Scene 3
Enter Posthumus and a Briton Lord .
LORD
Cam’st thou from where they made the stand ?
POSTHUMUS
I did ,
Though you , it seems , come from the fliers .
LORD
Ay .
POSTHUMUS
No blame be to you , sir , for all was lost ,
But that the heavens fought . The King himself
[207] ACT 5. SC. 3 Of his wings destitute , the army broken ,
And but the backs of Britons seen , all flying
Through a strait lane ; the enemy full-hearted ,
Lolling the tongue with slaught’ring , having work
More plentiful than tools to do ’t , struck down
Some mortally , some slightly touched , some falling
Merely through fear , that the strait pass was dammed
With dead men hurt behind and cowards living
To die with lengthened shame .
LORD
Where was this lane ?
POSTHUMUS
Close by the battle , ditched , and walled with turf ;
Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier ,
An honest one , I warrant , who deserved
So long a breeding as his white beard came to ,
In doing this for ’s country . Athwart the lane ,
He with two striplings — lads more like to run
The country base than to commit such slaughter ,
With faces fit for masks , or rather fairer
Than those for preservation cased or shame —
Made good the passage , cried to those that fled
‘Our Britain’s harts die flying , not our men .
To darkness fleet souls that fly backwards . Stand ,
Or we are Romans and will give you that
Like beasts which you shun beastly , and may save
But to look back in frown . Stand , stand !’ These three ,
Three thousand confident , in act as many —
For three performers are the file when all
The rest do nothing — with this word ‘Stand , stand ,’
Accommodated by the place , more charming
With their own nobleness , which could have turned
A distaff to a lance , gilded pale looks ,
Part shame , part spirit renewed ; that some , turned
coward
But by example — O , a sin in war ,
Damned in the first beginners ! — gan to look
[209] ACT 5. SC. 3 The way that they did and to grin like lions
Upon the pikes o’ th’ hunters . Then began
A stop i’ th’ chaser , a retire ; anon
A rout , confusion thick . Forthwith they fly
Chickens the way which they stooped eagles ; slaves
The strides they victors made ; and now our
cowards ,
Like fragments in hard voyages , became
The life o’ th’ need . Having found the backdoor open
Of the unguarded hearts , heavens , how they wound !
Some slain before , some dying , some their friends
O’erborne i’ th’ former wave , ten chased by one ,
Are now each one the slaughterman of twenty .
Those that would die or ere resist are grown
The mortal bugs o’ th’ field .
LORD
This was strange chance :
A narrow lane , an old man , and two boys .
POSTHUMUS
Nay , do not wonder at it . You are made
Rather to wonder at the things you hear
Than to work any . Will you rhyme upon ’t
And vent it for a mock’ry ? Here is one :
‘Two boys , an old man twice a boy , a lane ,
Preserved the Britons , was the Romans’ bane .’
LORD
Nay , be not angry , sir .
POSTHUMUS
’Lack , to what end ?
Who dares not stand his foe , I’ll be his friend ;
For if he’ll do as he is made to do ,
I know he’ll quickly fly my friendship too .
You have put me into rhyme .
LORD
Farewell . You’re angry .
He exits .
POSTHUMUS
Still going ? This is a lord ! O noble misery ,
To be i’ th’ field and ask ‘What news ?’ of me !
[211] ACT 5. SC. 3 Today how many would have given their honors
To have saved their carcasses , took heel to do ’t ,
And yet died too ! I , in mine own woe charmed ,
Could not find Death where I did hear him groan ,
Nor feel him where he struck . Being an ugly monster ,
’Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups , soft beds ,
Sweet words , or hath more ministers than we
That draw his knives i’ th’ war . Well , I will find him ;
For being now a favorer to the Briton ,
No more a Briton . ( He removes his peasant
costume . ) I have resumed again
The part I came in . Fight I will no more ,
But yield me to the veriest hind that shall
Once touch my shoulder . Great the slaughter is
Here made by th’ Roman ; great the answer be
Britons must take . For me , my ransom’s death .
On either side I come to spend my breath ,
Which neither here I’ll keep nor bear again ,
But end it by some means for Imogen .
Enter two Briton Captains , and Soldiers .
FIRST CAPTAIN
Great Jupiter be praised , Lucius is taken !
’Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels .
SECOND CAPTAIN
There was a fourth man in a silly habit
That gave th’ affront with them .
FIRST CAPTAIN
So ’tis reported ,
But none of ’em can be found . — Stand . Who’s there ?
POSTHUMUS
A Roman ,
Who had not now been drooping here if seconds
Had answered him .
SECOND CAPTAIN
Lay hands on him . A dog ,
A leg of Rome shall not return to tell
What crows have pecked them here . He brags his
service
As if he were of note . Bring him to th’ King .
