We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy
[To Pisanio.
So please your majesty,
The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn,
Are landed on your coast; with a supply
Of Roman gentlemen, by the senate sent.
Cym. Now for the counsel of my son, and queen!
I am amazed with matter.'
Good my liege, Your preparation can affront? no less
Than what you hear of: come more, for more you're
ready:
The want is, but to put those powers3 in motion,
That long to move.
Cym.
I thank you: Let's withdraw:
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.
Pis. I heard no letter from my master, since
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 :
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.
[Exit.
SCENE IV.-Before the cave. Enter Belarius,
Guiderius, and Arviragus.
Gui. The noise is round about us.
Bel.
Arv. What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it From action and adventure?
Have we in hiding us? this way, the Romans
Must or for Britons slay us; or receive us
For barbarous and unnatural revolts
During their use, and slay us after.
Gui.
Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to the army:
and my brother are not known; yourself,
So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown,
Cannot be question'd.
By this sun that shines,
I'll thither: What thing is it, that I never
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 asham'd
To look upon the holy sun, to have
The benefit of his bless'd beams, remaining
So long a poor unknown.
By heavens, I'll go :
If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave,
I'll take the better care; but if you will not,
The hazard therefore due fall on me, by
The hands of Romans!
Arv.
So say I; Amen.
Bel. No reason I, since on your lives you set
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, and there I'll lie':
Lead, lead.-The time seems long; their blood
thinks scorn,
[Aside.
Till it fly out, and show them princes born. [Exe.
SCENE I.-A field between the British and Roman camps. Enter Posthumus, with a bloody handkerchief.
Post. Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee; for I
wish'd
Thou should'st be colour'd thus. You married ones,
If each of you would take this course, how many
Must murder wives much better than themselves,
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
be Had liv'd to put on this: so had you sav'd
The noble Imogen to repent; and struck
Bel.
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
Among the bands) may drive us to a renders
Where we have liv'd; and so extort from us
That which we've done, whose answer would
death
This is, sir, a doubt,
In such a time, nothing becoming you,
Nor satisfying us.
Arv.
That when they hear the Ro.nan horses neigh,
Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes
And ears so cloy'd importantly as now,
That they will waste their time upon our note,"
To know from whence we are.
Bel.
O, I am known
Of many in the army: many years,
Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore
him
From my remembrance. And, besides, the king
Hath not deserv'd my service, nor your loves;
Who find in my exile the want of breeding,
The certainty of this hard life; aye hopeless
(1) Confounded by a variety of business.
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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;
And make them dread it to the doer's thrift.
But Imogen is your own: Do your best wills,
And make me bless'd to obey!-I am brought hither
Among the Italian gentry, and to fight
Against my lady's kingdom: 'Tis enough
That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress; peace!
I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good hea-
Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril
An honest one, I warrant; who deserv'd
Myself I'll dedicate. Let me make men know So long a breeding, as his white beard came to,
More valour in me, than my habits show.
In doing this for his country;-athwart the lane,
Gods, put the strength o'the Leonati in me! He, with two striplings (lads more like to run
To shame the guise o'the world, I will begin The country base, than to commit such slaughter;
The fashion, less without, and more within. With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer
Than those for preservation cas'd, or shame,)
SCENE II-The same. Enter at one side, Lu-Made good the passage; cry'd to those that fled,
cius, lachino, and the Roman army; al the Our Britain's harts die flying, not our men:
other side, the British army, Leonatus Posthu- To darkness fleet, souls that fly backwards! Stand;
mus following it, like a poor soldier. They Or we are Romans, and will give you that
march over, and go out. Alarums. Then en-
ter again in skirmish, Iachimo and Posthumus;
he vanquisheth and disarmeth lachimo, and then
leaves him.
Iach. 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
Revengingly enfeebles me; Or could this carl,'
A very drudge of nature's, have subdu'd me,
In my profession? Knighthoods and honours, borne
As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn,
If that thy gentry, Britain, go before
This lout, as he exceeds our lords, the odds
Is, that we scarce are men, and you are gods.
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
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;
But by example (0, 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
A stop i'the chaser, a retire; anon,
The battle continues; the Britons fly; Cymbeline A rout, confusion thick: Forthwith, they fly is taken: then enter, to his rescue, Belarius, Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles; slaves, Guiderius and Arviragus. The strides they victors made: and now our cowards (Like fraginents in hard voyages,) became
Bel. Stand, stand! We have the advantage of The life o'the need; having found the back-door the ground;
The lane is guarded: nothing routs us, but
The villany of our fears.
Of the unguarded hearts, Heavens, how they wound! Stand, stand, and fight! O'erborne i'the former wave: ten, chac'd by one, Some, slain before; some, dying; some, their friends Enter Posthumus, and seconds the Britons: They Are now each one the slaughterman of twenty: rescue Cymbeline, and exeunt. Then, enter Lu-Those, that would die or ere resist, are grown cius, Iachimo, and Imogen. The mortal bugs' o'the field.
Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and save thy-
self:
For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such
As war were hood-wink'd.
Jach.
'Tis their fresh supplies.
