The Plays of William Shakespeare

Ime.

Let me hear no more. Lach, O dearest soul! your cause doth strike my heart

With pity, that doth make me sick. A lady
So fair, and fasten'd to an empery,

Would make the great'st king double! to be partner'd
With tomboys, hir'd with that self-exhibition
Which your own coffers yield! with diseas'd ventures,
That play with all infirmities for gold,
Which rottenness can lend nature! such boil'd stuff,
As well might poisou poison! Be reveng'd;
Or she, that bore you, was no queen, and you
Recoil from your great stock.

How should I be reveng'd? If this be true,
(As I have such a heart, that both mine ears
Must not in haste abuse,) if it be true,
How should I be reveng'd?

Iach.
Should he make me
Live 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
And will continue fast to your affection,
Still close, as sure.

bed;

lach. Let me my service tender on your lips.
Imo. Away!-I do condemn mine ears, that have
So long attended thee.-If thou wert honourable,
Thou would'st have told this tale for virtue, not
For such an end thou seek'st; as base, as strange.
Thou wrong'st a gentleman, who is as far
From thy report, as thou from honour; and
Solicit'st here a lady, that disdains

Thee and the devil alike :-What ho, Pisanio!-
The king my father shall be made acquainted
Of thy assault; if he shall think it fit,
A saney stranger, in his court, to mart
As in a Romish stew, and to expound
His beastly mind to us; he hath a court
He little cares for, and a daughter whom
He not respects at all.-What ho, Pisanio!-
Jach. O happy Leonatus! I may say;
The credit, that thy lady hath of thee,
Deserves thy trust; and thy most perfect goodness
Her assur'd credit !-Blessed live you long!
A lady to the worthiest sir, that ever
Country call'd his! and you his mistress, only
For the most worthiest fit!-Give me your pardon,
I have spoke this, to know if your affiance
Were deeply rooted; and shall make your lord,
That which he is, new o'er: and he is one
The truest-manner'd; such a holy witch,
That he enchants societies unto him:
Half all men's hearts are his.

Iach. He sits 'mongst men, like a descended god:
He hath a kind of honour sets him off,
More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry,
Most mighty princess, that I have adventur'd
To try your taking of a false report; which hath
Honour'd with confirmation your great judgement
In the election of a sir so rare,

Which you know, cannot err: The love I bear him
Made me to fan you thus: but the gods made you,
Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray, your pardon.
Imo. All's well, sir: Take my power i'the court for
yours.

Jach. My humble thanks. I had most forgot

WAS there ever man had such luck! when I kissed the jack upon an up-cast, to be hit away! I had a hun dred pound on't: And then a whoreson jackanapes must take me up for swearing; as if I borrowed mine oaths of him, and might not spend them at my pleasures 1 Lord. What got he by that? You have broke his pate with your bowl.

2 Lord. If his wit had been like him that broke it, it would have ran all out. [Aside.

Clo. When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is, not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths: Ha? 2 Lord. No, my lord; nor [Aside.] crop the ears of them.

Cla. Whoreson dog!-I give him satisfaction? 'Would, he had been one of my rank!

[Aside.

2 Lord. To have smelt like a fool. Clo. I am not more vexed at any thing in the earth,A pox on't! I had rather not be so noble as I am; they dare not fight with me, because of the queen my mo ther: every jack-slave hath his belly full of fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that no body can match.

2 Lord. You are a cock, and capon too; and you crow, rock, with your comb on. [Aside.

Clo. Sayest thou?

1 Lord. It is not fit, your lordship should undertake every companion that you give offence to.

Perfumes the chamber thus: The flame o'the taper
Bows toward her; and would under-peep her lids,
To see the enclosed lights, now canopied

Clo. No, I know that: but it is fit, I should commit Under these windows: White and azure, lae'd offence to my inferiors.

2 Lord. Ay, it is fit for your lordship only.

Clo. Why, so I say.

1 Lord. Did you hear of a stranger, that's come to court to-night?

Clo. A stranger! and I not know on't!

2 Lord. He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it

not.

[Aside. 1 Lord. There's an Italian come; and, 'tis thought, one of Leonatus' friends.

Clo. Leonatus! a banished rascal; and he's another, whatsoever he be. Who told you of this stranger?

1 Lord. One of your lordship's pages.

Clo. Is it fit, I went to look upon him? Is there no dcrogation in't?

1 Lord. You cannot derogate, my lord. Clo. Not easily, I think.

2 Lord. You are a fool granted; therefore your issues being foolish, do not derogate.

[Aside.

