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? Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment Nobler than that it covers: let thy effects So follow, to be most unlike our courtiers, As good as promise.
[Reads.] When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking, find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches, which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate, and flourish in peace and plenty.
'T is still a dream; or else such stuff as madmen Tongue, and brain not: either both, or nothing: Or senseless speaking, or a speaking such As sense cannot untie. Be what it is, The action of my life is like it, which I'll keep, if but for sympathy.
Gaol. Come, sir, are you ready for death? Post. Over-roasted rather: ready long ago. Gaol. Hanging is the word, sir; if you be ready for that you are well cooked.
Post. So, if I prove a good repast to the spectators the dish pays the shot.
Gaol. A heavy reckoning for you, sir: But the comfort is, you shall be called to no more payments, fear no more tavern bills; which are often the sadness of parting, as the procuring of mirth; you come in faint for want of meat, depart reeling with too much drink; sorry that you have paid too much, and sorry that you are paid too much; purse and brain both empty; the brain the heavier for being too light, the purse too light, being drawn of heaviness: O! of this contradiction you shall now be quit.-O, the charity of a penny cord! it sums up thousands in a trice: you have no true debitor and creditor but it; of what 's past, is, and to come, the discharge:-Your neck, sir, is pen, book, and counters; so the acquittance follows.
Gaol. I'll be hanged then. Post. Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; no bolts for the dead. [Exeunt PosT. and Mess. Gaol. Unless a man would marry a gallows, and beget young gibbets, I never saw one so prone. Yet, on my conscience, there are verier knaves desire to live, for all he be a Roman: and there be some of them too that die against their wills: so should I, if I were one. I would we were all of one mind, and one mind good: O, there were desolation of gaolers and gallowses! I speak against my present profit; but my wish hath a preferment in 't. [Exeunt.
SCENE V.-Cymbeline's Tent.
Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, Lords, Officers, and Attendants. 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 Stepp'd before targes of proof, cannot be found: He shall be happy that can find him, if Our grace can make him so.
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.
Post. I am merrier to die than thou art to live. Gaol. Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the tooth-There's business in these faces:-Why so sadly ache: But a man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he would change And not o' the court of Britain. Greet you our victory? you look like Romans, places with his officer; for, look you, sir, you know not which way you shall go.
Post. Yes, indeed, do I, fellow.
Gaol. Your death has eyes in 's head then; I have not seen him so pictured: you must either be directed by some that take upon them to know; or take upon yourself that which I am sure you do not know; for, jump the after-inquiry on your own peril, and how you shall speed in your journey's end, I think you 'll never return to tell one.
Post. I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to direct them the way I am going, but such as wink, and will not use them.
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 of winking.
Mess. Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the king.
Post. Thou bring'st good news;-I am called to be made free.
Fangled. This word is very rarely used without the epithet new; yet fungle means an innovation.
Cor. Hail, great king! To sour your happiness, I must report The queen is dead.
Cym. Whom worse than a physician By medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death Would this report become? But I consider, 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. Cor. First, she confess'd she never lov'd you; 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. Cor. Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to love
With such integrity, she did confess Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life, But that her flight prevented it, she had
Who is 't can read a woman?-Is there more?
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?
What wouldst thou, boy? I love thee more and more; think more and more What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st on? speck
Cor. More, sir, and worse. She did confess she Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend?
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, By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to O'ercome you with her show: 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; open'd, in despite Of heaven and men, her purposes; repented The evils she hatch'd were not effected: so, Despairing, died. Cym. Heard you all this, her women? Lady. We did, so please your highness. Cym.
Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart, That thought her like her seeming: it had been vicious To have mistrusted her yet, O my daughter! That it was folly in me, thou mayst say,
And prove Enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, the Soothsayer, and other Roman prisoners, guarded; POSTHUMUS behind,
it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all!