Luc. It is a day turn'd strangely: Or betimes
Let's re-enforce, or fly.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III-Another part of the field. Enter
Posthumus and a British Lord.
Lord. Cam'st thou from where they made the
stand?
Post.
I did:
Though you, it seems, come from the fliers.
Lord.
Post. 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,
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 strait pass was
damm'd2
With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards living
To die with lengthen'd shame.
Lord.
Where was this lane?
Post. Close by the battle, ditch'd and wall'd with
turf;
Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier,—
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Lord.
This was strange chance:
A narrow lane! an old man, and two boys!
Post. Nay, do not wonder at it: You are made
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,
Preserv'd the Britons, was the Romans' bane.
Lord. Nay, be not angry, sir.
Post.
'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.
You have put me into rhyme.
Lord.
Farewell, you are angry. [Erit.
Post. Still going?-This is a lord! O noble
mise. y!
To be i'the field, and ask what news, of me!
To-day, how many would have given their honours
To have sav'd their carcasses? took heel to do't,
And yet died too? I, in mine own wo charm'd,
Could not find death, where I did hear him groan
Nor feel him, where he struck: Being an ugly
Here made by the Roman; great the answer be 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. 1 Cap. Great Jupiter be prais'd! Lucius is taken: 'Tis thought, the old man and his sons were angels. 2 Cap. There was a fourth man, in a silly habit, That gave the affront' with them. 1 Cap. So 'tis reported: But none of them can be found.-Stand! who is there?
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As if he were of note: bring him to the king. Enter Cymbeline, attended; Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, Pisanio, and Roman captives. Captains present Posthumus to Cymbeline, who delivers him over to a Gaoler: after which, all go out.
SCENE IV.-A prison. Enter Posthumus, and two Gaolers.
1 Gaol. You shall not now be stolen, you have locks upon you;
So, graze, as you find pasture.
Gaol.
Ay, or a stomach.
[Exeunt Gaolers.
Post. Most welcome, bondage! for thou art a way,
I 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 cur'd
By the sure physician, death; who is the key To unbar these locks. My conscience! thou art fetter'd
More than my shanks, and wrists: You good gods,
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?
I cannot do it better than in gyves,2
Desir'd, 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,
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:
'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!
I'll speak to thee in silence.
Solemn music. Enter, as an apparition, Sicilius Leonatus, father to Posthumus, an old man, attired like a warrior; leading in his hand an
mus, with music before them. Then, after other music, follow the two young Leonati, brothers to Posthumus, with wounds, as they died in the wars. They circle Posthumus round, as he lies sleeping.
Sici. No more, thou thunder-master, show
Thy spite on mortal flies:
With Mars fall out, with Juno chide,
That thy adulteries
Rates and revenges.
Hath my poor boy done aught but well,
Whose face I never saw?
I died, whilst in the womb he staid
Attending nature's law.
Whose father then (as men report,
Thou orphans' father art,) a
Thou shouldst have been, and shielded him
From this earth-vexing smart.
Moth, Lucina lent not me her aid,
But took me in my throes:
That from me was Posthúmus ript;
Came crying 'mongst his foes,
Or fruitful object be
In eye of Imogen, that best
Could deem his dignity?
Moth. With marriage wherefore was he mock'd, To be exil'd and thrown
From Leonati' seat, and cast
From her his dearest one,
Sweet Imogen?
Sici. Why did you suffer Iachimo,
Slight thing of Italy,
To taint his noble heart and brain
With needless jealousy ;
And to become the geck and scorn
O'the other's villany?
2 Bro. 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,
With honour to maintain.
1 Bro. Like hardiment Posthúmus hath
To Cymbeline perform'd:
Then Jupiter, thou king of gods,
Why hast thou thus adjourn'd The graces for his merits due;
Being all to dolours turn'd?
Sici. Thy crystal window ope; look out;
No longer exercise,
Upon a valiant race, thy harsh
And potent injuries:
Moth. Since, Jupiter, our son is good,
Take off his miseries.
Sici. Peep through thy marble mansion; help Or we poor ghosts will cry
To the shining synod of the rest,
Against thy deity.
2 Bro. Help, Jupiter; or we appeal, And from thy justice fly.
ancient Matron, his wife, and mother to Posthu-Jupiter descends in thunder and lightning, sitting
upon an Eagle; he throws a thunder-bolt. The Ghosts fall on their knees.
Jup. No more, you petty spirits of region low,
Offend our hearing; hush!-How dare you ghosts,
Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt you know,
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.
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
Post. So, if I prove a good repast to the spectators, the dish pays the shot.
Gaol. 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 faint 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 heaviness: O! of this contradiction you shall now be quit.-O the charity of a penny cord! it sums up
Our temple was he married.-Rise, and fade!-thousands in a trice: you have no true debtor and
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;
And so, away: no further with your din
Express impatience, lest you stir up mine.-
Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline.
[Ascends.
Sici. He came in thunder; his celestial breath
Was sulphurous to smell: the holy eagle
Stoop'd, as to foot us: his ascension is
More sweet than our bless'd fields: his royal bird
Prunes the immortal wing, and cloys his beak,
As when his god is pleas'd.
