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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' favour, dream as I have done;
Wake, and find nothing.-But, alas, I swerve:
Many dream not to find, neither deserve,
And yet are steep'd in favours; so am I,
That have this golden chance, and know not why.[
What fairies haunt this ground? A book? Ŏ,

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.

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[Reads.]

Gaol. Your death has eyes in's head then; I have not seen him so pictur'd: you must either be directed by some that take upon them to know; or take upon yourself that, which I am sure you 5 do not know; or jump the after-enquiry on your own peril: and how you shall speed in your journey's end, I think, you'll never return to tell one.

Post. I tell thee, fellow, there are none want 10 eyes, to direct them the way I am going, but such as wink, and will not use them.

Gaol. 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 15 of winking. Enter a Messenger.

"When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself un"known, without seeking find, and be embrac'd by a piece of tender air; and when from a "stately cedar shall be lopt branches, which, be"ing dead many years, shall after revive, be joint-20 "ed 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:. 25 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.

Re-enter Gaolers.

Gaol. Come, sir, are you ready for death? Post. Over-roasted rather: ready long ago. Gaol, Hanging is the word, sír; if you be ready for that, you are well cook'd.

Mes. Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the king.

Post. Thou bring'st good news; I am call'd to be made free.

Gaol. I'll be hang'd then.

Post. Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; no boltsfor the dead.[Exeunt Posthumus & Messenger.

Guol. 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 30 were all of one mind, and one mind good; O, there were desolation of gaolers, and gallowses! I speak against my present profit; but my wish hath a preferment in 't. [Exit.

Post. So, if I prove a good repast to the spec-35 tators, the dish pays the shot.

Gaol. A heavy reckoning for you, sir: But the comfortis, you shall be call'dto no more payments, fear no more tavern bills; which are often the sadness of parting, as the procuring of mirth: you 40 come in faint for want of meat, depart reeling with too much drink; sorry that you have paid too much, 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, be- 45 ing drawn' of heaviness: O! of this contradiction you shall be now 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.

50

Post. I am merrier to die, than thou art to live. Gaol. Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the tooth-ache: But a man that were to sleep your 55 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. Post. Yes, indeed, do I, fellow.

1

SCENE V.
Cymbeline's Tent.

Enter Cymbeline, Belurius, Guiderius, Arviragus,
Pisanio, and Lords.

Cym. 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 sham'd gilded arms, whose naked

breast

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The meaning, according to Dr. Johnson, is this: "This is a dream or madness, or both,—or nothing but whether it be a speech without consciousness, as in a dream, or a speech unintelligible, as in madness, be it as it is, it is like my course of life." i. e. sorry that you have paid too much out of your pocket, and sorry that you are paid or subdued, too much by the liquor. Drawn is embowell'd, exenterated. Debitor and creditor for an accounting book, That is, venture at it without thought.

• i. e. forward.

3

Bel.

Bel. Sir,

In Cambria are we born, and gentlenen :
Further to boast, were neither true nor modest,
Unless I add, we are honest.

Cym. 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
Greet you our victory? you look like Romans,
And not o' the court of Britain.

Cor. Hail, great king!

To sour your happiness, I must report
The queen is dead.

Cym. Whom 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?

Cor. With horror, madly dying, like her life ;
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,

Cym. Pr'ythee, say.

Cor. First,she confess'd she never lov'dyou;only Affected greatness got by you, not you: Married your royalty; was wife to your place; Abhorr'd your person.

Cym. She alone knew this :

And, but she spoke it dying, I would not
Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.

[lovel

Cor. Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to

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.

Cym. O most delicate fiend!

Who is 't can read a woman ?-Is there more?
Cor. More, sir, and worse.

she had

She did confess,

And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all!
Enter Lucius, Iachimo, and other Roman prisoners;
Posthumus behind, and Imogen.

Thou com'st not, Caius, now for tribute; that
5 The Britons have raz'd out, though with the loss
Of many a bold one; whose kinsinen have made
suit

[ter That their good souls may be appeas'd with slaughOf you their captives, which ourself have granted: 10 So think of your estate.

Luc. Consider, sir, the chance of war: the day
Was yours by accident: had it gone with us,
We should not, when the blood was cold, have
threaten'd

15 Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods
Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives
May be call'd ransom, let it come: sufficeth,
A Koman 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 ransom'd: never master had
A gage so kind, so duteous, diligent,
So tender over his occasions, true,

20

25 So feat, so nurse-like: 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 serv'd a Roman: save him, sir, 30 And spare no blood beside.

Cym. I have surely seen him:

His favour is familiar to me :-Boy,
Thou hast look'd thyself into my grace, and art
Mine own. I know not why, wherefore, I say,
35 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.

