ACT ISCENE I. Britain. The garden of Cymbeline’s palace.Enter twoGentlemen.FIRST GENTLEMAN.You do not meet a man but frowns; our bloodsNo more obey the heavens than our courtiersStill seem as does the King’s.SECOND GENTLEMAN.But what’s the matter?FIRST GENTLEMAN.His daughter, and the heir of’s kingdom, whomHe purpos’d to his wife’s sole son—a widowThat late he married—hath referr’d herselfUnto a poor but worthy gentleman. She’s wedded;Her husband banish’d; she imprison’d. AllIs outward sorrow, though I think the KingBe touch’d at very heart.SECOND GENTLEMAN.None but the King?FIRST GENTLEMAN.He that hath lost her too. So is the Queen,That most desir’d the match. But not a courtier,Although they wear their faces to the bentOf the King’s looks, hath a heart that is notGlad at the thing they scowl at.SECOND GENTLEMAN.And why so?FIRST GENTLEMAN.He that hath miss’d the Princess is a thingToo bad for bad report; and he that hath her—I mean that married her, alack, good man!And therefore banish’d—is a creature suchAs, to seek through the regions of the earthFor one his like, there would be something failingIn him that should compare. I do not thinkSo fair an outward and such stuff withinEndows a man but he.SECOND GENTLEMAN.You speak him far.FIRST GENTLEMAN.I do extend him, sir, within himself;Crush him together rather than unfoldHis measure duly.SECOND GENTLEMAN.What’s his name and birth?FIRST GENTLEMAN.I cannot delve him to the root; his fatherWas call’d Sicilius, who did join his honourAgainst the Romans with Cassibelan,But had his titles by Tenantius, whomHe serv’d with glory and admir’d success,So gain’d the sur-addition Leonatus;And had, besides this gentleman in question,Two other sons, who, in the wars o’ th’ time,Died with their swords in hand; for which their father,Then old and fond of issue, took such sorrowThat he quit being; and his gentle lady,Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceas’dAs he was born. The King he takes the babeTo his protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus,Breeds him and makes him of his bed-chamber,Puts to him all the learnings that his timeCould make him the receiver of; which he took,As we do air, fast as ’twas minist’red,And in’s spring became a harvest, liv’d in court—Which rare it is to do—most prais’d, most lov’d,A sample to the youngest; to th’ more matureA glass that feated them; and to the graverA child that guided dotards. To his mistress,For whom he now is banish’d, her own priceProclaims how she esteem’d him and his virtue;By her election may be truly readWhat kind of man he is.SECOND GENTLEMAN.I honour himEven out of your report. But pray you tell me,Is she sole child to th’ King?FIRST GENTLEMAN.His only child.He had two sons—if this be worth your hearing,Mark it—the eldest of them at three years old,I’ th’ swathing clothes the other, from their nurseryWere stol’n; and to this hour no guess in knowledgeWhich way they went.SECOND GENTLEMAN.How long is this ago?FIRST GENTLEMAN.Some twenty years.SECOND GENTLEMAN.That a king’s children should be so convey’d,So slackly guarded, and the search so slowThat could not trace them!FIRST GENTLEMAN.Howsoe’er ’tis strange,Or that the negligence may well be laugh’d at,Yet is it true, sir.SECOND GENTLEMAN.I do well believe you.FIRST GENTLEMAN.We must forbear; here comes the gentleman,The Queen, and Princess.[Exeunt.]SCENE II. The same.EnterQueen, PosthumusandImogen.QUEEN.No, be assur’d you shall not find me, daughter,After the slander of most stepmothers,Evil-ey’d unto you. You’re my prisoner, butYour gaoler shall deliver you the keysThat lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus,So soon as I can win th’ offended King,I will be known your advocate. Marry, yetThe fire of rage is in him, and ’twere goodYou lean’d unto his sentence with what patienceYour wisdom may inform you.POSTHUMUS.Please your Highness,I will from hence today.QUEEN.You know the peril.I’ll fetch a turn about the garden, pityingThe pangs of barr’d affections, though the KingHath charg’d you should not speak together.[Exit.]IMOGEN.O dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrantCan tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband,I something fear my father’s wrath, but nothing(Always reserv’d my holy duty) whatHis rage can do on me. You must be gone;And I shall here abide the hourly shotOf angry eyes, not comforted to liveBut that there is this jewel in the worldThat I may see again.POSTHUMUS.My queen! my mistress!O lady, weep no more, lest I give causeTo be suspected of more tendernessThan doth become a man. I will remainThe loyal’st husband that did e’er plight troth;My residence in Rome at one Philario’s,Who to my father was a friend, to meKnown but by letter; thither write, my queen,And with mine eyes I’ll drink the words you send,Though ink be made of gall.EnterQueen.QUEEN.Be brief, I pray you.If the King come, I shall incur I know notHow much of his displeasure. [Aside.] Yet I’ll move himTo walk this way. I never do him wrongBut he does buy my injuries, to be friends;Pays dear for my offences.[Exit.]POSTHUMUS.Should we be taking leaveAs long a term as yet we have to live,The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu!IMOGEN.Nay, stay a little.Were you but riding forth to air yourself,Such parting were too petty. Look here, love:This diamond was my mother’s; take it, heart;But keep it till you woo another wife,When Imogen is dead.POSTHUMUS.How, how? Another?You gentle gods, give me but this I have,And sear up my embracements from a nextWith bonds of death! Remain, remain thou here[Puts on the ring.]While sense can keep it on. And, sweetest, fairest,As I my poor self did exchange for you,To your so infinite loss, so in our triflesI still win of you. For my sake wear this;It is a manacle of love; I’ll place itUpon this fairest prisoner.[Puts a bracelet on her arm.]IMOGEN.O the gods!When shall we see again?EnterCymbelineand Lords.POSTHUMUS.Alack, the King!CYMBELINE.Thou basest thing, avoid; hence from my sightIf after this command thou fraught the courtWith thy unworthiness, thou diest. Away!Thou’rt poison to my blood.POSTHUMUS.The gods protect you,And bless the good remainders of the court!I am gone.[Exit.]IMOGEN.There cannot be a pinch in deathMore sharp than this is.CYMBELINE.O disloyal thing,That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap’stA year’s age on me!IMOGEN.I beseech you, sir,Harm not yourself with your vexation.I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rareSubdues all pangs, all fears.CYMBELINE.Past grace? obedience?IMOGEN.Past hope, and in despair; that way past grace.CYMBELINE.That mightst have had the sole son of my queen!IMOGEN.O blessed that I might not! I chose an eagle,And did avoid a puttock.CYMBELINE.Thou took’st a beggar, wouldst have made my throneA seat for baseness.IMOGEN.No; I rather addedA lustre to it.CYMBELINE.O thou vile one!IMOGEN.Sir,It is your fault that I have lov’d Posthumus.You bred him as my playfellow, and he isA man worth any woman; overbuys meAlmost the sum he pays.CYMBELINE.What, art thou mad?IMOGEN.Almost, sir. Heaven restore me! Would I wereA neat-herd’s daughter, and my LeonatusOur neighbour shepherd’s son!EnterQueen.CYMBELINE.Thou foolish thing![To the Queen.] They were again together. You have doneNot after our command. Away with her,And pen her up.QUEEN.Beseech your patience. Peace,Dear lady daughter, peace!—Sweet sovereign,Leave us to ourselves, and make yourself some comfortOut of your best advice.CYMBELINE.Nay, let her languishA drop of blood a day and, being aged,Die of this folly.[Exit withLords.]EnterPisanio.QUEEN.Fie! you must give way.Here is your servant. How now, sir! What news?PISANIO.My lord your son drew on my master.QUEEN.Ha!No harm, I trust, is done?PISANIO.There might have been,But that my master rather play’d than fought,And had no help of anger; they were partedBy gentlemen at hand.QUEEN.I am very glad on’t.IMOGEN.Your son’s my father’s friend; he takes his partTo draw upon an exile! O brave sir!I would they were in Afric both together;Myself by with a needle, that I might prickThe goer-back. Why came you from your master?PISANIO.On his command. He would not suffer meTo bring him to the haven; left these notesOf what commands I should be subject to,When’t pleas’d you to employ me.QUEEN.This hath beenYour faithful servant. I dare lay mine honourHe will remain so.PISANIO.I humbly thank your Highness.QUEEN.Pray walk awhile.IMOGEN.About some half-hour hence,Pray you speak with me.You shall at least go see my lord aboard.For this time leave me.