Clo. Come, I'll go see this Italian: what I have lost to-day at bowls, I'll win to-night of him. Come, go. 2 Lord. I'll attend your lordship.

With blue of heaven's own tinct.—But my design?
To note the chamber:-I will write all down:-
Such, and such, pictures;-There the window ;-Such
The adornment of her bed ;-The arras, figures,
Why, such, and such :-And the contents o'the story,-
Ah, but some natural notes about her body,
Above ten thousand meaner moveables
Would testify, to enrich mine inventory:
O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon ber!
And be her sense but as a monument,
Thus in a chapel lying!-Come off, come off';-
"[Taking off her bracelet,

As slippery, as the Gordian knot was hard!-
'Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly,
As strongly as the conscience does within,
To the madding of her lord. On her left breast
A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops
I'the bottom of a cowslip: here's a voucher,
Stronger than ever law could make: this secret
Will force him think I have pick'd the lock, and ta'ea
The treasure of her honour. No more.-To what end!
Why should I write this down, that's rivetted,

[Exeunt Cloten and first Lord. Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late

That such a crafty devil as is his mother
Should yield the world this ass! a woman, that
Bears all down with her brain; and this her son
Cannot take two from twenty for his heart,
And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess,
Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'st!
Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern'd;
A mother hourly coining plots; a wooer,
More hateful than the foul expulsion is
Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act
Of the divorce he'd make! The heavens hold firm
The walls of thy dear honour; keep unshak'd
That temple, thy fair mind; that thou may'st stand,
To enjoy thy banish'd lord, and this great land!

[Exit. SCENE II-A Bed-Chamber; in one part of it a trunk. Imogen reading in her bed; a Lady attending.

Imo. Who's there? my woman Helen?
Lady.

Imo. What hour is it?
Lady.

Please you, madam.

Almost midnight, madam.

The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's turn'd down,
Where Philomel gave up ;-I have enough:
To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it.
Swift, swift, you dragons of the night!—that dawning
May bare the raven's eye: I lodge in fear;
Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here.

One, two, three,-Time, time!

[Clock strikts.

[Goes into the trunk. The Scene clos

SCENE III-An Ante-Chamber adjoining Imagen's
Apartment. Enter Cloten and Lords.

1 Lord. Your lordship is the most patient man in
loss, the most coldest that ever turned up ace,
Clo. It would make any man cold to lose.
1 Lord. But not every man patient, after the noble
temper of your lordship; You are most hot, and furi
ous, when you win.

Clo. Winning would put any man into courage: I could get this foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough: It's almost morning, is't not?

1 Lord. Day, my lord.

Clo. I would this music would come: I am advised to give her music o'mornings; they say, it will penetrate.

Enter Musicians.

-Come on; tune: If you can penetrate her with your fingering, so; we'll try with tongue 100: if none will do, let her remain; but I'll never give o'er. First, a very excellent good-conceited thing; after, a wonder ful sweet air, with admirable rich words to it,-and then let her consider.

SONG.

Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate singTM
And Phoebus 'gins arise,

His steeds to water at those springs
On chalic'd flowers that lies;

And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes;
With every thing that pretty bin:
My lady greet, arise;
Arise, arise.

So, get you gone: If this penetrate, I will consider your music the better: if it do not, it is a vice in her ears, which horse-hairs, and cats-guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to boot, can never amend.

[Exeunt Musicians.

Enter Cymbeline and Queen.

2 Lord. Here comes the king.

Clo. I am glad I was up so late: for that's the renson I was up so early-He cannot choose but take this service I have done, fatherly.--Good morrow to your majesty, and to my gracious mother.

Cym. Attend you here the door of our stern daughter?

Will she not forth?

Clo. I have assailed her with music, but she vouchsafes no notice.

Cym. The exile of her minion is too new;
She hath not yet forgot him: some more time
Must wear the print of his remembrance out,
And then she's yours.

Queen.
You are most bound to the king;
Who lets go by no vantages, that may
Prefer you to his daughter: Frame yourself
To orderly solicits; and be friended
With aptness of the season: make denials
Increase your services: so seem, as if
You were inspir'd to do those duties which
You tender to her; that you in all obey her,
Save when command to your dismission tends,
And therein you are senseless.

Clo.

Senseless? not so.
Enter a Messenger.
Mes. So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome;
The one is Caius Lucius.

Cym.
A worthy fellow,
Albeit he comes on angry purpose now;
But that's no fault of his : We must receive him
According to the honour of his sender;
And towards himself his goodnesss forespent on us
We must extend our notice.-Our dear son,
When you have given good morning to your mistress,
Attend the queen, and us; we shall have neerl
To employ you towards this Roman.-Come, our
queen.

