Cymbeline - William Shakespeare (icecream ebook reader .TXT) 📗

or his description
Prov'd us unspeaking sots.

CYMBELINE.
Nay, nay, to th' purpose.

IACHIMO.
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's 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's 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 similar 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, -
O 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 -

POSTHUMUS.

[Advancing.]

Ay, so thou dost,
Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool,
Egregious murderer, thief, anything
That's due to all the villains past, in being,
To come! O, 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 caused 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 'twas! O Imogen
My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen!

IMOGEN.
Peace, my lord; hear, hear -

POSTHUMUS.
Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful page,
There lies thy part.

[Striking her; she falls.]

PISANIO.
O gentlemen, help
Mine and your mistress! O, my lord Posthumus!
You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now. Help, help!
Mine honour'd lady!

CYMBELINE.
Does the world go round?

POSTHUMUS.
How comes these staggers on me?

PISANIO.
Wake, my mistress!

CYMBELINE.
If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me
To death with mortal joy.

PISANIO.
How fares my mistress?

IMOGEN.
O, get thee from my sight;
Thou gav'st me poison. Dangerous fellow, hence!
Breathe not where princes are.

CYMBELINE.
The tune of Imogen!

PISANIO.
Lady,
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.

CYMBELINE.
New matter still?

IMOGEN.
It poison'd me.

CORNELIUS.
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."

CYMBELINE.
What's this, Cornelius?

CORNELIUS.
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?

IMOGEN.
Most like I did, for I was dead.

BELARIUS.
My boys,
There was our error.

GUIDERIUS.
This is, sure, Fidele.

IMOGEN.
Why did you throw your wedded lady from you?
Think that you are upon a rock, and now
Throw me again.

[Embracing him.]

POSTHUMUS.
Hang there like fruit, my soul,
Till the tree die!

CYMBELINE.
How now, my flesh, my child!
What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act?
Wilt thou not speak to me?

IMOGEN.

[Kneeling.]

Your blessing, sir.

BELARIUS.

[To GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS.]

Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not;
You had a motive for't.

CYMBELINE.
My tears that fall
Prove holy water on thee! Imogen,
Thy mother's dead.

IMOGEN.
I am sorry for't, my lord.

CYMBELINE.
O, she was naught; and long of her it was
That we meet here so strangely; but her son
Is gone, we know not how nor where.

PISANIO.
My lord,
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 enforc'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.

GUIDERIUS.
Let me end the story:
I slew him there.

CYMBELINE.
Marry, the gods forfend!
I would not thy good deeds should from my lips
Pluck a hard sentence. Prithee, valiant youth,
Deny't again.

GUIDERIUS.
I have spoke it, and I did it.

CYMBELINE.
He was a prince.

GUIDERIUS.
A most incivil one. The wrongs he did me
Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me
With language that would make me spurn the sea,
If it could so roar to me. I cut off's head;
And am right glad he is not standing here
To tell this tale of mine.

CYMBELINE.
I am sorry for thee.
By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must
Endure our law. Thou'rt dead.

IMOGEN.
That headless man
I thought had been my lord.

CYMBELINE.
Bind the offender,
And take him from our presence.

BELARIUS.
Stay, sir King;
This man is better than the man he slew,
As well descended as thyself; and hath
More of thee merited than a band of Clotens
Had ever scar for.

[To the Guard.]

Let his arms alone;
They were not born for bondage.

CYMBELINE.
Why, old soldier,
Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for,
By tasting of our wrath? How of descent
As good as we?

ARVIRAGUS.
In that he spake too far.

CYMBELINE.
And thou shalt die for't.

BELARIUS.
We will die all three
But I will prove that two on's 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.

ARVIRAGUS.
Your danger's ours.

GUIDERIUS.
And our good his.

BELARIUS.
Have at it then, by leave.
Thou hadst, great King, a subject who
Was call'd Belarius.

CYMBELINE.
What of him? He is
A banish'd traitor.

BELARIUS.
He it is that hath
Assum'd this age, indeed a banish'd man;
I know not how a traitor.

CYMBELINE.
Take him hence,
The whole world shall not save him.

BELARIUS.
Not too hot.
First pay me for the nursing of thy sons;
And let it be confiscate all so soon
As I have receiv'd it.

CYMBELINE.
Nursing of my sons!

BELARIUS.
I am too blunt and saucy; here's my knee.
Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons;
Then spare not the old father. Mighty sir,
These two young gentlemen, that call me father,
And think they are my sons, are none of mine;
They are the issue of your loins, my liege,
And blood of your begetting.

CYMBELINE.
How! my issue!

BELARIUS.
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
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,
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.

CYMBELINE.
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.

BELARIUS.
Be pleas'd awhile.
This gentleman, whom I call Polydore,
Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius;
This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus,
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.

CYMBELINE.
Guiderius had
Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star;
It was a mark of wonder.

BELARIUS.
This is he,
Who hath upon him still that natural stamp.
It was wise Nature's end in the donation,
To be his evidence now.

CYMBELINE.
O, what, am I
A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother
Rejoic'd deliverance more. Blest pray you be,
That, after this strange starting from your orbs,
You may reign in them now! O Imogen,
Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.

IMOGEN.
No, my lord;
I have got two worlds by 't. O my gentle brothers,
Have we thus met? O, never say hereafter
But I am truest speaker. You call'd me brother,
When I was but your sister; I you brothers,
When ye were so indeed.

CYMBELINE.
Did you e'er meet?

ARVIRAGUS.
Ay, my good lord.

GUIDERIUS.
And at first meeting lov'd;
Continu'd so, until we thought he died.

CORNELIUS.
By the Queen's dram she swallow'd.

CYMBELINE.
O 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 inter'gatories. 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.

[To BELARIUS.]

Thou art my brother; so we'll hold thee ever.

IMOGEN.