[Exeunt.]SCENE III. Britain. A public place.EnterClotenand twoLords.FIRST LORD.Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the violence of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice. Where air comes out, air comes in; there’s none abroad so wholesome as that you vent.CLOTEN.If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Have I hurt him?SECOND LORD.[Aside.] No, faith; not so much as his patience.FIRST LORD.Hurt him! His body’s a passable carcass if he be not hurt. It is a throughfare for steel if it be not hurt.SECOND LORD.[Aside.] His steel was in debt; it went o’ th’ backside the town.CLOTEN.The villain would not stand me.SECOND LORD.[Aside.] No; but he fled forward still, toward your face.FIRST LORD.Stand you? You have land enough of your own; but he added to your having, gave you some ground.SECOND LORD.[Aside.] As many inches as you have oceans.Puppies!CLOTEN.I would they had not come between us.SECOND LORD.[Aside.] So would I, till you had measur’d how long a fool you were upon the ground.CLOTEN.And that she should love this fellow, and refuse me!SECOND LORD.[Aside.] If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damn’d.FIRST LORD.Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain go not together; she’s a good sign, but I have seen small reflection of her wit.SECOND LORD.[Aside.] She shines not upon fools, lest the reflection should hurt her.CLOTEN.Come, I’ll to my chamber. Would there had been some hurt done!SECOND LORD.[Aside.] I wish not so; unless it had been the fall of an ass, which is no great hurt.CLOTEN.You’ll go with us?FIRST LORD.I’ll attend your lordship.CLOTEN.Nay, come, let’s go together.SECOND LORD.Well, my lord.[Exeunt.]SCENE IV. Britain. Cymbeline’s palace.EnterImogenandPisanio.IMOGEN.I would thou grew’st unto the shores o’ th’ haven,And questioned’st every sail; if he should write,And I not have it, ’twere a paper lost,As offer’d mercy is. What was the lastThat he spake to thee?PISANIO.It was: his queen, his queen!IMOGEN.Then wav’d his handkerchief?PISANIO.And kiss’d it, madam.IMOGEN.Senseless linen, happier therein than I!And that was all?PISANIO.No, madam; for so longAs he could make me with his eye, or earDistinguish him from others, he did keepThe deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief,Still waving, as the fits and stirs of’s mindCould best express how slow his soul sail’d on,How swift his ship.IMOGEN.Thou shouldst have made himAs little as a crow, or less, ere leftTo after-eye him.PISANIO.Madam, so I did.IMOGEN.I would have broke mine eyestrings, crack’d them butTo look upon him, till the diminutionOf space had pointed him sharp as my needle;Nay, followed him till he had melted fromThe smallness of a gnat to air, and thenHave turn’d mine eye and wept. But, good Pisanio,When shall we hear from him?PISANIO.Be assur’d, madam,With his next vantage.IMOGEN.I did not take my leave of him, but hadMost pretty things to say. Ere I could tell himHow I would think on him at certain hoursSuch thoughts and such; or I could make him swearThe shes of Italy should not betrayMine interest and his honour; or have charg’d him,At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight,T’ encounter me with orisons, for thenI am in heaven for him; or ere I couldGive him that parting kiss which I had setBetwixt two charming words, comes in my father,And like the tyrannous breathing of the northShakes all our buds from growing.Enter aLady.LADY.The Queen, madam,Desires your Highness’ company.IMOGEN.Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch’d.I will attend the Queen.PISANIO.Madam, I shall.[Exeunt.]SCENE V. Rome. Philario’s house.EnterPhilario, Iachimo,aFrenchman, aDutchmanand aSpaniard.IACHIMO.Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Britain. He was then of a crescent note, expected to prove so worthy as since he hath been allowed the name of. But I could then have look’d on him without the help of admiration, though the catalogue of his endowments had been tabled by his side, and I to peruse him by items.PHILARIO.You speak of him when he was less furnish’d than now he is with that which makes him both without and within.FRENCHMAN.I have seen him in France; we had very many there could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he.IACHIMO.This matter of marrying his king’s daughter, wherein he must be weighed rather by her value than his own, words him, I doubt not, a great deal from the matter.FRENCHMAN.And then his banishment.IACHIMO.Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this lamentable divorce under her colours are wonderfully to extend him, be it but to fortify her judgement, which else an easy battery might lay flat, for taking a beggar, without less quality. But how comes it he is to sojourn with you? How creeps acquaintance?PHILARIO.His father and I were soldiers together, to whom I have been often bound for no less than my life.EnterPosthumus.Here comes the Briton. Let him be so entertained amongst you as suits with gentlemen of your knowing to a stranger of his quality. I beseech you all be better known to this gentleman, whom I commend to you as a noble friend of mine. How worthy he is I will leave to appear hereafter, rather than story him in his own hearing.FRENCHMAN.Sir, we have known together in Orleans.POSTHUMUS.Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies, which I will be ever to pay and yet pay still.FRENCHMAN.Sir, you o’errate my poor kindness. I was glad I did atone my countryman and you; it had been pity you should have been put together with so mortal a purpose as then each bore, upon importance of so slight and trivial a nature.POSTHUMUS.By your pardon, sir. I was then a young traveller; rather shunn’d to go even with what I heard than in my every action to be guided by others’ experiences; but upon my mended judgement (if I offend not to say it is mended) my quarrel was not altogether slight.FRENCHMAN.Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords, and by such two that would by all likelihood have confounded one the other or have fall’n both.IACHIMO.Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference?FRENCHMAN.Safely, I think. ’Twas a contention in public, which may, without contradiction, suffer the report. It was much like an argument that fell out last night, where each of us fell in praise of our country mistresses; this gentleman at that time vouching (and upon warrant of bloody affirmation) his to be more fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constant, qualified, and less attemptable, than any the rarest of our ladies in France.IACHIMO.That lady is not now living, or this gentleman’s opinion, by this, worn out.POSTHUMUS.She holds her virtue still, and I my mind.IACHIMO.You must not so far prefer her ’fore ours of Italy.POSTHUMUS.Being so far provok’d as I was in France, I would abate her nothing, though I profess myself her adorer, not her friend.IACHIMO.As fair and as good—a kind of hand-in-hand comparison—had been something too fair and too good for any lady in Britain. If she went before others I have seen as that diamond of yours outlustres many I have beheld, I could not but believe she excelled many; but I have not seen the most precious diamond that is, nor you the lady.POSTHUMUS.I prais’d her as I rated her. So do I my stone.IACHIMO.What do you esteem it at?POSTHUMUS.More than the world enjoys.IACHIMO.Either your unparagon’d mistress is dead, or she’s outpriz’d by a trifle.POSTHUMUS.You are mistaken: the one may be sold or given, if there were wealth enough for the purchase or merit for the gift; the other is not a thing for sale, and only the gift of the gods.IACHIMO.Which the gods have given you?POSTHUMUS.Which by their graces I will keep.IACHIMO.You may wear her in title yours; but you know strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds. Your ring may be stol’n too. So your brace of unprizable estimations, the one is but frail and the other casual; a cunning thief, or a that-way-accomplish’d courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and last.POSTHUMUS.Your Italy contains none so accomplish’d a courtier to convince the honour of my mistress, if in the holding or loss of that you term her frail. I do nothing doubt you have store of thieves; notwithstanding, I fear not my ring.PHILARIO.Let us leave