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| SCENE V. Cymbeline's tent. |
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Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, Lords, Officers, and Attendants
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| CYMBELINE |
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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
5 Stepp'd before larges of proof, cannot be found:
He shall be happy that can find him, if
Our grace can make him so.
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| BELARIUS |
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I never saw
Such noble fury in so poor a thing;
10 Such precious deeds in one that promises nought
But beggary and poor looks.
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| CYMBELINE |
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No tidings of him?
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| PISANIO |
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He hath been search'd among the dead and living,
But no trace of him.
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| CYMBELINE |
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15 To my grief, I am
The heir of his reward;
To BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS
which I will add
To you, the liver, heart and brain of Britain,
By whom I grant she lives. 'Tis now the time
20 To ask of whence you are. Report it.
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| BELARIUS |
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Sir,
In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen:
Further to boast were neither true nor modest,
Unless I add, we are honest.
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| CYMBELINE |
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25 Bow your knees.
Arise my knights o' the battle: I create you
Companions to our person and will fit you
With dignities becoming your estates.
Enter CORNELIUS and Ladies
There's business in these faces. Why so sadly
30 Greet you our victory? you look like Romans,
And not o' the court of Britain.
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| CORNELIUS |
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Hail, great king!
To sour your happiness, I must report
The queen is dead.
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| CYMBELINE |
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35 Who worse than a physician
Would this report become? But I consider,
By medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death
Will seize the doctor too. How ended she?
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| CORNELIUS |
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With horror, madly dying, like her life,
40 Which, being cruel to the world, concluded
Most cruel to herself. What she confess'd
I will report, so please you: these her women
Can trip me, if I err; who with wet cheeks
Were present when she finish'd.
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| CYMBELINE |
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45 Prithee, say.
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| CORNELIUS |
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First, she confess'd she never loved you, only
Affected greatness got by you, not you:
Married your royalty, was wife to your place;
Abhorr'd your person.
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| CYMBELINE |
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50 She alone knew this;
And, but she spoke it dying, I would not
Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.
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| CORNELIUS |
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Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to love
With such integrity, she did confess
55 Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life,
But that her flight prevented it, she had
Ta'en off by poison.
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| CYMBELINE |
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O most delicate fiend!
Who is 't can read a woman? Is there more?
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| CORNELIUS |
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60 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 lingering
By inches waste you: in which time she purposed,
By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to
65 O'ercome you with her show, and in time,
When she had fitted you with her craft, to work
Her son into the adoption of the crown:
But, failing of her end by his strange absence,
Grew shameless-desperate; open'd, in despite
70 Of heaven and men, her purposes; repented
The evils she hatch'd were not effected; so
Despairing died.
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| CYMBELINE |
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Heard you all this, her women?
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| First Lady |
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We did, so please your highness.
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| CYMBELINE |
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75 Mine eyes
Were not in fault, for she was beautiful;
Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart,
That thought her like her seeming; it had
been vicious
80 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, the Soothsayer, and other Roman Prisoners, guarded; POSTHUMUS LEONATUS
behind, and IMOGEN
Thou comest not, Caius, now for tribute that
The Britons have razed out, though with the loss
85 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.
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| CAIUS LUCIUS |
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Consider, sir, the chance of war: the day
90 Was yours by accident; had it gone with us,
We should not, when the blood was cool,
have threaten'd
Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods
Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives
95 May be call'd 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,
100 Let him be ransom'd: never master had
A page so kind, so duteous, diligent,
So tender over his occasions, true,
So feat, so nurse-like: let his virtue join
With my request, which I make bold your highness
105 Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm,
Though he have served a Roman: save him, sir,
And spare no blood beside.
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| CYMBELINE |
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I have surely seen him:
His favour is familiar to me. Boy,
110 Thou hast look'd 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;
115 Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner,
The noblest ta'en.
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| IMOGEN |
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I humbly thank your highness.
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| CAIUS LUCIUS |
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I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad;
And yet I know thou wilt.
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| IMOGEN |
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120 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.
