2.4 Enter POSTHUMUS and PHILARIO.

POSTHUMUS     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     Not any: but abide the change of time,
Quake in the present winter’s state, and wish	5
That warmer days would come: in these fear’d hopes,
I barely gratify your love; they failing,
I must die much your debtor.
PHILARIO     Your very goodness, and your company,
O’erpays all I can do. By this, your king	10
Hath heard of great Augustus: Caius Lucius
Will do’s commission throughly. And I think
He’ll grant the tribute: send th’arrearages,
Or look upon our Romans, whose remembrance
Is yet fresh in their grief.
POSTHUMUS     I do believe	15
(Statist though I am none, nor like to be)
That this will prove a war; and you shall hear
The legion now in Gallia sooner landed
In our not-fearing Britain than have tidings
Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen	20
Are men more order’d than when Julius Caesar
Smil’d at their lack of skill, but found their courage
Worthy his frowning at. Their discipline,
(Now wing-led with their courages) will make known
To their approvers they are people such	25
That mend upon the world.
Enter IACHIMO.
PHILARIO     See! Iachimo!
POSTHUMUS
The swiftest harts have posted you by land;
And winds of all the corners kiss’d your sails,
To make your vessel nimble.
PHILARIO     Welcome, sir.
POSTHUMUS     I hope the briefness of your answer made	30
The speediness of your return.
IACHIMO     Your lady,
Is one the fairest that I have look’d upon –
POSTHUMUS
And therewithal the best, or let her beauty
Look through a casement to allure false hearts,
And be false with them.
IACHIMO     Here are letters for you.	35
POSTHUMUS     Their tenour good, I trust.
IACHIMO     ’Tis very like.
POSTHUMUS     Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court
When you were there?
IACHIMO     He was expected then,
But not approach’d.
POSTHUMUS     All is well yet.
Sparkles this stone as it was wont, or is’t not	40
Too dull for your good wearing?
IACHIMO     If I have lost it,
I should have lost the worth of it in gold –
I’ll make a journey twice as far, t’enjoy
A second night of such sweet shortness which
Was mine in Britain; for the ring is won.	45
POSTHUMUS     The stone’s too hard to come by.
IACHIMO     Not a whit,
Your lady being so easy.
POSTHUMUS     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	50
The knowledge of your mistress home, I grant
We were to question farther; 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	55
By both your wills.
POSTHUMUS     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,
Your sword, or mine, or masterless leave both	60
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
I will confirm with oath, which I doubt not
You’ll give me leave to spare, when you shall find	65
You need it not.
POSTHUMUS     Proceed.
IACHIMO     First, her bedchamber,
(Where I confess I slept not, but profess
Had that was well worth watching) it was hang’d
With tapestry of silk and silver, the story
Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman,	70
And Cydnus swell’d above the banks, or for
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,	75
Since the true life on’t was –
POSTHUMUS     This is true:
And this you might have heard of here, by me,
Or by some other.
IACHIMO     More particulars
Must justify my knowledge.
POSTHUMUS     So they must,
Or do your honour injury.
IACHIMO     The chimney	80
Is south the chamber, and the chimney-piece,
Chaste Dian, bathing: never saw I figures
So likely to report themselves; the cutter
Was as another Nature, dumb; outwent her,
Motion and breath left out.
POSTHUMUS     This is a thing	85
Which you might from relation likewise reap,
Being, as it is, much spoke of.
IACHIMO     The roof o’th’ chamber
With golden cherubins is fretted. Her andirons
(I had forgot them) were two winking Cupids
Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely	90
Depending on their brands.
POSTHUMUS     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
The wager you have laid.
IACHIMO     Then, if you can	95
[showing the bracelet]
Be pale, I beg but leave to air this jewel: see!
And now ’tis up again: it must be married
To that your diamond, I’ll keep them.
POSTHUMUS     Jove! –
Once more let me behold it: is it that
Which I left with her?
IACHIMO     Sir (I thank her) that!	100
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 priz’d it once.
POSTHUMUS     May be she pluck’d it off
To send it me.
IACHIMO     She writes so to you? Doth she?	105
POSTHUMUS     O, no, no, no, ’tis true. Here, take this too;
[Gives the ring.]
It is a basilisk unto mine eye,
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	110
Of no more bondage be to where they are made
Than they are to their virtues, which is nothing.
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	115
Who knows if one of her women, being corrupted,
Hath stol’n it from her?
POSTHUMUS     Very true,
And so, I hope, he came by’t. Back my ring,
Render me some corporal sign about her
More evident than this: for this was stol’n.	120
IACHIMO     By Jupiter, I had it from her arm.
POSTHUMUS
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 induc’d to steal it?	125
And by a stranger? No, he hath enjoy’d 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
Divide themselves between you!
PHILARIO     Sir, be patient:	130
This is not strong enough to be believed
Of one persuaded well of.
POSTHUMUS     Never talk on’t:
She hath been colted by him.
IACHIMO     If you seek
For further satisfying, under her breast
(Worthy her pressing) lies a mole, right proud	135
Of that most delicate lodging. By my life,
I kiss’d it, and it gave me present hunger
To feed again, though full. You do remember
This stain upon her?
POSTHUMUS     Ay, and it doth confirm
Another stain, as big as hell can hold,	140
Were there no more but it.
IACHIMO     Will you hear more?
POSTHUMUS
Spare your arithmetic, never count the turns:
Once, and a million!
IACHIMO     I’ll be sworn –
POSTHUMUS     No swearing:
If you will swear you have not done’t you lie,
And I will kill thee if thou dost deny	145
Thou’st made me cuckold.
IACHIMO     I’ll deny nothing.
POSTHUMUS
O, that I had her here, to tear her limb-meal!
I will go there and do’t, i’th’ court, before
Her father. I’ll do something –     Exit.
PHILARIO     Quite besides
The government of patience! You have won:	150
Let’s follow him, and pervert the present wrath
He hath against himself.
IACHIMO     With all my heart.     Exeunt.
Re-enter POSTHUMUS.
POSTHUMUS     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	155
Did call my father, was I know not where
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!	160
Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain’d,
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!	165
This yellow Iachimo, in an hour, was’t not?
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	170
Should from encounter guard. Could I find out
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:	175
Lust, and rank thoughts, hers, hers: revenges, hers:
Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,
Nice longing, slanders, mutability;
All faults that name, nay, that hell knows, why, hers
In part, or all: but rather all. For even to vice	180
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:	185
The very devils cannot plague them better. Exit.