Thanks, Jupiter! Sici. The marble pavement closes, he is enter'd His radiant roof:-Away! and, to be blest, Let us with care perform his great behest.
[Ghosts vanish. Post. [Waking.] Sleep, thou hast been a grandsire, and begot
A father to me: and thou hast created
A mother and two brothers: But (0, scorn!)
Gone; they went hence so soon as they were born.
And so I am awake.-Poor wretches that depend
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.
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.
creditor but it; of what's past, is, and to come, the discharge :-Your neck, sir, is pen, book, and counters; so the acquittance follows.
Post. I am merrier to die, than thou art to live. Gaol. 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 would change places with his officer: for, look you, sir, you know not which way you shall go. Post. Yes, indeed, do I, fellow.
Gaol. Your death has eyes in's head then; have not seen him so pictur'd: you must either be directed by some that take upon them to know; or 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.
Post. 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.
Gaol. What an infinite mock is this, that a man should have the best use of eyes, to see the way of blindness! I am sure, hanging's the way of winking.
Mess. Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the king.
Post. Thou bringest good news;-I am called to be made free.
Gaol. I'll be hanged then. Post. Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; no bolts for the dead.
[Exeunt Posthumus and Messenger. Gaol. 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, for all he be a Roman: and there be
[Reads.] When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself some of them too, that die against their wills; so unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced should I if I were one. I would we were all of by a piece of tender air; and when from a state- one mind, and one mind good; O, there were desoly cedar shall be lopped branches, which, being lation of gaolers, and gallowses! I speak against dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed my present profit; but my wish hath a preferment to the old stock, and freshly grow: then shall in't. Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate, SCENE V.-Cymbeline's tent.
and flourish in peace and plenty.
'Tis still a dream; or else such stuff as madmen Tongue, and brain not: either both, or nothing:
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.
Gaol. Come, sir, are you ready for death? Post. Over-roasted rather: ready long ago. Gaol. Hanging is the word, sir; if you be ready for that, you are well cooked.'
(1) Hazard. (2) Forward. (3) Target, shield.
[Exeunt. Enter Cymbe line, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, Pisanio, Lords, Officers, and Attendants.
Cym. Stand by my side, you whom the gods have
Pis. He hath been search'd among the dead and | To have mistrusted her: yet, O my daughter! living,
Cym.
To my grief, I am
The heir of his reward; which I will add
To you, the liver, heart, and brain of Britain,
[To Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.
By whom, I grant, she lives; 'Tis now the time
To ask of whence you are:-report it.
Sir,
In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen:
Further to boast, were neither true nor modest,
Unless I add, we are honest.
Cym.
Bow your knees:
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
Greet you our victory? you look like Romans,
And not o'the court of Britain.
Cor.
To sour your happiness, I must report
The queen is dead.
Cyin.
Whom 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?
Cor. With horror, madly dying, like her life ;
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.
Cor. First, she confess'd she never lov'd you; only
Affected greatness got by you, not you :
Married your royalty, was wife to your place;
Abhorr'd your person.
And, but she spoke it dying, I would not
Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.
That it was folly in me, thou may'st say,
And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all!
Enter Lucius, Iachimo, the Soothsayer, and other
Roman Prisoners, guarded; Posthumus behind,
and Imogen.
Thou com'st not, Caius, now for tribute; that
The Britions have raz'd out, though with the loss
| Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have made suit,
That their good souls may be appeas'd with
slaughter
Of you their captives, which ourself have granted;
So, think of your estate.
Luc. Consider, sir, the chance of war: the day
Was yours by accident: had it gone
with us,
We should not, when the blood was cool, have
Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods,
Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives
May be call'd ransom, let it come: sufficeth,
A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer:
Augustus lives to think on't: And so much
For my peculiar care. This one thing only
I will entreat; My boy, a Briton born,
Let him be ransom'd: never master had
A page so kind, so duteous, diligent,
So tender over his occasions, true,
So feat,' so nurse-like: let his virtue join
With my request, which, I'll make bold, your
highness
Cannot deny: he hath done no Briton harm,
Though he have serv'd a Roman: save him, sir,
And spare no blood beside.
His favour is familiar to me.-
Boy, thou hast look'd thyself into my grace,
And art mine own.-I know not why, nor where-
To say, live, boy: ne'er thank thy master: live:
And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt,
Fitting my bounty, and thy state, I'll give it ;
Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner,
Cor. Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to The noblest ta'en.
With such integrity, she did confess
Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life,
But that her flight prevented it, she had "Ta'en off by poison.
Cyn.
Who is't can read a woman?-Is there more!
Cor. More, sir, and worse. She did confess, she
had
For you a mortal mineral ; which, being took,
Should by the minute feed on life, and, ling'ring,
By inches waste you: In which time she purpos'd,
By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to
O'ercome you with her show: yes, and in time
(When she had fitted you with her craft,) to work
Her son into the adoption of the crown.
But failing of her end by his strange absence,
Grew shameless desperate; open'd, in despite
Of heaven and men, her purposes; repented
The evils she hatch'd were not effected; so,
Despairing, died.
|