Clown. Yes, forsooth; I wish you joy of the worm. [Exit.

Re-enter Iras, with a Robe, Crown, &c.
Cleo. Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have
Immortal longings in me: Now no more
The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip:-
Yare, yare, good Iras; quick. Methinks, I hear
Antony cali; I see him rouse himself

To praise my nobie act: I hear him mock
The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men
To excuse their after wrath: Husband, I come :
Now to that name my courage prove my title!
I am fire, and air; my other elements
I give to baser life. So, have you done?
Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips.
Farewell, kind Charmian;-Iras, long farewell.
[Kisses them. Tras jalls and dies.

Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fail?
If thon and nature can so gently part,
The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch,
Which hurts, and is desir'd. Dost thou lie still?
If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world
It is not worth leave-taking.

Char. Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain; that I may
The gods themselves do weep!
Cleo.

[say

This proves me base: If she first meet the curled Antony, He'll make demand of her and spend that kiss, Which is my heaven to have.-Come, mortal wretch,

To the Asp, which she applies to her Breast. With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate Of life at once untie: poor venomous fool, Be angry, and despatch. O, couldst thou speak! That I might hear thee call great Cæsar, ass Unpolicied! Char.

Cleo.

O eastern star!

Peace, peace!

Dost thou not see my baby at my breast,

That sucks the nurse asleep?

Char.

O, break! 0, break!
Cleo. As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle,-
O Antony!-Nay, I will take thee too:-
Applying another Asp to her Arm.
What, should I stay- [Falls on a Bed and dies.
Char. In this wild world?-So, fare thee well.-
Now boast thee, death in thy possession lies
A lass unparailei'd.-Downy windows, close;
And golden Phoebus never be beheid

Of eyes again so royal! Your crown's awry;
I'll mend it, and then play.

Enter the Guard, rushing in.

1 Guard. Where is the queen ? Char.

Speak softly, wake her not.

1 Guard. Cæsar hath sentChar.

Too slow a messenger. [Applies the Asp. O, come; apace, despatch: I partly feel thee.

Cymbeline, King of Britain.

1 Guard. Approach, bo! All's not well: Cæsar's
beguil'd.
[him.
2 Guard. There's Dolabella sent from Cæsar;-call
1 Guard. What work is here? Charmian, is this
well done?

Char. It is well done, and fitting for a princess
Descended of so many royal kings.
Ah, soldier!

Enter Dolabella.

Dol. How goes it here? 2 Guard.

Dol.

All dead.

[Dies.

Cæsar, thy thoughts Touch their effects in this: Thyself art coming To see perform'd the dreaded act, which thou So sought'st to hinder. [ Within] A way, there, way for Cæsar! Enter Caesar and Attendants. Dol. O, sir, you are too sure an augurer; That you did fear, is done. Cas.

Bravest at the last : She levell'd at our purposes, and, being royal, Took her own way. The manner of their deaths? do not see them bleed. Who was last with them? This was his basket. 1 Guard. A simple countryman, that brought her [ligs;

Dol.

Cæs.

1 Guard.

Poison'd then.

O Cæsar,

This Charmian lived but now; she stood, and spake; found her trimming up the diadem

On her dead mistress; tremblingly she stood,
And on the sudden dropp'd.

Cæs.

O noble weakness!-
If they had swallow'd poison, 'twould appear
By external swelling: but she looks like sleep,
As she would catch another Antony
In her strong toil of grace.

Dol.
Here, on her breast,
There is a vent of blood, and something blown;
The like is on her arm.

1 Guard. This is an aspic's trail: and these fig leaves Have slime upon them, such as the aspic leaves Upon the caves of Nile.

Cæs.

Most probable,

That so she died; for her physician tells me,
She hath pursu'd conclusions infinite

Of easy ways to die.-Take up her bed;
And bear her women from the monument:-
She shall be buried by her Antony:

No grave upon the earth shall clip in it
A pair so famous. High events as these
Strike those that make them: and their story is
No less in pity, than his glory, which
Brought them to be lamented. Our army shall,
In solemn show, attend this funeral;
And then to Rome.--Come, Dolabella, ser
High order in this great solemnity.

