  to convince the honour of my mistress, if, in the
  holding or loss of that, you term her frail. I do
  nothing doubt you have store of thieves;
  notwithstanding, I fear not my ring. 415

• Philario. Let us leave here, gentlemen.

• Posthumus Leonatus. Sir, with all my heart. This worthy signior, I
  thank him, makes no stranger of me; we are familiar at first.

• Iachimo. With five times so much conversation, I should get
  ground of your fair mistress, make her go back, even 420
  to the yielding, had I admittance and opportunity to friend.

• Posthumus Leonatus. No, no.

• Iachimo. I dare thereupon pawn the moiety of my estate to
  your ring; which, in my opinion, o'ervalues it
  something: but I make my wager rather against your 425
  confidence than her reputation: and, to bar your
  offence herein too, I durst attempt it against any
  lady in the world.

• Posthumus Leonatus. You are a great deal abused in too bold a
  persuasion; and I doubt not you sustain what you're 430
  worthy of by your attempt.

• Iachimo. What's that?

• Posthumus Leonatus. A repulse: though your attempt, as you call it,
  deserve more; a punishment too.

• Philario. Gentlemen, enough of this: it came in too suddenly; 435
  let it die as it was born, and, I pray you, be
  better acquainted.

• Iachimo. Would I had put my estate and my neighbour's on the
  approbation of what I have spoke!

• Posthumus Leonatus. What lady would you choose to assail? 440

• Iachimo. Yours; whom in constancy you think stands so safe.
  I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring,
  that, commend me to the court where your lady is,
  with no more advantage than the opportunity of a
  second conference, and I will bring from thence 445
  that honour of hers which you imagine so reserved.

• Posthumus Leonatus. I will wage against your gold, gold to it: my ring
  I hold dear as my finger; 'tis part of it.

• Iachimo. You are afraid, and therein the wiser. If you buy
  ladies' flesh at a million a dram, you cannot 450
  preserve it from tainting: but I see you have some
  religion in you, that you fear.

• Posthumus Leonatus. This is but a custom in your tongue; you bear a
  graver purpose, I hope.

• Iachimo. I am the master of my speeches, and would undergo 455
  what's spoken, I swear.

• Posthumus Leonatus. Will you? I shall but lend my diamond till your
  return: let there be covenants drawn between's: my
  mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness of your
  unworthy thinking: I dare you to this match: here's my ring. 460

• Philario. I will have it no lay.

• Iachimo. By the gods, it is one. If I bring you no
  sufficient testimony that I have enjoyed the dearest
  bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats
  are yours; so is your diamond too: if I come off, 465
  and leave her in such honour as you have trust in,
  she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are
  yours: provided I have your commendation for my more
  free entertainment.

• Posthumus Leonatus. I embrace these conditions; let us have articles 470
  betwixt us. Only, thus far you shall answer: if
  you make your voyage upon her and give me directly
  to understand you have prevailed, I am no further
  your enemy; she is not worth our debate: if she
  remain unseduced, you not making it appear 475
  otherwise, for your ill opinion and the assault you
  have made to her chastity you shall answer me with
  your sword.

• Iachimo. Your hand; a covenant: we will have these things set
  down by lawful counsel, and straight away for 480
  Britain, lest the bargain should catch cold and
  starve: I will fetch my gold and have our two
  wagers recorded.

• Posthumus Leonatus. Agreed.

[Exeunt POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and IACHIMO]

• Frenchman. Will this hold, think you?

• Philario. Signior Iachimo will not from it.
  Pray, let us follow 'em.

[Exeunt]

Act I, Scene 5

Britain. A room in Cymbeline’s palace.

[Enter QUEEN, Ladies, and CORNELIUS]

• Queen. Whiles yet the dew's on ground, gather those flowers;
  Make haste: who has the note of them?

• First Lady. I, madam.

• Queen. Dispatch.
  [Exeunt Ladies] 495
  Now, master doctor, have you brought those drugs?

• Cornelius. Pleaseth your highness, ay: here they are, madam:
  [Presenting a small box]
  But I beseech your grace, without offence,—
  My conscience bids me ask—wherefore you have 500
  Commanded of me those most poisonous compounds,
  Which are the movers of a languishing death;
  But though slow, deadly?

• Queen. I wonder, doctor,
  Thou ask'st me such a question. Have I not been 505
  Thy pupil long? Hast thou not learn'd me how
  To make perfumes? distil? preserve? yea, so
  That our great king himself doth woo me oft
  For my confections? Having thus far proceeded,—
  Unless thou think'st me devilish—is't not meet 510
  That I did amplify my judgment in
  Other conclusions? I will try the forces
  Of these thy compounds on such creatures as
  We count not worth the hanging, but none human,
  To try the vigour of them and apply 515
  Allayments to their act, and by them gather
  Their several virtues and effects.

• Cornelius. Your highness
  Shall from this practise but make hard your heart:
  Besides, the seeing these effects will be 520
  Both noisome and infectious.

• Queen. O, content thee.
  [Enter PISANIO]
  [Aside]
  Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him 525
  Will I first work: he's for his master,
  An enemy to my son. How now, Pisanio!
  Doctor, your service for this time is ended;
  Take your own way.

• Cornelius. [Aside] I do suspect you, madam; 530
  But you shall do no harm.

• Queen. [To PISANIO] Hark thee, a word.

• Cornelius. [Aside] I do not like her. She doth think she has
  Strange lingering poisons: I do know her spirit,
  And will not trust one of her malice with 535
  A drug of such damn'd nature. Those she has
  Will stupefy and dull the sense awhile;
  Which first, perchance, she'll prove on
  cats and dogs,
  Then afterward up higher: but there is 540
  No danger in what show of death it makes,
  More than the locking-up the spirits a time,
  To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool'd
  With a most false effect; and I the truer,
  So to be false with her. 545

• Queen. No further service, doctor,
  Until I send for thee.

• Cornelius. I humbly take my leave.

[Exit]

• Queen. Weeps she still, say'st thou? Dost thou think in time 550
  She will not quench and let instructions enter
  Where folly now possesses? Do thou work:
  When thou shalt bring me word she loves my son,
  I'll tell thee on the instant thou art then
  As great as is thy master, greater, for 555
  His fortunes all lie speechless and his name
  Is at last gasp: return he cannot, nor
  Continue where he is: to shift his being
  Is to exchange one misery with another,
  And every day that comes comes to decay 560
  A day's work in him. What shalt thou expect,
  To be depender on a thing that leans,
  Who cannot be new built, nor has no friends,
  So much as but to prop him?
  [The QUEEN drops the box: PISANIO takes it up] 565
  Thou takest up
  Thou know'st not what; but take it for thy labour:
  It is a thing I made, which hath the king
  Five times redeem'd from death: I do not know
  What is more cordial. Nay, I prethee, take it; 570
  It is an earnest of a further good
  That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how
  The case stands with her; do't as from thyself.
  Think what a chance thou changest on, but think
  Thou hast thy mistress still, to boot, my son, 575
  Who shall take notice of thee: I'll move the king
  To any shape of thy preferment such
  As thou'lt desire; and then myself, I chiefly,
  That set thee on to this desert, am bound
  To load thy merit richly. Call my women: 580
  Think on my words.
  [Exit PISANIO]
  A sly and constant knave,
  Not to be shaked; the agent for his master
  And the remembrancer of her to hold 585
  The hand-fast to her lord. I have given him that
  Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her
  Of liegers for her sweet, and which she after,
  Except she bend her humour, shall be assured
  To taste of too. 590
  [Re-enter PISANIO and Ladies]
  So, so: well done, well done:
  The violets, cowslips, and the primroses,
  Bear to my closet. Fare thee well, Pisanio;
  Think on my words. 595

[Exeunt QUEEN and Ladies]

• Pisanio. And shall do:
  But when to my good lord I prove untrue,
  I'll choke myself: there's all I'll do for you.

[Exit]

Act I, Scene 6

The same. Another room in the palace.

[Enter IMOGEN]

• Imogen. A father cruel, and a step-dame false;
  A foolish suitor to a wedded lady,
  That hath her husband banish'd;—O, that husband!
  My supreme crown of grief! and those repeated 605
  Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stol'n,
  As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable
  Is the desire that's glorious: blest be those,
  How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills,
  Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fie! 610

[Enter PISANIO and IACHIMO]

• Pisanio. Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome,
  Comes from my lord with letters.

• Iachimo. Change you, madam?
  The worthy Leonatus is in safety 615
  And greets your highness dearly.

[Presents a letter]

• Imogen. Thanks, good sir:
  You're kindly welcome.

• Iachimo. [Aside] All of her that is out of door most rich! 620
  If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare,
  She is alone the Arabian bird, and I
  Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend!
  Arm me, audacity, from head to foot!
  Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight; 625
  Rather directly fly.

• Imogen. [Reads] 'He is one of the noblest note, to whose
  kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon
  him accordingly, as you value your trust—
  LEONATUS.' 630
  So far I read aloud:
  But even the very middle of my heart
  Is warm'd by the rest, and takes it thankfully.
  You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I
  Have words to bid you, and shall find it so 635
  In all that I can do.

• Iachimo. Thanks, fairest lady.
  What, are men mad? Hath nature given them eyes
  To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop
  Of sea and land, which can distinguish 'twixt 640
  The fiery orbs above and the twinn'd stones
  Upon the number'd beach? and can we not
  Partition make with spectacles so precious
  'Twixt fair and foul?

• Imogen. What makes your admiration? 645

• Iachimo. It cannot be i' the eye, for apes and monkeys
  'Twixt two such shes would chatter this way and
  Contemn with mows the other; nor i' the judgment,
  For idiots in this case of favour would
  Be wisely definite; nor i' the appetite; 650
  Sluttery to such neat excellence opposed
  Should make desire vomit emptiness,
  Not so allured to feed.

• Imogen. What is the matter, trow?

• Iachimo. The cloyed will, 655
  That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub
  Both fill'd and running, ravening first the lamb
  Longs after for the garbage.

• Imogen. What, dear sir,
  Thus raps you? Are you well? 660

• Iachimo. Thanks, madam; well.
  [To PISANIO]
  Beseech you, sir, desire
  My man's abode where I did leave him: he
  Is strange and peevish. 665

• Pisanio. I was going, sir,
  To give him welcome.

[Exit]

• Imogen. Continues well my lord? His health, beseech you?

• Iachimo. Well, madam. 670

• Imogen. Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is.

• Iachimo. Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there
  So merry and so gamesome: he is call'd
  The Briton reveller.

• Imogen. When he was here, 675
  He did incline to sadness, and oft-times
  Not knowing why.

• Iachimo. I never saw him sad.
  There is a Frenchman his companion, one
  An eminent monsieur, that, it seems, much loves 680
  A Gallian girl at home; he furnaces
  The thick sighs from him, whiles the jolly Briton—
  Your lord, I mean—laughs from's free lungs, cries 'O,
  Can my sides hold, to think that man, who knows
  By history, report, or his own proof, 685
  What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose
  But must be, will his free hours languish for
  Assured bondage?'

• Imogen. Will my lord say so?

• Iachimo. Ay, madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter: 690
  It is a recreation to be by
  And hear him mock the Frenchman. But, heavens know,
  Some men are much to blame.

• Imogen. Not he, I hope.

• Iachimo. Not he: but yet heaven's bounty towards him might 695
  Be used more thankfully. In himself, 'tis much;
  In you, which I account his beyond all talents,
  Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound
  To pity too.

• Imogen. What do you pity, sir? 700

• Iachimo. Two creatures heartily.

• Imogen. Am I one, sir?
  You look on me: what wreck discern you in me
  Deserves your pity?

• Iachimo. Lamentable! What, 705
  To hide me from the radiant sun and solace
  I' the dungeon by a snuff?

• Imogen. I pray you, sir,
  Deliver with more openness your answers
  To my demands. Why do you pity me? 710

• Iachimo. That others do—
  I was about to say—enjoy your—But
  It is an office of the gods to venge it,
  Not mine to speak on 't.

• Imogen. You do seem to know 715
  Something of me, or what concerns me: pray you,—
  Since doubling things go ill often hurts more
  Than to be sure they do; for certainties
  Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing,
  The remedy then born—discover to me 720
  What both you spur and stop.

• Iachimo. Had I this cheek
  To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch,
  Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul
  To the oath of loyalty; this object, which 725
  Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,
  Fixing it only here; should I, damn'd then,
  Slaver with lips as common as the stairs
  That mount the Capitol; join gripes with hands
  Made hard with hourly falsehood—falsehood, as 730
  With labour; then by-peeping in an eye
  Base and unlustrous as the smoky light
  That's fed with stinking tallow; it were fit
  That all the plagues of hell should at one time
  Encounter such revolt. 735

• Imogen. My lord, I fear,
  Has forgot Britain.

• Iachimo. And himself. Not I,
  Inclined to this intelligence, pronounce
  The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces 740
  That from pay mutest conscience to my tongue
  Charms this report out.

• Imogen. Let me hear no more.

• Iachimo. O dearest soul! your cause doth strike my heart
  With pity, that doth make me sick. A lady 745
  So fair, and fasten'd to an empery,
  Would make the great'st king double,—to be partner'd
  With tomboys hired with that self-exhibition
  Which your own coffers yield! with diseased ventures
  That play with all infirmities for gold 750
  Which rottenness can lend nature! such boil'd stuff
  As well might poison poison! Be revenged;
  Or she that bore you was no queen, and you
  Recoil from your great stock.

• Imogen. Revenged! 755
  How should I be revenged? If this be true,—
  As I have such a heart that both mine ears
  Must not in haste abuse—if it be true,
  How should I be revenged?

• Iachimo. Should he make me 760
  Live, like Diana's priest, betwixt cold sheets,
  Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps,
  In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge it.
  I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure,
  More noble than that runagate to your bed, 765
  And will continue fast to your affection,
  Still close as sure.

• Imogen. What, ho, Pisanio!

• Iachimo. Let me my service tender on your lips.

• Imogen. Away! I do condemn mine ears that have 770
  So long attended thee. If thou wert honourable,
  Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, not
  For such an end thou seek'st,—as base as strange.
  Thou wrong'st a gentleman, who is as far
  From thy report as thou from honour, and 775
  Solicit'st here a lady that disdains
  Thee and the devil alike. What ho, Pisanio!
  The king my father shall be made acquainted
  Of thy assault: if he shall think it fit,
  A saucy stranger in his court to mart 780
  As in a Romish stew and to expound
  His beastly mind to us, he hath a court
  He little cares for and a daughter who
  He not respects at all. What, ho, Pisanio!