[213]ACT 5. SC. 4
Enter Cymbeline , Attendants , Belarius as Morgan ,
Guiderius as Polydor , Arviragus as Cadwal , Pisanio ,
Soldiers , and Roman captives .
The Captains present
Posthumus to Cymbeline , who delivers him over to a
Jailer .
They exit .
Scene 4
Enter Posthumus in chains , and two Jailers .
JAILER
You shall not now be stol’n ; you have locks upon you .
So graze as you find pasture .
SECOND JAILER
Ay , or a stomach .
Jailers exit .
POSTHUMUS
Most welcome , bondage , for thou art a way ,
I think , to liberty . Yet am I better
Than one that’s sick o’ th’ gout , since he had rather
Groan so in perpetuity than be cured
By th’ sure physician , Death , who is the key
T’ unbar these locks . My conscience , thou art fettered
More than my shanks and wrists . You good gods ,
give me
The penitent instrument to pick that bolt ,
Then free forever . Is ’t enough I am sorry ?
So children temporal fathers do appease ;
Gods are more full of mercy . Must I repent ,
I cannot do it better than in gyves ,
Desired more than constrained . To satisfy ,
If of my freedom ’tis the main part , take
No stricter render of me than my all .
I know you are more clement than vile men ,
Who of their broken debtors take a third ,
A sixth , a tenth , letting them thrive again
[215] ACT 5. SC. 4 On their abatement . That’s not my desire .
For Imogen’s dear life take mine ; and though
’Tis not so dear , yet ’tis a life ; you coined it .
’Tween man and man they weigh not every stamp ;
Though light , take pieces for the figure’s sake ;
You rather mine , being yours . And so , great powers ,
If you will take this audit , take this life
And cancel these cold bonds . O Imogen ,
I’ll speak to thee in silence .
He lies down and sleeps .
Solemn music . Enter , as in an apparition , Sicilius
Leonatus , father to Posthumus , an old man attired like
a warrior ; leading in his hand an ancient matron , his
wife and mother to Posthumus , with music before
them . Then , after other music , follows the two young
Leonati , brothers to Posthumus , with wounds as they
died in the wars . They circle Posthumus round as he
lies sleeping .
SICILIUS
No more , thou Thunder-master , show
Thy spite on mortal flies .
With Mars fall out , with Juno chide ,
That thy adulteries
Rates and revenges .
Hath my poor boy done aught but well ,
Whose face I never saw ?
I died whilst in the womb he stayed ,
Attending nature’s law ;
Whose father then — as men report
Thou orphans’ father art —
Thou shouldst have been , and shielded him
From this earth-vexing smart .
MOTHER
Lucina lent not me her aid ,
But took me in my throes ,
[217] ACT 5. SC. 4 That from me was Posthumus ripped ,
Came crying ’mongst his foes ,
A thing of pity .
SICILIUS
Great Nature , like his ancestry ,
Molded the stuff so fair
That he deserved the praise o’ th’ world
As great Sicilius’ heir .
FIRST BROTHER
When once he was mature for man ,
In Britain where was he
That could stand up his parallel
Or fruitful object be
In eye of Imogen , that best
Could deem his dignity ?
MOTHER
With marriage wherefore was he mocked ,
To be exiled and thrown
From Leonati seat , and cast
From her , his dearest one ,
Sweet Imogen ?
SICILIUS
Why did you suffer Iachimo ,
Slight thing of Italy ,
To taint his nobler heart and brain
With needless jealousy ,
And to become the geck and scorn
O’ th’ other’s villainy ?
SECOND BROTHER
For this , from stiller seats we came ,
Our parents and us twain ,
That striking in our country’s cause
Fell bravely and were slain ,
Our fealty and Tenantius’ right
With honor to maintain .
[219]ACT 5. SC. 4
FIRST BROTHER
Like hardiment Posthumus hath
To Cymbeline performed .
Then , Jupiter , thou king of gods ,
Why hast thou thus adjourned
The graces for his merits due ,
Being all to dolors turned ?
SICILIUS
Thy crystal window ope ; look out .
No longer exercise
Upon a valiant race thy harsh
And potent injuries .
MOTHER
Since , Jupiter , our son is good ,
Take off his miseries .
SICILIUS
Peep through thy marble mansion . Help ,
Or we poor ghosts will cry
To th’ shining synod of the rest
Against thy deity .
BROTHERS
Help , Jupiter , or we appeal
And from thy justice fly .
Jupiter descends in thunder and lightning , sitting upon
an eagle .
He throws a thunderbolt . The Ghosts fall on
their knees .
JUPITER
No more , you petty spirits of region low ,
Offend our hearing ! Hush . How dare you ghosts
Accuse the Thunderer , whose bolt , you know ,
Sky-planted , batters all rebelling coasts .