3.1 Enter in state, CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN and Lords at one door, and at another, CAIUS LUCIUS and attendants.

CYMBELINE
Now say, what would Augustus Caesar with us?
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,	5
(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.
QUEEN     And, to kill the marvel,	10
Shall be so ever.
CLOTEN     There be many Caesars ere such another
Julius: Britain’s a world by itself, and we will nothing
pay for wearing our own noses.
QUEEN     That opportunity,	15
Which then they had to take from’s, to resume
We have again. Remember, sir, my liege,
The kings your ancestors, together with
The natural bravery of your isle, which stands
As Neptune’s park, ribb’d and pal’d in	20
With rocks unscaleable and roaring waters,
With sands that will not bear your enemies’ boats,
But suck them up to th’ topmast. A kind of conquest
Caesar made here, but made not here his brag
Of ‘Came, and saw, and overcame:’ with shame	25
(The first that ever touch’d him) he was carried
From off our coast, twice beaten: and his shipping
(Poor ignorant baubles!) on our terrible seas,
Like egg-shells mov’d upon their surges, crack’d
As easily ’gainst our rocks. For joy whereof	30
The fam’d 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.
CLOTEN     Come, there’s no more tribute to be paid: our	35
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.
CYMBELINE     Son, let your mother end.	40
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 put the
moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for light:	45
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. Caesar’s
ambition,
Which swell’d so much that it did almost stretch	50
The sides o’th’ world, against all colour here
Did put the yoke upon’s: which to shake off
Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon
Ourselves to be.
CLOTEN AND LORDS     We do.
CYMBELINE     Say then to Caesar,
Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which	55
Ordain’d our laws, whose use the sword of Caesar
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	60
His brows within a golden crown, and call’d
Himself a king.
LUCIUS     I am sorry, Cymbeline,
That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar
(Caesar, that hath moe kings his servants than
Thyself domestic officers) thine enemy:	65
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.
Thy Caesar knighted me; my youth I spent	70
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
Their liberties are now in arms: a precedent	75
Which not to read would show the Britons cold:
So Caesar shall not find them.
LUCIUS     Let proof speak.
CLOTEN     His majesty bids you welcome. Make pastime
with us a day or two, or longer: if you seek us
afterwards in other terms, you shall find us in our salt-	80
water girdle: if you beat us out of it, it is yours: if you
fall in the adventure, our crows shall fare the better for
you: and there’s an end.
LUCIUS     So, sir.
CYMBELINE
I know your master’s pleasure, and he mine:	85
All the remain is ‘Welcome’.     Exeunt.

3.2 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
(As poisonous tongu’d as handed) hath prevail’d	5
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,
Thy mind to her is now as low as were	10
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
Let me be counted serviceable. How look I,	15
That I should seem to lack humanity
So much as this fact comes to? [reading]
Do’t: the letter
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,	20
Art thou a feodary for this act, and look’st
So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes.
I am ignorant in what I am commanded.
Enter IMOGEN.
IMOGEN     How now, Pisanio?
PISANIO     Madam, here is a letter from my lord.	25
IMOGEN     Who? thy lord? that is my lord Leonatus!
O, learn’d indeed were that astronomer
That knew the stars as I his characters;
He’d lay the future open. You good gods,
Let what is here contain’d relish of love,	30
Of my lord’s health, of his content: yet not
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	35
You bees that make these locks of counsel! Lovers
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	40
me 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 happiness, that remains loyal to his vow,	45
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
How far ’tis thither. If one of mean affairs	50
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
(O let me bate) but not like me: yet long’st
But in a fainter kind. O, not like me:	55
For mine’s beyond beyond: say, and speak thick,
(Love’s counsellor should fill the bores of hearing,
To th’smothering of the sense) how far it is
To this same blessed Milford. And by th’ way
Tell me how Wales was made so happy as	60
T’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.
Why should excuse be born or ere begot?	65
We’ll talk of that hereafter. Prithee speak,
How many score of miles may we well rid
’Twixt hour, and hour?
PISANIO     One score ’twixt sun and sun,
Madam’s enough for you: and too much too.
IMOGEN     Why, one that rode to’s execution, man,	70
Could never go so slow: I have heard of riding
wagers,
Where horses have been nimbler than the sands
That run i’th’ 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	75
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,
That I cannot look through. Away, I prithee,	80
Do as I bid thee: there’s no more to say:
Accessible is none but Milford way.     Exeunt.