[Exeunt Cym. Queen, Lords, and Messenger.
Clo. If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not,
Let her lie still, and dream.-By your leave ho!-

[Knocks.

I know her women are about her: What
If I do line one of their hands? 'Tis gold
Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and makes
Diana's rangers false themselves, yielú up

To keep her chamber.

Clo. There's gold for you; sell me your good report.
Lady. How! my good name? or to report of you
What I shall think is good?-The princess→→→→→
Enter Imogen.

Clo. Good morrow, fairest sister; your sweet hand.
Imo. Good morrow, sir: You lay out too much pains
For purchasing but trouble: the thanks I give,
Is telling you that I am poor of thanks,
And scarce can spare them.
Clo.
Still, I swear, I love you.
Imo. If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me:
If you swear still, your recompense is still
That I regard it not.

Clo.

This is no answer.

If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad;
That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir,
You put me to forget a lady's manners,
By being so verbal and learn now, for all,
That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce,
By the very truth of it, I care not for you;
And am so near the lack of charity,

(To accuse myself) I hate you: which I had rather
You felt, than make't my boast.

Clo.
You sin against
Obedience, which you owe your father. For
The contract you pretend with that base wretch,
(One, bred of alms, and foster'd with cold dishes,
With scraps o'the court,) it is no contract, none:
And though it be allow'd in meaner parties,
(Yet who, than he, more mean?) to knit their souls
(On whom there is no more dependency
But brats and beggary) in self-figur'd knot;
Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by
The consequence o'the crown; and must not soil
The precious note of it with a base slave,
A hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth,
A pantler, not so eminent.

Imo.
Profane fellow!
Wert thou the son of Jupiter, and no more,
But what thou art, besides, thou wert too base
To be his groom: thou wert dignified enough,
Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made
Comparative for your virtues, to be styl'd
The under-hangman of his kingdom; and hated
For being preferr'd so well.
Clo.
The south-fog rot, him!
Imo. He never ean meet more mischance, than come
[Knocks. To be but nam'd of thee. His meanest garment,
That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer,
In my respect, than all the hairs above thee,
Were they all made such men.-How now, Pisanio?~~
Enter Pisanio.

Their deer to the stand of the stealer; and 'tis gold
Which makes the true man kill'd, and saves the thief;
Nay, sometime, hangs both thief and true man: What
Can it not do, and undo? I will make
One of her women lawyer to me; for
I yet not understand the case myself.
By your leave.

A gentleman.
Yes, and a gentlewoman's son.
Lady. That's more

Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours,
Can justly boast of: What's your lordship's pleasure?
Clo. Your lady's person: Is she ready?
Lady.

Ay,

Clo. His garment? Now, the devil--
Imo. To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently :--
Clo. His garment?

Imo.
I am sprighted with a fool;
Frighted, and anger'd worse :-Go, bid my woman
Search for a jewel, that too casually

I'll be reveng'd;

[Exit.

His meanest garment?-Well.

SCENE IV-Rome. An Apartment in Philario's
House. Enter Posthumus and Philario.
Post. Fear it not, sir: I would, I were so sure
To win the king, as I am bold, her honour
Will remain hers.

Phi.
What means do you make to him?
Post. Not any; but abide the change of time;
Quake in the present winter's state, and wish
That warmer days would come: In these fear'd hopes,
I barely gratify your love; they failing,
I must die much your debtor.

Phi. Your very goodness, and your company,
O'erpays all I can do. By this, your king
Hath heard of great Augustus: Caius Lucius
Will do his commission throughly: And, I think,
He'll grant the tribute, send the arrearages,
Or look upon our Romans, whose remembrance
Is yet fresh in their grief.

Post.

I do believe, (Statist though I am none, nor like to be,) That this will prove a war; and you shall hear The legions, now in Gallia, sooner landed In our not-fearing Britain, than have tidings Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen Are men more order'd, than when Julius Cæsar Smil'd at their lack of skill, but found their courage Worthy his frowning at: Their discipline

(Now mingled with their courages) will make known To their approvers, they are people, such That mend upon the world.

Post.

If you can make't apparent That you have tasted her in bed, my hand, And ring, is yours: If not, the foul opinion You had of her pure honour, gains, or loses, Your sword, or mine; or masterless leaves both To who shall find them.

Iach. Sir, my circumstances, Being so near the truth, as I will make them, Must first induce you to believe: whose strength I will confirm with oath; which, I doubt not, You'll give me leave to spare, when you shall find You need it not.

Post. lach.

Proceed.