Poor shadows of Elysium , hence , and rest
Upon your never-withering banks of flowers .
Be not with mortal accidents oppressed .
No care of yours it is ; you know ’tis ours .
[221] ACT 5. SC. 4 Whom best I love I cross , to make my gift ,
The more delayed , delighted . Be content .
Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift .
His comforts thrive , his trials well are spent .
Our Jovial star reigned at his birth , and in
Our temple was he married . Rise , and fade .
He shall be lord of Lady Imogen ,
And happier much by his affliction made .
He hands Sicilius a tablet .
This tablet lay upon his breast , wherein
Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine .
And so away . No farther with your din
Express impatience , lest you stir up mine . —
Mount , eagle , to my palace crystalline .
Ascends .
SICILIUS
He came in thunder . His celestial breath
Was sulphurous to smell . The holy eagle
Stooped as to foot us . His ascension is
More sweet than our blest fields ; his royal bird
Preens the immortal wing and cloys his beak ,
As when his god is pleased .
ALL
Thanks , Jupiter .
SICILIUS
The marble pavement closes ; he is entered
His radiant roof . Away , and , to be blest ,
Let us with care perform his great behest .
He places the tablet on Posthumus’ breast .
They vanish .
POSTHUMUS
, waking
Sleep , thou hast been a grandsire and begot
A father to me , and thou hast created
A mother and two brothers . But , O scorn ,
Gone ! They went hence so soon as they were born .
And so I am awake . Poor wretches that depend
On greatness’ favor dream as I have done ,
Wake , and find nothing . But , alas , I swerve .
Many dream not to find , neither deserve ,
[223] ACT 5. SC. 4 And yet are steeped in favors ; so am I
That have this golden chance and know not why .
Finding the tablet .
What fairies haunt this ground ? A book ? O rare one ,
Be not , as is our fangled world , a garment
Nobler than that it covers . Let thy effects
So follow , to be , most unlike our courtiers ,
As good as promise .
( Reads . )
Whenas 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 , shall
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 . ’Tis still a dream , or else such stuff as madmen
Tongue and brain not ; either both or nothing ,
Or senseless speaking , or a speaking such
As sense cannot untie . Be what it is ,
The action of my life is like it , which
I’ll keep , if but for sympathy .
Enter Jailer .
JAILER
Come , sir , are you ready for death ?
POSTHUMUS
Over-roasted rather ; ready long ago .
JAILER
Hanging is the word , sir . If you be ready for
that , you are well cooked .
POSTHUMUS
So , if I prove a good repast to the spectators ,
the dish pays the shot .
JAILER
A heavy reckoning for you , sir . But the comfort
is , you shall be called to no more payments , fear
no more tavern bills , which are often the sadness
of parting as the procuring of mirth . You come in
faint for want of meat , depart reeling with too
much drink ; sorry that you have paid too much ,
[225] ACT 5. SC. 4 and sorry that you are paid too much ; purse and
brain both empty ; the brain the heavier for being
too light ; the purse too light , being drawn of heaviness .
O , of this contradiction you shall now be
quit . O , the charity of a penny cord ! It sums up
thousands in a trice . You have no true debitor and
creditor but it ; of what’s past , is , and to come , the
discharge . Your neck , sir , is pen , book , and counters ;
so the acquittance follows .
POSTHUMUS
I am merrier to die than thou art to live .
JAILER
Indeed , sir , he that sleeps feels not the
toothache . But a man that were to sleep your
sleep , and a hangman to help him to bed , I think
he would change places with his officer ; for , look
you , sir , you know not which way you shall go .
POSTHUMUS
Yes , indeed do I , fellow .
JAILER
Your Death has eyes in ’s head , then . I have not
seen him so pictured . You must either be directed
by some that take upon them to know , or to take
upon yourself that which I am sure you do not
know , or jump the after-inquiry on your own peril .
And how you shall speed in your journey’s end , I
think you’ll never return to tell one .
POSTHUMUS
I tell thee , fellow , there are none want
eyes to direct them the way I am going but such as
wink and will not use them .
JAILER
What an infinite mock is this , that a man
should have the best use of eyes to see the way of
blindness ! I am sure hanging’s the way of winking .
Enter a Messenger .
MESSENGER
Knock off his manacles ; bring your prisoner
to the King .
POSTHUMUS
Thou bring’st good news . I am called to be
made free .
[227]ACT 5. SC. 5
JAILER
I’ll be hanged then .
He removes Posthumus’s chains .
POSTHUMUS
Thou shalt be then freer than a jailer . No
bolts for the dead .
All but the Jailer exit .
JAILER
Unless a man would marry a gallows and beget
young gibbets , I never saw one so prone . Yet , on my
conscience , there are verier knaves desire to live ,
for all he be a Roman ; and there be some of them
too that die against their wills . So should I , if I
were one . I would we were all of one mind , and
one mind good . O , there were desolation of jailers
and gallowses ! I speak against my present profit ,
but my wish hath a preferment in ’t .
