Something of me, or what concerns me; 'Pray you
(Since doubting things go ill, often hurts more
Than to be sure they do: For certainties.
Either are past remedies; or, timely knowing,
The remedy then born), discover to me
What both you spur and stop.

Iach.
Had I this cheek
To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch,
Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul
To the oath of loyalty; this object, which
Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,
Fixing it only here: should I (damn'd then),
Slaver with lips as common as the stairs

That mount the Capitol join gripes with hands
Made hard with hourly falsehood (falsehood, as
With labour); then lie peeping in an eye,
Base and unlustrous as the smoky light
That's fed with stinking tallow; it were fit,
That all the plagues of hell should at one time
Encounter such revolt.

And himself. Not I, Inclin'd to this intelligence, pronounce

The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces That, from my mutest conscience, to my tongue, Charms this report out.

Let me hear no more.

Imo. Iach. O dearest soul! your cause doth strike my With pity, that doth make me sick. A lady [heart 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 poison poison! Be reveng'd; Or she, that bore you, was no queen, and you Recoil from your great stock.

Imo.

Reveng❜d!

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 bed;
And will continue fast to your affection,
Still close, as sure.

Imo.

What ho, Pisanio!

Iach. 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 wouldst 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 saucy 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!-
Lach. 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!-Bless'd 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 holy witch,
That he enchants societies unto him;
Half all men's hearts are his.

Imo.

You make amends.

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 judgment
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.

Iach. My humble thanks. I had almost forgot
To entreat your grace but in a small request,
And yet of moment too, for it concerns

Your lord; myself, and other noble friends,
Are partners in the business.

Imo.

Pray, what is't? Iach. Some dozen Romans of us, and your lord (The best feather of our wing), have mingled sums, To buy a present for the emperor;

Which I, the factor for the rest, have done

In France: 'Tis plate, of rare device; and jewels,
Of rich and exquisite form; their values great;
And I am something curious, being strange,
To have them in safe stowage; May it please you
To take them in protection!

Imo.

Willingly;

And pawn mine honour for their safety since My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them In my bed-chainber.

Lach.

They are in a trunk,

Attended by my men: I will make bold
To send them to you, only for this night;
I must aboard to-morrow.
Imo.

O, no, no.

Iach. Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my word, By length'ning my return. From Gallia

I cross'd the seas on purpose, and on promise
To see your grace.
Imo.
I thank you for your pains;
But not away to-morrow?
Iach.
O, I must, malam;
Therefore, I shall beseech you, if you please
To greet your lord with writing, do't to-night:
I have outstood my time; which is material
To the tender of our present.

Imo.
I will write.
Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept,
And truly yielded you: You are very welcome.
[Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I. Court before Cymbeline's Palace.
Enter Cloten and two Lords.

Clo. Was there ever man had such luck! when I kissed the jack upon an up-cast, to be hit away! i had a hundred 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 pleasure.

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 run 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.

Clo. 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!-1 had rather not be so noble as I am; They dare not fight with me, because of the queen my mother every jack-slave hath his belly full of fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that nobody can match.

2 Lord. You are a cock and eapon too; and you crow, cock, 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.

Clo. No, I know that: but it is fit, I should commit 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 derogation 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.

[Exeunt Cloten and first Lord.
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 mayst 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.

Please you, madam.
Imo. What hour is it?
Lady.
Almost midnight, madam.
Imo. I have read three hours then mine eyes are
weak :-

Fold down the leaf where I have left: To bed:
Take not away the taper, leave it burning;
And if thou canst awake by four o'the clock,
I pr'ythee, call me. Sleep hath seiz'd me wholly.
[Exit Lady.

[sense

To your protection I commend me, gods!
From fairies, and the tempters of the night,
Guard me, beseech ye!
[Sleeps. Iachimo, from the Trunk.
Iach. The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd
Repairs itself by rest: Our Tarquin thus
Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken'd
The chastity he wounded.-Cytherea,
How bravely thou becom'st thy bed! fresh lily!
And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch!
But kiss; one kiss!-Rubies unparagon'd,
How dearly they do't!-'Tis her breathing that
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
Under these windows: White and azure, lac'd
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 duil upon her!
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
l'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'en
The treasure of her honour. No more.-To what end?
Why should I write this down, that's riveted,
Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late
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;

Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
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 sweet, 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 ameod.
[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 reason 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 daughWill she not forth? [ter t 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 it You tender to her; that you in all obey her, You were inspir'd to do those duties which Save when command to your dismission tends, And therein you are senseless. Clo.