• Iachimo. O happy Leonatus! I may say 785
  The credit that thy lady hath of thee
  Deserves thy trust, and thy most perfect goodness
  Her assured credit. Blessed live you long!
  A lady to the worthiest sir that ever
  Country call'd his! and you his mistress, only 790
  For the most worthiest fit! Give me your pardon.
  I have spoke this, to know if your affiance
  Were deeply rooted; and shall make your lord,
  That which he is, new o'er: and he is one
  The truest manner'd; such a holy witch 795
  That he enchants societies into him;
  Half all men's hearts are his.

• Imogen. You make amends.

• Iachimo. He sits 'mongst men like a descended god:
  He hath a kind of honour sets him off, 800
  More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry,
  Most mighty princess, that I have adventured
  To try your taking a false report; which hath
  Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment
  In the election of a sir so rare, 805
  Which you know cannot err: the love I bear him
  Made me to fan you thus, but the gods made you,
  Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray, your pardon.

• Imogen. All's well, sir: take my power i' the court
  for yours. 810

• Iachimo. My humble thanks. I had almost forgot
  To entreat your grace but in a small request,
  And yet of moment to, for it concerns
  Your lord; myself and other noble friends,
  Are partners in the business. 815

• Imogen. Pray, what is't?

• Iachimo. Some dozen Romans of us and your lord—
  The best feather of our wing—have mingled sums
  To buy a present for the emperor
  Which I, the factor for the rest, have done 820
  In France: 'tis plate of rare device, and jewels
  Of rich and exquisite form; their values great;
  And I am something curious, being strange,
  To have them in safe stowage: may it please you
  To take them in protection? 825

• Imogen. Willingly;
  And pawn mine honour for their safety: since
  My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them
  In my bedchamber.

• Iachimo. They are in a trunk, 830
  Attended by my men: I will make bold
  To send them to you, only for this night;
  I must aboard to-morrow.

• Imogen. O, no, no.

• Iachimo. Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my word 835
  By lengthening my return. From Gallia
  I cross'd the seas on purpose and on promise
  To see your grace.

• Imogen. I thank you for your pains:
  But not away to-morrow! 840

• Iachimo. O, I must, madam:
  Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please
  To greet your lord with writing, do't to-night:
  I have outstood my time; which is material
  To the tender of our present. 845

• Imogen. I will write.
  Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept,
  And truly yielded you. You're very welcome.

[Exeunt]

Act II, Scene 1

Britain. Before Cymbeline’s palace.

[Enter CLOTEN and two Lords]

• Cloten. Was there ever man had such luck! when I kissed the
  jack, upon an up-cast to be hit away! I had a
  hundred pound on't: and then a whoreson jackanapes
  must take me up for swearing; as if I borrowed mine
  oaths of him and might not spend them at my pleasure. 855

• First Lord. What got he by that? You have broke his pate with
  your bowl.

• Second Lord. [Aside] If his wit had been like him that broke it,
  it would have run all out.

• Cloten. When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is not for 860
  any standers-by to curtail his oaths, ha?

• Second Lord. No my lord;
  [Aside]
  nor crop the ears of them.

• Cloten. Whoreson dog! I give him satisfaction? 865
  Would he had been one of my rank!

• Second Lord. [Aside] To have smelt like a fool.

• Cloten. I am not vexed more at any thing in the earth: a
  pox on't! I had rather not be so noble as I am;
  they dare not fight with me, because of the queen my 870
  mother: every Jack-slave hath his bellyful of
  fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that
  nobody can match.

• Second Lord. [Aside] You are cock and capon too; and you crow,
  cock, with your comb on. 875

• Cloten. Sayest thou?

• Second Lord. It is not fit your lordship should undertake every
  companion that you give offence to.

• Cloten. No, I know that: but it is fit I should commit
  offence to my inferiors. 880

• Second Lord. Ay, it is fit for your lordship only.

• Cloten. Why, so I say.

• First Lord. Did you hear of a stranger that's come to court to-night?

• Cloten. A stranger, and I not know on't!

• Second Lord. [Aside] He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it 885
  not.

• First Lord. There's an Italian come; and, 'tis thought, one of
  Leonatus' friends.

• Cloten. Leonatus! a banished rascal; and he's another,
  whatsoever he be. Who told you of this stranger? 890

• First Lord. One of your lordship's pages.

• Cloten. Is it fit I went to look upon him? is there no
  derogation in't?

• Second Lord. You cannot derogate, my lord.

• Cloten. Not easily, I think. 895

• Second Lord. [Aside] You are a fool granted; therefore your
  issues, being foolish, do not derogate.

• Cloten. Come, I'll go see this Italian: what I have lost
  to-day at bowls I'll win to-night of him. Come, go.

• Second Lord. I'll attend your lordship. 900
  [Exeunt CLOTEN and First Lord]
  That such a crafty devil as is his mother
  Should yield the world this ass! a woman that
  Bears all down with her brain; and this her son
  Cannot take two from twenty, for his heart, 905
  And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess,
  Thou divine Imogen, what thou endurest,
  Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern'd,
  A mother hourly coining plots, a wooer
  More hateful than the foul expulsion is 910
  Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act
  Of the divorce he'ld make! The heavens hold firm
  The walls of thy dear honour, keep unshaked
  That temple, thy fair mind, that thou mayst stand,
  To enjoy thy banish'd lord and this great land! 915

[Exit]

Act II, Scene 2

Imogen’s bedchamber in Cymbeline’s palace:

a trunk in one corner of it.

[IMOGEN in bed, reading; a Lady attending]

• Imogen. Who's there? my woman Helen?

• Lady. Please you, madam 920

• Imogen. What hour is it?

• Lady. Almost midnight, madam.

• Imogen. I have read three hours then: mine eyes are weak:
  Fold down the leaf where I have left: to bed:
  Take not away the taper, leave it burning; 925
  And if thou canst awake by four o' the clock,
  I prithee, call me. Sleep hath seized me wholly
  [Exit Lady]
  To your protection I commend me, gods.
  From fairies and the tempters of the night 930
  Guard me, beseech ye.

[Sleeps. IACHIMO comes from the trunk]

• Iachimo. The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd sense
  Repairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus
  Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken'd 935
  The chastity he wounded. Cytherea,
  How bravely thou becomest thy bed, fresh lily,
  And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch!
  But kiss; one kiss! Rubies unparagon'd,
  How dearly they do't! 'Tis her breathing that 940
  Perfumes the chamber thus: the flame o' the taper
  Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids,
  To see the enclosed lights, now canopied
  Under these windows, white and azure laced
  With blue of heaven's own tinct. But my design, 945
  To note the chamber: I will write all down:
  Such and such pictures; there the window; such
  The adornment of her bed; the arras; figures,
  Why, such and such; and the contents o' the story.
  Ah, but some natural notes about her body, 950
  Above ten thousand meaner moveables
  Would testify, to enrich mine inventory.
  O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her!
  And be her sense but as a monument,
  Thus in a chapel lying! Come off, come off: 955
  [Taking off her bracelet]
  As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard!
  'Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly,
  As strongly as the conscience does within,
  To the madding of her lord. On her left breast 960
  A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops
  I' the bottom of a cowslip: here's a voucher,
  Stronger than ever law could make: this secret
  Will force him think I have pick'd the lock and ta'en
  The treasure of her honour. No more. To what end? 965
  Why should I write this down, that's riveted,
  Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late
  The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's turn'd down
  Where Philomel gave up. I have enough:
  To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it. 970
  Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning
  May bare the raven's eye! I lodge in fear;
  Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here.
  [Clock strikes]
  One, two, three: time, time! 975

[Goes into the trunk. The scene closes]

Act II, Scene 3

An ante-chamber adjoining Imogen’s apartments.

[Enter CLOTEN and Lords]

• First Lord. Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the
  most coldest that ever turned up ace.

• Cloten. It would make any man cold to lose. 980

• First Lord. But not every man patient after the noble temper of
  your lordship. You are most hot and furious when you win.

• Cloten. Winning will put any man into courage. If I could
  get this foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough.
  It's almost morning, is't not? 985

• First Lord. Day, my lord.

• Cloten. I would this music would come: I am advised to give
  her music o' mornings; they say it will penetrate.
  [Enter Musicians]
  Come on; tune: if you can penetrate her with your 990
  fingering, so; we'll try with tongue too: if none
  will do, let her remain; but I'll never give o'er.
  First, a very excellent good-conceited thing;
  after, a wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich
  words to it: and then let her consider. 995
  [SONG]
  Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
  And Phoebus 'gins arise,
  His steeds to water at those springs
  On chaliced flowers that lies; 1000
  And winking Mary-buds begin
  To ope their golden eyes:
  With every thing that pretty is,
  My lady sweet, arise:
  Arise, arise. 1005

• Cloten. So, get you gone. If this penetrate, I will
  consider your music the better: if it do not, it is
  a vice in her ears, which horse-hairs and
  calves'-guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to
  boot, can never amend. 1010

[Exeunt Musicians]

• Second Lord. Here comes the king.

• Cloten. I am glad I was up so late; for that's the reason I
  was up so early: he cannot choose but take this
  service I have done fatherly. 1015
  [Enter CYMBELINE and QUEEN]
  Good morrow to your majesty and to my gracious mother.

• Cymbeline. Attend you here the door of our stern daughter?
  Will she not forth?

• Cloten. I have assailed her with music, but she vouchsafes no notice. 1020

• Cymbeline. The exile of her minion is too new;
  She hath not yet forgot him: some more time
  Must wear the print of his remembrance out,
  And then she's yours.

• Queen. You are most bound to the king, 1025
  Who lets go by no vantages that may
  Prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself
  To orderly soliciting, and be friended
  With aptness of the season; make denials
  Increase your services; so seem as if 1030
  You were inspired to do those duties which
  You tender to her; that you in all obey her,
  Save when command to your dismission tends,
  And therein you are senseless.

• Cloten. Senseless! not so. 1035

[Enter a Messenger]

• Messenger. So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome;
  The one is Caius Lucius.

• Cymbeline. A worthy fellow,
  Albeit he comes on angry purpose now; 1040
  But that's no fault of his: we must receive him
  According to the honour of his sender;
  And towards himself, his goodness forespent on us,
  We must extend our notice. Our dear son,
  When you have given good morning to your mistress, 1045
  Attend the queen and us; we shall have need
  To employ you towards this Roman. Come, our queen.

[Exeunt all but CLOTEN]

• Cloten. If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not,
  Let her lie still and dream. 1050
  [Knocks]
  By your leave, ho!
  I Know her women are about her: what
  If I do line one of their hands? 'Tis gold
  Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and makes 1055
  Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up
  Their deer to the stand o' the stealer; and 'tis gold
  Which makes the true man kill'd and saves the thief;
  Nay, sometime hangs both thief and true man: what
  Can it not do and undo? I will make 1060
  One of her women lawyer to me, for
  I yet not understand the case myself.
  [Knocks]
  By your leave.

[Enter a Lady]

• Lady. Who's there that knocks?

• Cloten. A gentleman.

• Lady. No more?

• Cloten. Yes, and a gentlewoman's son.

• Lady. That's more 1070
  Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours,
  Can justly boast of. What's your lordship's pleasure?

• Cloten. Your lady's person: is she ready?

• Lady. Ay,
  To keep her chamber. 1075

• Cloten. There is gold for you;
  Sell me your good report.

• Lady. How! my good name? or to report of you
  What I shall think is good?—The princess!

[Enter IMOGEN]

• Cloten. Good morrow, fairest: sister, your sweet hand.

[Exit Lady]

• Imogen. Good morrow, sir. You lay out too much pains
  For purchasing but trouble; the thanks I give
  Is telling you that I am poor of thanks 1085
  And scarce can spare them.

• Cloten. Still, I swear I love you.

• Imogen. If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me:
  If you swear still, your recompense is still
  That I regard it not. 1090

• Cloten. This is no answer.

• Imogen. But that you shall not say I yield being silent,
  I would not speak. I pray you, spare me: 'faith,
  I shall unfold equal discourtesy
  To your best kindness: one of your great knowing 1095
  Should learn, being taught, forbearance.

• Cloten. To leave you in your madness, 'twere my sin:
  I will not.

• Imogen. Fools are not mad folks.

• Cloten. Do you call me fool? 1100

• Imogen. As I am mad, I do:
  If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad;
  That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir,
  You put me to forget a lady's manners,
  By being so verbal: and learn now, for all, 1105
  That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce,
  By the very truth of it, I care not for you,
  And am so near the lack of charity—
  To accuse myself—I hate you; which I had rather
  You felt than make't my boast. 1110

• Cloten. You sin against
  Obedience, which you owe your father. For
  The contract you pretend with that base wretch,
  One bred of alms and foster'd with cold dishes,
  With scraps o' the court, it is no contract, none: 1115
  And though it be allow'd in meaner parties—
  Yet who than he more mean?—to knit their souls,
  On whom there is no more dependency
  But brats and beggary, in self-figured knot;
  Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by 1120
  The consequence o' the crown, and must not soil
  The precious note of it with a base slave.
  A hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth,
  A pantler, not so eminent.

• Imogen. Profane fellow 1125
  Wert thou the son of Jupiter and no more
  But what thou art besides, thou wert too base
  To be his groom: thou wert dignified enough,
  Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made
  Comparative for your virtues, to be styled 1130
  The under-hangman of his kingdom, and hated
  For being preferred so well.

• Cloten. The south-fog rot him!

• Imogen. He never can meet more mischance than come
  To be but named of thee. His meanest garment, 1135
  That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer
  In my respect than all the hairs above thee,
  Were they all made such men. How now, Pisanio!

[Enter PISANIO]

• Cloten. 'His garment!' Now the devil— 1140

• Imogen. To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently—

• Cloten. 'His garment!'

• Imogen. I am sprited with a fool.
  Frighted, and anger'd worse: go bid my woman
  Search for a jewel that too casually 1145
  Hath left mine arm: it was thy master's: 'shrew me,
  If I would lose it for a revenue
  Of any king's in Europe. I do think
  I saw't this morning: confident I am
  Last night 'twas on mine arm; I kiss'd it: 1150
  I hope it be not gone to tell my lord
  That I kiss aught but he.

• Pisanio. 'Twill not be lost.

• Imogen. I hope so: go and search.

[Exit PISANIO]

• Cloten. You have abused me:
  'His meanest garment!'

• Imogen. Ay, I said so, sir:
  If you will make't an action, call witness to't.

• Cloten. I will inform your father. 1160

• Imogen. Your mother too:
  She's my good lady, and will conceive, I hope,
  But the worst of me. So, I leave you, sir,
  To the worst of discontent.

[Exit]

• Cloten. I'll be revenged:
  'His meanest garment!' Well.

[Exit]

Act II, Scene 4

Rome. Philario’s house.

[Enter POSTHUMUS and PHILARIO]

• Posthumus Leonatus. Fear it not, sir: I would I were so sure
  To win the king as I am bold her honour
  Will remain hers.

• Philario. What means do you make to him?