He exits .
Scene 5
Enter Cymbeline , Belarius as Morgan , Guiderius as
Polydor , Arviragus as Cadwal , Pisanio , Attendants ,
and Lords .
CYMBELINE
, to Morgan , Polydor , and Cadwal
Stand by my side , you whom the gods have made
Preservers of my throne . Woe is my heart
That the poor soldier that so richly fought ,
Whose rags shamed gilded arms , whose naked breast
Stepped before targes of proof , cannot be found .
He shall be happy that can find him , if
Our grace can make him so .
BELARIUS
, as Morgan
I never saw
Such noble fury in so poor a thing ,
Such precious deeds in one that promised naught
But beggary and poor looks .
CYMBELINE
No tidings of him ?
PISANIO
He hath been searched among the dead and living ,
But no trace of him .
[229]ACT 5. SC. 5
CYMBELINE
, to Morgan , Polydor , and Cadwal
To my grief , I am
The heir of his reward , which I will add
To you , the liver , heart , and brain of Britain ,
By whom I grant she lives . ’Tis now the time
To ask of whence you are . Report it .
BELARIUS
, as Morgan
Sir ,
In Cambria are we born , and gentlemen .
Further to boast were neither true nor modest ,
Unless I add we are honest .
CYMBELINE
Bow your knees .
They kneel . He taps their shoulders with his sword .
Arise my knights o’ th’ battle . I create you
Companions to our person , and will fit you
With dignities becoming your estates .
They rise .
Enter Cornelius and Ladies .
There’s business in these faces . Why so sadly
Greet you our victory ? You look like Romans ,
And not o’ th’ court of Britain .
CORNELIUS
Hail , great king .
To sour your happiness I must report
The Queen is dead .
CYMBELINE
Who worse than a physician
Would this report become ? But I consider
By med’cine life may be prolonged , yet death
Will seize the doctor too . How ended she ?
CORNELIUS
With horror , madly dying , like her life ,
Which , being cruel to the world , concluded
Most cruel to herself . What she confessed
I will report , so please you . These her women
Can trip me if I err , who with wet cheeks
Were present when she finished .
CYMBELINE
Prithee , say .
[231]ACT 5. SC. 5
CORNELIUS
First , she confessed she never loved you , only
Affected greatness got by you , not you ;
Married your royalty , was wife to your place ,
Abhorred your person .
CYMBELINE
She alone knew this ,
And but she spoke it dying , I would not
Believe her lips in opening it . Proceed .
CORNELIUS
Your daughter , whom she bore in hand to love
With such integrity , she did confess
Was as a scorpion to her sight , whose life ,
But that her flight prevented it , she had
Ta’en off by poison .
CYMBELINE
O , most delicate fiend !
Who is ’t can read a woman ? Is there more ?
CORNELIUS
More , sir , and worse . She did confess she had
For you a mortal mineral which , being took ,
Should by the minute feed on life and , ling’ring ,
By inches waste you . In which time she purposed ,
By watching , weeping , tendance , kissing , to
O’ercome you with her show and , in time ,
When she had fitted you with her craft , to work
Her son into th’ adoption of the crown ;
But failing of her end by his strange absence ,
Grew shameless desperate ; opened , in despite
Of heaven and men , her purposes ; repented
The evils she hatched were not effected ; so
Despairing died .
CYMBELINE
Heard you all this , her women ?
LADIES
We did , so please your Highness .
CYMBELINE
Mine eyes
Were not in fault , for she was beautiful ;
Mine ears that heard her flattery ; nor my heart ,
[233] ACT 5. SC. 5 That thought her like her seeming . It had been vicious
To have mistrusted her . Yet , O my daughter ,
That it was folly in me thou mayst say ,
And prove it in thy feeling . Heaven mend all .
Enter Lucius , Iachimo , Soothsayer , and other Roman
prisoners , Posthumus Leonatus behind , and Imogen
as Fidele , with Briton Soldiers as guards .
Thou com’st not , Caius , now for tribute . That
The Britons have razed out , though with the loss
Of many a bold one , whose kinsmen have made suit
That their good souls may be appeased with slaughter
Of you their captives , which ourself have granted .
So think of your estate .
LUCIUS
Consider , sir , the chance of war . The day
Was yours by accident . Had it gone with us ,
We should not , when the blood was cool , have
threatened
Our prisoners with the sword . But since the gods
Will have it thus , that nothing but our lives
May be called ransom , let it come . Sufficeth
A Roman with a Roman’s heart can suffer .