here, gentlemen.POSTHUMUS.Sir, with all my heart. This worthy signior, I thank him, makes no stranger of me; we are familiar at first.IACHIMO.With five times so much conversation I should get ground of your fair mistress; make her go back even to the yielding, had I admittance and opportunity to friend.POSTHUMUS.No, no.IACHIMO.I dare thereupon pawn the moiety of my estate to your ring, which, in my opinion, o’ervalues it something. But I make my wager rather against your confidence than her reputation; and, to bar your offence herein too, I durst attempt it against any lady in the world.POSTHUMUS.You are a great deal abus’d in too bold a persuasion, and I doubt not you sustain what y’are worthy of by your attempt.IACHIMO.What’s that?POSTHUMUS.A repulse; though your attempt, as you call it, deserve more; a punishment too.PHILARIO.Gentlemen, enough of this. It came in too suddenly; let it die as it was born, and I pray you be better acquainted.IACHIMO.Would I had put my estate and my neighbour’s on th’ approbation of what I have spoke!POSTHUMUS.What lady would you choose to assail?IACHIMO.Yours, whom in constancy you think stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring that, commend me to the court where your lady is, with no more advantage than the opportunity of a second conference, and I will bring from thence that honour of hers which you imagine so reserv’d.POSTHUMUS.I will wage against your gold, gold to it. My ring I hold dear as my finger; ’tis part of it.IACHIMO.You are a friend, and therein the wiser. If you buy ladies’ flesh at a million a dram, you cannot preserve it from tainting. But I see you have some religion in you, that you fear.POSTHUMUS.This is but a custom in your tongue; you bear a graver purpose, I hope.IACHIMO.I am the master of my speeches, and would undergo what’s spoken, I swear.POSTHUMUS.Will you? I shall but lend my diamond till your return. Let there be covenants drawn between’s. My mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness of your unworthy thinking. I dare you to this match: here’s my ring.PHILARIO.I will have it no lay.IACHIMO.By the gods, it is one. If I bring you no sufficient testimony that I have enjoy’d the dearest bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats are yours; so is your diamond too. If I come off, and leave her in such honour as you have trust in, she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are yours: provided I have your commendation for my more free entertainment.POSTHUMUS.I embrace these conditions; let us have articles betwixt us. Only, thus far you shall answer: if you make your voyage upon her, and give me directly to understand you have prevail’d, I am no further your enemy; she is not worth our debate; if she remain unseduc’d, you not making it appear otherwise, for your ill opinion and th’ assault you have made to her chastity you shall answer me with your sword.IACHIMO.Your hand, a covenant! We will have these things set down by lawful counsel, and straight away for Britain, lest the bargain should catch cold and starve. I will fetch my gold and have our two wagers recorded.POSTHUMUS.Agreed.[ExeuntPosthumusandIachimo.]FRENCHMAN.Will this hold, think you?PHILARIO.Signior Iachimo will not from it. Pray let us follow ’em.[Exeunt.]SCENE VI. Britain. Cymbeline’s palace.EnterQueen, LadiesandCornelius.QUEEN.Whiles yet the dew’s on ground, gather those flowers;Make haste; who has the note of them?LADY.I, madam.QUEEN.Dispatch.[ExeuntLadies.]Now, Master Doctor, have you brought those drugs?CORNELIUS.Pleaseth your Highness, ay. Here they are, madam.[Presenting a box.]But I beseech your Grace, without offence,(My conscience bids me ask) wherefore you haveCommanded of me these most poisonous compoundsWhich are the movers of a languishing death,But, though slow, deadly?QUEEN.I wonder, Doctor,Thou ask’st me such a question. Have I not beenThy pupil long? Hast thou not learn’d me howTo make perfumes? distil? preserve? yea, soThat our great king himself doth woo me oftFor my confections? Having thus far proceeded(Unless thou think’st me devilish) is’t not meetThat I did amplify my judgement inOther conclusions? I will try the forcesOf these thy compounds on such creatures asWe count not worth the hanging (but none human)To try the vigour of them, and applyAllayments to their act, and by them gatherTheir several virtues and effects.CORNELIUS.Your HighnessShall from this practice but make hard your heart;Besides, the seeing these effects will beBoth noisome and infectious.QUEEN.O, content thee.EnterPisanio.[Aside.] Here comes a flattering rascal; upon himWill I first work. He’s for his master,An enemy to my son. How now, Pisanio!Doctor, your service for this time is ended;Take your own way.CORNELIUS.[Aside.] I do suspect you, madam;But you shall do no harm.QUEEN.[To Pisanio.] Hark thee, a word.CORNELIUS.[Aside.] I do not like her. She doth think she hasStrange ling’ring poisons. I do know her spirit,And will not trust one of her malice withA drug of such damn’d nature. Those she hasWill stupefy and dull the sense awhile,Which first perchance she’ll prove on cats and dogs,Then afterward up higher; but there isNo danger in what show of death it makes,More than the locking up the spirits a time,To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool’dWith a most false effect; and I the truerSo to be false with her.QUEEN.No further service, Doctor,Until I send for thee.CORNELIUS.I humbly take my leave.[Exit.]QUEEN.Weeps she still, say’st thou? Dost thou think in timeShe will not quench, and let instructions enterWhere folly now possesses? Do thou work.When thou shalt bring me word she loves my son,I’ll tell thee on the instant thou art thenAs great as is thy master; greater, forHis fortunes all lie speechless, and his nameIs at last gasp. Return he cannot, norContinue where he is. To shift his beingIs to exchange one misery with another,And every day that comes comes to decayA day’s work in him. What shalt thou expectTo be depender on a thing that leans,Who cannot be new built, nor has no friendsSo much as but to prop him?[The Queen drops the box. Pisanio takes it up.]Thou tak’st upThou know’st not what; but take it for thy labour.It is a thing I made, which hath the KingFive times redeem’d from death. I do not knowWhat is more cordial. Nay, I prithee take it;It is an earnest of a further goodThat I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress howThe case stands with her; do’t as from thyself.Think what a chance thou changest on; but thinkThou hast thy mistress still; to boot, my son,Who shall take notice of thee. I’ll move the KingTo any shape of thy preferment, suchAs thou’lt desire; and then myself, I chiefly,That set thee on to this desert, am boundTo load thy merit richly. Call my women.Think on my words.[ExitPisanio.]A sly and constant knave,Not to be shak’d; the agent for his master,And the remembrancer of her to holdThe hand-fast to her lord. I have given him thatWhich, if he take, shall quite unpeople herOf liegers for her sweet; and which she after,Except she bend her humour, shall be assur’dTo taste of too.EnterPisanioandLadies.So, so. Well done, well done.The violets, cowslips, and the primroses,Bear to my closet. Fare thee well, Pisanio;Think on my words.[ExeuntQueenandLadies.]PISANIO.And shall do.But when to my good lord I prove untrueI’ll choke myself: there’s all I’ll do for you.[Exit.]SCENE VII. Britain. The palace.EnterImogenalone.IMOGEN.A father cruel and a step-dame false;A foolish suitor to a wedded ladyThat hath her husband banish’d. O, that husband!My supreme crown of grief! and those repeatedVexations of it! Had I been thief-stol’n,As my two brothers, happy! but most miserableIs the desire that’s glorious. Blessed be those,How mean soe’er, that have their honest wills,Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fie!EnterPisanioandIachimo.PISANIO.Madam, a noble gentleman of RomeComes from my lord with letters.IACHIMO.Change you, madam?The worthy Leonatus is in safety,And greets your Highness dearly.[Presents a letter.]IMOGEN.Thanks, good sir.You’re kindly welcome.IACHIMO.[Aside.] All of her that is out of door most rich!If she be furnish’d with a mind so rare,She is alone th’ Arabian bird, and IHave lost the wager. Boldness be my friend!Arm me, audacity, from head to foot!Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight;Rather, directly fly.IMOGEN.