Cloten, Son to the Queen, by a former Husband. Leonatus Posthumus, a Gentleman, Husband to Imogen.

Belarius, a banished Lord, disguised under the Name of Morgan.

Guiderius, S Sons to Cymbeline, disguised under the
Names of Polydore and Cadwal, sup-
Arviragus, posed Sons to Belarius.
Philario, Friend to Posthumus,
Iachimo, Friend to Philario,

Italians.

A Roman Captain. Two British Captains.
Pisanio, Servant to Posthumus.
Cornelius, a Physician.
Two Gentlemen.
Two Gaolers.

Queen, Wife to Cymbeline.

[Exeunt

A French Gentleman, Friend to Philario. Caius Lucius, General of the Roman Forces.

ACT I.

SCENE I. Britain. The Garden behind Cymbeline's Palace.

Enter two Gentlemen.

1 Gent. You do not meet a man, but frowns: our No more obey the heavens, than our courtiers; [bloods Still seem, as does the king's.

2 Gent.
But what's the matter?
1 Gent. His daughter, and the heir of his king-
dom, whom

He purpos'd to his wife's sole son (a widow,
That late he married), hath referr'd herself
Unto a poor, but worthy gentleman: She's wedded;
Her husband banish'd; she imprison'd: all
Is outward sorrow; though, I think, the king
Be touch'd at very heart.

father

(Then old and fond of issue), took such sorrow,
That he quit being; and his gentle lady,
Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceas'd
As he was born. The king, he takes the babe
To his protection; calls him Posthumus;
Breeds him, and makes him of his bed-chamber;
Puts him to all the learnings that his time
Could make him the receiver of: which he took
As we do air, fast as 'twas minister'd; and
In his spring became a harvest: Liv'd in coart
(Which rare it is to do), most prais'd, most lov'd:
A sample to the youngest; to the more mature,
A glass that feated them; and to the graver,
A child that guided dotards: to his mistress,
For whom he now is banish'd,-her own price
Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue;
By her election may be truly ready
What kind of man he is.

2 Gent.

I honour him Even out of your report. But, 'pray you, tell me, Is she sole child to the king? 1 Gent. His only child. He had two sons (if this be worth your hearing, Mark it), the eldest of them at three years old I'the swathing clothes the other, from their nursery Were stolen; and to this hour, no guess in knowledge Which way they went.

2. Gent.

How long is this ago?

1 Gent. Some twenty years. 2 Gent. That a king's children should be so conSo slackly guarded! And the search so slow, [vey'd! That could not trace them!

1 Gent.

Howsoe'er 'tis strange, Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at, Yet is it true, sir.

2 Gent.

I do well believe you,

[Exit.
Should we be taking leave
As long a term as yet we have to live,
The loathness to depart would grow: Adieu!
Imo. Nay, stay a little :

Were you but riding forth to air yourself,
Such parting were too petty. Look here, love;
This diamond was my mother's: take it, heart;
But keep it till you woo another wife,
When Imogen is dead.

Post.

How how! another?You gentle gods, give me but this I have, And sear up my embracements from a next With bonds of death --Remain, remain thou here [Putting on the Ring. While sense can keep it on! And sweetest, fairest, As I my poor self did exchange for you, To your so infinite loss: so, in our trifles I still win of you: For my sake, wear this; It is a manacle of love; I'll place it Upon this fairest prisoner.

Imo.

[Putting a Bracelet on her Arm. O, the gods!

When shall we see again?

The gods protect you! And bless the good remainders of the court! [Exit. I am gone. Imo. There cannot be a pinch in death More sharp than this is. Cym. O disloyal thing, That shouldst repair my youth: thou heapest A year's age on me!

Imo.