Augustus lives to think on ’t ; and so much
For my peculiar care . This one thing only
I will entreat : my boy , a Briton born ,
Let him be ransomed . Never master had
A page so kind , so duteous , diligent ,
So tender over his occasions , true ,
So feat , so nurselike . Let his virtue join
With my request , which I’ll make bold your Highness
Cannot deny . He hath done no Briton harm ,
Though he have served a Roman . Save him , sir ,
And spare no blood beside .
CYMBELINE
I have surely seen him .
His favor is familiar to me . — Boy ,
[235] ACT 5. SC. 5 Thou hast looked thyself into my grace
And art mine own . I know not why , wherefore ,
To say ‘Live , boy .’ Ne’er thank thy master . Live ,
And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt ,
Fitting my bounty and thy state , I’ll give it ,
Yea , though thou do demand a prisoner ,
The noblest ta’en .
IMOGEN
, as Fidele
I humbly thank your Highness .
LUCIUS
I do not bid thee beg my life , good lad ,
And yet I know thou wilt .
IMOGEN
, as Fidele
No , no , alack ,
There’s other work in hand . I see a thing
Bitter to me as death . Your life , good master ,
Must shuffle for itself .
LUCIUS
The boy disdains me ,
He leaves me , scorns me . Briefly die their joys
That place them on the truth of girls and boys .
Why stands he so perplexed ?
Imogen stares at Iachimo .
CYMBELINE
What would’st thou , boy ?
I love thee more and more . Think more and more
What’s best to ask . Know’st him thou look’st on ?
Speak .
Wilt have him live ? Is he thy kin ? Thy friend ?
IMOGEN
, as Fidele
He is a Roman , no more kin to me
Than I to your Highness , who , being born your vassal ,
Am something nearer .
CYMBELINE
Wherefore ey’st him so ?
IMOGEN
, as Fidele
I’ll tell you , sir , in private , if you please
To give me hearing .
CYMBELINE
Ay , with all my heart ,
And lend my best attention . What’s thy name ?
[237]ACT 5. SC. 5
IMOGEN
, as Fidele
Fidele , sir .
CYMBELINE
Thou ’rt my good youth , my page .
I’ll be thy master . Walk with me . Speak freely .
Cymbeline and Imogen walk aside and talk .
BELARIUS
, as Morgan
Is not this boy revived from death ?
ARVIRAGUS
, as Cadwal
One sand another
Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad
Who died , and was Fidele . What think you ?
GUIDERIUS
, as Polydor
The same dead thing alive .
BELARIUS
, as Morgan
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 .
GUIDERIUS
, as Polydor
But we see him dead .
BELARIUS
, as Morgan
Be silent . Let’s see further .
PISANIO
, aside
It is my mistress !
Since she is living , let the time run on
To good or bad .
Cymbeline and Imogen come forward .
CYMBELINE
, to Imogen
Come , stand thou by our side .
Make thy demand aloud .
( To Iachimo . )
Sir , step
you forth .
Give answer to this boy , and do it freely ,
Or by our greatness and the grace of it ,
Which is our honor , bitter torture shall
Winnow the truth from falsehood . — On . Speak to
him .
IMOGEN
,
as Fidele
,
pointing to Iachimo’s hand
My boon is that this gentleman may render
Of whom he had this ring .
POSTHUMUS
, aside
What’s that to him ?
CYMBELINE
That diamond upon your finger , say
How came it yours .
[239]ACT 5. SC. 5
IACHIMO
Thou ’lt torture me to leave unspoken that
Which to be spoke would torture thee .
CYMBELINE
How ? Me ?
IACHIMO
I am glad to be constrained to utter that
Which torments me to conceal . By villainy
I got this ring . ’Twas Leonatus’ jewel ,
Whom thou didst banish , and — which more may
grieve thee ,
As it doth me — a nobler sir ne’er lived
’Twixt sky and ground . Wilt thou hear more , my lord ?
CYMBELINE
All that belongs to this .
IACHIMO
That paragon , thy daughter ,
For whom my heart drops blood and my false spirits
Quail to remember — Give me leave ; I faint .
CYMBELINE
My daughter ? What of her ? Renew thy strength .
I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will
Than die ere I hear more . Strive , man , and speak .
IACHIMO
Upon a time — unhappy was the clock
That struck the hour ! — it was in Rome — accursed
The mansion where ! — ’twas at a feast — O , would
Our viands had been poisoned , or at least
Those which I heaved to head ! — the good
Posthumus —
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 swelled boast
Of him that best could speak ; for feature , laming
The shrine of Venus or straight-pight Minerva ,
Postures beyond brief nature ; for condition ,
[241] ACT 5. SC. 5 A shop of all the qualities that man
Loves woman for , besides that hook of wiving ,
Fairness which strikes the eye —
CYMBELINE
I stand on fire .
Come to the matter .