• Posthumus Leonatus. Not any, but abide the change of time, 1175
  Quake in the present winter's state and wish
  That warmer days would come: in these sear'd hopes,
  I barely gratify your love; they failing,
  I must die much your debtor.

• Philario. Your very goodness and your company 1180
  O'erpays all I can do. By this, your king
  Hath heard of great Augustus: Caius Lucius
  Will do's commission throughly: and I think
  He'll grant the tribute, send the arrearages,
  Or look upon our Romans, whose remembrance 1185
  Is yet fresh in their grief.

• Posthumus Leonatus. I do believe,
  Statist though I am none, nor like to be,
  That this will prove a war; and you shall hear
  The legions now in Gallia sooner landed 1190
  In our not-fearing Britain than have tidings
  Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen
  Are men more order'd than when Julius Caesar
  Smiled at their lack of skill, but found
  their courage 1195
  Worthy his frowning at: their discipline,
  Now mingled with their courages, will make known
  To their approvers they are people such
  That mend upon the world.

[Enter IACHIMO]

• Philario. See! Iachimo!

• Posthumus Leonatus. The swiftest harts have posted you by land;
  And winds of all the comers kiss'd your sails,
  To make your vessel nimble.

• Philario. Welcome, sir. 1205

• Posthumus Leonatus. I hope the briefness of your answer made
  The speediness of your return.

• Iachimo. Your lady
  Is one of the fairest that I have look'd upon.

• Posthumus Leonatus. And therewithal the best; or let her beauty 1210
  Look through a casement to allure false hearts
  And be false with them.

• Iachimo. Here are letters for you.

• Posthumus Leonatus. Their tenor good, I trust.

• Iachimo. 'Tis very like. 1215

• Philario. Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court
  When you were there?

• Iachimo. He was expected then,
  But not approach'd.

• Posthumus Leonatus. All is well yet. 1220
  Sparkles this stone as it was wont? or is't not
  Too dull for your good wearing?

• Iachimo. If I had lost it,
  I should have lost the worth of it in gold.
  I'll make a journey twice as far, to enjoy 1225
  A second night of such sweet shortness which
  Was mine in Britain, for the ring is won.

• Posthumus Leonatus. The stone's too hard to come by.

• Iachimo. Not a whit,
  Your lady being so easy. 1230

• Posthumus Leonatus. Make not, sir,
  Your loss your sport: I hope you know that we
  Must not continue friends.

• Iachimo. Good sir, we must,
  If you keep covenant. Had I not brought 1235
  The knowledge of your mistress home, I grant
  We were to question further: but I now
  Profess myself the winner of her honour,
  Together with your ring; and not the wronger
  Of her or you, having proceeded but 1240
  By both your wills.

• Posthumus Leonatus. If you can make't apparent
  That you have tasted her in bed, my hand
  And ring is yours; if not, the foul opinion
  You had of her pure honour gains or loses 1245
  Your sword or mine, or masterless leaves both
  To who shall find them.

• Iachimo. Sir, my circumstances,
  Being so near the truth as I will make them,
  Must first induce you to believe: whose strength 1250
  I will confirm with oath; which, I doubt not,
  You'll give me leave to spare, when you shall find
  You need it not.

• Posthumus Leonatus. Proceed.

• Iachimo. First, her bedchamber,— 1255
  Where, I confess, I slept not, but profess
  Had that was well worth watching—it was hang'd
  With tapesty of silk and silver; the story
  Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman,
  And Cydnus swell'd above the banks, or for 1260
  The press of boats or pride: a piece of work
  So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive
  In workmanship and value; which I wonder'd
  Could be so rarely and exactly wrought,
  Since the true life on't was— 1265

• Posthumus Leonatus. This is true;
  And this you might have heard of here, by me,
  Or by some other.

• Iachimo. More particulars
  Must justify my knowledge. 1270

• Posthumus Leonatus. So they must,
  Or do your honour injury.

• Iachimo. The chimney
  Is south the chamber, and the chimney-piece
  Chaste Dian bathing: never saw I figures 1275
  So likely to report themselves: the cutter
  Was as another nature, dumb; outwent her,
  Motion and breath left out.

• Posthumus Leonatus. This is a thing
  Which you might from relation likewise reap, 1280
  Being, as it is, much spoke of.

• Iachimo. The roof o' the chamber
  With golden cherubins is fretted: her andirons—
  I had forgot them—were two winking Cupids
  Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely 1285
  Depending on their brands.

• Posthumus Leonatus. This is her honour!
  Let it be granted you have seen all this—and praise
  Be given to your remembrance—the description
  Of what is in her chamber nothing saves 1290
  The wager you have laid.

• Iachimo. Then, if you can,
  [Showing the bracelet]
  Be pale: I beg but leave to air this jewel; see!
  And now 'tis up again: it must be married 1295
  To that your diamond; I'll keep them.

• Posthumus Leonatus. Jove!
  Once more let me behold it: is it that
  Which I left with her?

• Iachimo. Sir—I thank her—that: 1300
  She stripp'd it from her arm; I see her yet;
  Her pretty action did outsell her gift,
  And yet enrich'd it too: she gave it me, and said
  She prized it once.

• Posthumus Leonatus. May be she pluck'd it off 1305
  To send it me.

• Iachimo. She writes so to you, doth she?

• Posthumus Leonatus. O, no, no, no! 'tis true. Here, take this too;
  [Gives the ring]
  It is a basilisk unto mine eye, 1310
  Kills me to look on't. Let there be no honour
  Where there is beauty; truth, where semblance; love,
  Where there's another man: the vows of women
  Of no more bondage be, to where they are made,
  Than they are to their virtues; which is nothing. 1315
  O, above measure false!

• Philario. Have patience, sir,
  And take your ring again; 'tis not yet won:
  It may be probable she lost it; or
  Who knows if one of her women, being corrupted, 1320
  Hath stol'n it from her?

• Posthumus Leonatus. Very true;
  And so, I hope, he came by't. Back my ring:
  Render to me some corporal sign about her,
  More evident than this; for this was stolen. 1325

• Iachimo. By Jupiter, I had it from her arm.

• Posthumus Leonatus. Hark you, he swears; by Jupiter he swears.
  'Tis true:—nay, keep the ring—'tis true: I am sure
  She would not lose it: her attendants are
  All sworn and honourable:—they induced to steal it! 1330
  And by a stranger!—No, he hath enjoyed her:
  The cognizance of her incontinency
  Is this: she hath bought the name of whore
  thus dearly.
  There, take thy hire; and all the fiends of hell 1335
  Divide themselves between you!

• Philario. Sir, be patient:
  This is not strong enough to be believed
  Of one persuaded well of—

• Posthumus Leonatus. Never talk on't; 1340
  She hath been colted by him.

• Iachimo. If you seek
  For further satisfying, under her breast—
  Worthy the pressing—lies a mole, right proud
  Of that most delicate lodging: by my life, 1345
  I kiss'd it; and it gave me present hunger
  To feed again, though full. You do remember
  This stain upon her?

• Posthumus Leonatus. Ay, and it doth confirm
  Another stain, as big as hell can hold, 1350
  Were there no more but it.

• Iachimo. Will you hear more?

• Posthumus Leonatus. Spare your arithmetic: never count the turns;
  Once, and a million!

• Iachimo. I'll be sworn— 1355

• Posthumus Leonatus. No swearing.
  If you will swear you have not done't, you lie;
  And I will kill thee, if thou dost deny
  Thou'st made me cuckold.

• Iachimo. I'll deny nothing. 1360

• Posthumus Leonatus. O, that I had her here, to tear her limb-meal!
  I will go there and do't, i' the court, before
  Her father. I'll do something—

[Exit]

• Philario. Quite besides 1365
  The government of patience! You have won:
  Let's follow him, and pervert the present wrath
  He hath against himself.

• Iachimo. With an my heart.

[Exeunt]

Act II, Scene 5

Another room in Philario’s house.

[Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS]

• Posthumus Leonatus. Is there no way for men to be but women
  Must be half-workers? We are all bastards;
  And that most venerable man which I
  Did call my father, was I know not where 1375
  When I was stamp'd; some coiner with his tools
  Made me a counterfeit: yet my mother seem'd
  The Dian of that time so doth my wife
  The nonpareil of this. O, vengeance, vengeance!
  Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd 1380
  And pray'd me oft forbearance; did it with
  A pudency so rosy the sweet view on't
  Might well have warm'd old Saturn; that I thought her
  As chaste as unsunn'd snow. O, all the devils!
  This yellow Iachimo, in an hour,—wast not?— 1385
  Or less,—at first?—perchance he spoke not, but,
  Like a full-acorn'd boar, a German one,
  Cried 'O!' and mounted; found no opposition
  But what he look'd for should oppose and she
  Should from encounter guard. Could I find out 1390
  The woman's part in me! For there's no motion
  That tends to vice in man, but I affirm
  It is the woman's part: be it lying, note it,
  The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;
  Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers; 1395
  Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,
  Nice longing, slanders, mutability,
  All faults that may be named, nay, that hell knows,
  Why, hers, in part or all; but rather, all;
  For even to vice 1400
  They are not constant but are changing still
  One vice, but of a minute old, for one
  Not half so old as that. I'll write against them,
  Detest them, curse them: yet 'tis greater skill
  In a true hate, to pray they have their will: 1405
  The very devils cannot plague them better.

[Exit]

Act III, Scene 1

Britain. A hall in Cymbeline’s palace.

[Enter in state, CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN,] [p]and Lords at one door, and at another, [p]CAIUS LUCIUS and Attendants]

• Cymbeline. Now say, what would Augustus Caesar with us?

• Caius Lucius. When Julius Caesar, whose remembrance yet
  Lives in men's eyes and will to ears and tongues
  Be theme and hearing ever, was in this Britain
  And conquer'd it, Cassibelan, thine uncle,— 1415
  Famous in Caesar's praises, no whit less
  Than in his feats deserving it—for him
  And his succession granted Rome a tribute,
  Yearly three thousand pounds, which by thee lately
  Is left untender'd. 1420

• Queen. And, to kill the marvel,
  Shall be so ever.

• Cloten. There be many Caesars,
  Ere such another Julius. Britain is
  A world by itself; and we will nothing pay 1425
  For wearing our own noses.

• Queen. That opportunity
  Which then they had to take from 's, to resume
  We have again. Remember, sir, my liege,
  The kings your ancestors, together with 1430
  The natural bravery of your isle, which stands
  As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in
  With rocks unscalable and roaring waters,
  With sands that will not bear your enemies' boats,
  But suck them up to the topmast. A kind of conquest 1435
  Caesar made here; but made not here his brag
  Of 'Came' and 'saw' and 'overcame: ' with shame—
  That first that ever touch'd him—he was carried
  From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping—
  Poor ignorant baubles!— upon our terrible seas, 1440
  Like egg-shells moved upon their surges, crack'd
  As easily 'gainst our rocks: for joy whereof
  The famed Cassibelan, who was once at point—
  O giglot fortune!—to master Caesar's sword,Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright
  And Britons strut with courage. 1445

• Cloten. Come, there's no more tribute to be paid: our
  kingdom is stronger than it was at that time; and,
  as I said, there is no moe such Caesars: other of
  them may have crook'd noses, but to owe such
  straight arms, none. 1450

• Cymbeline. Son, let your mother end.

• Cloten. We have yet many among us can gripe as hard as
  Cassibelan: I do not say I am one; but I have a
  hand. Why tribute? why should we pay tribute? If
  Caesar can hide the sun from us with a blanket, or 1455
  put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute
  for light; else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now.

• Cymbeline. You must know,
  Till the injurious Romans did extort
  This tribute from us, we were free: 1460
  Caesar's ambition,
  Which swell'd so much that it did almost stretch
  The sides o' the world, against all colour here
  Did put the yoke upon 's; which to shake off
  Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon 1465
  Ourselves to be.

• Cloten. [with Lords] We do.

• Cymbeline. Say, then, to Caesar,
  Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which
  Ordain'd our laws, whose use the sword of Caesar 1470
  Hath too much mangled; whose repair and franchise
  Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed,
  Though Rome be therefore angry: Mulmutius made our laws,
  Who was the first of Britain which did put
  His brows within a golden crown and call'd 1475
  Himself a king.

• Caius Lucius. I am sorry, Cymbeline,
  That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar—
  Caesar, that hath more kings his servants than
  Thyself domestic officers—thine enemy: 1480
  Receive it from me, then: war and confusion
  In Caesar's name pronounce I 'gainst thee: look
  For fury not to be resisted. Thus defied,
  I thank thee for myself.

• Cymbeline. Thou art welcome, Caius. 1485
  Thy Caesar knighted me; my youth I spent
  Much under him; of him I gather'd honour;
  Which he to seek of me again, perforce,
  Behoves me keep at utterance. I am perfect
  That the Pannonians and Dalmatians for 1490
  Their liberties are now in arms; a precedent
  Which not to read would show the Britons cold:
  So Caesar shall not find them.

• Caius Lucius. Let proof speak.

• Cloten. His majesty bids you welcome. Make 1495
  pastime with us a day or two, or longer: if
  you seek us afterwards in other terms, you
  shall find us in our salt-water girdle: if you
  beat us out of it, it is yours; if you fall in
  the adventure, our crows shall fare the better 1500
  for you; and there's an end.

• Caius Lucius. So, sir.

• Cymbeline. I know your master's pleasure and he mine:
  All the remain is 'Welcome!'

[Exeunt]

Act III, Scene 2

Another room in the palace.

[Enter PISANIO, with a letter]

• Pisanio. How? of adultery? Wherefore write you not
  What monster's her accuser? Leonatus,
  O master! what a strange infection
  Is fall'n into thy ear! What false Italian, 1510
  As poisonous-tongued as handed, hath prevail'd
  On thy too ready hearing? Disloyal! No:
  She's punish'd for her truth, and undergoes,
  More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults
  As would take in some virtue. O my master! 1515
  Thy mind to her is now as low as were
  Thy fortunes. How! that I should murder her?
  Upon the love and truth and vows which I
  Have made to thy command? I, her? her blood?
  If it be so to do good service, never 1520
  Let me be counted serviceable. How look I,
  That I should seem to lack humanity
  so much as this fact comes to?
  [Reading]
  'Do't: the letter 1525
  that I have sent her, by her own command
  Shall give thee opportunity.' O damn'd paper!
  Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble,
  Art thou a feodary for this act, and look'st
  So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes. 1530
  I am ignorant in what I am commanded.

[Enter IMOGEN]

• Imogen. How now, Pisanio!

• Pisanio. Madam, here is a letter from my lord.