3.3 Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS.

BELARIUS     A goodly day not to keep house with such
Whose roof’s as low as ours! Stoop, boys: this gate
Instructs you how t’adore the heavens; and bows you
To a morning’s holy office. The gates of monarchs
Are arch’d so high that giants may jet through	5
And keep their impious turbans on, without
Good morrow to the sun. Hail, thou fair heaven!
We house i’th’ rock, yet use thee not so hardly
As prouder livers do.
GUIDERIUS     Hail, heaven!
ARVIRAGUS     Hail, heaven!
BELARIUS
Now for our mountain sport, up to yond hill!	10
Your legs are young: I’ll tread these flats. Consider,
When you above perceive me like a crow,
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.	15
This service is not service, so being done,
But being so allow’d. To apprehend thus,
Draws us a profit from all things we see:
And often, to our comfort, shall we find
The sharded beetle in a safer hold	20
Than is the full-wing’d eagle. O, this life
Is nobler than attending for a check:
Richer than doing nothing for a robe,
Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk:
Such gain the cap of him that makes him fine,	25
Yet keeps his book uncross’d: no life to ours.
GUIDERIUS
Out of your proof you speak: we poor unfledg’d,
Have never wing’d from view o’th’ nest; nor know
not
What air’s from home. Haply this life is best
(If quiet life be best) sweeter to you	30
That have a sharper known, well corresponding
With your stiff age; but unto us it is
A cell of ignorance, travelling a-bed,
A prison, or a debtor that not dares
To stride a limit.
ARVIRAGUS     What should we speak of	35
When we are old as you? When we shall hear
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,	40
Like warlike as the wolf for what we eat:
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,	45
And felt them knowingly: the art o’th’ court,
As hard to leave as keep: whose top to climb
Is certain falling: or so slipp’ry that
The fear’s as bad as falling: the toil o’th’ war,
A pain that only seems to seek out danger	50
I’th’ name of fame and honour, which dies i’th’
search,
And hath as oft a sland’rous epitaph
As record of fair act. Nay, many times,
Doth ill deserve by doing well: what’s worse,
Must court’sy at the censure. O boys, this story	55
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 lov’d me,
And when a soldier was the theme, my name
Was not far off: then was I as a tree	60
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.
GUIDERIUS     Uncertain favour!
BELARIUS
My fault being nothing (as I have told you oft)	65
But that two villains, whose false oaths prevail’d
Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline
I was confederate with the Romans: so
Follow’d my banishment, and this twenty years
This rock, and these demesnes, have been my world,	70
Where I have liv’d at honest freedom, paid
More pious debts to heaven than in all
The fore-end of my time. But up to th’ mountains!
This is not hunter’s language; he that strikes
The venison first shall be the lord o’th’ feast,	75
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.
Exeunt Guiderius and Arviragus.
How hard it is to hide the sparks of Nature!
These boys know little they are sons to th’ king,	80
Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive.
They think they are mine, and though train’d up
thus meanly,
I’th’ 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	85
Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore,
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	90
Into my story: say ‘Thus mine enemy fell,
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,	95
Once Arviragus, in as like a figure
Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more
His own conceiving. Hark, the game is rous’d!
O Cymbeline, heaven and my conscience knows
Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon,	100
At three and two years old, I stole these babes,
Thinking to bar thee of succession as
Thou refts me of my lands. Euriphile,
Thou wast their nurse, they took thee for their
mother,
And every day do honour to her grave:	105
Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call’d,
They take for natural father. The game is up.     Exit.