40

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 purpos'd, 45
By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to
O'ercome you with her shew: yes, 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; opcn'd, in despight
Of heaven and men, her purposes; repented
The ills she hatch'd were not effected; so,
Despairing, dy'd.

Cym. Heard you all this, her women?
Lady. We did, so please your highness.
Cym. Mine eyes

Were not in fault, for she was beautiful;

50

Imo. I humbly thank your highness.

Luc. I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad; And yet I know, thou wilt.

Imo. No, no; alack,

There's another work in hand: I see a thing
Bitter to me as death: your life, good master,
Must shuffle for itself.

Luc. 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 perplex'd?

Cym. 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,

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

Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart,
That thought her like her seeming; it had been 60
vicious,

To have mistrusted her: yet, O my daughter!
That it was folly in me, thou may'st say,

i. e. so ready; so dexterous in waiting,

[vassal,

Cym. Wherefore ey'st him so?
Imo. I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please
To give me hearing.

Cym. Ay, with all my heart,

And lend my best attention. What's thy name?

i. e. his countenance.

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İmo. Fidele, sir.

Cym. Thou art my good youth, my page;
I'll be thy master: Walk with me; speak freely.
[Cymbeline and Imogen walk aside.

Bel. Is not this boy reviv'd from death?
Arv. One sand another
Not more resembles: That sweet rosy lad,
Who dy'd, and was Fidele-What think you?
Guid. The same dead thing alive. [forbear;
Bel. Peace, peace! see further; he eyes us not;
Creatures may be alike; were 't he, I am sure
He would have spoke to us

Guid. But we saw him dead.
Bel. Be silent; let's see further.
Pisan. It is my mistress:

[Aside.

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Unless thou would'st grieve quickly-This Post-
(Most like a noble lord in love, and one

10 That had a royal lover) took his hint;
And, not dispraising whom he prais'd, (therein
He was as calm as virtue) he began

His mistress' picture; which by his tongue being
made,

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

Since she is living, let the time run on,
To good or bad. [Cym. and Imogen come forward.
Cym. Come, stand thou by our side;
Make thy demand aloud.-Sir, step you forth;
[To Juchimo. 20

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

[der 25

Imo. My boon is, that this gentleman may renOf whom he had this ring.

Post. What's that to him?

[Aside.

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

Iach. Thou 'It torture me to leave unspoken that
Which, to be spoke, would torture thee.
Cym. How! me?

[which

Tach. I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that
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 liv'd [my lord
Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more,
Cym. All that belongs to this.

Cym. Nay, nay, to the purpose.

Tach. 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
Upon his honour'd finger to attain

In suit the place of his 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;
And would so, had it been a carbuncle

30 Of Phoebus' wheel; and might so safely, had it
Been all the worth of his 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
Twixtamorousandvi lainous.Being thus quench'd
Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain
Gan in your duller Britain operate

35

40

Jach. That paragon, thy daughter,- [spirits
For whom my heart drops blood, and my false
Quail' to remember,-Give me leave; I faint.
Cym. My daughter! what of her? Renew thy 45
strength:

I had rather thou should'st live while nature will,
Than die e'er I hear more; strive, man, and speak.
lach. Upon a time, (unhappy was the clock
That struck the hour!) it was in Rome, (accurs'd 50
The mansion where!) 'twas at a feast, (O, 'would
Our viands had been poison'd! or, at least,
Those which I heav'd to head!) the good Post-
humus

(What should I say? he was too good, to be
Where ill men were; and was the best of all
Among the rar'st of good ones) sitting sadly,
Hearing us praise our loves of Italy
For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast

Most vilely, for my 'vantage, excellent;
And, to be brief, my practice so prevail'd,
That I return'd with simular proof enough
To make the noble Leonatus mad,

By wounding his belief in her renown
With tokens thus, and thus; averring notes
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,—
Methinks I see him now,-

Post. Ay, so thou dost, [Coming forward.
Italian fiend!--Ah me, most credulous fool,
Egregious murderer, thief, any thing

That's due to all the villains past, in being,
To come!-O, give me cord or knife or poison,
55 Some upright justicer! Thou, king, send out
For tortures ingenious: it is I

That all the abhorred things o' the earth amend,
By being worse than they. I am Posthumus,
Ihat kill'd thy daughter:-villain-like, I lie;

Of him that best could speak: for feature, laming 60 That caus'd a lesser villain than myself,

The shrine of Venus or straight-pight Minerva,

A sacrilegious thief, to do 't:-the temple

To quail is to sink into dejection. 2 i. e. the ancient statues of Venus and Minerva, which exceeded, in beauty of exact proportion, any living bodies, the work of brief nature, i. e. of hasty unelaborate nature.