First, her bed-chamber, (Where, I confess, I slept not; but, profess, Had that was well worth watching.) it was hang With tapestry of silk and silver; the story Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman, And Cydnus swell'd above the banks, or for The press of boats, or pride: A piece of work So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive In workmanship, and value; which, I wonder, Could be so rarely and exactly wrought, Since the true life on't was―

Post.

This is true; And this you might have heard of here, by me, Or by some other. Iach.

More particulars Must justify my knowledge.

Post.

Or do your honour injury. Iach.

So they must,

The chimney

Is south the chamber; and the chimney-piece,
Chaste Dian, bathing: never saw I figures
So likely to report themselves: the cutter
Was as another nature, dumb; outwent her,
Motion and breath left out.

Post.
This is a thing,
Which you might from relation likewise reap:
Being, as it is, much spoke of.

Iach. The roof o'the chamber With golden cherubins is fretted: Her andirons (I had forgot them,) were two winking Cupids Of silver, each on one foot standing, uicely Depending on their brands.

Post.

This is her honourLet it be granted, you have seen all this, (and praise

Iach.

May be, she pluck'd it off,

She writes so to you? doth she? Post. O, no, no, no; 'Tis true. Here, take this too; [Gives the ring.

It is a basilisk unto mine eye,

Kills me to look on't:-Let there be no honour,
Where there is beauty; truth, where semblance; love,
Where there's another man: The vows of women
Of no more bondage be, to where they are made,
Than they are to their virtues; which is nothing:-
O, above measure false !

And so, I hope, he came by't:-Back my ring ;-
Render to me some corporal sign about her,
More evident than this; for this was stolen.
Iach. By Jupiter, I had it from her arm.

Post. Hark you, he swears; by Jupiter he swears. 'Tis true;-nay, keep the ring-'tis true: I am sure, She would not lose it: her attendants are

All sworn, and honourable ;-They induc'd to steal it!
And by a stranger?—No, he hath enjoy'd her:
The cognizance of her incontinency

Is this-she hath bought the name of whore thus dearly.

There, take thy hire; and all the fiends of hell
Divide themselves between you!

Thou hast made me cuckold. Iach.

I will deny nothing.

Post. O, that I had her here, to tear her limb-meal! I will go there, and do't; i'the court; before Her father:-I'll do something

Phi.

[Exit.

Quite besides

The government of patience!-You have won :
Let's follow him, and pervert the present wrath
He hath against himself.
lach.

With all my heart. [Exeunt.

SCENE V.-The same. Another Room in the same.
Enter Posthumus.

Post. Is there no way for men to be, but women
Must be half-workers? We are bastards all;
And that most venerable man, which I

Did call my father, was I know not where

When I was stamp'd; some coiner with his tools
Made me a counterfeit: Yet my mother seem'd
The Dian of that time: so doth my wife
The nonpareil of this.-O vengeance, vengeance!
Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd,

And pray'd me, oft, forbearance: did it with

A pudency so rosy, the sweet view on't

Might well have warm'd old Saturn; that I thought

her

As chaste as unsunn'd snow :-O, all the devils!-
This yellow Iachimo, in an hour,-was't not?-
Or less, at first: Purchance he spoke not; but,
Like a full-acorn'd boar, a German one,
Cried, oh! and mounted: fouad no opposition
But what he look'd for should oppose, and she
Should from encounter guard. Couid I find out
The woman's part in me! for there's no motion
That tends to vice in man, but I affirm
It is the woman's part: Be it lying, note it,
The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;
Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,
Nice longings, slanders, mutability,

All faults that may be nam'd, nay, that hell knows,
Why, hers, in part, or all; but, rather, all:
For ev'n to vice

They are not constant, but are changing still
One vice, but of a minute old, for one
Not half so old as that. I'll write against them,
Detest thein, curse them :-Yet 'tis greater skill
In a true hate, to pray they have their will:
The very devils cannot plague them better.

ACT III.

[Exit.

SCENE I.-Britain. A Room of State in Cymbeline's Palace. Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, and Lords, at one Door; and at another, Caius Lucius, and Attendants.

Cymbeline.

NOW say, what would Augustus Cæsar with us? Luc. When Julius Cæsar (whose remembrance yet Lives in men's eyes; and will to ears and tongues, Be theme, and hearing ever.) was in this Britain, And conquer'd it, Cassib lan, thine uncle, (Famous in Cæsar's praises, no whit ess Than in his feats deserving it,) for him, And his succession, granted Rome a tribute, Yearly three thousand pounds; which by thee lately Is left untender'd.

Queen. Shall be so ever.

And, to kill the marvel,

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The Plays of William Shakespeare, Volume 1