• Imogen. Who? thy lord? that is my lord, Leonatus! 1535
  O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer
  That knew the stars as I his characters;
  He'ld lay the future open. You good gods,
  Let what is here contain'd relish of love,
  Of my lord's health, of his content, yet not 1540
  That we two are asunder; let that grieve him:
  Some griefs are med'cinable; that is one of them,
  For it doth physic love: of his content,
  All but in that! Good wax, thy leave. Blest be
  You bees that make these locks of counsel! Lovers 1545
  And men in dangerous bonds pray not alike:
  Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet
  You clasp young Cupid's tables. Good news, gods!
  [Reads]
  'Justice, and your father's wrath, should he take me 1550
  in his dominion, could not be so cruel to me, as
  you, O the dearest of creatures, would even renew me
  with your eyes. Take notice that I am in Cambria,
  at Milford-Haven: what your own love will out of
  this advise you, follow. So he wishes you all 1555
  happiness, that remains loyal to his vow, and your,
  increasing in love,
  LEONATUS POSTHUMUS.'
  O, for a horse with wings! Hear'st thou, Pisanio?
  He is at Milford-Haven: read, and tell me 1560
  How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs
  May plod it in a week, why may not I
  Glide thither in a day? Then, true Pisanio,—
  Who long'st, like me, to see thy lord; who long'st,—
  let me bate,-but not like me—yet long'st, 1565
  But in a fainter kind:—O, not like me;
  For mine's beyond beyond—say, and speak thick;
  Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing,
  To the smothering of the sense—how far it is
  To this same blessed Milford: and by the way 1570
  Tell me how Wales was made so happy as
  To inherit such a haven: but first of all,
  How we may steal from hence, and for the gap
  That we shall make in time, from our hence-going
  And our return, to excuse: but first, how get hence: 1575
  Why should excuse be born or e'er begot?
  We'll talk of that hereafter. Prithee, speak,
  How many score of miles may we well ride
  'Twixt hour and hour?

• Pisanio. One score 'twixt sun and sun, 1580
  Madam, 's enough for you:
  [Aside]
  and too much too.

• Imogen. Why, one that rode to's execution, man,
  Could never go so slow: I have heard of 1585
  riding wagers,
  Where horses have been nimbler than the sands
  That run i' the clock's behalf. But this is foolery:
  Go bid my woman feign a sickness; say
  She'll home to her father: and provide me presently 1590
  A riding-suit, no costlier than would fit
  A franklin's housewife.

• Pisanio. Madam, you're best consider.

• Imogen. I see before me, man: nor here, nor here,
  Nor what ensues, but have a fog in them, 1595
  That I cannot look through. Away, I prithee;
  Do as I bid thee: there's no more to say,
  Accessible is none but Milford way.

[Exeunt]

Act III, Scene 3

Wales: a mountainous country with a cave.

[Enter, from the cave, BELARIUS; GUIDERIUS,] [p]and ARVIRAGUS following]

• Belarius. A goodly day not to keep house, with such
  Whose roof's as low as ours! Stoop, boys; this gate
  Instructs you how to adore the heavens and bows you
  To a morning's holy office: the gates of monarchs 1605
  Are arch'd so high that giants may jet through
  And keep their impious turbans on, without
  Good morrow to the sun. Hail, thou fair heaven!
  We house i' the rock, yet use thee not so hardly
  As prouder livers do. 1610

• Guiderius. Hail, heaven!

• Arviragus. Hail, heaven!

• Belarius. Now for our mountain sport: up to yond hill;
  Your legs are young; I'll tread these flats. Consider,
  When you above perceive me like a crow, 1615
  That it is place which lessens and sets off;
  And you may then revolve what tales I have told you
  Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war:
  This service is not service, so being done,
  But being so allow'd: to apprehend thus, 1620
  Draws us a profit from all things we see;
  And often, to our comfort, shall we find
  The sharded beetle in a safer hold
  Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O, this life
  Is nobler than attending for a cheque, 1625
  Richer than doing nothing for a bauble,
  Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk:
  Such gain the cap of him that makes 'em fine,
  Yet keeps his book uncross'd: no life to ours.

• Guiderius. Out of your proof you speak: we, poor unfledged, 1630
  Have never wing'd from view o' the nest, nor know not
  What air's from home. Haply this life is best,
  If quiet life be best; sweeter to you
  That have a sharper known; well corresponding
  With your stiff age: but unto us it is 1635
  A cell of ignorance; travelling a-bed;
  A prison for a debtor, that not dares
  To stride a limit.

• Arviragus. What should we speak of
  When we are old as you? when we shall hear 1640
  The rain and wind beat dark December, how,
  In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse
  The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing;
  We are beastly, subtle as the fox for prey,
  Like warlike as the wolf for what we eat; 1645
  Our valour is to chase what flies; our cage
  We make a quire, as doth the prison'd bird,
  And sing our bondage freely.

• Belarius. How you speak!
  Did you but know the city's usuries 1650
  And felt them knowingly; the art o' the court
  As hard to leave as keep; whose top to climb
  Is certain falling, or so slippery that
  The fear's as bad as falling; the toil o' the war,
  A pain that only seems to seek out danger 1655
  I' the name of fame and honour; which dies i'
  the search,
  And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph
  As record of fair act; nay, many times,
  Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse, 1660
  Must court'sy at the censure:—O boys, this story
  The world may read in me: my body's mark'd
  With Roman swords, and my report was once
  First with the best of note: Cymbeline loved me,
  And when a soldier was the theme, my name 1665
  Was not far off: then was I as a tree
  Whose boughs did bend with fruit: but in one night,
  A storm or robbery, call it what you will,
  Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves,
  And left me bare to weather. 1670

• Guiderius. Uncertain favour!

• Belarius. My fault being nothing—as I have told you oft—
  But that two villains, whose false oaths prevail'd
  Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline
  I was confederate with the Romans: so 1675
  Follow'd my banishment, and this twenty years
  This rock and these demesnes have been my world;
  Where I have lived at honest freedom, paid
  More pious debts to heaven than in all
  The fore-end of my time. But up to the mountains! 1680
  This is not hunters' language: he that strikes
  The venison first shall be the lord o' the feast;
  To him the other two shall minister;
  And we will fear no poison, which attends
  In place of greater state. I'll meet you in the valleys. 1685
  [Exeunt GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS]
  How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature!
  These boys know little they are sons to the king;
  Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive.
  They think they are mine; and though train'd 1690
  up thus meanly
  I' the cave wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit
  The roofs of palaces, and nature prompts them
  In simple and low things to prince it much
  Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore, 1695
  The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, who
  The king his father call'd Guiderius,—Jove!
  When on my three-foot stool I sit and tell
  The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out
  Into my story: say 'Thus, mine enemy fell, 1700
  And thus I set my foot on 's neck;' even then
  The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats,
  Strains his young nerves and puts himself in posture
  That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal,
  Once Arviragus, in as like a figure, 1705
  Strikes life into my speech and shows much more
  His own conceiving.—Hark, the game is roused!
  O Cymbeline! heaven and my conscience knows
  Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon,
  At three and two years old, I stole these babes; 1710
  Thinking to bar thee of succession, as
  Thou reft'st me of my lands. Euriphile,
  Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for
  their mother,
  And every day do honour to her grave: 1715
  Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call'd,
  They take for natural father. The game is up.

[Exit]

Act III, Scene 4

Country near Milford-Haven.

[Enter PISANIO and IMOGEN]

• Imogen. Thou told'st me, when we came from horse, the place 1720
  Was near at hand: ne'er long'd my mother so
  To see me first, as I have now. Pisanio! man!
  Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind,
  That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh
  From the inward of thee? One, but painted thus, 1725
  Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd
  Beyond self-explication: put thyself
  Into a havior of less fear, ere wildness
  Vanquish my staider senses. What's the matter?
  Why tender'st thou that paper to me, with 1730
  A look untender? If't be summer news,
  Smile to't before; if winterly, thou need'st
  But keep that countenance still. My husband's hand!
  That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him,
  And he's at some hard point. Speak, man: thy tongue 1735
  May take off some extremity, which to read
  Would be even mortal to me.

• Pisanio. Please you, read;
  And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing
  The most disdain'd of fortune. 1740

• Imogen. [Reads] 'Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the
  strumpet in my bed; the testimonies whereof lie
  bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak surmises,
  but from proof as strong as my grief and as certain
  as I expect my revenge. That part thou, Pisanio, 1745
  must act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with
  the breach of hers. Let thine own hands take away
  her life: I shall give thee opportunity at
  Milford-Haven. She hath my letter for the purpose
  where, if thou fear to strike and to make me certain 1750
  it is done, thou art the pandar to her dishonour and
  equally to me disloyal.'

• Pisanio. What shall I need to draw my sword? the paper
  Hath cut her throat already. No, 'tis slander,
  Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue 1755
  Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose breath
  Rides on the posting winds and doth belie
  All corners of the world: kings, queens and states,
  Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave
  This viperous slander enters. What cheer, madam? 1760

• Imogen. False to his bed! What is it to be false?
  To lie in watch there and to think on him?
  To weep 'twixt clock and clock? if sleep
  charge nature,
  To break it with a fearful dream of him 1765
  And cry myself awake? that's false to's bed, is it?

• Pisanio. Alas, good lady!

• Imogen. I false! Thy conscience witness: Iachimo,
  Thou didst accuse him of incontinency;
  Thou then look'dst like a villain; now methinks 1770
  Thy favour's good enough. Some jay of Italy
  Whose mother was her painting, hath betray'd him:
  Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion;
  And, for I am richer than to hang by the walls,
  I must be ripp'd:—to pieces with me!—O, 1775
  Men's vows are women's traitors! All good seeming,
  By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought
  Put on for villany; not born where't grows,
  But worn a bait for ladies.

• Pisanio. Good madam, hear me. 1780

• Imogen. True honest men being heard, like false Aeneas,
  Were in his time thought false, and Sinon's weeping
  Did scandal many a holy tear, took pity
  From most true wretchedness: so thou, Posthumus,
  Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men; 1785
  Goodly and gallant shall be false and perjured
  From thy great fall. Come, fellow, be thou honest:
  Do thou thy master's bidding: when thou see'st him,
  A little witness my obedience: look!
  I draw the sword myself: take it, and hit 1790
  The innocent mansion of my love, my heart;
  Fear not; 'tis empty of all things but grief;
  Thy master is not there, who was indeed
  The riches of it: do his bidding; strike
  Thou mayst be valiant in a better cause; 1795
  But now thou seem'st a coward.

• Pisanio. Hence, vile instrument!
  Thou shalt not damn my hand.

• Imogen. Why, I must die;
  And if I do not by thy hand, thou art 1800
  No servant of thy master's. Against self-slaughter
  There is a prohibition so divine
  That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's my heart.
  Something's afore't. Soft, soft! we'll no defence;
  Obedient as the scabbard. What is here? 1805
  The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus,
  All turn'd to heresy? Away, away,
  Corrupters of my faith! you shall no more
  Be stomachers to my heart. Thus may poor fools
  Believe false teachers: though those that 1810
  are betray'd
  Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor
  Stands in worse case of woe.
  And thou, Posthumus, thou that didst set up
  My disobedience 'gainst the king my father 1815
  And make me put into contempt the suits
  Of princely fellows, shalt hereafter find
  It is no act of common passage, but
  A strain of rareness: and I grieve myself
  To think, when thou shalt be disedged by her 1820
  That now thou tirest on, how thy memory
  Will then be pang'd by me. Prithee, dispatch:
  The lamb entreats the butcher: where's thy knife?
  Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding,
  When I desire it too. 1825

• Pisanio. O gracious lady,
  Since I received command to do this business
  I have not slept one wink.

• Imogen. Do't, and to bed then.

• Pisanio. I'll wake mine eye-balls blind first. 1830

• Imogen. Wherefore then
  Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abused
  So many miles with a pretence? this place?
  Mine action and thine own? our horses' labour?
  The time inviting thee? the perturb'd court, 1835
  For my being absent? whereunto I never
  Purpose return. Why hast thou gone so far,
  To be unbent when thou hast ta'en thy stand,
  The elected deer before thee?

• Pisanio. But to win time 1840
  To lose so bad employment; in the which
  I have consider'd of a course. Good lady,
  Hear me with patience.

• Imogen. Talk thy tongue weary; speak
  I have heard I am a strumpet; and mine ear 1845
  Therein false struck, can take no greater wound,
  Nor tent to bottom that. But speak.

• Pisanio. Then, madam,
  I thought you would not back again.

• Imogen. Most like; 1850
  Bringing me here to kill me.

• Pisanio. Not so, neither:
  But if I were as wise as honest, then
  My purpose would prove well. It cannot be
  But that my master is abused: 1855
  Some villain, ay, and singular in his art.
  Hath done you both this cursed injury.

• Imogen. Some Roman courtezan.

• Pisanio. No, on my life.
  I'll give but notice you are dead and send him 1860
  Some bloody sign of it; for 'tis commanded
  I should do so: you shall be miss'd at court,
  And that will well confirm it.

• Imogen. Why good fellow,
  What shall I do the where? where bide? how live? 1865
  Or in my life what comfort, when I am
  Dead to my husband?

• Pisanio. If you'll back to the court—

• Imogen. No court, no father; nor no more ado
  With that harsh, noble, simple nothing, 1870
  That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me
  As fearful as a siege.

• Pisanio. If not at court,
  Then not in Britain must you bide.

• Imogen. Where then 1875
  Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night,
  Are they not but in Britain? I' the world's volume
  Our Britain seems as of it, but not in 't;
  In a great pool a swan's nest: prithee, think
  There's livers out of Britain. 1880

• Pisanio. I am most glad
  You think of other place. The ambassador,
  Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven
  To-morrow: now, if you could wear a mind
  Dark as your fortune is, and but disguise 1885
  That which, to appear itself, must not yet be
  But by self-danger, you should tread a course
  Pretty and full of view; yea, haply, near
  The residence of Posthumus; so nigh at least
  That though his actions were not visible, yet 1890
  Report should render him hourly to your ear
  As truly as he moves.

• Imogen. O, for such means!
  Though peril to my modesty, not death on't,
  I would adventure. 1895

• Pisanio. Well, then, here's the point:
  You must forget to be a woman; change
  Command into obedience: fear and niceness—
  The handmaids of all women, or, more truly,
  Woman its pretty self—into a waggish courage: 1900
  Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy and
  As quarrelous as the weasel; nay, you must
  Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek,
  Exposing it—but, O, the harder heart!
  Alack, no remedy!—to the greedy touch 1905
  Of common-kissing Titan, and forget
  Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein
  You made great Juno angry.

• Imogen. Nay, be brief
  I see into thy end, and am almost 1910
  A man already.

• Pisanio. First, make yourself but like one.
  Fore-thinking this, I have already fit—
  'Tis in my cloak-bag—doublet, hat, hose, all
  That answer to them: would you in their serving, 1915
  And with what imitation you can borrow
  From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius
  Present yourself, desire his service, tell him
  wherein you're happy,—which you'll make him know,
  If that his head have ear in music,—doubtless 1920
  With joy he will embrace you, for he's honourable
  And doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad,
  You have me, rich; and I will never fail
  Beginning nor supplyment.

