Cymbeline Read online

  But suck them up to th’topmast.25 A kind of conquest

  Caesar made here, but made not here his brag

  Of ‘came, and saw, and overcame’27: with shame —

  The first that ever touched him — he was carried

  From off our coast, twice beaten: and his shipping —

  Poor ignorant baubles30 — on our terrible seas

  Like eggshells moved upon their surges, cracked

  As easily gainst our rocks. For joy whereof

  The famed Cassibelan, who was once at point33—

  O giglot fortune! — to master34 Caesar’s sword,

  Made Lud’s town35 with rejoicing fires bright,

  And Britons strut with courage.

  CLOTEN 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 Caesars. Other of them may have

  crooked noses, but to owe such straight40 arms, none.

  CYMBELINE Son, let your mother end.

  CLOTEN We have yet many among us can grip42 as hard as

  Cassibelan: I do not say I am one, but I have a hand. Why

  tribute? Why should we pay tribute? If Caesar can hide the

  sun from us with a blanket, or put the moon in his pocket, we

  will pay him tribute for light: else46, sir, no more tribute, pray

  you now.

  To Lucius

  CYMBELINE You must know,

  Till the injurious49 Romans did extort

  This tribute from us, we were free. Caesar’s ambition,

  Which swelled so much that it did almost stretch

  The sides o’th’world, against all colour52 here

  Did put the yoke upon’s; which to shake off

  Becomes54 a warlike people, whom we reckon

  Ourselves to be. We do say then to Caesar,

  Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which56

  Ordained our laws, whose use57 the sword of Caesar

  Hath too much mangled, whose repair and franchise58

  Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed,

  Though Rome be therefore angry. Mulmutius made our laws

  Who was the first of Britain which did put

  His brows within a golden crown and called

  Himself a king.

  LUCIUS    I am sorry, Cymbeline,

  That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar —

  Caesar, that hath more kings his servants than

  Thyself domestic officers — thine enemy:

  Receive it from me, then. War and confusion68

  In Caesar’s name pronounce69 I gainst thee: look

  For fury not to be resisted. Thus defied70,

  I thank thee for myself.

  CYMBELINE    Thou art welcome, Caius.

  Thy Caesar knighted me; my youth I spent

  Much under him: of him I gathered honour,

  Which he to seek of me again, perforce75,

  Behoves me keep at utterance. I am perfect76

  That the Pannonians and Dalmatians77 for

  Their liberties are now in arms, a precedent78

  Which not to read would show the Britons cold79:

  So Caesar shall not find them.

  LUCIUS    Let proof speak.81

  CLOTEN    His majesty bids you welcome. Make pastime82 with

  us a day or two, or longer: if you seek us afterwards in other

  terms, you shall find us in our saltwater girdle84: if you beat us

  out of it, it is yours: if you fall in the adventure, our crows85

  shall fare the better for you: and there’s an end.

  LUCIUS    So87, sir.

  CYMBELINE    I know your master’s pleasure88, and he mine:

  All the remain89 is ‘Welcome’.

  Exeunt

  Act 3 Scene 2

  running scene 7 continues

  Enter Pisanio, reading of a letter

  PISANIO    How? Of adultery? Wherefore1 write you not

  What monster’s her accuser? Leonatus,

  O master, what a strange infection

  Is fall’n into thy ear! What false Italian,

  As poisonous-tongued as handed5, hath prevailed

  On thy too ready hearing? Disloyal? No.

  She’s punished for her truth, and undergoes7,

  More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults

  As would take in some virtue.9 O my master,

  Thy mind to her is now as low as were

  Thy fortunes. How? That I should murder her,

  Upon12 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

  Reads

  So much as this fact17 comes to? ‘Do’t: the letter

  That I have sent her, by her own command

  Shall give thee opportunity.’ O damned paper,

  Black as the ink that’s on thee! Senseless bauble20,

  Art thou a fedary21 for this act, and look’st

  So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes.

  Enter Innogen

  I am ignorant in23 what I am commanded.

  INNOGEN    How now, Pisanio?

  PISANIO    Madam, here is a letter from my lord.

  INNOGEN    Who, thy lord? That is my lord, Leonatus!

