Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion;
And, for I am richer than to hang by the walls,
must be ripp'd:-to pieces with me!-0,
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.
Good madam, hear me. Imo. True honest men being heard, like false Æneas,
Were in his time, thought false and Simon's weeping
Did scandal many a holy tear; took pity
Not so, neither: But if I were as wise as honest, then
From most true wretchedness: So, thou, Post- My purpose would prove well. It cannot be
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 mayst 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,
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
Stands in worse case of woe.
And thou, Posthumus, 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'st on, how thy memory
Will then be pang'd by me.-Prithee, 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.
O gracious lady,
Since I receiv'd command to do this business,
I have not slept one wink.
Imo.
Do't, and to bed then.
Pis. I'll wake mine eye-balls blind first.
Imo.
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,
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,
The elected deer before thee?
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.
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. Prithee, think
There's livers out of Britain.
Pis.
I am most glad
You think of other place. The 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, 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 quarrellous 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: and forget
Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherei
You made great Juno angry.
Nay, be brief I see into thy end, and am almost A man already
Pis.
First, make yourself but like one.
Fore-thinking this, I have already fit
("Tis in my clo k-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. Prithee, 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 prithee.
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.
SCENE V.-A Room in Cymbeline's Palace. Enter CYMBELINE, Queen, Cloten, LUCIUS, and
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
Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself
To show less sovereignty than they, must need
Appear unkinglike.
A conduct overland, to Milford Haven.
Madam, all joy befal your grace, and you!
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 Fath 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.
Where is she, sir? How
Can her contempt be answer'd?
Atten.
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.
Her door's lock'd?
Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that which I fear [Exit.
Queen. Son, I say, follow the king.
Člo. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant,
I have not seen these two days.
Queen.
Go, look after.-[Erit CLO.
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
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
Cym. My lords, you are appointed for that I have the placing of the British crown.
![[blocks in formation]](https://books.google.co.jp/books/content?id=Er0VAAAAYAAJ&hl=ja&output=html_text&pg=PA716&img=1&zoom=3&q=%22%EF%BD%B5,+Because+von+are+not+of+our+quality,+But+stand+against+us+like+an+enemy.+Blunt.+And+Heaven+defend+but%22&cds=1&sig=ACfU3U01oMVLgQRXYfhMfm1WaakpjbsMzg&edge=0&edge=stretch&ci=113,950,401,141)
Is yet to name the winner: Fare you well.
Cym. 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.
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
"Tis certain she is filed:
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; from every one
The best she hath, and she, of all compounded,
Outsells them all: I love her, therefore. But,
Disdaining me, 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
Enter PISANIO.
Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he Shall-Who is here? What! are vou packing,
Come hither: Ah, you precious pander! Villain,
She's far enough; and what he learns by this,
May prove his travel, not her danger. [Aside.
Clo.
Humph!
Pis. I'll write to my lord she's dead. O Imogen,
Safe mayst 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 wouldst not be a villain, but do me true service, 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 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 diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou serve me?
Clo. Give me thy hand, here's my purse. Hast any of thy late master's garments in thy possession? Pis. I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same suit he wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress.
Clo. The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit hither; let it be thy first service; go.
[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 valour, which will then be a 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 1 will execute in the clothes that she so praised), to the court I'll knock her back, foot her home again.
She hath despised me rejoicingly, and I'll be merry in my revenge
Re-enter PISANIO, with the clothes.
Be those the garments?
Pis. Ay, my noble lord.
Clo. How long is't since sne 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 third is, that thou wilt be a very voluntary mute to my design. Be but duteous, and true prefernient shall tender itself to thee.-My revenge is now at Milford: 'Would I had wings to follow it! [Exit. Come, 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!
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
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
I could not miss my way: Will poor folks lie,
That have afflictions on them: knowing 'tis
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' 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,
and
Are master of the feast: Cadwal and I
Will play the cook and servant; tis our match:
The sweat of industry would dry, and die,
Come; our stomachs
But for the end it works to
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!
Gui,
I am thoroughly weary.
Aro. I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite.
Gui. There is cold meat i'the cave; we'll
browze on that
Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd.
Bel.
Stay; come not in: [Looking in.
|