Enter the Queen, Posthumus, and Imogen. Queen. No, be assur'd, you shall not find me, daughAfter the slander of most step mothers, Evil-ey'd unto you: you are my prisoner, but Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys

That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus,
So soon as I can win the offended king,

I will be known your advocate: marry, yet
The fire of rage is in him: and 'twere good,
You lean'd unto his sentence, with what patience
Your wisdom may inform you.
Post.

I will from hence to-day.
Queen.

It is your fault that I have lov'd Posthumus:
You bred him as my playfellow; and he is
A man, worth any woman; overbuys me
Almost the sum he pays.

Cym.

What?-art thou mad?

Imo. Almost, sir: Heaven restore me 1-Would I A neat-herd's daughter! and my Leonatus [were Our neighbour shepherd's son !

Post. Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies, which I will be ever to pay, and yet pay still.

French. Sir, you o'er-rate my poor kindness: I was glad I did atone my countryman and you; it had been pity, you should have been put together with so mortal a purpose, as then each bore, upon importance of so slight and trivial a nature.

Post. By your pardon, sir, I was then a young traveller; rather shunn'd to go even with what I heard, than in my every action to be guided by others' experiences but, upon my mended judgment (if I offend not to say it is mended), my quarrel was not altogether slight.

French. 'Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords; and by such two, that would, by all likelihood, have confounded one the other, or have fallen both.

Iach. Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference?

French. Safely, I think: 'twas a contention in public, which may, without contradiction, suffer the report. It was much like an argument that fell out last night, where each of us fell in praise of our country mistresses: This gentleman at that time vouching (and upon warrant of bloody affirmation), his to be more fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constantqualified, and less attemptible, than any the rarest of our ladies in France.

Iach. That lady is not now living; or this gentleman's opinion, by this, worn out.

Post. She holds her virtue still, and I my mind. Iach. You must not so far prefer her 'fore ours of Italy.

Post. Being so far provoked as I was in France, 1 would abate her nothing; though I profess myself her adorer, not her friend.

Iach. As fair, and as good (a kind of hand-in-hand comparison), had been something too fair, and too good, for any lady in Britany. If she went before others I have seen, as that diamond of yours outlustres many I have beheld, I could not but believe she excelled many but I have not seen the most precious diamond that is, nor you the lady.

Post. I praised her, as I rated her: so do I my stone.
Iach. What do you esteem it at.
Post. More than the world enjoys.

Iach. Either your unparagoned mistress is dead, or she's outpriz'd by a trifle.

Post. You are mistaken the one may be sold, or given; if there were wealth enough for the purchase, or merit for the gift: the other is not a thing for sale, and only the gift of the gods.

Iach. Which the gods have given yon? Post. Which, by their graces, I will keep. Iach. You may wear her in title yours: but, you know, strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds. Your ring may be stolen too: so, of your brace of unprizeable estimations, the one is but frail, and the other casual; a cunning thief, or a that-way accom

plished courtier, would hazard the winning both of

first and last.

Post. Your Italy contains none so accomplished a courtier, to convince the honour of my mistress; if in the holding or loss of that, you term her frail. do nothing doubt, you have store of thieves; notwithstanding, I fear not my ring.

Phi. Let us leave here, gentlemen.
Post. Sir, with all my heart. This worthy signior,

I thank him, makes no stranger of me; we are familiar at first.

Lach. With five times so much conversation, I should get ground of your fair mistress: make her go back, even to the yielding; had I admittance, and opportanity to friend.

Post. No, no.

a

Post. This is but a custom in your tongue; you bear graver purpose, I hope.

Iach. I am the master of my speeches; and would undergo what's spoken, I swear.

Post. Will you ?-I shall but lend my diamond till your return: Let there be covenants drawn between us: My mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness of your unworthy thinking: I dare you to this match: here's my ring.

Phi. I will have it no lay.

Lach. By the gods it is one :-If I bring you no sufficient testimony that I have enjoyed the dearest bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats are yours; so is your diamond too. If I come off, and leave her in such honour as you have trust in, she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are yours provided, I have your commendation, for my more free entertainment.