[Reads.]He is one of the noblest note, to whose kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon him accordingly, as you value your trust.LEONATUS.So far I read aloud;But even the very middle of my heartIs warm’d by th’ rest and takes it thankfully.You are as welcome, worthy sir, as IHave words to bid you; and shall find it soIn all that I can do.IACHIMO.Thanks, fairest lady.What, are men mad? Hath nature given them eyesTo see this vaulted arch and the rich cropOf sea and land, which can distinguish ’twixtThe fiery orbs above and the twinn’d stonesUpon the number’d beach, and can we notPartition make with spectacles so precious’Twixt fair and foul?IMOGEN.What makes your admiration?IACHIMO.It cannot be i’ th’ eye, for apes and monkeys,’Twixt two such shes, would chatter this way andContemn with mows the other; nor i’ th’ judgement,For idiots in this case of favour wouldBe wisely definite; nor i’ th’ appetite;Sluttery, to such neat excellence oppos’d,Should make desire vomit emptiness,Not so allur’d to feed.IMOGEN.What is the matter, trow?IACHIMO.The cloyed will—That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tubBoth fill’d and running—ravening first the lamb,Longs after for the garbage.IMOGEN.What, dear sir,Thus raps you? Are you well?IACHIMO.Thanks, madam; well. Beseech you, sir,Desire my man’s abode where I did leave him.He’s strange and peevish.PISANIO.I was going, sir,To give him welcome.[Exit.]IMOGEN.Continues well my lord? His health beseech you?IACHIMO.Well, madam.IMOGEN.Is he dispos’d to mirth? I hope he is.IACHIMO.Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger thereSo merry and so gamesome. He is call’dThe Briton reveller.IMOGEN.When he was hereHe did incline to sadness, and oft-timesNot knowing why.IACHIMO.I never saw him sad.There is a Frenchman his companion, oneAn eminent monsieur that, it seems, much lovesA Gallian girl at home. He furnacesThe thick sighs from him; whiles the jolly Briton(Your lord, I mean) laughs from’s free lungs, cries “O,Can my sides hold, to think that man, who knowsBy history, report, or his own proof,What woman is, yea, what she cannot chooseBut must be, will’s free hours languish forAssured bondage?”IMOGEN.Will my lord say so?IACHIMO.Ay, madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter.It is a recreation to be byAnd hear him mock the Frenchman. But heavens knowSome men are much to blame.IMOGEN.Not he, I hope.IACHIMO.Not he; but yet heaven’s bounty towards him mightBe us’d more thankfully. In himself, ’tis much;In you, which I account his, beyond all talents.Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am boundTo pity too.IMOGEN.What do you pity, sir?IACHIMO.Two creatures heartily.IMOGEN.Am I one, sir?You look on me: what wreck discern you in meDeserves your pity?IACHIMO.Lamentable! What,To hide me from the radiant sun and solaceI’ th’ dungeon by a snuff?IMOGEN.I pray you, sir,Deliver with more openness your answersTo my demands. Why do you pity me?IACHIMO.That others do,I was about to say, enjoy your—ButIt is an office of the gods to venge it,Not mine to speak on’t.IMOGEN.You do seem to knowSomething of me, or what concerns me; pray you,Since doubting things go ill often hurts moreThan to be sure they do; for certaintiesEither are past remedies, or, timely knowing,The remedy then born—discover to meWhat both you spur and stop.IACHIMO.Had I this cheekTo bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch,Whose every touch, would force the feeler’s soulTo th’ oath of loyalty; this object, whichTakes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,Fixing it only here; should I, damn’d then,Slaver with lips as common as the stairsThat mount the Capitol; join gripes with handsMade hard with hourly falsehood (falsehood asWith labour): then by-peeping in an eyeBase and illustrious as the smoky lightThat’s fed with stinking tallow: it were fitThat all the plagues of hell should at one timeEncounter such revolt.IMOGEN.My lord, I fear,Has forgot Britain.IACHIMO.And himself. Not IInclin’d to this intelligence pronounceThe beggary of his change; but ’tis your gracesThat from my mutest conscience to my tongueCharms this report out.IMOGEN.Let me hear no more.IACHIMO.O dearest soul, your cause doth strike my heartWith pity that doth make me sick! A ladySo fair, and fasten’d to an empery,Would make the great’st king double, to be partner’dWith tomboys hir’d with that self exhibitionWhich your own coffers yield! with diseas’d venturesThat play with all infirmities for goldWhich rottenness can lend nature! Such boil’d stuffAs well might poison poison! Be reveng’d;Or she that bore you was no queen, and youRecoil from your great stock.IMOGEN.Reveng’d?How should I be reveng’d? If this be true,(As I have such a heart that both mine earsMust not in haste abuse) if it be true,How should I be reveng’d?IACHIMO.Should he make meLive like Diana’s priest betwixt cold sheets,Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps,In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge it.I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure,More noble than that runagate to your bed,And will continue fast to your affection,Still close as sure.IMOGEN.What ho, Pisanio!IACHIMO.Let me my service tender on your lips.IMOGEN.Away! I do condemn mine ears that haveSo long attended thee. If thou wert honourable,Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, notFor such an end thou seek’st, as base as strange.Thou wrong’st a gentleman who is as farFrom thy report as thou from honour; andSolicits here a lady that disdainsThee and the devil alike. What ho, Pisanio!The King my father shall be made acquaintedOf thy assault. If he shall think it fitA saucy stranger in his court to martAs in a Romish stew, and to expoundHis beastly mind to us, he hath a courtHe little cares for, and a daughter whoHe not respects at all. What ho, Pisanio!IACHIMO.O happy Leonatus! I may sayThe credit that thy lady hath of theeDeserves thy trust, and thy most perfect goodnessHer assur’d credit. Blessed live you long,A lady to the worthiest sir that everCountry call’d his! and you his mistress, onlyFor the most worthiest fit! Give me your pardon.I have spoke this to know if your affianceWere deeply rooted, and shall make your lordThat which he is new o’er; and he is oneThe truest manner’d, such a holy witchThat he enchants societies into him,Half all men’s hearts are his.IMOGEN.You make amends.IACHIMO.He sits ’mongst men like a descended god:He hath a kind of honour sets him offMore than a mortal seeming. Be not angry,Most mighty Princess, that I have adventur’dTo try your taking of a false report, which hathHonour’d with confirmation your great judgementIn the election of a sir so rare,Which you know cannot err. The love I bear himMade me to fan you thus; but the gods made you,Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray your pardon.IMOGEN.All’s well, sir; take my pow’r i’ th’ court for yours.IACHIMO.My humble thanks. I had almost forgotT’ entreat your Grace but in a small request,And yet of moment too, for it concernsYour lord; myself and other noble friendsAre partners in the business.IMOGEN.Pray what is’t?IACHIMO.Some dozen Romans of us, and your lord(The best feather of our wing) have mingled sumsTo buy a present for the Emperor;Which I, the factor for the rest, have doneIn France. ’Tis plate of rare device, and jewelsOf rich and exquisite form, their values great;And I am something curious, being strange,To have them in safe stowage. May it please youTo take them in protection?IMOGEN.Willingly;And pawn mine honour for their safety. SinceMy lord hath interest in them, I will keep themIn my bedchamber.IACHIMO.They are in a trunk,Attended by my men. I will make boldTo send them to you only for this night;I must aboard tomorrow.IMOGEN.O, no, no.IACHIMO.Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my wordBy length’ning my return. From GalliaI cross’d the seas on purpose and on promiseTo see your Grace.IMOGEN.I thank you for your pains.But not away tomorrow!IACHIMO.O, I must, madam.Therefore I shall beseech you, if you pleaseTo greet your lord with writing, do’t tonight.I have outstood my time, which is materialTo th’ tender of our present.IMOGEN.I will write.Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be keptAnd truly yielded you. You’re very welcome.[Exeunt.]
Enter twoGentlemen.
FIRST GENTLEMAN.You do not meet a man but frowns; our bloodsNo more obey the heavens than our courtiersStill seem as does the King’s.