• Imogen. Thou art all the comfort 1925
  The gods will diet me with. Prithee, away:
  There's more to be consider'd; but we'll even
  All that good time will give us: this attempt
  I am soldier to, and will abide it with
  A prince's courage. Away, I prithee. 1930

• Pisanio. Well, madam, we must take a short farewell,
  Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of
  Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress,
  Here is a box; I had it from the queen:
  What's in't is precious; if you are sick at sea, 1935
  Or stomach-qualm'd at land, a dram of this
  Will drive away distemper. To some shade,
  And fit you to your manhood. May the gods
  Direct you to the best!

• Imogen. Amen: I thank thee. 1940

[Exeunt, severally]

Act III, Scene 5

A room in Cymbeline’s palace.

[Enter CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN, LUCIUS,] [p]Lords, and Attendants]

• Cymbeline. Thus far; and so farewell.

• Caius Lucius. Thanks, royal sir. 1945
  My emperor hath wrote, I must from hence;
  And am right sorry that I must report ye
  My master's enemy.

• Cymbeline. Our subjects, sir,
  Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself 1950
  To show less sovereignty than they, must needs
  Appear unkinglike.

• Caius Lucius. So, sir: I desire of you
  A conduct over-land to Milford-Haven.
  Madam, all joy befal your grace! 1955

• Queen. And you!

• Cymbeline. My lords, you are appointed for that office;
  The due of honour in no point omit.
  So farewell, noble Lucius.

• Caius Lucius. Your hand, my lord. 1960

• Cloten. Receive it friendly; but from this time forth
  I wear it as your enemy.

• Caius Lucius. Sir, the event
  Is yet to name the winner: fare you well.

• Cymbeline. Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords, 1965
  Till he have cross'd the Severn. Happiness!

[Exeunt LUCIUS and Lords]

• Queen. He goes hence frowning: but it honours us
  That we have given him cause.

• Cloten. 'Tis all the better; 1970
  Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it.

• Cymbeline. Lucius hath wrote already to the emperor
  How it goes here. It fits us therefore ripely
  Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness:
  The powers that he already hath in Gallia 1975
  Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves
  His war for Britain.

• Queen. 'Tis not sleepy business;
  But must be look'd to speedily and strongly.

• Cymbeline. Our expectation that it would be thus 1980
  Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen,
  Where is our daughter? She hath not appear'd
  Before the Roman, nor to us hath tender'd
  The duty of the day: she looks us like
  A thing more made of malice than of duty: 1985
  We have noted it. Call her before us; for
  We have been too slight in sufferance.

[Exit an Attendant]

• Queen. Royal sir,
  Since the exile of Posthumus, most retired 1990
  Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord,
  'Tis time must do. Beseech your majesty,
  Forbear sharp speeches to her: she's a lady
  So tender of rebukes that words are strokes
  And strokes death to her. 1995

[Re-enter Attendant]

• Cymbeline. Where is she, sir? How
  Can her contempt be answer'd?

• Attendant. Please you, sir,
  Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer 2000
  That will be given to the loudest noise we make.

• Queen. My lord, when last I went to visit her,
  She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close,
  Whereto constrain'd by her infirmity,
  She should that duty leave unpaid to you, 2005
  Which daily she was bound to proffer: this
  She wish'd me to make known; but our great court
  Made me to blame in memory.

• Cymbeline. Her doors lock'd?
  Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that which I fear 2010
  Prove false!

[Exit]

• Queen. Son, I say, follow the king.

• Cloten. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant,
  have not seen these two days. 2015

• Queen. Go, look after.
  [Exit CLOTEN]
  Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus!
  He hath a drug of mine; I pray his absence
  Proceed by swallowing that, for he believes 2020
  It is a thing most precious. But for her,
  Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seized her,
  Or, wing'd with fervor of her love, she's flown
  To her desired Posthumus: gone she is
  To death or to dishonour; and my end 2025
  Can make good use of either: she being down,
  I have the placing of the British crown.
  [Re-enter CLOTEN]
  How now, my son!

• Cloten. 'Tis certain she is fled. 2030
  Go in and cheer the king: he rages; none
  Dare come about him.

• Queen. [Aside] All the better: may
  This night forestall him of the coming day!

[Exit]

• Cloten. I love and hate her: for she's fair and royal,
  And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite
  Than lady, ladies, woman; from every one
  The best she hath, and she, of all compounded,
  Outsells them all; I love her therefore: but 2040
  Disdaining me and throwing favours on
  The low Posthumus slanders so her judgment
  That what's else rare is choked; and in that point
  I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed,
  To be revenged upon her. For when fools Shall— 2045
  [Enter PISANIO]
  Who is here? What, are you packing, sirrah?
  Come hither: ah, you precious pander! Villain,
  Where is thy lady? In a word; or else
  Thou art straightway with the fiends. 2050

• Pisanio. O, good my lord!

• Cloten. Where is thy lady? Or, by Jupiter,—
  I will not ask again. Close villain,
  I'll have this secret from thy heart, or rip
  Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus? 2055
  From whose so many weights of baseness cannot
  A dram of worth be drawn.

• Pisanio. Alas, my lord,
  How can she be with him? When was she missed?
  He is in Rome. 2060

• Cloten. Where is she, sir? Come nearer;
  No further halting: satisfy me home
  What is become of her.

• Pisanio. O, my all-worthy lord!

• Cloten. All-worthy villain! 2065
  Discover where thy mistress is at once,
  At the next word: no more of 'worthy lord!'
  Speak, or thy silence on the instant is
  Thy condemnation and thy death.

• Pisanio. Then, sir, 2070
  This paper is the history of my knowledge
  Touching her flight.

[Presenting a letter]

• Cloten. Let's see't. I will pursue her
  Even to Augustus' throne. 2075

• Pisanio. [Aside] Or this, or perish.
  She's far enough; and what he learns by this
  May prove his travel, not her danger.

• Cloten. Hum!

• Pisanio. [Aside] I'll write to my lord she's dead. O Imogen, 2080
  Safe mayst thou wander, safe return again!

• Cloten. Sirrah, is this letter true?

• Pisanio. Sir, as I think.

• Cloten. It is Posthumus' hand; I know't. Sirrah, if thou
  wouldst not be a villain, but do me true service, 2085
  undergo those employments wherein I should have
  cause to use thee with a serious industry, that is,
  what villany soe'er I bid thee do, to perform it
  directly and truly, I would think thee an honest
  man: thou shouldst neither want my means for thy 2090
  relief nor my voice for thy preferment.

• Pisanio. Well, my good lord.

• Cloten. Wilt thou serve me? for since patiently and
  constantly thou hast stuck to the bare fortune of
  that beggar Posthumus, thou canst not, in the 2095
  course of gratitude, but be a diligent follower of
  mine: wilt thou serve me?

• Pisanio. Sir, I will.

• Cloten. Give me thy hand; here's my purse. Hast any of thy
  late master's garments in thy possession? 2100

• Pisanio. I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same suit he
  wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress.

• Cloten. The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit
  hither: let it be thy lint service; go.

• Pisanio. I shall, my lord. 2105

[Exit]

• Cloten. Meet thee at Milford-Haven!—I forgot to ask him one
  thing; I'll remember't anon:—even there, thou
  villain Posthumus, will I kill thee. I would these
  garments were come. She said upon a time—the 2110
  bitterness of it I now belch from my heart—that she
  held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect
  than my noble and natural person together with the
  adornment of my qualities. With that suit upon my
  back, will I ravish her: first kill him, and in her 2115
  eyes; there shall she see my valour, which will then
  be a torment to her contempt. He on the ground, my
  speech of insultment ended on his dead body, and
  when my lust hath dined,—which, as I say, to vex
  her I will execute in the clothes that she so 2120
  praised,—to the court I'll knock her back, foot
  her home again. She hath despised me rejoicingly,
  and I'll be merry in my revenge.
  [Re-enter PISANIO, with the clothes]
  Be those the garments? 2125

• Pisanio. Ay, my noble lord.

• Cloten. How long is't since she went to Milford-Haven?

• Pisanio. She can scarce be there yet.

• Cloten. Bring this apparel to my chamber; that is the second
  thing that I have commanded thee: the third is, 2130
  that thou wilt be a voluntary mute to my design. Be
  but duteous, and true preferment shall tender itself
  to thee. My revenge is now at Milford: would I had
  wings to follow it! Come, and be true.

[Exit]

• Pisanio. Thou bid'st me to my loss: for true to thee
  Were to prove false, which I will never be,
  To him that is most true. To Milford go,
  And find not her whom thou pursuest. Flow, flow,
  You heavenly blessings, on her! This fool's speed 2140
  Be cross'd with slowness; labour be his meed!

[Exit]

Act III, Scene 6

Wales. Before the cave of Belarius.

[Enter IMOGEN, in boy's clothes]

• Imogen. I see a man's life is a tedious one:
  I have tired myself, and for two nights together 2145
  Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick,
  But that my resolution helps me. Milford,
  When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd thee,
  Thou wast within a ken: O Jove! I think
  Foundations fly the wretched; such, I mean, 2150
  Where they should be relieved. Two beggars told me
  I could not miss my way: will poor folks lie,
  That have afflictions on them, knowing 'tis
  A punishment or trial? Yes; no wonder,
  When rich ones scarce tell true. To lapse in fulness 2155
  Is sorer than to lie for need, and falsehood
  Is worse in kings than beggars. My dear lord!
  Thou art one o' the false ones. Now I think on thee,
  My hunger's gone; but even before, I was
  At point to sink for food. But what is this? 2160
  Here is a path to't: 'tis some savage hold:
  I were best not to call; I dare not call:
  yet famine,
  Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant,
  Plenty and peace breeds cowards: hardness ever 2165
  Of hardiness is mother. Ho! who's here?
  If any thing that's civil, speak; if savage,
  Take or lend. Ho! No answer? Then I'll enter.
  Best draw my sword: and if mine enemy
  But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look on't. 2170
  Such a foe, good heavens!

[Exit, to the cave]

[Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS]

• Belarius. You, Polydote, have proved best woodman and
  Are master of the feast: Cadwal and I 2175
  Will play the cook and servant; 'tis our match:
  The sweat of industry would dry and die,
  But for the end it works to. Come; our stomachs
  Will make what's homely savoury: weariness
  Can snore upon the flint, when resty sloth 2180
  Finds the down pillow hard. Now peace be here,
  Poor house, that keep'st thyself!

• Guiderius. I am thoroughly weary.

• Arviragus. I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite.

• Guiderius. There is cold meat i' the cave; we'll browse on that, 2185
  Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd.

• Belarius. [Looking into the cave]
  Stay; come not in.
  But that it eats our victuals, I should think
  Here were a fairy. 2190

• Guiderius. What's the matter, sir?

• Belarius. By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not,
  An earthly paragon! Behold divineness
  No elder than a boy!

[Re-enter IMOGEN]

• Imogen. Good masters, harm me not:
  Before I enter'd here, I call'd; and thought
  To have begg'd or bought what I have took:
  good troth,
  I have stol'n nought, nor would not, though I had found 2200
  Gold strew'd i' the floor. Here's money for my meat:
  I would have left it on the board so soon
  As I had made my meal, and parted
  With prayers for the provider.

• Guiderius. Money, youth? 2205

• Arviragus. All gold and silver rather turn to dirt!
  As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those
  Who worship dirty gods.

• Imogen. I see you're angry:
  Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should 2210
  Have died had I not made it.

• Belarius. Whither bound?

• Imogen. To Milford-Haven.

• Belarius. What's your name?

• Imogen. Fidele, sir. I have a kinsman who 2215
  Is bound for Italy; he embark'd at Milford;
  To whom being going, almost spent with hunger,
  I am fall'n in this offence.

• Belarius. Prithee, fair youth,
  Think us no churls, nor measure our good minds 2220
  By this rude place we live in. Well encounter'd!
  'Tis almost night: you shall have better cheer
  Ere you depart: and thanks to stay and eat it.
  Boys, bid him welcome.

• Guiderius. Were you a woman, youth, 2225
  I should woo hard but be your groom. In honesty,
  I bid for you as I'd buy.

• Arviragus. I'll make't my comfort
  He is a man; I'll love him as my brother:
  And such a welcome as I'd give to him 2230
  After long absence, such is yours: most welcome!
  Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst friends.

• Imogen. 'Mongst friends,
  If brothers.
  [Aside] 2235
  Would it had been so, that they
  Had been my father's sons! then had my prize
  Been less, and so more equal ballasting
  To thee, Posthumus.

• Belarius. He wrings at some distress. 2240

• Guiderius. Would I could free't!

• Arviragus. Or I, whate'er it be,
  What pain it cost, what danger. God's!

• Belarius. Hark, boys.

[Whispering]

• Imogen. Great men,
  That had a court no bigger than this cave,
  That did attend themselves and had the virtue
  Which their own conscience seal'd them—laying by
  That nothing-gift of differing multitudes— 2250
  Could not out-peer these twain. Pardon me, gods!
  I'd change my sex to be companion with them,
  Since Leonatus's false.

• Belarius. It shall be so.
  Boys, we'll go dress our hunt. Fair youth, come in: 2255
  Discourse is heavy, fasting; when we have supp'd,
  We'll mannerly demand thee of thy story,
  So far as thou wilt speak it.

• Guiderius. Pray, draw near.

• Arviragus. The night to the owl and morn to the lark 2260
  less welcome.

• Imogen. Thanks, sir.

• Arviragus. I pray, draw near.

[Exeunt]

Act III, Scene 7

Rome. A public place.

[Enter two Senators and Tribunes]

• First Senator. This is the tenor of the emperor's writ:
  That since the common men are now in action
  'Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians,
  And that the legions now in Gallia are
  Full weak to undertake our wars against 2270
  The fall'n-off Britons, that we do incite
  The gentry to this business. He creates
  Lucius preconsul: and to you the tribunes,
  For this immediate levy, he commends
  His absolute commission. Long live Caesar! 2275

• First Tribune. Is Lucius general of the forces?

• Second Senator. Ay.

• First Tribune. Remaining now in Gallia?

• First Senator. With those legions
  Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy 2280
  Must be supplyant: the words of your commission
  Will tie you to the numbers and the time
  Of their dispatch.

• First Tribune. We will discharge our duty.

[Exeunt]

Act IV, Scene 1

Wales: near the cave of Belarius.

