The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare

What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st on? speak,

Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend?
Imo. He is a Roman; no more kin to me,
Than I to your highness; who, being born your
Am something nearer.
[vassal,

Cym. Wherefore ey'st him so ?

Imo. I'll tell you, Sir, in private, if you please To give me hearing.

Cym. Ay, with all my heart,

And lend my best attention. What's thy name? Imo. Fidele, Sir.

Cym. Thou art my good youth, my page; I'll be thy master: Walk with me; speak freely. [CYMBELINE and IMOGEN converse apart.

Bel. Is not this boy reviv'd from death?
Arv. One sand another

Not more resembles: That sweet rosy lad,
Who died, and was Fidele :-What think you?
Gui. The same dead thing alive.

Bel. Peace, peace! see further; he eyes us not; forbear;

Creatures may be alike: were't he, I am sure

He would have spoke to us.

Gui. But we saw him dead.

Bel. Be silent; let's see further.

Pis. It is my mistress:

Since she is living, let the time run on,
To good, or bad.

[Aside.

[CYMBELINE and IMOGEN come forward. Cym. Come, stand thou by our side: Make thy demand aloud.-Sir, [To IACH.] step you forth;

Give answer to this boy, and do it freely;
Or, by our greatness, and the grace of it,
Which is our honour, bitter torture shall
Winnow the truth from falsehood.-On, speak
to him

Imo. My boon is, that this gentleman
render

Of whom he had this ring.

Post. What's that to him?

may

[Aside.

Cym. That diamond upon your finger, say, How came it yours?

Iach. Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that

Which, to be spoke, would torture thee.

Cym. How! me?

The mansion where! ('twas at a feast, (O 'would
Our viands had been poison'd! or at least,
Those which I heav'd to head!) the good Post-

húmus,

(What should I say? he was too good to be Where ill men were; and was the best of all Amongst the rar'st of good ones,) sitting sadly, Hearing us praise our loves of Italy

For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast
Of him that best could speak: for feature, lam-
ing
[erva,
The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Min-
Postures beyond brief nature; for condition,
A shop of all the qualities that man
Loves woman for; besides, that hook of wiv
ing,

Fairness which strikes the eye :--
Cym. I stand on fire:
Come to the matter.

Iach. All too soon I shall, Unless thou would'st grieve quickly.-This Post húmus,

Most like a noble lord in love, and one
That had a royal lover,) took his bint;
And, not dispraising whom he prais'd, (therein
He was as calm as virtue) he began
His mistress' picture; which by his tongue be-
ing made,

And then a mind put in't, either our brags
Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his description
Prov'd us unspeaking sots.

Cym. Nay, nay, to the purpose.

luch. Your daughter's chastity-there it be

him

Pieces of gold, 'gainst this which then he wore
Upon his honour'd finger, to attain

In suit the place of his bed, and win this ring
By her's and mine adultery: he, true knight,
No lesser of her honour confident
Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring;
And would so, had it been a carbuncle
Of Phoebus' wheel; and might so safely, had it
Been all the worth of his car. Away to Bri-
tain

Post I in this design: Well may you, Sir,
Remember me at court, where I was taught
Of your chaste daughter the wide difference
and villanous. Being thus
'Twixt amorous
quench'd
Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain
'Gan in your duller Britain operate
Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent;
And, to be brief, my practice so prevail'd,
That I return'd with simular proof enough
To make the noble Leonatus mad,

By wounding his belief in her renown
With tokens thus and thus: averring notes

Iach. I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her brace

which

Torments me to conceal. By villany

I got this ring; 'twas Leonatus' jewel:

Jet,

(0 cunning, how I got it!) nay, some marks Of secret on her person, that he could not

Whom thou didst banish; and (which more may But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd,

grieve thee,

As it doth me,) a nobler Sir ne'er liv'd
'Twixt sky and grouud. Wilt thou hear more,
my lord?

Cym. All that belongs to this.
Iach. That paragon, thy daughter,-

For whom my heart drops blood, and my false
spirits

Quail to remember,-Give me leave; I faint.
Cym. My daughter! what of her? Renew
thy strength:
I had rather thou should'st live while nature
will,

Than die ere I hear more strive man, and
speak.

Iach. Upon a time, (unhappy was the clock That struck the hour!) it was in Rome, (accurs'd

• Sink into dejection.

I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon,-
Methinks, I see him now,-

Post, Ay, so thou dost, [Coming forward.
Italian fiend!-Ah! me, most credulous fool,
Egregious murderer, thief, any thing
That's due to all the villains past, in being,
To come!-O give me cord, or knife, or poison,
Some upright justicer! Thou king, send out
For torturers ingenious: it is I
That all the abhorred things o'the earth amend
By being worse than they. I am Posthumus,
That kill'd thy daughter :-villain like, I lie;
That caus'd a lesser villain than myself,
A sacrilegious, thief, to do't :-the temple
of virtue was she; yea, and she herself. +
Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set

I left out one thing which the queen confess'd, Which must approve thee honest: If Pisanio Have, said she, given his mistress that confec tion

Which I gave him for a cordial, she is serv'd As I would serve a rat.