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| CAIUS LUCIUS |
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The boy disdains me,
125 He leaves me, scorns me: briefly die their joys
That place them on the truth of girls and boys.
Why stands he so perplex'd?
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| CYMBELINE |
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What wouldst thou, boy?
I love thee more and more: think more and more
130 What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st on? speak,
Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend?
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| IMOGEN |
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He is a Roman; no more kin to me
Than I to your highness; who, being born your vassal,
Am something nearer.
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| CYMBELINE |
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135 Wherefore eyest him so?
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| IMOGEN |
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I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please
To give me hearing.
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| CYMBELINE |
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Ay, with all my heart,
And lend my best attention. What's thy name?
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| IMOGEN |
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140 Fidele, sir.
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| CYMBELINE |
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Thou'rt my good youth, my page;
I'll be thy master: walk with me; speak freely.
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CYMBELINE and IMOGEN converse apart
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| BELARIUS |
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Is not this boy revived from death?
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| ARVIRAGUS |
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One sand another
145 Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad
Who died, and was Fidele. What think you?
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| GUIDERIUS |
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The same dead thing alive.
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| BELARIUS |
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Peace, peace! see further; he eyes us not; forbear;
Creatures may be alike: were 't he, I am sure
150 He would have spoke to us.
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| GUIDERIUS |
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But we saw him dead.
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| BELARIUS |
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Be silent; let's see further.
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| PISANIO |
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(Aside)
It is my mistress:
Since she is living, let the time run on
155 To good or bad.
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CYMBELINE and IMOGEN come forward
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| CYMBELINE |
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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;
160 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.
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| IMOGEN |
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My boon is, that this gentleman may render
Of whom he had this ring.
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| POSTHUMUS LEONATUS |
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165 (Aside)
What's that to him?
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| CYMBELINE |
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That diamond upon your finger, say
How came it yours?
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| IACHIMO |
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Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that
Which, to be spoke, would torture thee.
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| CYMBELINE |
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170 How! me?
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| IACHIMO |
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I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that
Which torments me to conceal. By villany
I got this ring: 'twas Leonatus' jewel;
Whom thou didst banish; and--which more may
175 grieve thee,
As it doth me--a nobler sir ne'er lived
'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord?
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| CYMBELINE |
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All that belongs to this.
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| IACHIMO |
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That paragon, thy daughter,--
180 For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits
Quail to remember--Give me leave; I faint.
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| CYMBELINE |
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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.
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| IACHIMO |
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185 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 poison'd, or at least
Those which I heaved to head!--the good Posthumus--
190 What should I say? he was too good to be
Where ill men were; and was the best of all
Amongst the rarest of good ones,--sitting sadly,
Hearing us praise our loves of Italy
For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast
195 Of him that best could speak, for feature, laming
The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva.
Postures beyond brief nature, for condition,
A shop of all the qualities that man
Loves woman for, besides that hook of wiving,
200 Fairness which strikes the eye--
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| CYMBELINE |
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I stand on fire:
Come to the matter.
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| IACHIMO |
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All too soon I shall,
Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This Posthumus,
205 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
210 being made,
And then a mind put in't, either our brags
Were crack'd of kitchen-trolls, or his description
Proved us unspeaking sots.
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| CYMBELINE |
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Nay, nay, to the purpose.
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| IACHIMO |
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215 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 wager'd with him
Pieces of gold 'gainst this which then he wore
220 Upon his honour'd 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 honour confident
Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring;
225 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
230 Of your chaste daughter the wide difference
'Twixt amorous and villanous. Being thus quench'd
Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain
'Gan in your duller Britain operate
Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent:
235 And, to be brief, my practise 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; averting notes
240 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 crack'd,
I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon--
245 Methinks, I see him now--
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| POSTHUMUS LEONATUS |
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(Advancing)
Ay, so thou dost,
Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool,
Egregious murderer, thief, any thing
That's due to all the villains past, in being,
250 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,
255 That kill'd thy daughter:--villain-like, 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
260 The dogs o' the street to bay me: every villain
Be call'd Posthumus Leonitus; and
Be villany less than 'twas! O Imogen!