[Enter CLOTEN]

• Cloten. I am near to the place where they should meet, if
  Pisanio have mapped it truly. How fit his garments
  serve me! Why should his mistress, who was made by
  him that made the tailor, not be fit too? the 2290
  rather—saving reverence of the word—for 'tis said
  a woman's fitness comes by fits. Therein I must
  play the workman. I dare speak it to myself—for it
  is not vain-glory for a man and his glass to confer
  in his own chamber—I mean, the lines of my body are 2295
  as well drawn as his; no less young, more strong,
  not beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in the
  advantage of the time, above him in birth, alike
  conversant in general services, and more remarkable
  in single oppositions: yet this imperceiverant 2300
  thing loves him in my despite. What mortality is!
  Posthumus, thy head, which now is growing upon thy
  shoulders, shall within this hour be off; thy
  mistress enforced; thy garments cut to pieces before
  thy face: and all this done, spurn her home to her 2305
  father; who may haply be a little angry for my so
  rough usage; but my mother, having power of his
  testiness, shall turn all into my commendations. My
  horse is tied up safe: out, sword, and to a sore
  purpose! Fortune, put them into my hand! This is 2310
  the very description of their meeting-place; and
  the fellow dares not deceive me.

[Exit]

Act IV, Scene 2

Before the cave of Belarius.

[Enter, from the cave, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS,] [p]ARVIRAGUS, and IMOGEN]

• Belarius. [To IMOGEN] You are not well: remain here in the cave;
  We'll come to you after hunting.

• Arviragus. [To IMOGEN]. Brother, stay here
  Are we not brothers?

• Imogen. So man and man should be; 2320
  But clay and clay differs in dignity,
  Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick.

• Guiderius. Go you to hunting; I'll abide with him.

• Imogen. So sick I am not, yet I am not well;
  But not so citizen a wanton as 2325
  To seem to die ere sick: so please you, leave me;
  Stick to your journal course: the breach of custom
  Is breach of all. I am ill, but your being by me
  Cannot amend me; society is no comfort
  To one not sociable: I am not very sick, 2330
  Since I can reason of it. Pray you, trust me here:
  I'll rob none but myself; and let me die,
  Stealing so poorly.

• Guiderius. I love thee; I have spoke it
  How much the quantity, the weight as much, 2335
  As I do love my father.

• Belarius. What! how! how!

• Arviragus. If it be sin to say so, I yoke me
  In my good brother's fault: I know not why
  I love this youth; and I have heard you say, 2340
  Love's reason's without reason: the bier at door,
  And a demand who is't shall die, I'd say
  'My father, not this youth.'

• Belarius. [Aside]. O noble strain!
  O worthiness of nature! breed of greatness! 2345
  Cowards father cowards and base things sire base:
  Nature hath meal and bran, contempt and grace.
  I'm not their father; yet who this should be,
  Doth miracle itself, loved before me.
  'Tis the ninth hour o' the morn. 2350

• Arviragus. Brother, farewell.

• Imogen. I wish ye sport.

• Arviragus. You health. So please you, sir.

• Imogen. [Aside] These are kind creatures. Gods, what lies
  I have heard! 2355
  Our courtiers say all's savage but at court:
  Experience, O, thou disprovest report!
  The imperious seas breed monsters, for the dish
  Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish.
  I am sick still; heart-sick. Pisanio, 2360
  I'll now taste of thy drug.

[Swallows some]

• Guiderius. I could not stir him:
  He said he was gentle, but unfortunate;
  Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest. 2365

• Arviragus. Thus did he answer me: yet said, hereafter
  I might know more.

• Belarius. To the field, to the field!
  We'll leave you for this time: go in and rest.

• Arviragus. We'll not be long away. 2370

• Belarius. Pray, be not sick,
  For you must be our housewife.

• Imogen. Well or ill,
  I am bound to you.

• Belarius. And shalt be ever. 2375
  [Exit IMOGEN, to the cave]
  This youth, how'er distress'd, appears he hath had
  Good ancestors.

• Arviragus. How angel-like he sings!

• Guiderius. But his neat cookery! he cut our roots 2380
  In characters,
  And sauced our broths, as Juno had been sick
  And he her dieter.

• Arviragus. Nobly he yokes
  A smiling with a sigh, as if the sigh 2385
  Was that it was, for not being such a smile;
  The smile mocking the sigh, that it would fly
  From so divine a temple, to commix
  With winds that sailors rail at.

• Guiderius. I do note 2390
  That grief and patience, rooted in him both,
  Mingle their spurs together.

• Arviragus. Grow, patience!
  And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine
  His perishing root with the increasing vine! 2395

• Belarius. It is great morning. Come, away!—
  Who's there?

[Enter CLOTEN]

• Cloten. I cannot find those runagates; that villain
  Hath mock'd me. I am faint. 2400

• Belarius. 'Those runagates!'
  Means he not us? I partly know him: 'tis
  Cloten, the son o' the queen. I fear some ambush.
  I saw him not these many years, and yet
  I know 'tis he. We are held as outlaws: hence! 2405

• Guiderius. He is but one: you and my brother search
  What companies are near: pray you, away;
  Let me alone with him.

[Exeunt BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS]

• Cloten. Soft! What are you 2410
  That fly me thus? some villain mountaineers?
  I have heard of such. What slave art thou?

• Guiderius. A thing
  More slavish did I ne'er than answering
  A slave without a knock. 2415

• Cloten. Thou art a robber,
  A law-breaker, a villain: yield thee, thief.

• Guiderius. To who? to thee? What art thou? Have not I
  An arm as big as thine? a heart as big?
  Thy words, I grant, are bigger, for I wear not 2420
  My dagger in my mouth. Say what thou art,
  Why I should yield to thee?

• Cloten. Thou villain base,
  Know'st me not by my clothes?

• Guiderius. No, nor thy tailor, rascal, 2425
  Who is thy grandfather: he made those clothes,
  Which, as it seems, make thee.

• Cloten. Thou precious varlet,
  My tailor made them not.

• Guiderius. Hence, then, and thank 2430
  The man that gave them thee. Thou art some fool;
  I am loath to beat thee.

• Cloten. Thou injurious thief,
  Hear but my name, and tremble.

• Guiderius. What's thy name? 2435

• Cloten. Cloten, thou villain.

• Guiderius. Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name,
  I cannot tremble at it: were it Toad, or
  Adder, Spider,
  'Twould move me sooner. 2440

• Cloten. To thy further fear,
  Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know
  I am son to the queen.

• Guiderius. I am sorry for 't; not seeming
  So worthy as thy birth. 2445

• Cloten. Art not afeard?

• Guiderius. Those that I reverence those I fear, the wise:
  At fools I laugh, not fear them.

• Cloten. Die the death:
  When I have slain thee with my proper hand, 2450
  I'll follow those that even now fled hence,
  And on the gates of Lud's-town set your heads:
  Yield, rustic mountaineer.

[Exeunt, fighting]

[Re-enter BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS]

• Belarius. No companies abroad?

• Arviragus. None in the world: you did mistake him, sure.

• Belarius. I cannot tell: long is it since I saw him,
  But time hath nothing blurr'd those lines of favour
  Which then he wore; the snatches in his voice, 2460
  And burst of speaking, were as his: I am absolute
  'Twas very Cloten.

• Arviragus. In this place we left them:
  I wish my brother make good time with him,
  You say he is so fell. 2465

• Belarius. Being scarce made up,
  I mean, to man, he had not apprehension
  Of roaring terrors; for the effect of judgment
  Is oft the cause of fear. But, see, thy brother.

[Re-enter GUIDERIUS, with CLOTEN'S head]

• Guiderius. This Cloten was a fool, an empty purse;
  There was no money in't: not Hercules
  Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had none:
  Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne
  My head as I do his. 2475

• Belarius. What hast thou done?

• Guiderius. I am perfect what: cut off one Cloten's head,
  Son to the queen, after his own report;
  Who call'd me traitor, mountaineer, and swore
  With his own single hand he'ld take us in 2480
  Displace our heads where—thank the gods!—they grow,
  And set them on Lud's-town.

• Belarius. We are all undone.

• Guiderius. Why, worthy father, what have we to lose,
  But that he swore to take, our lives? The law 2485
  Protects not us: then why should we be tender
  To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us,
  Play judge and executioner all himself,
  For we do fear the law? What company
  Discover you abroad? 2490

• Belarius. No single soul
  Can we set eye on; but in all safe reason
  He must have some attendants. Though his humour
  Was nothing but mutation, ay, and that
  From one bad thing to worse; not frenzy, not 2495
  Absolute madness could so far have raved
  To bring him here alone; although perhaps
  It may be heard at court that such as we
  Cave here, hunt here, are outlaws, and in time
  May make some stronger head; the which he hearing— 2500
  As it is like him—might break out, and swear
  He'ld fetch us in; yet is't not probable
  To come alone, either he so undertaking,
  Or they so suffering: then on good ground we fear,
  If we do fear this body hath a tail 2505
  More perilous than the head.

• Arviragus. Let ordinance
  Come as the gods foresay it: howsoe'er,
  My brother hath done well.

• Belarius. I had no mind 2510
  To hunt this day: the boy Fidele's sickness
  Did make my way long forth.

• Guiderius. With his own sword,
  Which he did wave against my throat, I have ta'en
  His head from him: I'll throw't into the creek 2515
  Behind our rock; and let it to the sea,
  And tell the fishes he's the queen's son, Cloten:
  That's all I reck.

[Exit]

• Belarius. I fear 'twill be revenged: 2520
  Would, Polydote, thou hadst not done't! though valour
  Becomes thee well enough.

• Arviragus. Would I had done't
  So the revenge alone pursued me! Polydore,
  I love thee brotherly, but envy much 2525
  Thou hast robb'd me of this deed: I would revenges,
  That possible strength might meet, would seek us through
  And put us to our answer.

• Belarius. Well, 'tis done:
  We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danger 2530
  Where there's no profit. I prithee, to our rock;
  You and Fidele play the cooks: I'll stay
  Till hasty Polydote return, and bring him
  To dinner presently.

• Arviragus. Poor sick Fidele! 2535
  I'll weringly to him: to gain his colour
  I'ld let a parish of such Clotens' blood,
  And praise myself for charity.

[Exit]

• Belarius. O thou goddess, 2540
  Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st
  In these two princely boys! They are as gentle
  As zephyrs blowing below the violet,
  Not wagging his sweet head; and yet as rough,
  Their royal blood enchafed, as the rudest wind, 2545
  That by the top doth take the mountain pine,
  And make him stoop to the vale. 'Tis wonder
  That an invisible instinct should frame them
  To royalty unlearn'd, honour untaught,
  Civility not seen from other, valour 2550
  That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop
  As if it had been sow'd. Yet still it's strange
  What Cloten's being here to us portends,
  Or what his death will bring us.

[Re-enter GUIDERIUS]

• Guiderius. Where's my brother?
  I have sent Cloten's clotpoll down the stream,
  In embassy to his mother: his body's hostage
  For his return.

[Solemn music]

• Belarius. My ingenious instrument!
  Hark, Polydore, it sounds! But what occasion
  Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark!

• Guiderius. Is he at home?

• Belarius. He went hence even now. 2565

• Guiderius. What does he mean? since death of my dear'st mother
  it did not speak before. All solemn things
  Should answer solemn accidents. The matter?
  Triumphs for nothing and lamenting toys
  Is jollity for apes and grief for boys. 2570
  Is Cadwal mad?

• Belarius. Look, here he comes,
  And brings the dire occasion in his arms
  Of what we blame him for.
  [Re-enter ARVIRAGUS, with IMOGEN, as dead,] 2575
  bearing her in his arms]

• Arviragus. The bird is dead
  That we have made so much on. I had rather
  Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty,
  To have turn'd my leaping-time into a crutch, 2580
  Than have seen this.

• Guiderius. O sweetest, fairest lily!
  My brother wears thee not the one half so well
  As when thou grew'st thyself.

• Belarius. O melancholy! 2585
  Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find
  The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare
  Might easiliest harbour in? Thou blessed thing!
  Jove knows what man thou mightst have made; but I,
  Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy. 2590
  How found you him?

• Arviragus. Stark, as you see:
  Thus smiling, as some fly hid tickled slumber,
  Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at; his
  right cheek 2595
  Reposing on a cushion.

• Guiderius. Where?

• Arviragus. O' the floor;
  His arms thus leagued: I thought he slept, and put
  My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness 2600
  Answer'd my steps too loud.

• Guiderius. Why, he but sleeps:
  If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed;
  With female fairies will his tomb be haunted,
  And worms will not come to thee. 2605

• Arviragus. With fairest flowers
  Whilst summer lasts and I live here, Fidele,
  I'll sweeten thy sad grave: thou shalt not lack
  The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose, nor
  The azured harebell, like thy veins, no, nor 2610
  The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,
  Out-sweeten'd not thy breath: the ruddock would,
  With charitable bill,—O bill, sore-shaming
  Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie
  Without a monument!—bring thee all this; 2615
  Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none,
  To winter-ground thy corse.

• Guiderius. Prithee, have done;
  And do not play in wench-like words with that
  Which is so serious. Let us bury him, 2620
  And not protract with admiration what
  Is now due debt. To the grave!

• Arviragus. Say, where shall's lay him?

• Guiderius. By good Euriphile, our mother.

• Arviragus. Be't so: 2625
  And let us, Polydore, though now our voices
  Have got the mannish crack, sing him to the ground,
  As once our mother; use like note and words,
  Save that Euriphile must be Fidele.

• Guiderius. Cadwal, 2630
  I cannot sing: I'll weep, and word it with thee;
  For notes of sorrow out of tune are worse
  Than priests and fanes that lie.

• Arviragus. We'll speak it, then.

• Belarius. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less; for Cloten 2635
  Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys;
  And though he came our enemy, remember
  He was paid for that: though mean and
  mighty, rotting
  Together, have one dust, yet reverence, 2640
  That angel of the world, doth make distinction
  Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely
  And though you took his life, as being our foe,
  Yet bury him as a prince.

• Guiderius. Pray You, fetch him hither. 2645
  Thersites' body is as good as Ajax',
  When neither are alive.

• Arviragus. If you'll go fetch him,
  We'll say our song the whilst. Brother, begin.

[Exit BELARIUS]

• Guiderius. Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the east;
  My father hath a reason for't.

• Arviragus. 'Tis true.

• Guiderius. Come on then, and remove him.

• Arviragus. So. Begin. 2655

[SONG]

• Guiderius. Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
  Nor the furious winter's rages;
  Thou thy worldly task hast done,
  Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages: 2660
  Golden lads and girls all must,
  As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

• Arviragus. Fear no more the frown o' the great;
  Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
  Care no more to clothe and eat; 2665
  To thee the reed is as the oak:
  The sceptre, learning, physic, must
  All follow this, and come to dust.

• Guiderius. Fear no more the lightning flash,

• Arviragus. Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone; 2670

• Guiderius. Fear not slander, censure rash;

• Arviragus. Thou hast finish'd joy and moan:

• Guiderius. [with Arviragus] All lovers young, all lovers must
  Consign to thee, and come to dust.