  O, learned indeed were that astronomer27

  That knew the stars as I his characters28 —

  He’d lay the future open. You good gods,

  Let what is here contained relish30 of love,

  Of my lord’s health, of his content: yet not31

  That we two are asunder, let that grieve him;

  Some griefs are med’cinable33, that is one of them,

  For it doth physic love34: of his content,

  All but in that. Good wax, thy leave35: blest be

  Opens the seal

  You bees that make these locks of counsel!36 Lovers

  And men in dangerous bonds pray not alike:

  Though forfeiters38 you cast in prison, yet

  You clasp young Cupid’s tables.39 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 even renew42 me with your eyes. Take

  notice that I am in Cambria, at Milford Haven43: 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 affairs49

  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 bate53 — but not like me: yet long’st

  But in a fainter kind.54 O, not like me,

  For mine’s beyond, beyond: say, and speak thick55 —

  Love’s counsellor should fill the bores of hearing56,

  To th’smothering57 of the sense — how far it is

  To this same blessèd Milford. And by th’way58

  Tell me how Wales was made so happy as

  T’inherit such a haven. But first of all,

  How we may steal61 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.63

  Why should excuse be born or e’er begot?64

  We’ll talk of that hereafter. Prithee, speak,

  How many score of miles may we
well66 ride

  ’Twixt hour and hour?67

  PISANIO    One score ’twixt sun and sun68,

  Madam, ’s enough for you: and too much too.

  INNOGEN    Why, one that rode to’s execution, man,

  Could never go so slow: I have heard of riding wagers71,

  Where horses have been nimbler than the sands

  That run i’th’clock’s behalf.73 But this is foolery:

  Go, bid my woman feign74 a sickness, say

  She’ll home to her father; and provide me presently75

  A riding-suit, no costlier than would fit76

  A franklin77’s housewife.

  PISANIO    Madam, you’re best78 consider.

  INNOGEN    I see before me, man: nor79 here, nor here,

  Nor what ensues, but80 have a fog in them

  That I cannot look through. Away, I prithee,

  Do as I bid thee: there’s no more to say:

  Accessible is none83 but Milford way.

  Exeunt

  Act 3 Scene 3

  running scene 8

  Enter Belarius, Guiderius and Arviragus

  From their cave

  BELARIUS    A goodly day not to keep house with such1

  Whose roof’s as low as ours. Stoop, boys: this gate2

  Instructs you how t’adore the heavens3, and bows you

  To a morning’s holy office.4 The gates of monarchs

  Are arched so high that giants may jet5 through

  And keep their impious turbans6 on, without

  Good morrow to the sun. Hail, thou fair heaven!

  We house i’th’rock, yet use thee not so hardly8

  As prouder livers9 do.

  GUIDERIUS    Hail, heaven!

  ARVIRAGUS    Hail, heaven!

  BELARIUS    Now for our mountain sport. Up to yond hill,

  Your legs are young: I’ll tread these flats.13 Consider,

  When you above perceive me like a crow,

  That it is place which lessens and sets off15,

  And you may then revolve16 what tales I have told you

  Of courts, of princes, of the tricks17 in war.

  This service is not service, so being done,

  But being so allowed. To apprehend thus19

  Draws us a profit from all things we see:

  And often, to our comfort, shall we find

  The sharded beetle in a safer hold22

  Than is the full-winged eagle. O, this life

  Is nobler than attending for a check24,

  Richer than doing nothing for a robe25,

  Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk:

  Such gain the cap of him that makes ’em fine27,

  Yet keeps his book uncrossed: no life to28 ours.

  GUIDERIUS    Out of your proof you speak: we poor unfledged29

  Have never winged from view o’th’nest, nor know not

  What air’s from home. Haply31 this life is best,

  If quiet life be best: sweeter to you

  That have a sharper known, well corresponding

  With your stiff34 age; but unto us it is

  A cell of ignorance, travelling abed35,

  A prison for a debtor that not dares

  To stride a limit.37

  ARVIRAGUS    What should we speak of

  When we are old as you? When we shall hear

  The rain and wind beat dark December, how,

  In this our pinching41 cave, shall we discourse

  The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing:

  We are beastly43: subtle as the fox for prey,

  Like44 warlike as the wolf for what we eat:

  Our valour is to chase what flies45: our cage

  We make a choir, as doth the prisoned bird,

  And sing our bondage freely.

  BELARIUS    How you speak!