IACHIMO
All too soon I shall ,
Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly . This Posthumus ,
Most like a noble lord in love and one
That had a royal lover , took his hint ,
And , not dispraising whom we praised — therein
He was as calm as virtue — he began
His mistress’ picture ; which by his tongue being made
And then a mind put in ’t , either our brags
Were cracked of kitchen trulls , or his description
Proved us unspeaking sots .
CYMBELINE
Nay , nay , to th’ purpose .
IACHIMO
Your daughter’s chastity — there it begins .
He spake of her as Dian had hot dreams
And she alone were cold ; whereat I , wretch ,
Made scruple of his praise and wagered with him
Pieces of gold ’gainst this , which then he wore
Upon his honored finger , to attain
In suit the place of ’s bed and win this ring
By hers and mine adultery . He , true knight ,
No lesser of her honor 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 ’s car . Away to Britain
Post I in this design . Well may you , sir ,
Remember me at court , where I was taught
Of your chaste daughter the wide difference
’Twixt amorous and villainous . Being thus quenched
Of hope , not longing , mine Italian brain
Gan in your duller Britain operate
[243] ACT 5. SC. 5 Most vilely ; for my vantage , excellent .
And to be brief , my practice so prevailed
That I returned with simular proof enough
To make the noble Leonatus mad
By wounding his belief in her renown
With tokens thus and thus ; averring notes
Of chamber-hanging , pictures , this her bracelet —
O , cunning how I got it ! — nay , some marks
Of secret on her person , that he could not
But think her bond of chastity quite cracked ,
I having ta’en the forfeit . Whereupon —
Methinks I see him now —
POSTHUMUS
, coming forward
Ay , so thou dost ,
Italian fiend . — Ay me , most credulous fool ,
Egregious murderer , thief , anything
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 th’ abhorrèd things o’ th’ Earth amend
By being worse than they . I am Posthumus ,
That killed thy daughter — villainlike , I lie —
That caused 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
The dogs o’ th’ street to bay me . Every villain
Be called Posthumus Leonatus , and
Be villainy less than ’twas . O Imogen !
My queen , my life , my wife ! O Imogen ,
Imogen , Imogen !
IMOGEN
, running to Posthumus
Peace , my lord !
Hear , hear —
POSTHUMUS
Shall ’s have a play of this ? Thou scornful page ,
There lie thy part .
He pushes her away ; she falls .
[245]ACT 5. SC. 5
PISANIO
O , gentlemen , help ! —
Mine and your mistress ! O my lord Posthumus ,
You ne’er killed Imogen till now ! Help , help !
Mine honored lady —
CYMBELINE
Does the world go round ?
POSTHUMUS
How comes these staggers on me ?
PISANIO
Wake , my mistress .
CYMBELINE
If this be so , the gods do mean to strike me
To death with mortal joy .
PISANIO
How fares my mistress ?
IMOGEN
O , get thee from my sight !
Thou gav’st me poison . Dangerous fellow , hence .
Breathe not where princes are .
CYMBELINE
The tune of Imogen !
PISANIO
Lady , the gods throw stones of sulfur on me if
That box I gave you was not thought by me
A precious thing . I had it from the Queen .
CYMBELINE
New matter still .
IMOGEN
It poisoned me .
CORNELIUS
O gods !
To Pisanio .
I left out one thing which the Queen
confessed ,
Which must approve thee honest .
‘If Pisanio
Have ,’ said she ,
‘given his mistress that confection
Which I gave him for cordial , she is served
As I would serve a rat .’CYMBELINE
What’s this , Cornelius ?
CORNELIUS
The Queen , sir , very oft importuned me
To temper poisons for her , still pretending
The satisfaction of her knowledge only
In killing creatures vile , as cats and dogs ,
[247] ACT 5. SC. 5 Of no esteem . I , dreading that her purpose
Was of more danger , did compound for her
A certain stuff which , being ta’en , would cease
The present power of life , but in short time
All offices of nature should again
Do their due functions . — Have you ta’en of it ?
IMOGEN
Most like I did , for I was dead .
BELARIUS
,
as Morgan
,
aside to Guiderius and Arviragus
My boys ,
There was our error .
GUIDERIUS
, as Polydor
This is sure Fidele .
IMOGEN
, to Posthumus
Why did you throw your wedded lady from you ?
Think that you are upon a rock , and now
Throw me again .
She embraces him .
POSTHUMUS
Hang there like fruit , my soul ,
Till the tree die .
CYMBELINE
, to Imogen
How now , my flesh , my child ?
What , mak’st thou me a dullard in this act ?
Wilt thou not speak to me ?
IMOGEN
, kneeling
Your blessing , sir .
BELARIUS
,
as Morgan
,
aside to Guiderius and Arviragus
Though you did love this youth , I blame you not .