• Guiderius. No exorciser harm thee! 2675

• Arviragus. Nor no witchcraft charm thee!

• Guiderius. Ghost unlaid forbear thee!

• Arviragus. Nothing ill come near thee!

• Guiderius. [with Arviragus] Quiet consummation have;
  And renowned be thy grave! 2680

[Re-enter BELARIUS, with the body of CLOTEN]

• Guiderius. We have done our obsequies: come, lay him down.

• Belarius. Here's a few flowers; but 'bout midnight, more:
  The herbs that have on them cold dew o' the night
  Are strewings fitt'st for graves. Upon their faces. 2685
  You were as flowers, now wither'd: even so
  These herblets shall, which we upon you strew.
  Come on, away: apart upon our knees.
  The ground that gave them first has them again:
  Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain. 2690

[Exeunt BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS]

• Imogen. [Awaking] Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; which is
  the way?—
  I thank you.—By yond bush?—Pray, how far thither?
  'Ods pittikins! can it be six mile yet?— 2695
  I have gone all night. 'Faith, I'll lie down and sleep.
  But, soft! no bedfellow!—O gods and goddesses!
  [Seeing the body of CLOTEN]
  These flowers are like the pleasures of the world;
  This bloody man, the care on't. I hope I dream; 2700
  For so I thought I was a cave-keeper,
  And cook to honest creatures: but 'tis not so;
  'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing,
  Which the brain makes of fumes: our very eyes
  Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good faith, 2705
  I tremble stiff with fear: but if there be
  Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity
  As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it!
  The dream's here still: even when I wake, it is
  Without me, as within me; not imagined, felt. 2710
  A headless man! The garments of Posthumus!
  I know the shape of's leg: this is his hand;
  His foot Mercurial; his Martial thigh;
  The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovial face
  Murder in heaven?—How!—'Tis gone. Pisanio, 2715
  All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
  And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou,
  Conspired with that irregulous devil, Cloten,
  Hast here cut off my lord. To write and read
  Be henceforth treacherous! Damn'd Pisanio 2720
  Hath with his forged letters,—damn'd Pisanio—
  From this most bravest vessel of the world
  Struck the main-top! O Posthumus! alas,
  Where is thy head? where's that? Ay me!
  where's that? 2725
  Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart,
  And left this head on. How should this be? Pisanio?
  'Tis he and Cloten: malice and lucre in them
  Have laid this woe here. O, 'tis pregnant, pregnant!
  The drug he gave me, which he said was precious 2730
  And cordial to me, have I not found it
  Murderous to the senses? That confirms it home:
  This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's: O!
  Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood,
  That we the horrider may seem to those 2735
  Which chance to find us: O, my lord, my lord!
  [Falls on the body]
  [Enter LUCIUS, a Captain and other Officers,]
  and a Soothsayer]

• Roman Captain. To them the legions garrison'd in Gailia, 2740
  After your will, have cross'd the sea, attending
  You here at Milford-Haven with your ships:
  They are in readiness.

• Caius Lucius. But what from Rome?

• Roman Captain. The senate hath stirr'd up the confiners 2745
  And gentlemen of Italy, most willing spirits,
  That promise noble service: and they come
  Under the conduct of bold Iachimo,
  Syenna's brother.

• Caius Lucius. When expect you them? 2750

• Roman Captain. With the next benefit o' the wind.

• Caius Lucius. This forwardness
  Makes our hopes fair. Command our present numbers
  Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't. Now, sir,
  What have you dream'd of late of this war's purpose? 2755

• Soothsayer. Last night the very gods show'd me a vision—
  I fast and pray'd for their intelligence—thus:
  I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd
  From the spongy south to this part of the west,
  There vanish'd in the sunbeams: which portends— 2760
  Unless my sins abuse my divination—
  Success to the Roman host.

• Caius Lucius. Dream often so,
  And never false. Soft, ho! what trunk is here
  Without his top? The ruin speaks that sometime 2765
  It was a worthy building. How! a page!
  Or dead, or sleeping on him? But dead rather;
  For nature doth abhor to make his bed
  With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead.
  Let's see the boy's face. 2770

• Roman Captain. He's alive, my lord.

• Caius Lucius. He'll then instruct us of this body. Young one,
  Inform us of thy fortunes, for it seems
  They crave to be demanded. Who is this
  Thou makest thy bloody pillow? Or who was he 2775
  That, otherwise than noble nature did,
  Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy interest
  In this sad wreck? How came it? Who is it?
  What art thou?

• Imogen. I am nothing: or if not, 2780
  Nothing to be were better. This was my master,
  A very valiant Briton and a good,
  That here by mountaineers lies slain. Alas!
  There is no more such masters: I may wander
  From east to occident, cry out for service, 2785
  Try many, all good, serve truly, never
  Find such another master.

• Caius Lucius. 'Lack, good youth!
  Thou movest no less with thy complaining than
  Thy master in bleeding: say his name, good friend. 2790

• Imogen. Richard du Champ.
  [Aside]
  If I do lie and do
  No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope
  They'll pardon it.—Say you, sir? 2795

• Caius Lucius. Thy name?

• Imogen. Fidele, sir.

• Caius Lucius. Thou dost approve thyself the very same:
  Thy name well fits thy faith, thy faith thy name.
  Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say 2800
  Thou shalt be so well master'd, but, be sure,
  No less beloved. The Roman emperor's letters,
  Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner
  Than thine own worth prefer thee: go with me.

• Imogen. I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please the gods, 2805
  I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep
  As these poor pickaxes can dig; and when
  With wild wood-leaves and weeds I ha' strew'd his grave,
  And on it said a century of prayers,
  Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep and sigh; 2810
  And leaving so his service, follow you,
  So please you entertain me.

• Caius Lucius. Ay, good youth!
  And rather father thee than master thee.
  My friends, 2815
  The boy hath taught us manly duties: let us
  Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can,
  And make him with our pikes and partisans
  A grave: come, arm him. Boy, he is preferr'd
  By thee to us, and he shall be interr'd 2820
  As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes
  Some falls are means the happier to arise.

[Exeunt]

Act IV, Scene 3

A room in Cymbeline’s palace.

[Enter CYMBELINE, Lords, PISANIO, and Attendants]

• Cymbeline. Again; and bring me word how 'tis with her. 2825
  [Exit an Attendant]
  A fever with the absence of her son,
  A madness, of which her life's in danger. Heavens,
  How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen,
  The great part of my comfort, gone; my queen 2830
  Upon a desperate bed, and in a time
  When fearful wars point at me; her son gone,
  So needful for this present: it strikes me, past
  The hope of comfort. But for thee, fellow,
  Who needs must know of her departure and 2835
  Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee
  By a sharp torture.

• Pisanio. Sir, my life is yours;
  I humbly set it at your will; but, for my mistress,
  I nothing know where she remains, why gone, 2840
  Nor when she purposes return. Beseech your highness,
  Hold me your loyal servant.

• First Lord. Good my liege,
  The day that she was missing he was here:
  I dare be bound he's true and shall perform 2845
  All parts of his subjection loyally. For Cloten,
  There wants no diligence in seeking him,
  And will, no doubt, be found.

• Cymbeline. The time is troublesome.
  [To PISANIO] 2850
  We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy
  Does yet depend.

• First Lord. So please your majesty,
  The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn,
  Are landed on your coast, with a supply 2855
  Of Roman gentlemen, by the senate sent.

• Cymbeline. Now for the counsel of my son and queen!
  I am amazed with matter.

• First Lord. Good my liege,
  Your preparation can affront no less 2860
  Than what you hear of: come more, for more
  you're ready:
  The want is but to put those powers in motion
  That long to move.

• Cymbeline. I thank you. Let's withdraw; 2865
  And meet the time as it seeks us. We fear not
  What can from Italy annoy us; but
  We grieve at chances here. Away!

[Exeunt all but PISANIO]

• Pisanio. I heard no letter from my master since 2870
  I wrote him Imogen was slain: 'tis strange:
  Nor hear I from my mistress who did promise
  To yield me often tidings: neither know I
  What is betid to Cloten; but remain
  Perplex'd in all. The heavens still must work. 2875
  Wherein I am false I am honest; not true, to be true.
  These present wars shall find I love my country,
  Even to the note o' the king, or I'll fall in them.
  All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd:
  Fortune brings in some boats that are not steer'd. 2880

[Exit]

Act IV, Scene 4

Wales: before the cave of Belarius.

[Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.

• Guiderius. The noise is round about us.

• Belarius. Let us from it.

• Arviragus. What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it 2885
  From action and adventure?

• Guiderius. Nay, what hope
  Have we in hiding us? This way, the Romans
  Must or for Britons slay us, or receive us
  For barbarous and unnatural revolts 2890
  During their use, and slay us after.

• Belarius. Sons,
  We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us.
  To the king's party there's no going: newness
  Of Cloten's death—we being not known, not muster'd 2895
  Among the bands—may drive us to a render
  Where we have lived, and so extort from's that
  Which we have done, whose answer would be death
  Drawn on with torture.

• Guiderius. This is, sir, a doubt 2900
  In such a time nothing becoming you,
  Nor satisfying us.

• Arviragus. It is not likely
  That when they hear the Roman horses neigh,
  Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes 2905
  And ears so cloy'd importantly as now,
  That they will waste their time upon our note,
  To know from whence we are.

• Belarius. O, I am known
  Of many in the army: many years, 2910
  Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore him
  From my remembrance. And, besides, the king
  Hath not deserved my service nor your loves;
  Who find in my exile the want of breeding,
  The certainty of this hard life; aye hopeless 2915
  To have the courtesy your cradle promised,
  But to be still hot summer's tamings and
  The shrinking slaves of winter.

• Guiderius. Than be so
  Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to the army: 2920
  I and my brother are not known; yourself
  So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown,
  Cannot be question'd.

• Arviragus. By this sun that shines,
  I'll thither: what thing is it that I never 2925
  Did see man die! scarce ever look'd on blood,
  But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison!
  Never bestrid a horse, save one that had
  A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel
  Nor iron on his heel! I am ashamed 2930
  To look upon the holy sun, to have
  The benefit of his blest beams, remaining
  So long a poor unknown.

• Guiderius. By heavens, I'll go:
  If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave, 2935
  I'll take the better care, but if you will not,
  The hazard therefore due fall on me by
  The hands of Romans!

• Arviragus. So say I. amen.

• Belarius. No reason I, since of your lives you set 2940
  So slight a valuation, should reserve
  My crack'd one to more care. Have with you, boys!
  If in your country wars you chance to die,
  That is my bed too, lads, an there I'll lie:
  Lead, lead. 2945
  [Aside]
  The time seems long; their blood
  thinks scorn,
  Till it fly out and show them princes born.

[Exeunt]

Act V, Scene 1

Britain. The Roman camp.

[Enter POSTHUMUS, with a bloody handkerchief]

• Posthumus Leonatus. Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee, for I wish'd
  Thou shouldst be colour'd thus. You married ones,
  If each of you should take this course, how many
  Must murder wives much better than themselves 2955
  For wrying but a little! O Pisanio!
  Every good servant does not all commands:
  No bond but to do just ones. Gods! if you
  Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I never
  Had lived to put on this: so had you saved 2960
  The noble Imogen to repent, and struck
  Me, wretch more worth your vengeance. But, alack,
  You snatch some hence for little faults; that's love,
  To have them fall no more: you some permit
  To second ills with ills, each elder worse, 2965
  And make them dread it, to the doers' thrift.
  But Imogen is your own: do your best wills,
  And make me blest to obey! I am brought hither
  Among the Italian gentry, and to fight
  Against my lady's kingdom: 'tis enough 2970
  That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress; peace!
  I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heavens,
  Hear patiently my purpose: I'll disrobe me
  Of these Italian weeds and suit myself
  As does a Briton peasant: so I'll fight 2975
  Against the part I come with; so I'll die
  For thee, O Imogen, even for whom my life
  Is every breath a death; and thus, unknown,
  Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril
  Myself I'll dedicate. Let me make men know 2980
  More valour in me than my habits show.
  Gods, put the strength o' the Leonati in me!
  To shame the guise o' the world, I will begin
  The fashion, less without and more within.

[Exit]

Act V, Scene 2

Field of battle between the British and Roman camps.

[Enter, from one side, LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and] [p]the Roman Army: from the other side, the [p]British Army; POSTHUMUS LEONATUS following, [p]like a poor soldier. They march over and go [p]out. Then enter again, in skirmish, IACHIMO [p]and POSTHUMUS LEONATUS he vanquisheth and disarmeth [p]IACHIMO, and then leaves him]

• Iachimo. The heaviness and guilt within my bosom
  Takes off my manhood: I have belied a lady,
  The princess of this country, and the air on't 2995
  Revengingly enfeebles me; or could this carl,
  A very drudge of nature's, have subdued me
  In my profession? Knighthoods and honours, borne
  As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn.
  If that thy gentry, Britain, go before 3000
  This lout as he exceeds our lords, the odds
  Is that we scarce are men and you are gods.
  [Exit]
  [The battle continues; the Britons fly; CYMBELINE is]
  taken: then enter, to his rescue, BELARIUS, 3005
  GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS]

• Belarius. Stand, stand! We have the advantage of the ground;
  The lane is guarded: nothing routs us but
  The villany of our fears.

• Guiderius. [with Arviragus] Stand, stand, and fight! 3010
  [Re-enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS, and seconds the]
  Britons: they rescue CYMBELINE, and exeunt. Then
  re-enter LUCIUS, and IACHIMO, with IMOGEN]

• Caius Lucius. Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself;
  For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such 3015
  As war were hoodwink'd.

• Iachimo. 'Tis their fresh supplies.

• Caius Lucius. It is a day turn'd strangely: or betimes
  Let's reinforce, or fly.

[Exeunt]

Act V, Scene 3

Another part of the field.

[Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and a British Lord]

• Lord. Camest thou from where they made the stand?

• Posthumus Leonatus. I did.
  Though you, it seems, come from the fliers.

• Lord. I did. 3025

• Posthumus Leonatus. No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost,
  But that the heavens fought: the king himself
  Of his wings destitute, the army broken,
  And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying
  Through a straight lane; the enemy full-hearted, 3030
  Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having work
  More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down
  Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling
  Merely through fear; that the straight pass was damm'd
  With dead men hurt behind, and cowards living 3035
  To die with lengthen'd shame.

• Lord. Where was this lane?