3.4 Enter PISANIO and IMOGEN.

IMOGEN
Thou told’st me when we came from horse, the place
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	5
From th’inward of thee? One but painted thus
Would be interpreted a thing perplex’d
Beyond self-explication. Put thyself
Into a haviour of less fear, ere wildness
Vanquish my staider senses. What’s the matter?	10
Why tender’st thou that paper to me, with
A look untender? If ’t be summer news,
Smile to’t before: if winterly, thou need’st
But keep that count’nance still. My husband’s hand?
That drug-damn’d Italy hath out-craftied him,	15
And he’s at some hard point. Speak, man, thy tongue
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.	20
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, must act for me, if thy faith be not	25
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 it is done, thou art
the pandar to her dishonour, and equally to me disloyal.	30
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
Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose breath
Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie	35
All corners of the world. Kings, queens, and states,
Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave
This viperous slander enters. What cheer, madam?
IMOGEN     False to his bed? What is it to be false?
To lie in watch there, and to think on him?	40
To weep ’twixt clock and clock? If sleep charge
Nature,
To break it with a fearful dream of him,
And cry myself awake? That’s false to’s bed, is it?
PISANIO     Alas, good lady!
IMOGEN     I false? Thy conscience witness: Iachimo,	45
Thou didst accuse him of incontinency;
Thou then look’dst like a villain: now, methinks,
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,	50
And, for I am richer than to hang by th’ walls,
I must be ripp’d: – to pieces with me! – O,
Men’s vows are women’s traitors! All good seeming,
By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought
Put on for villainy; not born where’t grows,	55
But worn a bait for ladies.
PISANIO     Good madam, hear me.
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	60
Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men;
Goodly and gallant shall be false and perjur’d
From thy great fail. Come fellow, be thou honest
Do thou thy master’s bidding. When thou see’st him,
A little witness my obedience. Look,	65
I draw the sword myself, take it, and hit
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.	70
Thou mayst be valiant in a better cause;
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
No servant of thy master’s. Against self-slaughter	75
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?
The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus,	80
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 are betray’d
Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor	85
Stands in worse case of woe.
And thou, Posthumus, thou that didst set up
My disobedience ’gainst the king my father,
And make me put into contempt the suits
Of princely fellows, shalt hereafter find	90
It is no act of common passage, but
A strain of rareness: and I grieve myself
To think, when thou shalt be disedg’d by her
That now thou tirest on, how thy memory
Will then be pang’d by me. Prithee, dispatch:	95
The lamb entreats the butcher. Where’s thy knife?
Thou art too slow to do thy master’s bidding
When I desire it too.
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.	100
PISANIO     I’ll wake mine eye-balls out first.
IMOGEN     Wherefore then
Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abus’d
So many miles, with a pretence? This place?
Mine action, and thine own? Our horses’ labour?
The time inviting thee? The perturb’d court	105
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,
Th’elected deer before thee?
PISANIO     But to win time
To lose so bad employment, in the which	110
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,
Therein false struck, can take no greater wound,
Nor tent, to bottom that. But speak.
PISANIO     Then, madam,	115
I thought you would not back again.
IMOGEN     Most like,
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 abus’d: some villain,	120
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
Some bloody sign of it. For ’tis commanded	125
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 while? Where bide? How live?
Or in my life what comfort, when I am
Dead to my husband?
PISANIO     If you’ll back to th’ court –	130
IMOGEN     No court, no father, nor no more ado
With that harsh, noble, simple nothing,
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?	135
Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day? Night?
Are they not but in Britain? I’th’ 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.
PISANIO     I am most glad	140
You think of other place: th’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
That which, t’appear itself, must not yet be	145
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
Report should render him hourly to your ear	150
As truly as he moves.
IMOGEN     O, for such means,
Though peril to my modesty, not death on’t,
I would adventure!
PISANIO     Well then, here’s the point:
You must forget to be a woman: change
Command into obedience: fear, and niceness	155
(The handmaids of all women, or, more truly,
Woman it pretty self) into a waggish courage,
Ready in gibes, quick-answer’d, saucy, and
As quarrelous as the weasel: nay, you must
Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek,	160
Exposing it (but, O, the harder heart!
Alack, no remedy) to the greedy touch
Of common-kissing Titan: and forget
Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein
You made great Juno angry.
IMOGEN     Nay, be brief:	165
I see into thy end, and am almost
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	170
(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 will make him know,
If that his head have ear in music, doubtless	175
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
The gods will diet me with. Prithee away,	180
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.
PISANIO     Well, madam, we must take a short farewell,	185
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,
Or stomach-qualm’d at land, a dram of this	190
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.
Exeunt severally.