Cym. What's this, Cornelius?

Cor. The queen, Sir, very oft impórtun'd me The temper poisons for her; still pretending The satisfaction of her knowledge, only In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs Of no esteem: I, dreading that her purpose Was of more danger, did compound for her A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would

My lady's honour: what became of him, further know not.

Gui. Let me end the story :

I slew him there.

Cym. Marry, the gods forfend! •

I would not thy good deeds should from my lips

Pluck a hard sentence: pr'ythee, valiant youth, Deny't again.

Gui. I have spoke it, and I did it.

Cym. He was a prince.

Gui. A most uncivil one: The wrongs he did

Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke

With language that would make me spurn the sea,

If it could roar so to me: I cut off's head;
And am right glad, he is not standing here
To tell this tale of mine.

Cym. I am sorry for thee:

By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must

Endure our law: Thou art dead.

Imo. That headless man

I thought had been my lord.
Cym. Bind the offender,

And take him from our presence.

Bel. Stay, Sir king:

This man is better than the man he slew,
As well descended as thyself; and bath
More of thee merited, than a band of Clotens
Had ever scar for. Let his arms alone;

[To the Guards.
They were not born for bondage.
Cym. Why, old soldier,
Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for
By tasting of our wrath? How of descent
As good as we ?

Arv. In that he spake too far.
Cym. And thou shalt die for❜t.
Bel. We will die all three,

But I will prove that two of us are as good
As I have given out him.-My sons, I must,
For mine own part, unfold a dangerous speech,
Though, haply, well for you.

Arv. Your danger is

Our's.

Gui. And our good his.

[Embracing him.

Cym. How now, my flesh, my child?

What, mak'st thou me a duliard in this act? Wilt thou not speak to me?

Imo. Your blessing, Sir.

[Kneeling.

Now fear is from me, I'll speak truth. Lord

Cloten,

Upon my lady's inissing, came to me

A banish'd traitor.

Bel. He it is, that hath

Assum'd this age: indeed, a banish'd man; I know not how, a traitor.

Cym. Take him bence;

The whole world shall not save him.

Bel. Not too hot :

First pay me for the nursing of thy sons;
And let it be confiscate all, so soon
As I have receiv'd it.

Cym. Nursing of my sons?

Bel. I am too blunt and saucy: Here's my knee;

Ere I arise I will prefer my sons;

Then, spare not the old father. Mighty Sir, These two young gentlemen, that call me fa

ther,

And think they are my sons, are none of mine ;
They are the issue of your loins, my liege,

With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, And blood of your begetting.

and swore,

• Mix, compound.

Cym. How! my issue?

• Forbid.

Bel. So sure as you your father's. 1, old Why fled you from the court? and whither ? Morgan, These, Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd: And your three motives to the battle, with Your pleasure was my mere offence, my pun-I know not how much more, should be demanded;

ishment

tself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd,
Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes
(For such, and so they are,) these twenty
years

Have I train'd up: those arts they have, as I
Could put into them; my breeding was, Sir,

Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile,
Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these chil-
dren

Upon my banishment; I mov'd her to't;
Having receiv'd the punishment before,

For that which I did then: Beaten for loyalty
Excited me to treason: Their dear loss,
The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd
Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious
Sir,

Here are your sons again; and I must lose
Two of the sweet'st companions in the world :-
The benediction of these covering heavens

Fall on their heads like dew! for they are
worthy

To inlay heaven with stars.

Cym. Thou weep'st, and speak'st.

The service, that you three have done, is more Unlike than this thou tell'st: I lost my children:

If these be they, I know not how to wish

A pair of worthier sons.

Bel. Be pleas'd a while.

This gentleman, whom I call Polydore,

And all the other by-dependancies.

From chance to chance; but nor the time, nor
place,

Will serve our long intergatories. See,
Posthumus anchors upon Imogen;

And she like harmless lightning, throws her eye
On him, her brothers, me, her master; hitting
Each object with a joy; the counterchange
Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground,
And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.--
Thou art my brother; So we'll hold thee ever.
[To BELARIUS.

Imo. You are my father too: and did re-
relieve me,

To see this gracious season.
Cym. All overjoy'd,

Save these in bonds: let them be joyful too,
For they shall taste our comfort.

Imo. My good master,

Luc. Happy be you!

[Kneeling.

Cym. The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought, He would have well becom'd this place, aud grac'd

The thankings of a king.

Post. I am, Sir,

The soldier that did company these three

In poor beseeming; 'twas a fitment for

The purpose I then follow'd ;-That I was he,
Speak, lachimo: I had you down, and might
Have made you finish.