Post. I embrace these conditions; let us have articles betwixt us :-only, thus far you shall answer, If you make your voyage upon her, and give me directly to understand you have prevailed, I am no further your enemy, she is not worth our debate: if she remain unseduced (you not making it appear otherwise), for your ill opinion, and the assault you have made to her chastity, you shall answer me with your sword.

Iach. Your band; a covenant: We will have these things set down by lawful counsel, and straight away for Britain; lest the bargain should catch cold, and starve: I will fetch my gold, and have our two wagers recorded.

Post. Agreed. [Exeunt Posthumus and Iachimo. French. Will this hold, think you?

Phi. Signior Iachimo will not from it. Pray, let us follow 'em. [Exeunt.

Now, master doctor; have you brought those drugs?
Queen. Despatch.-
Cor. Pleaseth your highness, ay; here they are,
madam:
But I beseech your grace (without offence;
[Presenting a small Box.
My conscience bids me ask), wherefore you have
Commanded of me these most poisonous compounds,
Which are the movers of a languishing death;
But, though slow, deadly?

Queen.

I do wonder, doctor,
Thou ask'st me such a question: Have I not been
Thy pupil long? Hast thou not learn'd me how
To make perfumes? distil? preserve! yea, so,
For my confections? Having thus far proceeded
That our great king himself doth woo me oft

(Unless thou think'st me devilish), is't not meet
That I did amplify my judgment in
Other conclusions; I will try the forces
We count not worth the hanging (but none human),
Of these thy compounds on such creatures as
To try the vigour of them, and apply
Allayments to their act; and by them gather
Their several virtues, and effects.
Cor.

Your highness

Shall from this practice but make hard your heart:
Besides, the seeing these effects will be
Both noisome and infectious.
Queen.
O, content thee,-
Enter Pisanio.
Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him
Will I first work: he's for his master,

[Aside.

And enemy to my son.-How now, Pisanio?--
Doctor, your service for this time is ended;

Take your own way.
Cor.
I do suspect you, madam;
But you shall do no harm.
Queen.

[Aside. Hark thee, a word.(To Pisanio. Cor. [Aside] I do not like her. She doth think, she has

Strange lingering poisons: I do know her spirit,
And will not trust one of her malice with

A drug of such damn'd nature: Those, she has,
Will stupify and dull the sense awhile:
Which first, perchance, she'll prove on cats, and dogs;
Then afterward up higher; but there is
No danger in what show of death it makes,
More than the locking up the spirits a time,
To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool'd
With a most false effect; and I the traer,
So to be false with her.
Queen.

Until I send for thee.

No further service, doctor,

Cor.
I humbly take my leave. [Exit.
Queen. Weeps she still, say'st thou? Dost thou
think, in time

She will not quench; and let instructions enter
Where folly now possesses? Do thou work:
When thou shalt bring me word, she loves my son,
I'll tell thee, on the instant, thou art then
As great as is thy master: greater; for
His fortunes all lie speechless, and his name.
Is at last gasp: Return he cannot, nor
Continue where he is to shift his being,
Is to exchange one misery with another;
And every day, that comes, comes to decay
A day's work in him: What shalt thou expect,
To be depender on a thing that leans:
Who cannot be new built, nor has no friends,

[The Queen drops a Box: Pisanio takes it up.
So much as but to prop him?-Thou tak'st up
Thou know'st not what; but take it for thy labour:
It is a thing I made, which hath the king

Five times redeem'd from death: I do not know
What is more cordial:-Nay, I pr'ythee, take it;
It is an earuest of a further good

That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how
The case stands with her; do't, as from thyself.
Think what a chance thou changest on; but think
Thou hast thy mistress still; to boot, my son,
Who shall take notice of thee: I'll move the king
To any shape of thy preferment, such

As thou'lt desire; and then myself, I chiefly,
That set thee on to this desert, am bound
To load thy merit richly. Call my women:
Think on my words. [Exit Pisanio.]-A sly and
constant knave:

Not to be shak'd: the agent for his master;
And the remembrancer of her, to hold

The hand fast to her lord. I have given him that,
Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her
Of liegers for her sweet; and which she, after,
Except she bend her humour, shall be assur'd
Re-enter Pisanio and Ladies.