SECOND GENTLEMAN.But what’s the matter?
FIRST GENTLEMAN.His daughter, and the heir of’s kingdom, whomHe purpos’d to his wife’s sole son—a widowThat late he married—hath referr’d herselfUnto a poor but worthy gentleman. She’s wedded;Her husband banish’d; she imprison’d. AllIs outward sorrow, though I think the KingBe touch’d at very heart.
SECOND GENTLEMAN.None but the King?
FIRST GENTLEMAN.He that hath lost her too. So is the Queen,That most desir’d the match. But not a courtier,Although they wear their faces to the bentOf the King’s looks, hath a heart that is notGlad at the thing they scowl at.
SECOND GENTLEMAN.And why so?
FIRST GENTLEMAN.He that hath miss’d the Princess is a thingToo bad for bad report; and he that hath her—I mean that married her, alack, good man!And therefore banish’d—is a creature suchAs, to seek through the regions of the earthFor one his like, there would be something failingIn him that should compare. I do not thinkSo fair an outward and such stuff withinEndows a man but he.
SECOND GENTLEMAN.You speak him far.
FIRST GENTLEMAN.I do extend him, sir, within himself;Crush him together rather than unfoldHis measure duly.
SECOND GENTLEMAN.What’s his name and birth?
FIRST GENTLEMAN.I cannot delve him to the root; his fatherWas call’d Sicilius, who did join his honourAgainst the Romans with Cassibelan,But had his titles by Tenantius, whomHe serv’d with glory and admir’d success,So gain’d the sur-addition Leonatus;And had, besides this gentleman in question,Two other sons, who, in the wars o’ th’ time,Died with their swords in hand; for which their father,Then old and fond of issue, took such sorrowThat he quit being; and his gentle lady,Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceas’dAs he was born. The King he takes the babeTo his protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus,Breeds him and makes him of his bed-chamber,Puts to him all the learnings that his timeCould make him the receiver of; which he took,As we do air, fast as ’twas minist’red,And in’s spring became a harvest, liv’d in court—Which rare it is to do—most prais’d, most lov’d,A sample to the youngest; to th’ more matureA glass that feated them; and to the graverA child that guided dotards. To his mistress,For whom he now is banish’d, her own priceProclaims how she esteem’d him and his virtue;By her election may be truly readWhat kind of man he is.
SECOND GENTLEMAN.I honour himEven out of your report. But pray you tell me,Is she sole child to th’ King?
FIRST GENTLEMAN.His only child.He had two sons—if this be worth your hearing,Mark it—the eldest of them at three years old,I’ th’ swathing clothes the other, from their nurseryWere stol’n; and to this hour no guess in knowledgeWhich way they went.
SECOND GENTLEMAN.How long is this ago?
FIRST GENTLEMAN.Some twenty years.
SECOND GENTLEMAN.That a king’s children should be so convey’d,So slackly guarded, and the search so slowThat could not trace them!
FIRST GENTLEMAN.Howsoe’er ’tis strange,Or that the negligence may well be laugh’d at,Yet is it true, sir.
SECOND GENTLEMAN.I do well believe you.
FIRST GENTLEMAN.We must forbear; here comes the gentleman,The Queen, and Princess.
[Exeunt.]
EnterQueen, PosthumusandImogen.
QUEEN.No, be assur’d you shall not find me, daughter,After the slander of most stepmothers,Evil-ey’d unto you. You’re my prisoner, butYour gaoler shall deliver you the keysThat lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus,So soon as I can win th’ offended King,I will be known your advocate. Marry, yetThe fire of rage is in him, and ’twere goodYou lean’d unto his sentence with what patienceYour wisdom may inform you.
POSTHUMUS.Please your Highness,I will from hence today.
QUEEN.You know the peril.I’ll fetch a turn about the garden, pityingThe pangs of barr’d affections, though the KingHath charg’d you should not speak together.
[Exit.]
IMOGEN.O dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrantCan tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband,I something fear my father’s wrath, but nothing(Always reserv’d my holy duty) whatHis rage can do on me. You must be gone;And I shall here abide the hourly shotOf angry eyes, not comforted to liveBut that there is this jewel in the worldThat I may see again.
POSTHUMUS.My queen! my mistress!O lady, weep no more, lest I give causeTo be suspected of more tendernessThan doth become a man. I will remainThe loyal’st husband that did e’er plight troth;My residence in Rome at one Philario’s,Who to my father was a friend, to meKnown but by letter; thither write, my queen,And with mine eyes I’ll drink the words you send,Though ink be made of gall.
EnterQueen.
QUEEN.Be brief, I pray you.If the King come, I shall incur I know notHow much of his displeasure. [Aside.] Yet I’ll move himTo walk this way. I never do him wrongBut he does buy my injuries, to be friends;Pays dear for my offences.
[Exit.]
POSTHUMUS.Should we be taking leaveAs long a term as yet we have to live,The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu!
IMOGEN.Nay, stay a little.Were you but riding forth to air yourself,Such parting were too petty. Look here, love:This diamond was my mother’s; take it, heart;But keep it till you woo another wife,When Imogen is dead.
POSTHUMUS.How, how? Another?You gentle gods, give me but this I have,And sear up my embracements from a nextWith bonds of death! Remain, remain thou here
[Puts on the ring.]
While sense can keep it on. And, sweetest, fairest,As I my poor self did exchange for you,To your so infinite loss, so in our triflesI still win of you. For my sake wear this;It is a manacle of love; I’ll place itUpon this fairest prisoner.
[Puts a bracelet on her arm.]
IMOGEN.O the gods!When shall we see again?
EnterCymbelineand Lords.
POSTHUMUS.Alack, the King!
CYMBELINE.Thou basest thing, avoid; hence from my sightIf after this command thou fraught the courtWith thy unworthiness, thou diest. Away!Thou’rt poison to my blood.
POSTHUMUS.The gods protect you,And bless the good remainders of the court!I am gone.
[Exit.]
IMOGEN.There cannot be a pinch in deathMore sharp than this is.
CYMBELINE.O disloyal thing,That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap’stA year’s age on me!
IMOGEN.I beseech you, sir,Harm not yourself with your vexation.I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rareSubdues all pangs, all fears.
CYMBELINE.Past grace? obedience?
IMOGEN.Past hope, and in despair; that way past grace.
CYMBELINE.That mightst have had the sole son of my queen!
IMOGEN.O blessed that I might not! I chose an eagle,And did avoid a puttock.
CYMBELINE.Thou took’st a beggar, wouldst have made my throneA seat for baseness.
IMOGEN.No; I rather addedA lustre to it.
CYMBELINE.O thou vile one!
IMOGEN.Sir,It is your fault that I have lov’d Posthumus.You bred him as my playfellow, and he isA man worth any woman; overbuys meAlmost the sum he pays.
CYMBELINE.What, art thou mad?
IMOGEN.Almost, sir. Heaven restore me! Would I wereA neat-herd’s daughter, and my LeonatusOur neighbour shepherd’s son!
EnterQueen.
CYMBELINE.Thou foolish thing![To the Queen.] They were again together. You have doneNot after our command. Away with her,And pen her up.
QUEEN.Beseech your patience. Peace,Dear lady daughter, peace!—Sweet sovereign,Leave us to ourselves, and make yourself some comfortOut of your best advice.
CYMBELINE.Nay, let her languishA drop of blood a day and, being aged,Die of this folly.
[Exit withLords.]
EnterPisanio.
QUEEN.Fie! you must give way.Here is your servant. How now, sir! What news?
PISANIO.My lord your son drew on my master.
QUEEN.Ha!No harm, I trust, is done?
PISANIO.There might have been,But that my master rather play’d than fought,And had no help of anger; they were partedBy gentlemen at hand.
QUEEN.I am very glad on’t.
IMOGEN.Your son’s my father’s friend; he takes his partTo draw upon an exile! O brave sir!I would they were in Afric both together;Myself by with a needle, that I might prickThe goer-back. Why came you from your master?