Senseless? not so.

Enter a Messenger. Mess. 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 gooduess 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 need
To employ you towards this Roman.-Come,ourqueen.
[Exeunt Cym. Queen, Lords, and Mess.
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, yield up

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'd 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'd, Could be so rarely and exactly wrought, Since the true life on't was

Let it be granted, you have seen all this (and praise
Be given to your remembrance), the description
Of what is in her chamber, nothing saves
The wager you have laid.

Iach.
Then, if you can,
[Pulling out the Bracelet.
Be pale; I beg but leave to air this jewel: See !--
And now 'tis up again: It must be married
To that your diamond; I'll keep them.
Post.

Once more let me behold it: Is it that
Which I left with her?

Jove!

Iach. Sir I thank her), that: She stripp'd it from her arm; I see her yet; Her pretty action did outsell her gift, And yet enrich'd it too: She gave it me, and said, She priz'd it once.

Post. To send it me.

Iach.

May be, she pluck'd it off,

She writes so to you? doth she? Post. O, no, no, no; 'tis true. Cere, 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 !
Phi.
Have patience, sir,
And take your ring again; 'tis not yet won:
It may be probable, she lost it; or,
Who knows if one of her women, being corrupted,
Hath stolen it from her?

Post.

Very true; 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 [it? All sworn and honourable:-They indoc'd to steal And by a stranger?-No; he hath enjoy'd her: The cognizance of her incontinency

Never talk on't:

This is not strong enough to be believ'd Of one persuaded well of

Post.

She hath been colted by him.
Iach.

If you seek
For further satisfying, under her breast
(Worthy the pressing), lies a mole, right proud
Of that most delicate lodging: By my life,
I kiss'd it; and it gave me present hanger
To feed again, though full. You do remember
This stain upon her?

Post.
Ay, and it doth confirm
Another stain, as big as hell can hold,
Were there no more but it.

Iach.
Post. Spare your arithmetic: never count the turns;
Once, and a million!

Iach. Post.

Will you hear more ?

I'll be sworn,

No swearing. If you will swear you have not done't, you lie ; And I will kill thee, if thou dost deny Thou hast made me cuckold. Iach. 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.

I will deny nothing.

[Exit.

Quite besides The government of patience !--You have won: Let's follow him, and pervert the present wrath He hath against himself. Iach. 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 a:l;
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,
Aud pray'd me, oft, forbearance: did it with
A pudency so rosy, the sweet view on't
[her
Might well have warm'd old Saturn; that I thought
As chaste as unsunn'd snow-O, all the devils!
This yellow Tachimo, in an hour,-was't not?-
Or less,-at first: Perchance he spoke not; but,
Like a full-acorn'd boar, a German one,
Cry'd, oh! and mounted: found no opposition
But what he look'd for should oppose, and she
Should from encounter guard. Could 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;
Lust and rank thoughts, hers; revenges, 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 stil
One vice, but of a minute old, for one
Not half so old as that. I'll write against them,
Detest them, 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.

Cym. Now say, what would AugustusCæsar 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, Cassibelan, thine uncle, (Famons in Caesar's praises, no whit less Than in his feats deserving it), for him, And his succession, granted Rome a tribute,

Is left untender'd.

There be many Cæsars,

Ere such another Julius. Britain is

A world by itself; and we will nothing pay, For wearing our own noses.

Queen.

That opportunity, Which then they had to take from us, to resume We have again.-Remember, sir, my liege, The kings your ancestors; together with The natural bravery of your isle; which stands As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in With rocks unscaleable, and roaring waters; With sands, that will not bear your enemies' boats, But suck them up to the top-mast. A kind of conquest Cæsar made here: but made not here his brag, Of, came, and saw, and overcame with shame (The first that ever touch'd him), he was carried From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping (Poor ignorant baubles !) on our terrible seas, Like egg-shells mov'd upon their surges, crack'd As easily against our rocks: For joy whereof, The fam'd Cassibelan, who was once at point (0, giglot fortune!) to master Cæsar's sword, Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright, And Britons strut with courage.

Clo. Come, there's no more tribute to be paid: Our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time; and, as I said, there is no more such Cæsars: other of them may have crooked noses; but, to owe such straight arms, none.

Cym. Son, let your mother end. Clo. We have yet many among us can gripe as hard as Cassibelan: I do not say, I am one; but I have a hand.-Why tribute? why should we pay tribute?