3.5 Enter CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN, LUCIUS and lords.

CYMBELINE     Thus far, and so farewell.
LUCIUS     Thanks, royal sir:
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	5
To show less sovereignty than they, must needs
Appear unkinglike.
LUCIUS     So, sir: I desire of you
A conduct over land, to Milford-Haven.
Madam, all joy befal your grace, and you!
CYMBELINE
My lords, you are appointed for that office:	10
The due of honour in no point omit.
So farewell, noble Lucius.
LUCIUS     Your hand, my lord.
CLOTEN     Receive it friendly: but from this time forth
I wear it as your enemy.
LUCIUS     Sir, the event
Is yet to name the winner. Fare you well.	15
CYMBELINE
Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords,
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,
Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it.	20
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
Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves	25
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
Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen,
Where is our daughter? She hath not appear’d	30
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,
We have noted it. Call her before us, for
We have been too slight in sufferance.
Exit an Attendant.
QUEEN     Royal sir,	35
Since the exile of Posthumus, most retir’d
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,	40
And strokes death to her.
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
That will be given to th’ loud of noise we make.
QUEEN     My lord, when last I went to visit her,	45
She pray’d me to excuse her keeping close,
Whereto constrain’d by her infirmity,
She should that duty leave unpaid to you
Which daily she was bound to proffer: this
She wish’d me to make known: but our great court	50
Made me to blame in memory.
CYMBELINE     Her doors lock’d?
Not seen of late? Grant heavens, that which I fear
Prove false!     Exit.
QUEEN     Son, I say, follow the king.
CLOTEN     That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant,	55
I have not seen these two days.
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
It is a thing most precious. But for her,	60
Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seiz’d her:
Or, wing’d with fervour of her love, she’s flown
To her desir’d Posthumus: gone she is,
To death, or to dishonour, and my end
Can make good use of either. She being down,	65
I have the placing of the British crown.
Re-enter CLOTEN.
How now, my son?
CLOTEN     ’Tis certain she is fled:
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.	70
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	75
Disdaining me, and throwing favours on
The low Posthumus, slanders so her judgement
That what’s else rare is chok’d: and in that point
I will conclude to hate her, nay indeed,
To be reveng’d upon her. For, when fools	80
Shall –
Enter PISANIO.
Who is here? What, are you packing, sirrah?
Come hither: ah, you precious pandar! Villain,
Where is thy lady? In a word, or else
Thou art straightway with the fiends.
PISANIO     O, good my lord!
CLOTEN     Where is thy lady? or, by Jupiter –	85
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?
From whose so many weights of baseness cannot
A dram of worth be drawn.
PISANIO     Alas, my lord,	90
How can she be with him? When was she miss’d?
He is in Rome.
CLOTEN     Where is she, sir? Come nearer:
No farther halting: satisfy me home,
What is become of her?
PISANIO     O, my all-worthy lord!
CLOTEN     All-worthy villain!	95
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:
This paper is the history of my knowledge	100
Touching her flight. [presenting a letter]
CLOTEN     Let’s see’t: I will pursue her
Even to Augustus’ throne.
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,	105
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,	110
undergo those employments wherein I should have
cause to use thee with a serious industry, that is,
what villainy 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 relief,	115
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 course of	120
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?	125
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 first service, go.
PISANIO     I shall, my lord.     Exit.	130
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
bitterness of it I now belch from my heart) that she	135
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 eyes;
there shall she see my valour, which will then be a	140
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 prais’d) to the
court I’ll knock her back, foot her home again. She	145
hath despis’d me rejoicingly, and I’ll be merry in my
revenge.
Re-enter PISANIO, with the clothes.
Be those the garments?
PISANIO     Ay, my noble lord.
CLOTEN     How long is’t since she went to Milford-	150
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, that thou wilt be a voluntary mute to my design. Be	155
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,	160
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
Be cross’d with slowness; labour be his meed!     Exit.

3.6 Enter IMOGEN, in boy’s clothes.

IMOGEN     I see a man’s life is a tedious one,
I have tir’d myself: and for two nights together
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,	5
Thou was within a ken. O Jove! I think
Foundations fly the wretched: such, I mean,
Where they should be reliev’d. Two beggars told me
I could not miss my way. Will poor folks lie,
That have afflictions on them, knowing ’tis	10
A punishment, or trial? Yes; no wonder,
When rich ones scarce tell true. To lapse in fulness
Is sorer than to lie for need: and falsehood
Is worse in kings than beggars. My dear lord,
Thou art one o’th’ false ones! Now I think on thee,	15
My hunger’s gone; but even before, I was
At point to sink, for food. – But what is this?
Here is a path to’t: ’tis some savage hold:
I were best not call; I dare not call: yet famine,
Ere clean it o’erthrow Nature, makes it valiant.	20
Plenty and peace breeds cowards: hardness ever
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	25
But fear the sword like me, he’ll scarcely look on’t.
Such a foe, good heavens!     Exit, to the cave.

3.7 Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS.

BELARIUS
You, Polydore, have prov’d best woodman, and
Are master of the feast: Cadwal and I
Will play the cook and servant, ’tis our match:
The sweat and industry would dry and die,
But for the end it works to. Come, our stomachs	5
Will make what’s homely savoury: weariness
Can snore upon the flint, when resty sloth
Finds the down-pillow hard. Now peace be here,
Poor house, that keep’st thyself!
GUIDERIUS     I am throughly weary.
ARVIRAGUS     I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite.	10
GUIDERIUS
There is cold meat i’th’ cave, we’ll browse on that,
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.
GUIDERIUS     What’s the matter, sir?
BELARIUS     By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not,	15
An earthly paragon! Behold divineness
No elder than a boy!
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,	20
I have stol’n nought, nor would not, though I had
found
Gold strew’d i’th’ 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 pray’rs for the provider.
GUIDERIUS     Money, youth?	25
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
Have died had I not made it.
BELARIUS     Whither bound?	30
IMOGEN     To Milford-Haven.
BELARIUS     What’s your name?
IMOGEN     Fidele, sir: I have a kinsman who
Is bound for Italy; he embark’d at Milford;
To whom being going, almost spent with hunger,	35
I am fall’n in this offence.
BELARIUS     Prithee, fair youth,
Think us no churls: nor measure our good minds
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:	40
Boys, bid him welcome.
GUIDERIUS     Were you a woman, youth,
I should woo hard, but be your groom in honesty:
I bid for you as I do 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’ld give to him	45
(After long absence) such is yours. Most welcome!
Be sprightly, for you fall ’mongst friends.
IMOGEN     ’Mongst friends?
If brothers: [aside] would it had been so, that they
Had been my father’s sons, then had my prize
Been less, and so more equal ballasting	50
To thee, Posthumus.
BELARIUS     He wrings at some distress.
GUIDERIUS     Would I could free’t!
ARVIRAGUS     Or I, whate’er it be,
What pain it cost, what danger! Gods!
BELARIUS     [whispering]     Hark, boys.
IMOGEN     Great men,
That had a court no bigger than this cave,	55
That did attend themselves, and had the virtue
Which their own conscience seal’d them, laying by
That nothing-gift of differing multitudes,
Could not out-peer these twain. Pardon me, gods!
I’ld change my sex to be companion with them,	60
Since Leonatus false.
BELARIUS     It shall be so:
Boys, we’ll go dress our hunt. Fair youth, come in;
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.	65
ARVIRAGUS
The night to th’owl and morn to th’ lark less
welcome.
IMOGEN     Thanks, sir.
ARVIRAGUS     I pray, draw near.     Exeunt.