PISANIO.On his command. He would not suffer meTo bring him to the haven; left these notesOf what commands I should be subject to,When’t pleas’d you to employ me.
QUEEN.This hath beenYour faithful servant. I dare lay mine honourHe will remain so.
PISANIO.I humbly thank your Highness.
QUEEN.Pray walk awhile.
IMOGEN.About some half-hour hence,Pray you speak with me.You shall at least go see my lord aboard.For this time leave me.
[Exeunt.]
EnterClotenand twoLords.
FIRST LORD.Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the violence of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice. Where air comes out, air comes in; there’s none abroad so wholesome as that you vent.
CLOTEN.If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Have I hurt him?
SECOND LORD.[Aside.] No, faith; not so much as his patience.
FIRST LORD.Hurt him! His body’s a passable carcass if he be not hurt. It is a throughfare for steel if it be not hurt.
SECOND LORD.[Aside.] His steel was in debt; it went o’ th’ backside the town.
CLOTEN.The villain would not stand me.
SECOND LORD.[Aside.] No; but he fled forward still, toward your face.
FIRST LORD.Stand you? You have land enough of your own; but he added to your having, gave you some ground.
SECOND LORD.[Aside.] As many inches as you have oceans.Puppies!
CLOTEN.I would they had not come between us.
SECOND LORD.[Aside.] So would I, till you had measur’d how long a fool you were upon the ground.
CLOTEN.And that she should love this fellow, and refuse me!
SECOND LORD.[Aside.] If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damn’d.
FIRST LORD.Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain go not together; she’s a good sign, but I have seen small reflection of her wit.
SECOND LORD.[Aside.] She shines not upon fools, lest the reflection should hurt her.
CLOTEN.Come, I’ll to my chamber. Would there had been some hurt done!
SECOND LORD.[Aside.] I wish not so; unless it had been the fall of an ass, which is no great hurt.
CLOTEN.You’ll go with us?
FIRST LORD.I’ll attend your lordship.
CLOTEN.Nay, come, let’s go together.
SECOND LORD.Well, my lord.
[Exeunt.]
EnterImogenandPisanio.
IMOGEN.I would thou grew’st unto the shores o’ th’ haven,And questioned’st every sail; if he should write,And I not have it, ’twere a paper lost,As offer’d mercy is. What was the lastThat he spake to thee?
PISANIO.It was: his queen, his queen!
IMOGEN.Then wav’d his handkerchief?
PISANIO.And kiss’d it, madam.
IMOGEN.Senseless linen, happier therein than I!And that was all?
PISANIO.No, madam; for so longAs he could make me with his eye, or earDistinguish him from others, he did keepThe deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief,Still waving, as the fits and stirs of’s mindCould best express how slow his soul sail’d on,How swift his ship.
IMOGEN.Thou shouldst have made himAs little as a crow, or less, ere leftTo after-eye him.
PISANIO.Madam, so I did.
IMOGEN.I would have broke mine eyestrings, crack’d them butTo look upon him, till the diminutionOf space had pointed him sharp as my needle;Nay, followed him till he had melted fromThe smallness of a gnat to air, and thenHave turn’d mine eye and wept. But, good Pisanio,When shall we hear from him?
PISANIO.Be assur’d, madam,With his next vantage.
IMOGEN.I did not take my leave of him, but hadMost pretty things to say. Ere I could tell himHow I would think on him at certain hoursSuch thoughts and such; or I could make him swearThe shes of Italy should not betrayMine interest and his honour; or have charg’d him,At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight,T’ encounter me with orisons, for thenI am in heaven for him; or ere I couldGive him that parting kiss which I had setBetwixt two charming words, comes in my father,And like the tyrannous breathing of the northShakes all our buds from growing.
Enter aLady.
LADY.The Queen, madam,Desires your Highness’ company.
IMOGEN.Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch’d.I will attend the Queen.
PISANIO.Madam, I shall.
[Exeunt.]
EnterPhilario, Iachimo,aFrenchman, aDutchmanand aSpaniard.
IACHIMO.Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Britain. He was then of a crescent note, expected to prove so worthy as since he hath been allowed the name of. But I could then have look’d on him without the help of admiration, though the catalogue of his endowments had been tabled by his side, and I to peruse him by items.
PHILARIO.You speak of him when he was less furnish’d than now he is with that which makes him both without and within.
FRENCHMAN.I have seen him in France; we had very many there could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he.
IACHIMO.This matter of marrying his king’s daughter, wherein he must be weighed rather by her value than his own, words him, I doubt not, a great deal from the matter.
FRENCHMAN.And then his banishment.
IACHIMO.Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this lamentable divorce under her colours are wonderfully to extend him, be it but to fortify her judgement, which else an easy battery might lay flat, for taking a beggar, without less quality. But how comes it he is to sojourn with you? How creeps acquaintance?
PHILARIO.His father and I were soldiers together, to whom I have been often bound for no less than my life.
EnterPosthumus.
Here comes the Briton. Let him be so entertained amongst you as suits with gentlemen of your knowing to a stranger of his quality. I beseech you all be better known to this gentleman, whom I commend to you as a noble friend of mine. How worthy he is I will leave to appear hereafter, rather than story him in his own hearing.
FRENCHMAN.Sir, we have known together in Orleans.
POSTHUMUS.Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies, which I will be ever to pay and yet pay still.
FRENCHMAN.Sir, you o’errate my poor kindness. I was glad I did atone my countryman and you; it had been pity you should have been put together with so mortal a purpose as then each bore, upon importance of so slight and trivial a nature.
POSTHUMUS.By your pardon, sir. I was then a young traveller; rather shunn’d to go even with what I heard than in my every action to be guided by others’ experiences; but upon my mended judgement (if I offend not to say it is mended) my quarrel was not altogether slight.
FRENCHMAN.Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords, and by such two that would by all likelihood have confounded one the other or have fall’n both.
IACHIMO.Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference?
FRENCHMAN.Safely, I think. ’Twas a contention in public, which may, without contradiction, suffer the report. It was much like an argument that fell out last night, where each of us fell in praise of our country mistresses; this gentleman at that time vouching (and upon warrant of bloody affirmation) his to be more fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constant, qualified, and less attemptable, than any the rarest of our ladies in France.
IACHIMO.That lady is not now living, or this gentleman’s opinion, by this, worn out.
POSTHUMUS.She holds her virtue still, and I my mind.
IACHIMO.You must not so far prefer her ’fore ours of Italy.
POSTHUMUS.Being so far provok’d as I was in France, I would abate her nothing, though I profess myself her adorer, not her friend.
IACHIMO.As fair and as good—a kind of hand-in-hand comparison—had been something too fair and too good for any lady in Britain. If she went before others I have seen as that diamond of yours outlustres many I have beheld, I could not but believe she excelled many; but I have not seen the most precious diamond that is, nor you the lady.
POSTHUMUS.I prais’d her as I rated her. So do I my stone.
IACHIMO.What do you esteem it at?
POSTHUMUS.More than the world enjoys.
IACHIMO.Either your unparagon’d mistress is dead, or she’s outpriz’d by a trifle.
POSTHUMUS.You are mistaken: the one may be sold or given, if there were wealth enough for the purchase or merit for the gift; the other is not a thing for sale, and only the gift of the gods.
IACHIMO.Which the gods have given you?
POSTHUMUS.Which by their graces I will keep.
IACHIMO.You may wear her in title yours; but you know strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds. Your ring may be stol’n too. So your brace of unprizable estimations, the one is but frail and the other casual; a cunning thief, or a that-way-accomplish’d courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and last.
POSTHUMUS.Your Italy contains none so accomplish’d a courtier to convince the honour of my mistress, if in the holding or loss of that you term her frail. I do nothing doubt you have store of thieves; notwithstanding, I fear not my ring.
PHILARIO.Let us leave here, gentlemen.