  Did you but know the city’s usuries49,

  And felt them knowingly: the art50 o’th’court,

  As hard to leave as keep51, whose top to climb

  Is certain falling, or so slipp’ry that

  The fear’s as bad as falling: the toil o’th’war,

  A pain54 that only seems to seek out danger

  I’th’name of fame and honour, which dies i’th’search,

  And hath as oft56 a sland’rous epitaph

  As record of fair act.57 Nay, many times

  Doth ill deserve58 by doing well: what’s worse,

  Must curtsy at the censure.59 O boys, this story

  The world may read in me: my body’s marked

  With Roman swords, and my report61 was once

  First with the best of note.62 Cymbeline loved me,

  And when a soldier was the theme63, my name

  Was not far off: then was I as64 a tree

  Whose boughs did bend with fruit. But in one night,

  A storm, or robbery — call it what you will —

  Shook down my mellow hangings67, nay, my leaves,

  And left me bare to weather.68

  GUIDERIUS    Uncertain favour!69

  BELARIUS    My fault being nothing — as I have told you oft —

  But that two villains, whose false oaths prevailed

  Before my perfect72 honour, swore to Cymbeline

  I was confederate with the Romans: so

  Followed my banishment, and this74 twenty years

  This rock and these demesnes75 have been my world

  Where I have lived at76 honest freedom, paid

  More pious debts to heaven than in all

  The fore-end of my time.78 But up to th’mountains!

  This is not hunters’ language. He that strikes

  The venison80 first shall be the lord o’th’feast,

  To him the other two shall minister81,

  And we will fear no poison, which attends82

  In place of greater state. I’ll meet you in the valleys.

  Exeunt [Guid. and Arv.]

  How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature!84

  These boys know little they are sons to th’king,

  Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive.

  They think they are mine, and though trained up thus meanly87

  I’th’cave wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit88

  The roofs of palaces and nature prompts them

  In simple and low things to prince it90 much

  Beyond the trick91 of others. This Polydore,

  The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, who

  The king his father called Guiderius — Jove!

  When on my three-foot94 stool I sit, and tell

  The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out

  Into my story: say96 ‘Thus mine enemy fell,

  And thus I set my foot on’s neck’, even then

  The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats,

  Strains his young nerves99, and puts himself in posture

  That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal,

  Once Arviragus, in as like a figure101

  Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more102

  A horn sounds

  His own conceiving. Hark, the game is roused!103

  O Cymbeline, heaven and my conscience knows

  Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon105,

  At three and two years old, I stole these babes,

  Thinking to bar thee of succession107, as

  Thou reft’st108 me of my lands. Euriphile,

  Thou wast their nurse109, they took thee for their mother,

  And every day do honour to her110 grave:

  Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan called,

  They take for natural father. The game is up.

  Exit

  Act 3 Scene 4

  running scene 9

  Enter Pisanio and Innogen

  Innogen in a riding-suit

  INNOGEN    Thou told’st me when we came from horse1 the place<
br />
  Was near at hand: ne’er longed my mother so2

  To see me first as I have now. Pisanio, man,

  Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind

  That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh

  From th’inward of thee? One but painted thus6

  Would be interpreted a thing perplexed7

  Beyond self-explication. Put thyself8

  Into a ’haviour of less fear, ere9 wildness

  Vanquish my staider10 senses. What’s the matter?

  Why tender’st thou that paper11 to me with

  A look untender? If’t be summer12 news,

  Smile to’t before: if winterly13, thou need’st

  But keep that count’nance still. My husband’s hand?14

  That drug-damned Italy hath out-craftied15 him,

  And he’s at some hard point. Speak, man, thy tongue16

  May take off some extremity, which to read

  Would be even mortal18 to me.

  PISANIO    Please you read,

  And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing

  The most disdained of fortune.

  INNOGEN    Reads ‘Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the

  strumpet in my bed: the testimonies whereof lies bleeding in23

  me. I speak not out of weak surmises, but from proof as

  strong as my grief25, and as certain as I expect my revenge.

  That part thou, Pisanio, must act for me, if thy faith be not

  tainted27 with the breach of hers; let thine own hands take

  away her life: I shall give thee opportunity at Milford Haven.

  She hath my letter for the purpose: where, if thou fear to

  strike, and to make me certain it is done, thou art the pander30

  to her dishonour, and equally to me disloyal.’

  Aside

  PISANIO    What32 shall I need to draw my sword? The paper

  Hath cut her throat already. No, ’tis slander,

  Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue

  Outvenoms all the worms of Nile35, whose breath

  Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie36

  All corners of the world. Kings, queens and states37,

  Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave

  This viperous slander enters. What cheer, madam?

  INNOGEN    False to his bed? What is it to be false?

  To lie in watch there, and to think on him?

  To weep ’twixt clock and clock? If sleep charge42 nature,

  To break it with a fearful dream of him,

  And cry myself awake? That’s false to’s bed, is it?