Of

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Imo. It poison'd me.

Cor. O gods!

I left out one thing which the queen confess'd,
Which must approve thee honest: If Pisanio
Have, said she, given his mistress that confection
Which I gave him for cordial, she is serv'd
As I would serve a rat.

Cym. What's this, Cornelius?

Cor. The queen, sir, very oft importun'd 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
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?
Imo. Most like I did, for I was dead.
Bel. My boys,

There was our error.

Guid. This is sure Fidele.

[you?

Imo.Why did you throw your wedded lady from Think that you are upon a rock; and now Throw me again.

Post. Hang there like fruit, my soul,

"Till the tree die!

Cym. How now, my flesh, my child?

What, mak'st thou me a dullard' in this act?

Wilt thou not speak to me?

Imo. Your blessing, sir.

Guid. Let me end the story:

I slew him there.

Cym. Marry, the gods forefend!

I would not thy good deeds should from my lips Pluck a hard sentence: pr'ythee, valiant youth, 30 Deny 't again.

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

Cym. He was a prince.

[me

Guid. A most uncivil one: The wrongs he did
Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me
35 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.

Cym. I am sorry for thee:

[must

40 By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and Endure our law: Thou art dead.

Imo. That headless man

I thought had been my lord.

Cym. Bind the offender,

45 And take him from our presence..

Bel. Stay, sir king:

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

They were not born for bondage.
Cym. Why, old soldier,

Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for,
55 By tasting of our wrath? How of descent
As good as we?

Ary. In that he spake too far.
Cym. And thou shalt die for 't..
Bel. We will die all three:

[Kneeling. 60 But I will prove, that two of us are as good
As I have given out him.-My sons, I must,
For my own part, unfold a dangerous speech,

Bel. Though you did love this youth, I blame you not;

1i. e. Virtue herself. ? This wild and delirious perturbation.-Staggers is the horse's apoplexy. 3A dullard in this place means a person stupidly unconcerned.

Though

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Cym. Nursing of my sons?

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A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother
Rejoic'd deliverance more:-Blest may you be,
That, after this strange starting from your orbs,
10 You may reign in them now!-O Imogen,
Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.

Imo. No, my lord;

[thers,

I have got two worlds by 't.-O my gentle bro-
Have we thus met? O, never say hereafter,

15 But I am truest speaker: you call'd me brother,
When I was but your sister; I you brothers,
When you were so indeed.

[knee;

20

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

Cym. How! my issue!

25

Bel. So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan,
Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd:
Your pleasure was my near offence, my punish-
Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd, [ment 30
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,
Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children
Upon my banishment: I mov'd her to't;
Having receiv'd the punishment before,
For that which I did then: Beaten for loyalty
Excited me to treason: Their dear loss,
The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd
Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir,
Here are your sons again; and I must lose

Two of the sweet'st companions in the world:-
The benediction of these covering heavens
Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy
To inlay heaven with stars.

Cym. Thou weep'st and speak'st.

The service, that you three have done, is more

35

Cym. Did you e'er meet?

Aro. Ay, my good lord.

Guid. And at first meeting lov'd;

Continued so, until we thought he died.
Cor. By the queen's dram she swallow'd.
Cym. O rare instinct!

When shall I hear all through? This fierce
abridgement

Hath to it circumstantial branches, which Distinction should be rich in.Where? how liv'd 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? These,
And your three motives to the battle, with

know not how much more, should be demanded;
And all the other by-dependancies, [place,
From chance to chance; but nor the time, nor
Will serve our long intergatories. See,,
Posthumus anchors upon Imogen;

And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye,
40 On him, her brothers, me, her master; hitting
Each object with a joy: the counter-change
Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground,
And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.-
Thou art my brother; So we'll hold thee ever.
[To Belarius.
Imo. You are my father too; and did relieve me
To see this gracious season.

45

Unlike than this thou tell'st: I lost my children; 50

If these be they, I know not how to wish

A pair of worthier sons.

Bel. Be pleas'd a while.

This gentleman, whom I call Polydore,
Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius:
This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus,
Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lap'd
In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand
Of his queen mother, which, for more probation,
I can with ease produce.

Cym. Guiderius had

Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star;

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Cym. The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought,

55 He would have well becom❜d this place,and grac'd The thankings of a king.

Post. I am, sir,

The soldier that did company these three

In poor beseeming; 'twas a fitment for

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

1 Meere is very properly proposed by Mr Tyrwhitt. ? Fierce is vehement, rapid.

Iach,

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