If Cæsar can hide the sun from us with a blanket, or put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for light; else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now. Cym. You must know,

Till the injurious Romans did extort

This tribute from us, we were free: Caesar's ambition
(Which swell'd so much, that it did almost stretch
The sides o'the world), against all colour, here
Did put the yoke upon us; which to shake off,
Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon
Ourselves to be. We do say then to Caesar,
Our ancestor was that Mulmutius, which
Ordain'd our laws (whose use the sword of Cæsar
Hath too much mangled; whose repair, and franchise,
Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed,
Though Rome be therefore angry); Malmutius,
Who was the first of Britain, which did put
His brows within a golden crown, and call'd
Himself a king.

Luc.

I am sorry, Cymbeline, That I am to pronounce Augustus Cæsar (Cæsar, that hath more kings his servants, than Thyself domestic officers), thine enemy: Receive it from me, then :-War, and confusion, In Caesar's name pronounce I 'gainst thee: look For fury not to be resisted :-Thus defied, I thank thee for myself. Cym. Thou art welcome, Caius. Thy Cæsar knighted me; my youth I spent Much under him; of him I gather'd honour; Which he, to seek of me again, perforce, Behoves me keep at utterance; I am perfect, That the Pannonians and Dalmatians, for Their liberties, are now in arms: a precedent Which, not to read, would show the Britons cold: So Cæsar shall not find them. Luc.

She's punish'd for her truth; and undergoes,
More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults
As would take in some virtue.-O, my master!
Thy mind to her is now as low, as were

Thy fortunes.-How! that I should murder her?
Upon the love, and truth, and vows, which I
Have made to thy command ?-I, her?-her blood?
If it be so to do good service, never

Let me be counted serviceable. How look I,
That I should seem to lack humanity,

So much as this fact comes to? Do't: the letter
[Reading.

That I have sent her, by her own command
Shall give thee opportunity:-O damn'd paper!
Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble,
Art thou a feodary for this act, and look'st
So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes.
Enter Imogen.

I am ignorant in what I am commanded.
Imo. How now, Pisanio?

Pis. Madam, here is a letter from my lord.
Imo. Who? thy lord? that is my lord? Leonatus ?
O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer,
That knew the stars, as I his characters;
He'd lay the future open.-You good gods,
Let what is here contain'd relish of love,
Of my lord's health, of his content,-yet not,
That we two are asunder, let that grieve him,-
(Some griefs are med'cinable ;) that is one of them,
For it doth physic love;-of his content,
All but in that!-Good wax, thy leave:-Bless'd be
You bees, that make these locks of counsel! Lovers,

and men in dangerous bonds, pray not alike; Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet You clasp young Cupid's tables.-Good news, gods!

[Reads.

Justice, and your father's wrath, should he take me in his dominion, could not be so cruel to me, as you, O the dearest of creatures, would not even renew me with your eyes. Take notice, that I am in Cambria, at Milford-Haven. What your own love will, out of this, advise you, follow. So, he wishes you all happiness, that remains loyal to his vow, and your increasing in love, LEONATUS POSTHUMUS. O, for a horse with wings!-Hear'st thou, Pisanio? He is at Milford-Haven: Read, and tell me How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs May plod it in a week, why may not I Glide thither in a day -Then, true Pisanio (Who long'st, like me, to see thy lord; who long'st,O, let me 'bate,-but not like me:-yet long'st,But in a fainter kind :-0, not like me;

For mine's beyond beyond), say, and speak thick
(Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing,
To the smothering of the sense), how far it is
To this same blessed Milford: And, by the way,
Tell me how Wales was made so happy, as
To inherit such a haven But, first of all,
How we may steal from hence; and, for the gap
That we shall make in time, from our hence-going,
And our return, to excuse :--but first, how get hence:
Why should excuse be born or ere begot ?
We'll talk of that hereafter. Pr'ythee, speak,
How many score of miles may we well ride
"Twixt hour and hour?

Luc. So, sir.

[Exeunt.

SCENE 11. Another Room in the same.
Enter Pisanio.

Pis. How! of adultery? Wherefore write you not
What monster's her accuser ?-Leonatus!
O, master! what a strange infection
Is fallen into thy ear? What false Italian
(As poisonous-tongu'd, as handed), hath prevail'd

SCENE III.

[Exeunt.

Wales. A mountainous Country, with a Cave. Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus. Bel. A goodly day not to keep house, with such Whose roof's as low as ours! Stoop, boys: This gate Instructs you how to adore the heavens; and bows you To morning's holy office: The gates of monarchs