POSTHUMUS.Sir, with all my heart. This worthy signior, I thank him, makes no stranger of me; we are familiar at first.
IACHIMO.With five times so much conversation I should get ground of your fair mistress; make her go back even to the yielding, had I admittance and opportunity to friend.
POSTHUMUS.No, no.
IACHIMO.I dare thereupon pawn the moiety of my estate to your ring, which, in my opinion, o’ervalues it something. But I make my wager rather against your confidence than her reputation; and, to bar your offence herein too, I durst attempt it against any lady in the world.
POSTHUMUS.You are a great deal abus’d in too bold a persuasion, and I doubt not you sustain what y’are worthy of by your attempt.
IACHIMO.What’s that?
POSTHUMUS.A repulse; though your attempt, as you call it, deserve more; a punishment too.
PHILARIO.Gentlemen, enough of this. It came in too suddenly; let it die as it was born, and I pray you be better acquainted.
IACHIMO.Would I had put my estate and my neighbour’s on th’ approbation of what I have spoke!
POSTHUMUS.What lady would you choose to assail?
IACHIMO.Yours, whom in constancy you think stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring that, commend me to the court where your lady is, with no more advantage than the opportunity of a second conference, and I will bring from thence that honour of hers which you imagine so reserv’d.
POSTHUMUS.I will wage against your gold, gold to it. My ring I hold dear as my finger; ’tis part of it.
IACHIMO.You are a friend, and therein the wiser. If you buy ladies’ flesh at a million a dram, you cannot preserve it from tainting. But I see you have some religion in you, that you fear.
POSTHUMUS.This is but a custom in your tongue; you bear a graver purpose, I hope.
IACHIMO.I am the master of my speeches, and would undergo what’s spoken, I swear.
POSTHUMUS.Will you? I shall but lend my diamond till your return. Let there be covenants drawn between’s. My mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness of your unworthy thinking. I dare you to this match: here’s my ring.
PHILARIO.I will have it no lay.
IACHIMO.By the gods, it is one. If I bring you no sufficient testimony that I have enjoy’d the dearest bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats are yours; so is your diamond too. If I come off, and leave her in such honour as you have trust in, she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are yours: provided I have your commendation for my more free entertainment.
POSTHUMUS.I embrace these conditions; let us have articles betwixt us. Only, thus far you shall answer: if you make your voyage upon her, and give me directly to understand you have prevail’d, I am no further your enemy; she is not worth our debate; if she remain unseduc’d, you not making it appear otherwise, for your ill opinion and th’ assault you have made to her chastity you shall answer me with your sword.
IACHIMO.Your hand, a covenant! We will have these things set down by lawful counsel, and straight away for Britain, lest the bargain should catch cold and starve. I will fetch my gold and have our two wagers recorded.
POSTHUMUS.Agreed.
[ExeuntPosthumusandIachimo.]
FRENCHMAN.Will this hold, think you?
PHILARIO.Signior Iachimo will not from it. Pray let us follow ’em.
[Exeunt.]
EnterQueen, LadiesandCornelius.
QUEEN.Whiles yet the dew’s on ground, gather those flowers;Make haste; who has the note of them?
LADY.I, madam.
QUEEN.Dispatch.
[ExeuntLadies.]
Now, Master Doctor, have you brought those drugs?
CORNELIUS.Pleaseth your Highness, ay. Here they are, madam.
[Presenting a box.]
But I beseech your Grace, without offence,(My conscience bids me ask) wherefore you haveCommanded of me these most poisonous compoundsWhich are the movers of a languishing death,But, though slow, deadly?
QUEEN.I wonder, Doctor,Thou ask’st me such a question. Have I not beenThy pupil long? Hast thou not learn’d me howTo make perfumes? distil? preserve? yea, soThat our great king himself doth woo me oftFor my confections? Having thus far proceeded(Unless thou think’st me devilish) is’t not meetThat I did amplify my judgement inOther conclusions? I will try the forcesOf these thy compounds on such creatures asWe count not worth the hanging (but none human)To try the vigour of them, and applyAllayments to their act, and by them gatherTheir several virtues and effects.
CORNELIUS.Your HighnessShall from this practice but make hard your heart;Besides, the seeing these effects will beBoth noisome and infectious.
QUEEN.O, content thee.
EnterPisanio.
[Aside.] Here comes a flattering rascal; upon himWill I first work. He’s for his master,An enemy to my son. How now, Pisanio!Doctor, your service for this time is ended;Take your own way.
CORNELIUS.[Aside.] I do suspect you, madam;But you shall do no harm.
QUEEN.[To Pisanio.] Hark thee, a word.
CORNELIUS.[Aside.] I do not like her. She doth think she hasStrange ling’ring poisons. I do know her spirit,And will not trust one of her malice withA drug of such damn’d nature. Those she hasWill stupefy and dull the sense awhile,Which first perchance she’ll prove on cats and dogs,Then afterward up higher; but there isNo danger in what show of death it makes,More than the locking up the spirits a time,To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool’dWith a most false effect; and I the truerSo to be false with her.
QUEEN.No further service, Doctor,Until I send for thee.
CORNELIUS.I humbly take my leave.
[Exit.]
QUEEN.Weeps she still, say’st thou? Dost thou think in timeShe will not quench, and let instructions enterWhere folly now possesses? Do thou work.When thou shalt bring me word she loves my son,I’ll tell thee on the instant thou art thenAs great as is thy master; greater, forHis fortunes all lie speechless, and his nameIs at last gasp. Return he cannot, norContinue where he is. To shift his beingIs to exchange one misery with another,And every day that comes comes to decayA day’s work in him. What shalt thou expectTo be depender on a thing that leans,Who cannot be new built, nor has no friendsSo much as but to prop him?
[The Queen drops the box. Pisanio takes it up.]
Thou tak’st upThou know’st not what; but take it for thy labour.It is a thing I made, which hath the KingFive times redeem’d from death. I do not knowWhat is more cordial. Nay, I prithee take it;It is an earnest of a further goodThat I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress howThe case stands with her; do’t as from thyself.Think what a chance thou changest on; but thinkThou hast thy mistress still; to boot, my son,Who shall take notice of thee. I’ll move the KingTo any shape of thy preferment, suchAs thou’lt desire; and then myself, I chiefly,That set thee on to this desert, am boundTo load thy merit richly. Call my women.Think on my words.
[ExitPisanio.]
A sly and constant knave,Not to be shak’d; the agent for his master,And the remembrancer of her to holdThe hand-fast to her lord. I have given him thatWhich, if he take, shall quite unpeople herOf liegers for her sweet; and which she after,Except she bend her humour, shall be assur’dTo taste of too.
EnterPisanioandLadies.
So, so. Well done, well done.The violets, cowslips, and the primroses,Bear to my closet. Fare thee well, Pisanio;Think on my words.
[ExeuntQueenandLadies.]
PISANIO.And shall do.But when to my good lord I prove untrueI’ll choke myself: there’s all I’ll do for you.
[Exit.]
EnterImogenalone.
IMOGEN.A father cruel and a step-dame false;A foolish suitor to a wedded ladyThat hath her husband banish’d. O, that husband!My supreme crown of grief! and those repeatedVexations of it! Had I been thief-stol’n,As my two brothers, happy! but most miserableIs the desire that’s glorious. Blessed be those,How mean soe’er, that have their honest wills,Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fie!
EnterPisanioandIachimo.
PISANIO.Madam, a noble gentleman of RomeComes from my lord with letters.
IACHIMO.Change you, madam?The worthy Leonatus is in safety,And greets your Highness dearly.
[Presents a letter.]
IMOGEN.Thanks, good sir.You’re kindly welcome.
IACHIMO.[Aside.] All of her that is out of door most rich!If she be furnish’d with a mind so rare,She is alone th’ Arabian bird, and IHave lost the wager. Boldness be my friend!Arm me, audacity, from head to foot!Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight;Rather, directly fly.
IMOGEN.[Reads.]He is one of the noblest note, to whose kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon him accordingly, as you value your trust.LEONATUS.