You had a motive for ’t .
CYMBELINE
, to Imogen
My tears that fall
Prove holy water on thee . Imogen ,
Thy mother’s dead .
IMOGEN
I am sorry for ’t , my lord .
She rises .
CYMBELINE
O , she was naught , and long of her it was
That we meet here so strangely . But her son
Is gone , we know not how nor where .
PISANIO
My lord ,
Now fear is from me , I’ll speak truth . Lord Cloten ,
[249] ACT 5. SC. 5 Upon my lady’s missing , came to me
With his sword drawn , foamed at the mouth , and
swore ,
If I discovered not which way she was gone ,
It was my instant death . By accident ,
I had a feignèd letter of my master’s
Then in my pocket , which directed him
To seek her on the mountains near to Milford ;
Where , in a frenzy , in my master’s garments ,
Which he enforced from me , away he posts
With unchaste purpose and with oath to violate
My lady’s honor . What became of him
I further know not .
GUIDERIUS
, as Polydor
Let me end the story .
I slew him there .
CYMBELINE
Marry , the gods forfend !
I would not thy good deeds should from my lips
Pluck a hard sentence . Prithee , valiant youth ,
Deny ’t again .
GUIDERIUS
, as Polydor
I have spoke it , and I did it .
CYMBELINE
He was a prince .
GUIDERIUS
, as Polydor
A most incivil one . The wrongs he did me
Were nothing princelike , for he did provoke me
With language that would make me spurn the sea
If it could so roar to me . I cut off ’s head ,
And am right glad he is not standing here
To tell this tale of mine .
CYMBELINE
I am sorrow for thee .
By thine own tongue thou art condemned and must
Endure our law . Thou ’rt dead .
IMOGEN
That headless man
I thought had been my lord .
CYMBELINE
Bind the offender ,
And take him from our presence .
Attendants bind Guiderius .
[251]ACT 5. SC. 5
BELARIUS
, as Morgan
Stay , sir king .
This man is better than the man he slew ,
As well descended as thyself , and hath
More of thee merited than a band of Clotens
Had ever scar for . — Let his arms alone .
They were not born for bondage .
CYMBELINE
Why , old soldier ,
Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for
By tasting of our wrath ? How of descent
As good as we ?
ARVIRAGUS
, as Cadwal
In that he spake too far .
CYMBELINE
, to Morgan
And thou shalt die for ’t .
BELARIUS
, as Morgan
We will die all three
But I will prove that two on ’s 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 .
ARVIRAGUS
, as Cadwal
Your danger’s ours .
GUIDERIUS
, as Polydor
And our good his .
BELARIUS
, as Morgan
Have at it , then . — By leave ,
Thou hadst , great king , a subject who
Was called Belarius .
CYMBELINE
What of him ? He is
A banished traitor .
BELARIUS
He it is that hath
Assumed this age ; indeed a banished man ,
I know not how a traitor .
CYMBELINE
Take him hence .
The whole world shall not save him .
BELARIUS
Not too hot .
First pay me for the nursing of thy sons
And let it be confiscate all , so soon
As I have received it .
CYMBELINE
Nursing of my sons ?
[253]ACT 5. SC. 5
BELARIUS
I am too blunt and saucy . Here’s my knee .
He kneels .
Ere I arise I will prefer my sons ,
Then spare not the old father . Mighty sir ,
These two young gentlemen that call me father
And think they are my sons are none of mine .
They are the issue of your loins , my liege ,
And blood of your begetting .
CYMBELINE
How ? My issue ?
BELARIUS
So sure as you your father’s . I , old Morgan ,
Am that Belarius whom you sometime banished .
Your pleasure was my mere offense , my punishment
Itself , and all my treason . That I suffered
Was all the harm I did . These gentle princes —
For such and so they are — these twenty years
Have I trained up ; those arts they have as I
Could put into them . My breeding was , sir , as
Your Highness knows . Their nurse Euriphile ,
Whom for the theft I wedded , stole these children
Upon my banishment . I moved her to ’t ,
Having received 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 shaped
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 .
He weeps .
CYMBELINE
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 .
[255]ACT 5. SC. 5
BELARIUS
Be pleased awhile .
This gentleman whom I call Polydor ,
Most worthy prince , as yours is true Guiderius ;
This gentleman , my Cadwal , Arviragus ,
Your younger princely son . He , sir , was lapped
In a most curious mantle , wrought by th’ hand
Of his queen mother , which for more probation
I can with ease produce .
CYMBELINE
Guiderius had
Upon his neck a mole , a sanguine star .
It was a mark of wonder .
BELARIUS
This is he ,
Who hath upon him still that natural stamp .
It was wise Nature’s end in the donation
To be his evidence now .