3.8 Enter two Senators and Tribunes.

1 SENATOR
This is the tenour 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	5
The fall’n-off Britons, that we do incite
The gentry to this business. He creates
Lucius proconsul: and to you the tribunes,
For this immediate levy, he commands
His absolute commission. Long live Caesar!	10
1 TRIBUNE     Is Lucius general of the forces?
2 SENATOR     Ay.
1 TRIBUNE     Remaining now in Gallia?
1 SENATOR     With those legions
Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy
Must be supplyant: the words of your commission
Will tie you to the numbers and the time	15
Of their despatch.
1 TRIBUNE     We will discharge our duty.
Exeunt.

4.1 Enter CLOTEN alone.

CLOTEN     I am near to th’ place where they should meet,
if Pisanio have mapp’d 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 rather
(saving reverence of the word) for ’tis said a woman’s	5
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 as well
drawn as his; no less young, more strong, not beneath	10
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 imperseverant thing loves him in my despite.
What mortality is! Posthumus, thy head (which now is	15
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 father, who may (haply) be a little angry
for my so rough usage: but my mother, having power	20
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 the
very description of their meeting-place, and the fellow
dares not deceive me.     Exit.	25

4.2 Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS and IMOGEN from the cave.

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;
But clay and clay differs in dignity,
Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick.	5
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
To seem to die ere sick: so please you, leave me,
Stick to your journal course: the breach of custom	10
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,
Since I can reason of it: pray you, trust me here,
I’ll rob none but myself, and let me die,	15
Stealing so poorly.
GUIDERIUS     I love thee: I have spoke it,
How much the quantity, the weight as much,
As I do love my father.
BELARIUS     What? How? How?
ARVIRAGUS     If it be sin to say so, sir, I yoke me
In my good brother’s fault: I know not why	20
I love this youth, and I have heard you say,
Love’s reason’s without reason. The bier at door,
And a demand who is’t shall die, I’ld say
‘My father, not this youth.’
BELARIUS     [aside]     O noble strain!
O worthiness of nature! breed of greatness!	25
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, lov’d before me. –
’Tis the ninth hour o’ th’ morn.
ARVIRAGUS     Brother, farewell.	30
IMOGEN     I wish ye sport.
ARVIRAGUS     You health. – So please you, sir.
IMOGEN     [aside]
These are kind creatures. Gods, what lies I have
heard!
Our courtiers say all’s savage but at court;
Experience, O, thou disprov’st report!
Th’emperious seas breed monsters; for the dish	35
Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish:
I am sick still, heart-sick; Pisanio,
I’ll now taste of thy drug.
GUIDERIUS     I could not stir him:
He said he was gentle, but unfortunate;
Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest.	40
ARVIRAGUS     Thus did he answer me: yet said, hereafter
I might know more.
BELARIUS     To th’ field, to th’ field!
We’ll leave you for this time, go in, and rest.
ARVIRAGUS     We’ll not be long away.
BELARIUS     Pray be not sick,
For you must be our housewife.
IMOGEN     Well, or ill,	45
I am bound to you.
BELARIUS     And shalt be ever.
Exit Imogen, to the cave.
This youth, howe’er distress’d, appears he hath had
Good ancestors.
ARVIRAGUS     How angel-like he sings!
GUIDERIUS
But his neat cookery! he cut our roots in characters,
And sauced our broths, as Juno had been sick,	50
And he her dieter.
ARVIRAGUS     Nobly he yokes
A smiling with a sigh; as if the sigh
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	55
With winds that sailors rail at.
GUIDERIUS     I do note
That grief and patience, rooted in them both,
Mingle their spurs together.
ARVIRAGUS     Grow, patience!
And let the stinking-elder, grief, untwine
His perishing root, with the increasing vine!	60
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.
BELARIUS     ‘Those runagates!’
Means he not us? I partly know him, ’tis
Cloten, the son o’th’ queen. I fear some ambush:	65
I saw him not these many years, and yet
I know ’tis he: we are held as outlaws: hence!
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	70
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.
CLOTEN     Thou art a robber,
A law-breaker, a villain: yield thee, thief.	75
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
My dagger in my mouth. Say what thou art:
Why I should yield to thee.
CLOTEN     Thou villain base,	80
Know’st me not by my clothes?
GUIDERIUS     No, nor thy tailor, rascal,
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
The man that gave them thee. Thou art some fool,	85
I am loath to beat thee.
CLOTEN     Thou injurious thief,
Hear but my name, and tremble.
GUIDERIUS     What’s thy name?
CLOTEN     Cloten, thou villain.
GUIDERIUS     Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name,
I cannot tremble at it, were it Toad, or Adder,
Spider,	90
’Twould move me sooner.
CLOTEN     To thy further fear,
Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know
I am son to th’ queen.
GUIDERIUS     I am sorry for’t: not seeming
So worthy as thy birth.
CLOTEN     Art not afeard?
GUIDERIUS
