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O, master! what a strange infection

CYMBELINE.

Is fallen into thy ear? What false Italian
(As poisonous-tongu'd, 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 in1 some virtue.-0, my master!
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

Let me be counted serviceable. How look I,
That I should seem to lack humanity,

So much as this fact comes to? Do't the letter
[Reading.

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 feodary2 for this act, and look'st
So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes.

Enter Imogen.

I am ignorant in what I am commanded.

Imo. How now, Pisanio?

Pis. Madam, here is a letter from my lord.

Why should excuse be born or ere begot?
How many score of miles may we well ride
We'll talk of that hereafter. Pr'ythee, speak,

"Twixt hour and hour?

295

Pis.
One score, 'twixt sun and sun,
Madam, 's enough for you; and too much too.
Imo. Why, one that rode to his execution, man,
Could never go so slow: I have heard of riding

wagers,

That run i'the clock's behalf:-But this is foolery :-
Where horses have been nimbler than the sands
Go, bid my woman feign a sickness; say,
She'll home to herfather: and provide me, presently,
A riding-suit; no costlier than would fit
A franklin's housewife.
Pis.

Madam, you're best-consider.

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

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.-Wales. A mountainous country, with a cave. Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.

Bel. A goodly day not to keep house, with such

Imo. Who? thy lord? that is my lord? Leonatus? Whose roof's as low as ours! Stoop, boys: This

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,

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:-Bless'd be 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! Justice, and your father's wrath, should he take [Reads. me in his dominion, could not be so cruel to me, as you, O the dearest of creatures, would not 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, and your, increasing in love,

gate

Instructs you how to adore the heavens; and bows

you

To morning's holy office: The gates of monarchs
Are arch'd so high, that giants may jets through,
Good morrow to the sun.-Hail, thou fair heaven!
And keep their impious turbands on, without
As prouder livers do.
We house i'the rock, yet use thee not so hardly

Gui.

Hail, heaven!

Arv.
Your legs are young; I'll tread these flats. Con-
Bel. Now, for our mountain sport: Up to yon hill,
Hail, heaven!

sider,

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 :
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:

LEONATUS POSTHUMUS. || And often, to our comfort, shall we find

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
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;

For mine's beyond beyond,) say, and speak thick, 3
(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,
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:

(1) To take in a town, is to conquer it. (2) Confederate.

(3) Crowd one word on another, as fast as possible.

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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;
Like warlike as the wolf, for what we eat:
Our valour is, to chace what flies; our cage
We make a quire, as doth the prison bird,
And sing our bondage freely.

Bel.

How you speak!

Did you but know the city's usuries,
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 of the war,
A pain that only seems to seek out danger
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,
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 lov'd me;
And when a soldier was the theme, my name
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.
Gui.

Uncertain favour!

Bel. 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,

Follow'd my banishment; and, this twenty years,
This rock, and these demesnes, have been my world:
Where I have liv'd at honest freedom; paid

More pious debts to heaven, than in all

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hand!

That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him,
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.
Pis.

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

Imo. [Reads.] Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the strumpet in my bed; the testimonies whereof lie bleeding in me. 1 speak not out of weak surmises; from proof as strong as my grief, and That part,

The fore-end of my time. But, up to the moun-as certain as I expect my revenge.

tains;

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 val-
[Exeunt Gui. and Arv.

leys.
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 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,-
The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, whom
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;
And thus I set my foot on his neck; even then
The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats,
Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in pos-

ture

That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal,
(Once Arvirágus,) 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,

(1) For behaviour.

thou, Pisanio, 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 opportunities 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 pander to her dishonour, and equally to me disloyal.

Pis. 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
Out-venoms 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?
Imo. 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,
And cry myself awake? That's false to his bed?
Is it?

Pis. Alas, good lady!

Imo. I false? Thy conscience witness :-Iachimo,
Thou didst accuse him of incontinency;
Thou then look'dst like a villain; now, methinks,
Thy favour's good enough.-Some jay2 of Italy,

(2) Putta, in Italian, signifies both a jay and a

whore.

Whose mother was her painting, 11 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,
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.
Pis.

Good madam, hear me.

Imo. True honest men being heard, like false Æneas,

Were, in his time, thought false: and Sinon's weeping

Did scandal many a holy tear; took pity

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But if I were as wise as honest, then

From most true wretchedness: So, thou, Posthú- My purpose would prove well. It cannot be,

mus,

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'sbidding: When thou see'st him,
A little witness my obedience: Look!

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.
Thou may'st be valiant in a better cause;

But now thou seem'st'a coward.

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Something's afore't:-Soft, soft; we'll no defence;
Obedient as the scabbard. - What is here?
The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus,
All turned 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
Stands in worse case of wo.

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
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 tir'st1 on, how thy memory

Will then be pang'd by me.-Pr'ythee, despatch:
The lamb entreats the butcher: Where's thy knife?
Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding,
When I desire it too.

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But that my master is abus'd:

Some villain, ay, and singular in his art,
Hath done you both this cursed injury.

Imo. Some Roman courtezan.
Pis.

No, on my life.
I'll give but notice you are dead, and send him
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.