To taste of too. -So, so ;-well done, well done:
The violets, cowslips, and the primroses,
Bear to my closet: Fare thee well, Pisanio;

Think on my words. [Exeunt Queen and Ladies.

Pis.

And shall do:

But even the very middle of my heart
Is warm'd by the rest, and takes it thankfully.-
You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I
Have words to bid you; and shall find it so,
In all that I can do.

Iach.
Thanks, fairest lady.-
What! are men mad? Hath nature given them eyes
To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop
Of sea and land, which can distinguish 'twixt
The fiery orbs above, and the twinn'd stones
Upon the number'd beach? and can we not
Partition make with spectacles so precious
'Twixt fair and foul?

Ime.
What makes your admiration ?
lach. It cannot be i'the eye; for apes and monkeys,
"Twixt two such shes, would chatter this way, and
Contemn with mows the other: Nor i'the judgment;
For idiots, in this case of favour, would
Be wisely definite: Nor i'the appetite;
Sluttery, to such neat excellence oppos'd,
Should make desire vomit emptiness,
Not so allur'd to feed.

Imo. What is the matter, trow?
Iach.

The cloyed will

(That satiate yet unsatisfied desire,
That tub both fill'd and running) ravening first
The lamb, longs after for the garbage.
Imo.

Thus raps you? Are you well?

What, dear sir,

Iach. Thanks, madam; well:-'Beseech, you, sir,
desire
[To Pisanio.

My man's abode where I did leave him; he
Is strange and peevish.

Pis.

I was going, sir,

[Exit.

To give him welcome.
Imo. Continues well my lord? His health, 'beseech
Iach. Well, madam.
[you?

Imo. Is he dispos'd to mirth? I hope, he is.
Iach. Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there
So merry and so gamesome: he is call'd
The Briton reveller.

Imo.

When he was here,
He did incline to sadness; and oft times
Not knowing why.

Iach.
1 never saw him sad.
There is a Frenchman his companion, one
An eminent monsieur, that, it seems, much loves
A Gallian girl at home: he furnaces

The thick sighs from him; whiles the jolly Briton
(Your lord, I mean), laughs from's free lungs, cries, 0 !
Can my sides hold, to think, that man, who knows
By history, report, or his own proof,
What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose
Assured bondage?
But must be,-will his free hours languish for

Imo.

Enter Imogen.

Imo. A father cruel, and a step-dame false;
A foolish suitor to a wedded lady,

That hath her husband banish'd:-0, that husband!
My supreme crown of grief! and those repeated
Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stolen,
As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable
Is the desire that's glorious: Blessed be those,
How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills,
Which seasons comfort.-Who may this be? Fie!
Enter Pisanio and Iachimo.

Pis. Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome;
Comes from my lord with letters.

Iach.

Change you, madam. The worthy Leonatus is in safety, And greets your highness dearly. Presents a Letter. Imo. Thanks, good sir: You are kindly welcome.

Will my lord say so? Iach. Ay, madam; with his eyes in flood with [laughter, And hear him mock the Frenchman: But, heavens Some men are much to blame. [know, Imo. Not he, I hope. Iach. Not he: But yet heaven's bounty towards him might

Be us'd more thankfully. In himself, 'tis much;
In you, which I count his, beyond all talents,-
Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound
To pity too.
Imo. What do you pity, sir?
Iach. Two creatures, heartily.

Imo.
Am I one, sir?
You look on me; What wreck discern you in me,
Deserves your pity?

Iach.

Lamentable! What!

To hide me from the radiant sun, and solace I'the dungeon by a snuff?

Imo. I pray you, sir, Deliver with more openness your answers To my demands. Why do you pity me?