Those that I reverence, those I fear: the wise:	95
At fools I laugh: not fear them.
CLOTEN     Die the death:
When I have slain thee with my proper hand,
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.	100
Re-enter BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS.
BELARIUS     No company’s 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,	105
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.
BELARIUS     Being scarce made up,
I mean, to man, he had not apprehension	110
Of roaring terrors: for defect of judgement
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:	115
Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne
My head, as I do his.
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,	120
With his own single hand he’ld take us in,
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	125
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?
BELARIUS     No single soul	130
Can we set eye on; but in all safe reason
He must have some attendants. Though his honour
Was nothing but mutation, ay, and that
From one bad thing to worse, not frenzy, not
Absolute madness could so far have rav’d,	135
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
(As it is like him) might break out, and swear	140
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
More perilous than the head.
ARVIRAGUS     Let ordinance	145
Come as the gods foresay it: howsoe’er,
My brother hath done well.
BELARIUS     I had no mind
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	150
His head from him: I’ll throw’t into the creek
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 reveng’d:
Would, Polydore, thou hadst not done’t: though
valour	155
Becomes thee well enough.
ARVIRAGUS     Would I had done’t:
So the revenge alone pursued me! Polydore,
I love thee brotherly, but envy much
Thou hast robb’d me of this deed: I would revenges,
That possible strength might meet, would seek us
through	160
And put us to our answer.
BELARIUS     Well, ’tis done:
We’ll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danger
Where there’s no profit. I prithee, to our rock,
You and Fidele play the cooks: I’ll stay
Till hasty Polydore return, and bring him	165
To dinner presently.
ARVIRAGUS     Poor sick Fidele!
I’ll willingly 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,
Thou divine Nature; thou thyself thou blazon’st	170
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 enchaf’d) as the rud’st wind
That by the top doth take the mountain pine	175
And make him stoop to th’ vale. ’Tis wonder
That an invisible instinct should frame them
To royalty unlearn’d, honour untaught,
Civility not seen from other, valour
That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop	180
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	185
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.
GUIDERIUS
What does he mean? Since death of my dear’st
mother	190
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.
Is Cadwal mad?
Re-enter ARVIRAGUS with IMOGEN, dead, bearing her in his arms.
BELARIUS     Look, here he comes,	195
And brings the dire occasion in his arms
Of what we blame him for!
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,	200
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,
Who ever yet could sound thy bottom, find
The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish care	205
Might’st easil’est harbour in? Thou blessed thing,
Jove knows what man thou mightst have made: but I,
Thou diedst a most rare boy, of melancholy.
How found you him?
ARVIRAGUS     Stark, as you see:
Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled slumber,	210
Not as death’s dart, being laugh’d at: his right cheek
Reposing on a cushion.
GUIDERIUS     Where?
ARVIRAGUS     O’th’ floor;
His arms thus leagu’d, I thought he slept, and put
My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose
rudeness
Answer’d my steps too loud.
GUIDERIUS     Why, he but sleeps:	215
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.
ARVIRAGUS     With fairest flowers
Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele,
I’ll sweeten thy sad grave: thou shalt not lack	220
The flower that’s like thy face, pale primrose, nor
The azur’d harebell, like thy veins: no, nor
The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,
Out-sweet’ned not thy breath: the ruddock would
With charitable bill (O bill, sore shaming	225
Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie
Without a monument!) bring thee all this;
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	230
Which is so serious. Let us bury him,
And not protract with admiration what
Is now due debt. To th’ grave!
ARVIRAGUS     Say, where shall’s lay him?
GUIDERIUS     By good Euriphile, our mother.
ARVIRAGUS     Be’t so:
And let us, Polydore, though now our voices	235
Have got the mannish crack, sing him to th’ ground,
As once to our mother: use like note and words,
Save that Euriphile must be Fidele.
GUIDERIUS     Cadwal,
I cannot sing: I’ll weep, and word it with thee;	240
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, med’cine the less; for Cloten
Is quite forgot. He was a queen’s son, boys,
And though he came our enemy, remember,	245
He was paid for that: though mean and mighty,
rotting
Together, have one dust, yet reverence
(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,	250
Yet bury him, as a prince.
GUIDERIUS     Pray you, fetch him hither,
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,	255
My father hath a reason for’t.