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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 it;
In a great pool, a swan's nest; Pr'ythee, think
There's livers out of Britain.

Pis.

I am most glad You think of other place. The embassador, 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, 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 Report should render him hourly to your ear, As truly as he moves.

Imo.

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

Pis.

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,) to 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,
Exposing it (but, O, the harder heart!
Alack, no remedy !) to the greedy touch
Of common-kissing Titan ;5 and forget
Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein
You made great Juno angry.

Imo.

Nay, be brief:

I see into thy end, and am almost
A man already.

(4) Feedest or preyest on. (5) The sun.

Pis.

First, make yourself but like one. His war for Britain.

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,
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 are happy! (which you'll make him
know,

If that his head have ear in music,) doubtless,
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.
Imo.

Thou art all the comfort

The gods will diet me with. Pr'ythee, away:
There's more to be consider'd; but we'll even
All that good time will give us: This attempt
I'm soldier to, and will abide it with
A prince's courage. Away, I pr'ythee.

Pis. 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,
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!

Imo.

Amen: I thank thee.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.-A room in Cymbeline's palace.
Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, Lucius, and
Lords.

Cym. Thus far; and so farewell.
Luc.

Queen.
'Tis not sleepy business;
But must be look'd to speedily, and strongly.
Cym. Our expectation that it would be thus,
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:
We have noted it. -Call her before us; for
We have been too slight in sufferance.

Queen.

[Exit an Attendant. Royal sir,

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,
And strokes death to her.

Re-enter an Attendant.

Cym.

Where is she, sir? How

Can her contempt be answer'd?
Attend.

Please you, sir,
Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer
That will be given to the loud'st of 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,
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.
Cym.

Her doors lock'd?

Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that, which I fear, [Exit.

Thanks, royal sir. Prove false!

My emperor hath wrote; I must from hence;

And am right sorry, that I must report ye

My master's enemy.

Cym.

Our subjects, sir,

Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself

To show less sovereignty than they, must needs
Appear unkinglike.

Luc.

So, sir, I desire of you A conduct over land, to Milford-Haven.Madam, all joy befall your grace, and you!

Queen.

Son, I say, follow the king.

Clo. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant,
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,

Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seiz'd her;

Or, wing'd with fervour of her love, she's flown

Cym. My lords, you are appointed for that of. To her desir'd Posthumus: Gone she is,

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Sir, the event
Is yet to name the winner; Fare you well.
Cym. Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my Dare come about him.

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.
Clo.

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

Cym. 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

(1) i. e. Wherein you are accomplished.

(2) As for your subsistence abroad, you may rely on me.

'Tis certain, she is fled:

Go in, and cheer the king; he rages; none
Queen.
All the better: May
This night forestall him of the coming day!
Exit Queen.
Clo. 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,
Disdaining ine, and throwing favours on
The low Posthumus, slanders so her judgment,
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

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Enter Pisanio.

Shall Who is here? What! are you packing,

[valour, which will then be a torment to her con

tempt. 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 praised,) to the court I'll knock her back, foot her home again. She O, good my lord! hath despised me rejoicingly, and I'll be merry in

sirrah? Come hither: Ah, you precious pander! Villain, Where is thy lady? In a word; or else Thou art straightway with the fiends.

Pis.

Clo. Where is thy lady? or, by Jupiter Close villain,

I will not ask again.

Is she with Posthumus?

I'll have this secret from thy heart, or rip
Thy heart to find it.
From whose so many weights of baseness cannot
A dram of worth be drawn.

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Clo.

my revenge.

Re-enter Pisanio, with the clothes.

Be those the garments?

Pis. Ay, my noble lord.

Clo. How long is't since she went to MilfordHaven?

Pis. She can scarce be there yet.

Clo. Bring this apparel to my chamber; that is the second thing that I have commanded thee: the

Where is she, sir? Come nearer; third is, that thou shalt be a voluntary mute to my No further halting: satisfy me home, What is become of her?

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Sir, as I think. Clo. It is Posthumus' hand; I know't. --Sirrah, if thou would'st not be a villain, but do me true service; undergo those employments, wherein I should have cause to use thee, with a serious industry,

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, [Exit.

and be true.

Pis. Thou bidd'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 pursu'st. Flow, flow, You heavenly blessings, on her! This fool's speed Be cross'd with slowness; labour be his meed!

[Exit.

SCENE VI-Before the cave of Pelarius. Enter Imogen, in boy's clothes.

Imo. 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, Thou wast within a ken: O Jove! I think, Foundations fly the wretched: such, I mean, Where they should be reliev'd. Two beggars told

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that is, what villany soe'er I bid thee do, to per- When rich ones scarce tell true: To lapse in fulness form it, directly and truly,-I would think thee an honest man: thou shouldest neither want my means for thy relief, nor my voice for thy preferment.

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[Exit. Clo. 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 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

(1) Best hunter. (2) Agreement.

VOL. II.

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?
Here is a path to it: 'Tis some savage hold:
I were best not call; I dare not call: yet famine,
Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant.
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
But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look on't.
Such a foe, good heavens! [She goes into the cave.

Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus. Bel. You, Polydore, have prov'd best woodman,

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