My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen!
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| IMOGEN |
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265 Peace, my lord; hear, hear--
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| POSTHUMUS LEONATUS |
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Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful page,
There lie thy part.
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Striking her: she falls
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| PISANIO |
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O, gentlemen, help!
Mine and your mistress! O, my lord Posthumus!
270 You ne'er kill'd Imogen til now. Help, help!
Mine honour'd lady!
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| CYMBELINE |
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Does the world go round?
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| POSTHUMUS LEONATUS |
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How come these staggers on me?
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| PISANIO |
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Wake, my mistress!
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| CYMBELINE |
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275 If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me
To death with mortal joy.
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| PISANIO |
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How fares thy mistress?
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| IMOGEN |
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O, get thee from my sight;
Thou gavest me poison: dangerous fellow, hence!
280 Breathe not where princes are.
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| CYMBELINE |
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The tune of Imogen!
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| PISANIO |
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Lady,
The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if
That box I gave you was not thought by me
285 A precious thing: I had it from the queen.
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| CYMBELINE |
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New matter still?
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| IMOGEN |
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It poison'd me.
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| CORNELIUS |
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O gods!
I left out one thing which the queen confess'd.
290 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.'
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| CYMBELINE |
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What's this, Comelius?
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| CORNELIUS |
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295 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,
Of no esteem: I, dreading that her purpose
300 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?
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| IMOGEN |
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305 Most like I did, for I was dead.
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| BELARIUS |
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My boys,
There was our error.
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| GUIDERIUS |
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This is, sure, Fidele.
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| IMOGEN |
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Why did you throw your wedded lady from you?
310 Think that you are upon a rock; and now
Throw me again.
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Embracing him
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| POSTHUMUS LEONATUS |
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Hang there like a fruit, my soul,
Till the tree die!
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| CYMBELINE |
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How now, my flesh, my child!
315 What, makest thou me a dullard in this act?
Wilt thou not speak to me?
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| IMOGEN |
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(Kneeling)
Your blessing, sir.
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| BELARIUS |
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(To GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS)
Though you did love
this youth, I blame ye not:
320 You had a motive for't.
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| CYMBELINE |
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My tears that fall
Prove holy water on thee! Imogen,
Thy mother's dead.
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| IMOGEN |
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I am sorry for't, my lord.
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| CYMBELINE |
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325 O, she was nought; and long of her it was
That we meet here so strangely: but her son
Is gone, we know not how nor where.
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| PISANIO |
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My lord,
Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord Cloten,
330 Upon my lady's missing, came to me
With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, and swore,
If I discover'd not which way she was gone,
It was my instant death. By accident,
had a feigned letter of my master's
335 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
340 My lady's honour: what became of him
I further know not.
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| GUIDERIUS |
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Let me end the story:
I slew him there.
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| CYMBELINE |
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Marry, the gods forfend!
345 I would not thy good deeds should from my lips
Pluck a bard sentence: prithee, valiant youth,
Deny't again.
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| GUIDERIUS |
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I have spoke it, and I did it.
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| CYMBELINE |
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He was a prince.
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| GUIDERIUS |
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350 A most incivil one: the wrongs he did me
Were nothing prince-like; 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
355 To tell this tale of mine.
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| CYMBELINE |
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I am sorry for thee:
By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must
Endure our law: thou'rt dead.
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| IMOGEN |
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That headless man
360 I thought had been my lord.
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| CYMBELINE |
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Bind the offender,
And take him from our presence.
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| BELARIUS |
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Stay, sir king:
This man is better than the man he slew,
365 As well descended as thyself; and hath
More of thee merited than a band of Clotens
Had ever scar for.
To the Guard
Let his arms alone;
They were not born for bondage.
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| CYMBELINE |
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370 Why, old soldier,
Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for,
By tasting of our wrath? How of descent
As good as we?
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| ARVIRAGUS |
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In that he spake too far.