Thou com'st not, Caius, now for tribute; that The Britons have raz'd out, though with the loss
Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have made suit That their good souls may be appeas'd with slaughter Of you their captives, which ourself have granted: 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 cool, have threaten'd 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 Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer: Augustus lives to think on 't: and so much For my peculiar care. This one thing only I will entreat my boy, a Briton born, Let him be ransom'd: never master had A page so kind, so duteous, diligent, So tender over his occasions, true,
So feat, so nurse-like: let his virtue join
With my request, which, I'll make bold, your highness Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm, Though he have serv'd a Roman: save him, sir, And spare no blood beside.
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, nor wherefore, To say live, boy: ne'er thank thy master; live: And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt, Fitting my bounty and thy state, I'll give it; Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner, The noblest ta'en.
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 other work in hand; I see a thing Bitter to me as death; your life, good master. Must shule for itself.
Imo. He is a Roman; no more kin to me Than I to your highness; who, being born your vassal, Am something nearer.
Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad Who died, and was Fidele :-What think you? Gui. The same dead thing alive.
Bel. Peace, peace! see further; he eyes us not; frbear;
Creatures may be alike: were 't he, I am sure He would have spoke to us.
But we saw him dead. Bel. Be silent; let 's see further. Pis.
It is my mistress. [42. Since she is living, let the time run on To good, or bad. [CYM, and Imo. come forward. Cym. Come, staud thou by our side; Make thy demand aloud.-Sir, [to IACH.] step you forth;
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. Imo. My boon is, that this gentleman may render Of whom he had this ring.
I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will Than die ere I hear more: strive, man, and speak. Iach. Upon a time, (unhappy was the clock That struck the hour!) it was in Rome, (accurs'd The mansion where!) t was at a feast, (O 'would Our viands had been poison'd! or, at least, Those which I heav'd to head!) the good Posthumus, (What should I say? he was too good, to be Where ill men were; and was the best of all Amongst the rar'st of good ones,) sitting sadly Hearing us praise our loves of Italy For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast Of him that best could speak; for feature, laming
Iach. Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly.-This Posthumus (Most like a noble lord in love, and one That had a royal lover) took this hint;
And, not dispraising whom we prais'd, (therein
He was as calm as virtue,) he began
His mistress' picture; which by his tongue being made, And then a mind put in 't, either our brags Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his description Prov'd us unspeaking sots.
Nay, nay, to the purpose. Iach. 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
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 "Twixt amorous and villainous. Being thus quench'd Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain 'Gan in your duller Britain operate 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, (0, 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. [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!-0, give me cord, or knife, or poison, Some upright justicer! Thou, king, send out For torturers ingenious: it is I
That all the abhorred things o' the earth amend, By being worse than they. I am Posthumus, That kill'd thy daughter:-villain-like, I lie; That caus'd a lesser villain than myself, A sacrilegious thief, to do 't :--the temple of virtue was she; yea, and she herself. Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set The dogs o' the street to bay me: every villain Be call'd Posthumus Leonatus; and Be villainy less than 't was!-O Imogen! My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen, Imogen, Imogen!
Peace, my lord; hear, hear!— Post. Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful page, There lie thy part. [Striking her: she falls. O, gentlemen, help
• Justicer. This fine old word is used several times in Lear.' It is found in our ancient law-books.
The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if That box I gave you was not thought by me A precious thing; I had it from the queen. Cym. New matter still?
It poison'd me. 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. Сут. 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.
Now fear is from me, I 'll speak troth. Lord Cloten, Upon my lady's missing, came to me With his sword drawn ; foam'd at the mouth, and swore If I discover'd not which way she was gone, It was my instant death: By accident,
I had a feigned letter of my master's Then in my pocket; which directed him To seek her on the mountains near to Milford; Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments, Which he inforc'd from me, away he posts With unchaste purpose, and with oath to violate My lady's honour: what became of him, I further know not.
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.