So far I read aloud;But even the very middle of my heartIs warm’d by th’ rest and takes it thankfully.You are as welcome, worthy sir, as IHave words to bid you; and shall find it soIn all that I can do.
IACHIMO.Thanks, fairest lady.What, are men mad? Hath nature given them eyesTo see this vaulted arch and the rich cropOf sea and land, which can distinguish ’twixtThe fiery orbs above and the twinn’d stonesUpon the number’d beach, and can we notPartition make with spectacles so precious’Twixt fair and foul?
IMOGEN.What makes your admiration?
IACHIMO.It cannot be i’ th’ eye, for apes and monkeys,’Twixt two such shes, would chatter this way andContemn with mows the other; nor i’ th’ judgement,For idiots in this case of favour wouldBe wisely definite; nor i’ th’ appetite;Sluttery, to such neat excellence oppos’d,Should make desire vomit emptiness,Not so allur’d to feed.
IMOGEN.What is the matter, trow?
IACHIMO.The cloyed will—That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tubBoth fill’d and running—ravening first the lamb,Longs after for the garbage.
IMOGEN.What, dear sir,Thus raps you? Are you well?
IACHIMO.Thanks, madam; well. Beseech you, sir,Desire my man’s abode where I did leave him.He’s strange and peevish.
PISANIO.I was going, sir,To give him welcome.
[Exit.]
IMOGEN.Continues well my lord? His health beseech you?
IACHIMO.Well, madam.
IMOGEN.Is he dispos’d to mirth? I hope he is.
IACHIMO.Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger thereSo merry and so gamesome. He is call’dThe Briton reveller.
IMOGEN.When he was hereHe did incline to sadness, and oft-timesNot knowing why.
IACHIMO.I never saw him sad.There is a Frenchman his companion, oneAn eminent monsieur that, it seems, much lovesA Gallian girl at home. He furnacesThe thick sighs from him; whiles the jolly Briton(Your lord, I mean) laughs from’s free lungs, cries “O,Can my sides hold, to think that man, who knowsBy history, report, or his own proof,What woman is, yea, what she cannot chooseBut must be, will’s free hours languish forAssured bondage?”
IMOGEN.Will my lord say so?
IACHIMO.Ay, madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter.It is a recreation to be byAnd hear him mock the Frenchman. But heavens knowSome men are much to blame.
IMOGEN.Not he, I hope.
IACHIMO.Not he; but yet heaven’s bounty towards him mightBe us’d more thankfully. In himself, ’tis much;In you, which I account his, beyond all talents.Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am boundTo pity too.
IMOGEN.What do you pity, sir?
IACHIMO.Two creatures heartily.
IMOGEN.Am I one, sir?You look on me: what wreck discern you in meDeserves your pity?
IACHIMO.Lamentable! What,To hide me from the radiant sun and solaceI’ th’ dungeon by a snuff?
IMOGEN.I pray you, sir,Deliver with more openness your answersTo my demands. Why do you pity me?
IACHIMO.That others do,I was about to say, enjoy your—ButIt is an office of the gods to venge it,Not mine to speak on’t.
IMOGEN.You do seem to knowSomething of me, or what concerns me; pray you,Since doubting things go ill often hurts moreThan to be sure they do; for certaintiesEither are past remedies, or, timely knowing,The remedy then born—discover to meWhat both you spur and stop.
IACHIMO.Had I this cheekTo bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch,Whose every touch, would force the feeler’s soulTo th’ oath of loyalty; this object, whichTakes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,Fixing it only here; should I, damn’d then,Slaver with lips as common as the stairsThat mount the Capitol; join gripes with handsMade hard with hourly falsehood (falsehood asWith labour): then by-peeping in an eyeBase and illustrious as the smoky lightThat’s fed with stinking tallow: it were fitThat all the plagues of hell should at one timeEncounter such revolt.
IMOGEN.My lord, I fear,Has forgot Britain.
IACHIMO.And himself. Not IInclin’d to this intelligence pronounceThe beggary of his change; but ’tis your gracesThat from my mutest conscience to my tongueCharms this report out.
IMOGEN.Let me hear no more.
IACHIMO.O dearest soul, your cause doth strike my heartWith pity that doth make me sick! A ladySo fair, and fasten’d to an empery,Would make the great’st king double, to be partner’dWith tomboys hir’d with that self exhibitionWhich your own coffers yield! with diseas’d venturesThat play with all infirmities for goldWhich rottenness can lend nature! Such boil’d stuffAs well might poison poison! Be reveng’d;Or she that bore you was no queen, and youRecoil from your great stock.
IMOGEN.Reveng’d?How should I be reveng’d? If this be true,(As I have such a heart that both mine earsMust not in haste abuse) if it be true,How should I be reveng’d?
IACHIMO.Should he make meLive like Diana’s priest betwixt cold sheets,Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps,In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge it.I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure,More noble than that runagate to your bed,And will continue fast to your affection,Still close as sure.
IMOGEN.What ho, Pisanio!
IACHIMO.Let me my service tender on your lips.
IMOGEN.Away! I do condemn mine ears that haveSo long attended thee. If thou wert honourable,Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, notFor such an end thou seek’st, as base as strange.Thou wrong’st a gentleman who is as farFrom thy report as thou from honour; andSolicits here a lady that disdainsThee and the devil alike. What ho, Pisanio!The King my father shall be made acquaintedOf thy assault. If he shall think it fitA saucy stranger in his court to martAs in a Romish stew, and to expoundHis beastly mind to us, he hath a courtHe little cares for, and a daughter whoHe not respects at all. What ho, Pisanio!
IACHIMO.O happy Leonatus! I may sayThe credit that thy lady hath of theeDeserves thy trust, and thy most perfect goodnessHer assur’d credit. Blessed live you long,A lady to the worthiest sir that everCountry call’d his! and you his mistress, onlyFor the most worthiest fit! Give me your pardon.I have spoke this to know if your affianceWere deeply rooted, and shall make your lordThat which he is new o’er; and he is oneThe truest manner’d, such a holy witchThat he enchants societies into him,Half all men’s hearts are his.
IMOGEN.You make amends.
IACHIMO.He sits ’mongst men like a descended god:He hath a kind of honour sets him offMore than a mortal seeming. Be not angry,Most mighty Princess, that I have adventur’dTo try your taking of a false report, which hathHonour’d with confirmation your great judgementIn the election of a sir so rare,Which you know cannot err. The love I bear himMade me to fan you thus; but the gods made you,Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray your pardon.
IMOGEN.All’s well, sir; take my pow’r i’ th’ court for yours.
IACHIMO.My humble thanks. I had almost forgotT’ entreat your Grace but in a small request,And yet of moment too, for it concernsYour lord; myself and other noble friendsAre partners in the business.
IMOGEN.Pray what is’t?
IACHIMO.Some dozen Romans of us, and your lord(The best feather of our wing) have mingled sumsTo buy a present for the Emperor;Which I, the factor for the rest, have doneIn France. ’Tis plate of rare device, and jewelsOf rich and exquisite form, their values great;And I am something curious, being strange,To have them in safe stowage. May it please youTo take them in protection?
IMOGEN.Willingly;And pawn mine honour for their safety. SinceMy lord hath interest in them, I will keep themIn my bedchamber.
IACHIMO.They are in a trunk,Attended by my men. I will make boldTo send them to you only for this night;I must aboard tomorrow.
IMOGEN.O, no, no.
IACHIMO.Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my wordBy length’ning my return. From GalliaI cross’d the seas on purpose and on promiseTo see your Grace.
IMOGEN.I thank you for your pains.But not away tomorrow!
IACHIMO.O, I must, madam.Therefore I shall beseech you, if you pleaseTo greet your lord with writing, do’t tonight.I have outstood my time, which is materialTo th’ tender of our present.
IMOGEN.I will write.Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be keptAnd truly yielded you. You’re very welcome.
[Exeunt.]