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| CYMBELINE |
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375 And thou shalt die for't.
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| BELARIUS |
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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,
380 Though, haply, well for you.
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| ARVIRAGUS |
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Your danger's ours.
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| GUIDERIUS |
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And our good his.
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| BELARIUS |
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Have at it then, by leave.
Thou hadst, great king, a subject who
385 Was call'd Belarius.
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| CYMBELINE |
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What of him? he is
A banish'd traitor.
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| BELARIUS |
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He it is that hath
Assumed this age; indeed a banish'd man;
390 I know not how a traitor.
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| CYMBELINE |
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Take him hence:
The whole world shall not save him.
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| BELARIUS |
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Not too hot:
First pay me for the nursing of thy sons;
395 And let it be confiscate all, so soon
As I have received it.
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| CYMBELINE |
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Nursing of my sons!
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| BELARIUS |
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I am too blunt and saucy: here's my knee:
Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons;
400 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.
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| CYMBELINE |
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405 How! my issue!
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| BELARIUS |
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So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan,
Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd:
Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment
Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd
410 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, as
Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile,
415 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,
420 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
425 Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy
To inlay heaven with stars.
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| CYMBELINE |
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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:
430 If these be they, I know not how to wish
A pair of worthier sons.
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| BELARIUS |
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Be pleased awhile.
This gentleman, whom I call Polydore,
Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius:
435 This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus,
Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lapp'd
In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand
Of his queen mother, which for more probation
I can with ease produce.
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| CYMBELINE |
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440 Guiderius had
Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star;
It was a mark of wonder.
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| BELARIUS |
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This is he;
Who hath upon him still that natural stamp:
445 It was wise nature's end in the donation,
To be his evidence now.
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| CYMBELINE |
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O, what, am I
A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother
Rejoiced deliverance more. Blest pray you be,
450 That, after this strange starting from your orbs,
may reign in them now! O Imogen,
Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.
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| IMOGEN |
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No, my lord;
I have got two worlds by 't. O my gentle brothers,
455 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 ye were so indeed.
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| CYMBELINE |
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Did you e'er meet?
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| ARVIRAGUS |
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460 Ay, my good lord.
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| GUIDERIUS |
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And at first meeting loved;
Continued so, until we thought he died.
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| CORNELIUS |
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By the queen's dram she swallow'd.
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| CYMBELINE |
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O rare instinct!
465 When shall I hear all through? This fierce
abridgement
Hath to it circumstantial branches, which
Distinction should be rich in. Where? how lived You?
And when came you to serve our Roman captive?
470 How parted with your brothers? how first met them?
Why fled you from the court? and whither? These,
And your three motives to the battle, with
I know not how much more, should be demanded;
And all the other by-dependencies,
475 From chance to chance: but nor the time nor place
Will serve our long inter'gatories. See,
Posthumus anchors upon Imogen,
And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye
On him, her brother, me, her master, hitting
480 Each object with a joy: the counterchange
Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground,
And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.
To BELARIUS
Thou art my brother; so we'll hold thee ever.
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| IMOGEN |
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You are my father too, and did relieve me,
485 To see this gracious season.
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| CYMBELINE |
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All o'erjoy'd,
Save these in bonds: let them be joyful too,
For they shall taste our comfort.
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| IMOGEN |
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My good master,
490 I will yet do you service.
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| CAIUS LUCIUS |
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Happy be you!
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| CYMBELINE |
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The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought,
He would have well becomed this place, and graced
The thankings of a king.
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| POSTHUMUS LEONATUS |
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495 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, Iachimo: I had you down and might
500 Have made you finish.
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| IACHIMO |
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(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;
505 And here the bracelet of the truest princess
That ever swore her faith.
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| POSTHUMUS LEONATUS |
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Kneel not to me:
The power that I have on you is, to spare you;
The malice towards you to forgive you: live,
510 And deal with others better.
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| CYMBELINE |
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Nobly doom'd!
We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law;
Pardon's the word to all.
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| ARVIRAGUS |
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