CYMBELINE
O , what am I ,
A mother to the birth of three ? Ne’er mother
Rejoiced deliverance more . — Blest pray you be ,
That after this strange starting from your orbs ,
You may reign in them now . — O Imogen ,
Thou hast lost by this a kingdom !
IMOGEN
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 called me ‘brother’
When I was but your sister ; I you ‘brothers’
When we were so indeed .
CYMBELINE
Did you e’er meet ?
ARVIRAGUS
Ay , my good lord .
GUIDERIUS
And at first meeting loved ,
Continued so until we thought he died .
CORNELIUS
By the Queen’s dram she swallowed .
CYMBELINE
, to Imogen
O , rare instinct !
[257] ACT 5. SC. 5 When shall I hear all through ? This fierce
abridgment
Hath to it circumstantial branches which
Distinction should be rich in . Where , how lived you ?
And when came you to serve our Roman captive ?
How parted with your brothers ? How first met
them ?
Why fled you from the court ? And whither ?
To Belarius .
These ,
And your three motives to the battle , with
I know not how much more , should be demanded ,
And all the other by-dependences
From chance to chance ; but nor the time nor place
Will serve our long interrogatories . 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 .
IMOGEN
, to Belarius
You are my father too , and did relieve me
To see this gracious season .
CYMBELINE
All o’erjoyed
Save these in bonds ; let them be joyful too ,
For they shall taste our comfort .
IMOGEN
, to Lucius
My good master ,
I will yet do you service .
LUCIUS
Happy be you !
CYMBELINE
The forlorn soldier that so nobly fought ,
He would have well becomed this place and graced
The thankings of a king .
POSTHUMUS
I am , sir ,
The soldier that did company these three
[259] ACT 5. SC. 5 In poor beseeming ; ’twas a fitment for
The purpose I then followed . That I was he ,
Speak , Iachimo . I had you down and might
Have made you finish .
IACHIMO
, kneeling
I am down again ,
But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee ,
As then your force did . Take that life , beseech you ,
Which I so often owe ; but your ring first ,
And here the bracelet of the truest princess
That ever swore her faith .
He holds out the ring and bracelet .
POSTHUMUS
Kneel not to me .
The power that I have on you is to spare you ;
The malice towards you to forgive you . Live
And deal with others better .
CYMBELINE
Nobly doomed .
We’ll learn our freeness of a son-in-law :
Pardon’s the word to all .
Iachimo rises .
ARVIRAGUS
, to Posthumus
You holp us , sir ,
As you did mean indeed to be our brother .
Joyed are we that you are .
POSTHUMUS
Your servant , princes . — Good my lord of Rome ,
Call forth your soothsayer . As I slept , methought
Great Jupiter upon his eagle backed
Appeared to me , with other spritely shows
Of mine own kindred . When I waked , 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 .
LUCIUS
Philarmonus !
SOOTHSAYER
, coming forward
Here , my good lord .
LUCIUS
Read , and declare the meaning .
SOOTHSAYER
reads .
Whenas a lion’s whelp shall , to
[261] ACT 5. SC. 5 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 , shall 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 . Thou , Leonatus , art the lion’s whelp .
The fit and apt construction of thy name ,
Being Leo-natus , doth import so much .
To Cymbeline .
The piece of tender air thy virtuous
daughter ,
Which we call
‘mollis aer ,’ and
‘mollis aer’ We term it
‘mulier ,’ which
‘mulier’ I divine
Is this most constant wife ; who , even now ,
Answering the letter of the oracle ,
To Posthumus
Unknown to you , unsought , were
clipped about
With this most tender air .
CYMBELINE
This hath some seeming .
SOOTHSAYER
The lofty cedar , royal Cymbeline ,
Personates thee ; and thy lopped branches point
Thy two sons forth , who , by Belarius stol’n ,
For many years thought dead , are now revived ,
To the majestic cedar joined , whose issue
Promises Britain peace and plenty .
CYMBELINE
Well ,
My peace we will begin . And , Caius Lucius ,
Although the victor , we submit to Caesar
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 hers
Have laid most heavy hand .
[263]ACT 5. SC. 5
SOOTHSAYER
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 accomplished . For the Roman eagle ,
From south to west on wing soaring aloft ,
Lessened herself and in the beams o’ th’ sun
So vanished ; which foreshowed our princely eagle ,
Th’ imperial Caesar , should again unite
His favor with the radiant Cymbeline ,
Which shines here in the west .
CYMBELINE
Laud we the gods ,
And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils
From our blest altars . Publish we this peace
To all our subjects . Set we forward . Let
A Roman and a British ensign wave
Friendly together . So through Lud’s Town march ,
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 hands were washed , with such a peace .
They exit .
If she in chains of magic were not bound,
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blood
and sword and fire to win your right,”), or angle brackets (for example, from Hamlet: “O farewell, honest 
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