ARVIRAGUS     ’Tis true.
GUIDERIUS     Come on then, and remove him.
ARVIRAGUS     So, – Begin.
Song.
GUIDERIUS     Fear no more the heat o’th’ sun,
Nor the furious winter’s rages,
Thou thy worldly task has done,	260
Home art gone and ta’en thy wages.
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
ARVIRAGUS     Fear no more the frown o’th’ great,
Thou art past the tyrant’s stroke,	265
Care no more to clothe and eat,
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.	270
ARVIRAGUS     Nor th’all-dreaded thunder-stone.
GUIDERIUS     Fear not slander, censure rash.
ARVIRAGUS     Thou hast finish’d joy and moan.
BOTH     All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee and come to dust.	275
GUIDERIUS     No exorciser harm thee!
ARVIRAGUS     Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
GUIDERIUS     Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
ARVIRAGUS     Nothing ill come near thee!
BOTH     Quiet consummation have,	280
And renowned be thy grave!
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’th’ night
Are strewings fitt’st for graves: upon their faces.	285
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.	290
Exeunt Belarius, Guiderius and Arviragus.
IMOGEN     [awakes]
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?
I have gone all night: faith, I’ll lie down and sleep.
But, soft! no bedfellow! O gods and goddesses!	295
[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:
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,	300
Which the brain makes of fumes. Our very eyes
Are sometimes like our judgements, blind. Good
faith,
I tremble still 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!	305
The dream’s here still: even when I wake it is
Without me, as within me: not imagin’d, felt.
A headless man? The garments of Posthumus?
I know the shape of’s leg: this is his hand:
His foot Mercurial: his Martial thigh:	310
The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovial face –
Murder in heaven! How –? ’Tis gone. Pisanio,
All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou,
Conspir’d with that irregulous devil, Cloten,	315
Hast here cut off my lord. To write, and read
Be henceforth treacherous! Damn’d Pisanio
Hath with his forged letters (damn’d Pisanio)
From this most bravest vessel of the world
Struck the main-top! O Posthumus, alas,	320
Where is thy head? where’s that? Ay me! where’s
that?
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!	325
The drug he gave me, which he said was precious
And cordial to me, have I not found it
Murd’rous to th’ senses? That confirms it home:
This is Pisanio’s deed, and Cloten – O!
Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood,	330
That we the horrider may seem to those
Which chance to find us. O, my lord! my lord!
[Falls on the body.]
Enter LUCIUS, Captains and a Soothsayer.
CAPTAIN     To them, the legions garrison’d in Gallia
After your will have cross’d the sea, attending
You here at Milford-Haven, with your ships:	335
They are in readiness.
LUCIUS     But what from Rome?
CAPTAIN     The senate hath stirr’d up the confiners
And gentlemen of Italy, most willing spirits,
That promise noble service: and they come
Under the conduct of bold Iachimo,	340
Siena’s brother.
LUCIUS     When expect you them?
CAPTAIN     With the next benefit o’th’ wind.
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?	345
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	350
(Unless my sins abuse my divination)
Success to th’ Roman host.
LUCIUS     Dream often so,
And never false. Soft ho, what trunk is here?
Without his top? The ruin speaks that sometime
It was a worthy building. How? a page?	355
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.
CAPTAIN     He’s alive, my lord.
LUCIUS
He’ll then instruct us of this body. Young one,	360
Inform us of thy fortunes, for it seems
They crave to be demanded. Who is this
Thou mak’st thy bloody pillow? Or who was he
That (otherwise than noble Nature did)
Hath alter’d that good picture? What’s thy interest	365
In this sad wreck? How came’t? Who is’t?
What art thou?
IMOGEN     I am nothing; or if not,
Nothing to be were better. This was my master,
A very valiant Briton, and a good,
That here by mountaineers lies slain. Alas!	370
There is no more such masters: I may wander
From east to occident, cry out for service,
Try many, all good: serve truly: never
Find such another master.
LUCIUS     ’Lack, good youth!
Thou mov’st no less with thy complaining than	375
Thy master in bleeding: say his name, good friend.
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?
LUCIUS     Thy name?
IMOGEN     Fidele, sir.
LUCIUS
Thou dost approve thyself the very same:	380
Thy name well fits thy faith; thy faith thy name:
Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say
Thou shalt be so well master’d, but be sure
No less belov’d. The Roman emperor’s letters
Sent by a consul to me should not sooner	385
Than thine own worth prefer thee: go with me.
IMOGEN     I’ll follow, sir. But first, an’t please the gods,
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	390
And on it said a century of prayers
(Such as I can) twice o’er, I’ll weep and sigh,
And leaving so his service, follow you,
So please you entertain me.
LUCIUS     Ay, good youth;
And rather father thee than master thee.	395
My friends,
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	400
By thee to us, and he shall be interr’d
As soldiers can. Be cheerful, wipe thine eyes:
Some falls are means the happier to arise.     Exeunt.