Most worthy prince, as your's, is true, Gui-I will yet do you service.

derius;

That after this strange starting from your orbs,
You may reign in them now!-O Imogen,
Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.
Imo. No, my lord;

I have got two worlds by't.-O my gentle
brothers,

Have we thus met? O never say hereafter,
But I am truest speaker: you call'd me brother,
When I was but your sister; I you brothers,
When you were so indeed.

Cym. Did you e'er meet?

Arv. Ay, my good lord.

Gui. And at first meeting lov'd;

Continued so, until we thought he died.

Cor. By the queen's dram she swallow'd.
Cym. O rare instinct!

When shall I hear all through This fierce
abridgment

Hath to it circumstantial branches, which
Distinction should be rich in. Where? how
liv'd you?

And when came you to serve our Roman
tive?
How parted with your brothers? how first
them?

Vehement, rapid.

met

lach. I am down again:

But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee,
As then your force did. Take that life, 'be-
seech you,

Which I so often owe: but, your ring first:
And here the bracelet of the truest princess,

That ever swore her faith.

Post. Kneel not to me :

The power that I have on you, is to spare yon,
The malice towards you, to forgive you: Live,
And deal with others better.

Cym. Nobly doom'd:

We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law;
Pardon's the word to all.

Arv. You holp us, Sir,

As you did mean indeed to be our brother;
Joy'd are we, that you are.

Post. Your servant, princes.-Good my lord
of Rome,

Call forth your soothsayer: As I slept, me-
thought,

Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back,
Appear'd to me, with other spritely shows
Of mine own kindred: when I wak'd, I found
This label on my bosom; whose containing
Is so from sense in hardness, that I can
Make no collection of it; let him show
His skill in the construction.

Luc. Philarmonus,

Sooth. Here, my good lord.

Luc. Read: and declare the meaning.
Sooth. [Reads.] When as a lion's whelp
shall, to himself unknown, without seeking
find, and be embraced by a piece of tender
air; and when from a stately cedar shall be
lopped branches, which,being dead many years,
shell after revive, be jointed to the old stock,
and freshly grow, then shall Posthumus end
his miseries, Britain be fortunate, and flourish
in peace and plenty.

cap-Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp',
The fit and apt construction of thy name,
Being Leo-natus, doth import so much:
The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter,
[To CYMBELINE.
Which we call mollis aer; and mollis aer

1. Which ought to be rendered distinct in an ample narrative.

• Ghostly appearances.

We term it mulier : which mulier, I divine,
Is this most constant wife who, even now,
Answering the letter of the oracle,

Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about
With this most tender air.

Cym. This hath some seeming.

Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, Personates thee: and thy lopp'd branches point

Thy two sons forth: who, by Belarius stolen, For many years thought dead, are now reviv'd, To the majestic cedar join'd; whose issue Promises Britain peace and plenty.

Cym. Well,

By peace we will begin :-And, Caius Lucius,
Although the victor, we submit to Cesar,
And to the Roman empire; promising
To pay our wonted tribute, from the which
We were dissuaded by our wicked queen ;
Whom heavens, in justice, (both on her and
her's)

Have laid most heavy hand.

Sooth. The fingers of the powers above do

tune

The harmony of this peace. The vision
Which I made known to Lucius, ere the stroke
Of this yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant
Is full accomplish'd: For the Roman eagle,
From south to west on wing soaring aloft,
Lessen'd herself, and in the beams o'the sun
So vanish'd; which foreshow'd our princely
eagle,

The imperial Cesar, should again unite
His favour with the radiant Cymbeline,
Which shines here in the west.

Cym. Laud we the gods;

And let our crooked smokes climb to their

nostrils

From our bless'd altars! Publish we this peace To all our subjects. Set we forward: Let

A Roman and a British ensign wave

• Rise.

And in the temple of great Jupiter Our peace we'll ratify; seal it with feasts.Set on there :- Never was a war did cease, Ere bloody hauds were wash'd, with such a peace. [Exeunt

A SONG,

Sung by Guiderius and Arviragus over Fidele, supposed to be dead.

BY WILLIAM COLLINS.

To fair Fidele's grassy tomb,

Soft maids and village hinds shall bring Each opening sweet, of earliest bloom, And rifle all the breathing spring. No wailing ghost shall dare appear To vex with shrieks this quiet grove; But shepherd lads assemble here,

And melting virgins own their love. No wither'd witch shall here be seen, No goblins lead their nightly crew: The female fays shall haunt the green, And dress thy grave with pearly dew. The red-breast oft at evening hours Shall kindly lend his little aid, With hoary moss, and gather'd flowers, To deck the ground where thou art laid. When howling winds and beating rain. In tempests shake the sylvan cell: Or midst the chase on every plain,

The tender thought on thee shall dwell. Each lonely scene shall thee restore; For thee the tear be duly shed: Belov'd, till life could charm no more ; And mourn'd, till pity's self be dead.

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The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare, Volume 10