• Posthumus Leonatus. Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd with turf;
  Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier,
  An honest one, I warrant; who deserved 3040
  So long a breeding as his white beard came to,
  In doing this for's country: athwart the lane,
  He, with two striplings-lads more like to run
  The country base than to commit such slaughter
  With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer 3045
  Than those for preservation cased, or shame—
  Made good the passage; cried to those that fled,
  'Our Britain s harts die flying, not our men:
  To darkness fleet souls that fly backwards. Stand;
  Or we are Romans and will give you that 3050
  Like beasts which you shun beastly, and may save,
  But to look back in frown: stand, stand.'
  These three,
  Three thousand confident, in act as many—
  For three performers are the file when all 3055
  The rest do nothing—with this word 'Stand, stand,'
  Accommodated by the place, more charming
  With their own nobleness, which could have turn'd
  A distaff to a lance, gilded pale looks,
  Part shame, part spirit renew'd; that some, 3060
  turn'd coward
  But by example—O, a sin in war,
  Damn'd in the first beginners!—gan to look
  The way that they did, and to grin like lions
  Upon the pikes o' the hunters. Then began 3065
  A stop i' the chaser, a retire, anon
  A rout, confusion thick; forthwith they fly
  Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles; slaves,
  The strides they victors made: and now our cowards,
  Like fragments in hard voyages, became 3070
  The life o' the need: having found the backdoor open
  Of the unguarded hearts, heavens, how they wound!
  Some slain before; some dying; some their friends
  O'er borne i' the former wave: ten, chased by one,
  Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty: 3075
  Those that would die or ere resist are grown
  The mortal bugs o' the field.

• Lord. This was strange chance
  A narrow lane, an old man, and two boys.

• Posthumus Leonatus. Nay, do not wonder at it: you are made 3080
  Rather to wonder at the things you hear
  Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon't,
  And vent it for a mockery? Here is one:
  'Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane,
  Preserved the Britons, was the Romans' bane.' 3085

• Lord. Nay, be not angry, sir.

• Posthumus Leonatus. 'Lack, to what end?
  Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his friend;
  For if he'll do as he is made to do,
  I know he'll quickly fly my friendship too. 3090
  You have put me into rhyme.

• Lord. Farewell; you're angry.

• Posthumus Leonatus. Still going?
  [Exit Lord]
  This is a lord! O noble misery, 3095
  To be i' the field, and ask 'what news?' of me!
  To-day how many would have given their honours
  To have saved their carcasses! took heel to do't,
  And yet died too! I, in mine own woe charm'd,
  Could not find death where I did hear him groan, 3100
  Nor feel him where he struck: being an ugly monster,
  'Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds,
  Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we
  That draw his knives i' the war. Well, I will find him
  For being now a favourer to the Briton, 3105
  No more a Briton, I have resumed again
  The part I came in: fight I will no more,
  But yield me to the veriest hind that shall
  Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is
  Here made by the Roman; great the answer be 3110
  Britons must take. For me, my ransom's death;
  On either side I come to spend my breath;
  Which neither here I'll keep nor bear again,
  But end it by some means for Imogen.

[Enter two British Captains and Soldiers]

• First British Captain. Great Jupiter be praised! Lucius is taken.
  'Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels.

• Second British Captain. There was a fourth man, in a silly habit,
  That gave the affront with them.

• First British Captain. So 'tis reported: 3120
  But none of 'em can be found. Stand! who's there?

• Posthumus Leonatus. A Roman,
  Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds
  Had answer'd him.

• Second British Captain. Lay hands on him; a dog! 3125
  A leg of Rome shall not return to tell
  What crows have peck'd them here. He brags
  his service
  As if he were of note: bring him to the king.
  [Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS,] 3130
  PISANIO, Soldiers, Attendants, and Roman Captives.
  The Captains present POSTHUMUS LEONATUS to
  CYMBELINE, who delivers him over to a Gaoler:
  then exeunt omnes]

Act V, Scene 4

A British prison.

[Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and two Gaolers]

• First Gaoler. You shall not now be stol'n, you have locks upon you;
  So graze as you find pasture.

• Second Gaoler. Ay, or a stomach.

[Exeunt Gaolers]

• Posthumus Leonatus. Most welcome, bondage! for thou art away, 3140
  think, to liberty: yet am I better
  Than one that's sick o' the gout; since he had rather
  Groan so in perpetuity than be cured
  By the sure physician, death, who is the key
  To unbar these locks. My conscience, thou art fetter'd 3145
  More than my shanks and wrists: you good gods, give me
  The penitent instrument to pick that bolt,
  Then, free for ever! Is't enough I am sorry?
  So children temporal fathers do appease;
  Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent? 3150
  I cannot do it better than in gyves,
  Desired more than constrain'd: to satisfy,
  If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take
  No stricter render of me than my all.
  I know you are more clement than vile men, 3155
  Who of their broken debtors take a third,
  A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again
  On their abatement: that's not my desire:
  For Imogen's dear life take mine; and though
  'Tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life; you coin'd it: 3160
  'Tween man and man they weigh not every stamp;
  Though light, take pieces for the figure's sake:
  You rather mine, being yours: and so, great powers,
  If you will take this audit, take this life,
  And cancel these cold bonds. O Imogen! 3165
  I'll speak to thee in silence.
  [Sleeps]
  [Solemn music. Enter, as in an apparition,]
  SICILIUS LEONATUS, father to Posthumus Leonatus,
  an old man, attired like a warrior; leading in 3170
  his hand an ancient matron, his wife, and mother
  to Posthumus Leonatus, with music before them:
  then, after other music, follow the two young
  Leonati, brothers to Posthumus Leonatus, with
  wounds as they died in the wars. They circle 3175
  Posthumus Leonatus round, as he lies sleeping]

• Sicilius Leonatus. No more, thou thunder-master, show
  Thy spite on mortal flies:
  With Mars fall out, with Juno chide,
  That thy adulteries 3180
  Rates and revenges.
  Hath my poor boy done aught but well,
  Whose face I never saw?
  I died whilst in the womb he stay'd
  Attending nature's law: 3185
  Whose father then, as men report
  Thou orphans' father art,
  Thou shouldst have been, and shielded him
  From this earth-vexing smart.

• Mother. Lucina lent not me her aid, 3190
  But took me in my throes;
  That from me was Posthumus ript,
  Came crying 'mongst his foes,
  A thing of pity!

• Sicilius Leonatus. Great nature, like his ancestry, 3195
  Moulded the stuff so fair,
  That he deserved the praise o' the world,
  As great Sicilius' heir.

• First Brother. When once he was mature for man,
  In Britain where was he 3200
  That could stand up his parallel;
  Or fruitful object be
  In eye of Imogen, that best
  Could deem his dignity?

• Mother. With marriage wherefore was he mock'd, 3205
  To be exiled, and thrown
  From Leonati seat, and cast
  From her his dearest one,
  Sweet Imogen?

• Sicilius Leonatus. Why did you suffer Iachimo, 3210
  Slight thing of Italy,
  To taint his nobler heart and brain
  With needless jealosy;
  And to become the geck and scorn
  O' th' other's villany? 3215

• Second Brother. For this from stiller seats we came,
  Our parents and us twain,
  That striking in our country's cause
  Fell bravely and were slain,
  Our fealty and Tenantius' right 3220
  With honour to maintain.

• First Brother. Like hardiment Posthumus hath
  To Cymbeline perform'd:
  Then, Jupiter, thou king of gods,
  Why hast thou thus adjourn'd 3225
  The graces for his merits due,
  Being all to dolours turn'd?

• Sicilius Leonatus. Thy crystal window ope; look out;
  No longer exercise
  Upon a valiant race thy harsh 3230
  And potent injuries.

• Mother. Since, Jupiter, our son is good,
  Take off his miseries.

• Sicilius Leonatus. Peep through thy marble mansion; help;
  Or we poor ghosts will cry 3235
  To the shining synod of the rest
  Against thy deity.

• Second Brother. [with First Brother] Help, Jupiter; or we appeal,
  And from thy justice fly.
  [Jupiter descends in thunder and lightning, sitting] 3240
  upon an eagle: he throws a thunderbolt. The
  Apparitions fall on their knees]

• Jupiter. No more, you petty spirits of region low,
  Offend our hearing; hush! How dare you ghosts
  Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt, you know, 3245
  Sky-planted batters all rebelling coasts?
  Poor shadows of Elysium, hence, and rest
  Upon your never-withering banks of flowers:
  Be not with mortal accidents opprest;
  No care of yours it is; you know 'tis ours. 3250
  Whom best I love I cross; to make my gift,
  The more delay'd, delighted. Be content;
  Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift:
  His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent.
  Our Jovial star reign'd at his birth, and in 3255
  Our temple was he married. Rise, and fade.
  He shall be lord of lady Imogen,
  And happier much by his affliction made.
  This tablet lay upon his breast, wherein
  Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine: 3260
  and so, away: no further with your din
  Express impatience, lest you stir up mine.
  Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline.

[Ascends]

• Sicilius Leonatus. He came in thunder; his celestial breath 3265
  Was sulphurous to smell: the holy eagle
  Stoop'd as to foot us: his ascension is
  More sweet than our blest fields: his royal bird
  Prunes the immortal wing and cloys his beak,
  As when his god is pleased. 3270

• All. Thanks, Jupiter!

• Sicilius Leonatus. The marble pavement closes, he is enter'd
  His radiant root. Away! and, to be blest,
  Let us with care perform his great behest.

[The Apparitions vanish]

• Posthumus Leonatus. [Waking] Sleep, thou hast been a grandsire, and begot
  A father to me; and thou hast created
  A mother and two brothers: but, O scorn!
  Gone! they went hence so soon as they were born:
  And so I am awake. Poor wretches that depend 3280
  On greatness' favour dream as I have done,
  Wake and find nothing. But, alas, I swerve:
  Many dream not to find, neither deserve,
  And yet are steep'd in favours: so am I,
  That have this golden chance and know not why. 3285
  What fairies haunt this ground? A book? O rare one!
  Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment
  Nobler than that it covers: let thy effects
  So follow, to be most unlike our courtiers,
  As good as promise. 3290
  [Reads]
  'When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown,
  without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of
  tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be
  lopped branches, which, being dead many years, 3295
  shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock and
  freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries,
  Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty.'
  'Tis still a dream, or else such stuff as madmen
  Tongue and brain not; either both or nothing; 3300
  Or senseless speaking or a speaking such
  As sense cannot untie. Be what it is,
  The action of my life is like it, which
  I'll keep, if but for sympathy.

[Re-enter First Gaoler]

• First Gaoler. Come, sir, are you ready for death?

• Posthumus Leonatus. Over-roasted rather; ready long ago.

• First Gaoler. Hanging is the word, sir: if
  you be ready for that, you are well cooked.

• Posthumus Leonatus. So, if I prove a good repast to the 3310
  spectators, the dish pays the shot.

• First Gaoler. A heavy reckoning for you, sir. But the comfort is,
  you shall be called to no more payments, fear no
  more tavern-bills; which are often the sadness of
  parting, as the procuring of mirth: you come in 3315
  flint for want of meat, depart reeling with too
  much drink; sorry that you have paid too much, and
  sorry that you are paid too much; purse and brain
  both empty; the brain the heavier for being too
  light, the purse too light, being drawn of 3320
  heaviness: of this contradiction you shall now be
  quit. O, the charity of a penny cord! It sums up
  thousands in a trice: you have no true debitor and
  creditor but it; of what's past, is, and to come,
  the discharge: your neck, sir, is pen, book and 3325
  counters; so the acquittance follows.

• Posthumus Leonatus. I am merrier to die than thou art to live.

• First Gaoler. Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the
  tooth-ache: but a man that were to sleep your
  sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he 3330
  would change places with his officer; for, look you,
  sir, you know not which way you shall go.

• Posthumus Leonatus. Yes, indeed do I, fellow.

• First Gaoler. Your death has eyes in 's head then; I have not seen
  him so pictured: you must either be directed by 3335
  some that take upon them to know, or do take upon
  yourself that which I am sure you do not know, or
  jump the after inquiry on your own peril: and how
  you shall speed in your journey's end, I think you'll
  never return to tell one. 3340

• Posthumus Leonatus. I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to
  direct them the way I am going, but such as wink and
  will not use them.

• First Gaoler. What an infinite mock is this, that a man should
  have the best use of eyes to see the way of 3345
  blindness! I am sure hanging's the way of winking.

[Enter a Messenger]

• Messenger. Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the king.

• Posthumus Leonatus. Thou bring'st good news; I am called to be made free.

• First Gaoler. I'll be hang'd then. 3350

• Posthumus Leonatus. Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; no bolts for the dead.

[Exeunt POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and Messenger]

• First Gaoler. Unless a man would marry a gallows and beget young
  gibbets, I never saw one so prone. Yet, on my
  conscience, there are verier knaves desire to live, 3355
  for all he be a Roman: and there be some of them
  too that die against their wills; so should I, if I
  were one. I would we were all of one mind, and one
  mind good; O, there were desolation of gaolers and
  gallowses! I speak against my present profit, but 3360
  my wish hath a preferment in 't.

[Exeunt]

Act V, Scene 5

Cymbeline’s tent.

[Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS,] [p]PISANIO, Lords, Officers, and Attendants]

• Cymbeline. Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made 3365
  Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart
  That the poor soldier that so richly fought,
  Whose rags shamed gilded arms, whose naked breast
  Stepp'd before larges of proof, cannot be found:
  He shall be happy that can find him, if 3370
  Our grace can make him so.

• Belarius. I never saw
  Such noble fury in so poor a thing;
  Such precious deeds in one that promises nought
  But beggary and poor looks. 3375

• Cymbeline. No tidings of him?

• Pisanio. He hath been search'd among the dead and living,
  But no trace of him.

• Cymbeline. To my grief, I am
  The heir of his reward; 3380
  [To BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS]
  which I will add
  To you, the liver, heart and brain of Britain,
  By whom I grant she lives. 'Tis now the time
  To ask of whence you are. Report it. 3385

• Belarius. Sir,
  In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen:
  Further to boast were neither true nor modest,
  Unless I add, we are honest.

• Cymbeline. Bow your knees. 3390
  Arise my knights o' the battle: I create you
  Companions to our person and will fit you
  With dignities becoming your estates.
  [Enter CORNELIUS and Ladies]
  There's business in these faces. Why so sadly 3395
  Greet you our victory? you look like Romans,
  And not o' the court of Britain.

• Cornelius. Hail, great king!
  To sour your happiness, I must report
  The queen is dead. 3400

• Cymbeline. Who worse than a physician
  Would this report become? But I consider,
  By medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death
  Will seize the doctor too. How ended she?

• Cornelius. With horror, madly dying, like her life, 3405
  Which, being cruel to the world, concluded
  Most cruel to herself. What she confess'd
  I will report, so please you: these her women
  Can trip me, if I err; who with wet cheeks
  Were present when she finish'd. 3410

• Cymbeline. Prithee, say.

• Cornelius. First, she confess'd she never loved you, only
  Affected greatness got by you, not you:
  Married your royalty, was wife to your place;
  Abhorr'd your person. 3415