William Shakspeare's Complete Works, Dramatic and Poetic

O, master! what a strange infection
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 in some virtue.-O, 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!

Where horses have been nimbler than the sands
That run i'the clock's behalf:-But this is foolery :-
Go, bid my woman feign a sickness; say,
She'll home to her father: and provide me, presently,
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,
Nor what ensues; but have a fog in them,

Black as the ink that's on thee! senseless bauble,That I cannot look through. Away, I pr'ythee;

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.
Imo. 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,
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! [Reads. Justice, and your father's wrath, should he take 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,

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 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: long'st,

who

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,
(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:

Do as I bid thee: There's no more to say: Accessible is none but Milford way. [Exeunt.

SCENE III-Wales. A mountainous country, Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and

with a cave. Arviragus.

Whose roof's as low as ours! Stoop, boys: This Bel. A goodly day not to keep house, with such

gate

Instructs you how to adore the heavens; and bows

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:
And often, to our comfort, shall we find
The sharded" beetle in a safer hold
Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O, this life
Is nobler, than attending for a check;
Richer, than doing nothing for a babe;
Prouder, than rustling in unpaid-for silk :
Such gain the cap of him, that makes them fine,
Yet keeps his book uncross'd: no life to ours.7
Gui. Out of your proof you speak: we, poor

unfledg'd,

Have never wing'd from view o'the nest; nor know

not

What air's from home. Haply, this life is best,
If quiet life be best; sweeter to you,
That have a sharper known; well corresponding
With your stiff age; but, unto us, it is
A cell of ignorance; travelling abed;
A prison for a debtor, that not dares
To stride a limit.8
Arv.

What should we speak of,

(4) A freeholder's.

(5) Strut, walk proudly.

(7) i. e. Compared with ours. (8) To overpass his bound.

(6) Scaly-winged..

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 faine, 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.
Uncertain favour!

Gui.

Bel. My fault being nothing (as I have told you oft,)

Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon,
At three, and two years old, I stole these babes;
Thinking to bar thee of succession, as
Thou reft'st me of my lands. Euriphile,
Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for their
mother,

And every day do honour to her grave:
Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call'd,
They take for natural father. The game is up. [Ex.
SCENE IV.-Near Milford-Haven. Enter Pi-
sanio and Imogen.

Imo. 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

From the 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?
Why tender'st thou that paper to me, with
A look untender? If it be summer news,
Smile to't before: if winterly, thou need'st
But keep that countenance still.-My husband's
hand!

That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him,
And he's at some hard point.-Speak, man; thy
tongue

Please you, read;

May take off some extremity, which to read
Would be even mortal to me.
Pis.
And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing
The most disdain'd of fortune.

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:ed the strumpet in my bed; the testimonies where-
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 the moun-
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-
leys.
[Exeunt Gui. and Arv.
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

Imo. [Reads.] Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath playof lie bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak surmises; 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 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!

That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal, Imo. I false? Thy conscience witness :-Iachimo,
(Once Arvirágus,) in as like a figure,
Thou didst accuse him of incontinency;
Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more Thou then look'dst like a villain; now, methinks,
His own conceiving. Hark! the game is rous'd-Thy favour's good enough.—Some jay2 of Italy,
OCymbeline! heaven, and my conscience, knows,

(1) For behaviour.

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

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's bidding: 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.

Pis.
Hence, vile instrument!
Thou shalt not damn my hand.
Imo.

Why, I must die; And if I do not by thy hand, thou art No servant of thy master's: Against self-slaughter There is a prohibition so divine,

That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's my heart;

Something's afore't:-Soft, soft; we'll no defence;
Obedient as the scabbard.-What is here?
The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus,
Ail 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 tray'd

Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor
Stands in worse case of wo.

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, 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.

Imo. 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?

Pis. If you'll back to the court,~ Imo. 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. Pis. If not at court, Then not in Britain must you bide. Imo.

Where then?

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
be-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.

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'st4 on, how thy memory
Will then be pang'd by me.-Pr'y thee, 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.

Pis.

Imo. O, for such means! Though peril to my modesty, not death on't, I would adventure. 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
Queen.
'Tis not sleepy business;
But must be look'd to speedily, and strongly.

('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 happy1 (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,2 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,3 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.

Thanks, royal sir.

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!

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.

[Exit an Attendant.
Queen.
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.

Cym.

Re-enter an Attendant.

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,
Prove false!

[Exit.

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 his absence
pray,
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,

fice;

To death, or to dishonour; and my end
Can make good use of either: She being down,
I have the placing of the British crown.

Re-enter Cloten.

How now, my son?
Clo.

'Tis certain, she is fled:
Go in, and cheer the king; he rages; none
Dare come about him.
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;4 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

How can she be with him? When was she miss'd? He is in Rome.

Clo.

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

Or this, or perish.
She's far enough; and what he learns by this,
May prove his travel, not her danger. [Aside.
Člo.
Humph!
Pis. I'll write to my lord she's dead. O Imogen,
Safe may'st thou wander, safe return again!
[Aside.

Clo. Sirrah, is this letter true?
Pis.

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 ser vice; undergo those employments, wherein I should have cause to use thee, with a serious industry,— that is, what villany soe'er I bid thee do, to perform it, directly and truly,-I would think thee an honest man: thou shouldest neither want my means for thy relief, nor my voice for thy preferment. Pis. Well, my good lord.

Clo. 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 gratitude but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou serve me?

mistress.

Clo. The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit hither let it be thy first service; go. Pis. I shall, my lord.

[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. 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.

design. Be but duteous, and true preferment shall tender itself to thee.-My revenge is now at Milford; 'Would I had wings to follow it!-Come, and be true. [Exit.

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 Belarius. 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
But that my resolution helps me.-Milford,
Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick,
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

me,

could not miss my way: Will poor folks lie, That have afflictions on them; knowing 'tis When rich ones scarce tell true: To lapse in fulness A punishment, or trial? Yes; no wonder, 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: Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant. I were best not call; I dare not call: yet famine, Plenty, and peace, breeds cowards; hardness ever of hardiness is mother.-Ho! who's here? Take, or lend.-Ho!-No answer? then I'll enter. If any thing that's civil, speak; if savage, 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,' and Are master of the feast: Cadwal, and I, Will play the cook and servant; 'tis our match:2 The sweat of industry would dry, and die, But for the end it works to. Come; our stomachs Will make what's homely, savoury: Weariness Can snore upon the flint, when restive sloth Finds the down pillow hard.-Now, peace be here Poor house, that keep'st thyself! Gui. I am throughly weary Arv. I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite

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William Shakspeare's Complete Works, Dramatic and Poetic, Volume 2