Сут. Thou weep'st, and speak'st. The service, that you three have done, is more Unlike than this thou tell'st: I lost my children;
If these be they, I know not how to wish A pair of worthier sons.
Bel. Be pleas'd awhile.— This gentleman, whom I call Polydore, Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius: This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arvirágus, Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lapp'd In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand Of his queen mother, which, for more probation, I can with ease produce.
Cym. Guiderius had Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star; It was a mark of wonder.
A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother We will die all three: Rejoic'd deliverance more :-Bless'd may you be, That, after this strange starting from your orbs, You may reign in them now!-0 Imogen, Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.
But I will prove, that two of us are as good As I have given out him.-My sons, I must, For mine own part, unfold a dangerous speech, Though, haply, well for you.
Gui. And our good his. Bel.
Bel. So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan, Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd: Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment Itself, and all my treason: that I suffer'd 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,
a As um'd this age-put on these appearances of age.
Continued so, until we thought he died.
Cor. By the queen's dram she swallow'd. Cym.
U rare instinct: When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridgment 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
I know not how much more, should be demanded; And all the other by-dependencies,
From chance to chance; but nor the time, nor place, Will serve our long intergatories. See, Posthumus anchors upon Imogen;
And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye On him, her brothers, me, her master, hitting Each object with a joy; the counterchange Is severally in all. Let 's quit this ground, And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.
Thou art my brother: So we 'll hold thee ever. [To Be Imo. You are my father too; and did relieve ine To see this gracious season.
All o'erjoy'd, Save these in bonds; let them be joyful too, For they shall taste our comfort.
I will yet do you service.
Cym. The forlorn soldier that so nobly ferght,
The soldier that did company these three In poor beseeming; 't was a fitment for The purpose I then follow 'd:-That I was he, Speak, Iachimo; I had you down, and might Have made you finish.
Iach. I am down again: But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee, As then your force did. Take that life, 'beseech you, Which I so often owe: but, your ring first; And here the bracelet of the truest princess That ever swore her faith.
The power that I have on you is to spare you; The malice towards you to forgive you: Live, And deal with others better.
Cym. Nobly doom'd; We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law; Pardon 's the word to all.
You holp us, sir, As you did mean indeed to be our brother; Joy'd are we that you are.
Post. Your servant, princes..
Call forth your soothsayer: As I slept, methought, Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back,
The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter, [To CM. Which we call mollis aer; and mollis aer We term it mulier: which mulier I divine Is this most constant wife; who, even now, Answering the letter of the oracle, Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about With this most tender air.
This hath some seeming.
Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, Personates thee: and thy lopp'd branches point Thy two sons forth: who, by Belarius stolen, For many years thought dead, are now reviv'd, To the majestic cedar join'd; whose issue Promises Britain peace and plenty.
Cym. Well, My peace we will begin :-And, Caius Lucius, Although the victor, we submit to Cæsar, And to the Roman empire; promising
To pay our wonted tribute, from the which We were dissuaded by our wicked queen: Whom heavens, in justice, (both on her, and hers,) Have laid most heavy hand.
Sooth. The fingers of the powers above do tune The harmony of this peace. The vision
Good my lord of Which I made known to Lucius, ere the stroke Of this yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant Is full accomplish'd: For the Roman eagle, From south to west on wing soaring aloft, Lessen'd herself, and in the beams o' the sun So vanish'd: which foreshow'd our princely eagle, The imperial Cæsar, should again unite His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, Which shines here in the west.
Appear'd to me, with other spritely shows
Of mine own kindred: when I wak'd, I found This label on my bosom; whose containing Is so from sense in hardness, that I can Make no collection of it; let him show His skill in the construction.
Sooth. Here, my good lord. Luc.
Read, and declare the meaning. South. [Reads.] When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and he embraced by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches, which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate, and flourish in peace and plenty.
Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp; The fit and apt construction of thy name, Being Leo-natus, doth import so much :
• Collection-consequence deduced from premises.
« PreviousContinue » |