| ACT I SCENE I | Britain. The garden of Cymbeline's palace. | |
| | Enter two Gentlemen. | |
| First Gentleman | You do not meet a man but frowns: our bloods | |
| | No more obey the heavens than our courtiers | |
| | Still seem as does the king. | |
| Second Gentleman | But what's the matter? |
| First Gentleman | His daughter, and the heir of's kingdom, whom | |
| | He purposed to his wife's sole son--a widow | |
| | That late he married--hath referr'd herself | |
| | Unto a poor but worthy gentleman: she's wedded; | |
| | Her husband banish'd; she imprison'd: all |
| | Is outward sorrow; though I think the king | |
| | Be touch'd at very heart. | |
| Second Gentleman | None but the king? | 10 |
| First Gentleman | He that hath lost her too; so is the queen, | |
| | That most desired the match; but not a courtier, |
| | Although they wear their faces to the bent | |
| | Of the king's look's, hath a heart that is not | |
| | Glad at the thing they scowl at. | |
| Second Gentleman | And why so? | |
| First Gentleman | He that hath miss'd the princess is a thing |
| | Too bad for bad report: and he that hath her-- | |
| | I mean, that married her, alack, good man!
| |
| | And therefore banish'd--is a creature such | |
| | As, to seek through the regions of the earth | 20 |
| | For one his like, there would be something failing |
| | In him that should compare. I do not think | |
| | So fair an outward and such stuff within | |
| | Endows a man but he. | |
| Second Gentleman | You speak him far. | |
| First Gentleman | I do extend him, sir, within himself, |
| | Crush him together rather than unfold | |
| | His measure duly. | |
| Second Gentleman | What's his name and birth? | |
| First Gentleman | I cannot delve him to the root: his father | |
| | Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour |
| | Against the Romans with Cassibelan, | 30 |
| | But had his titles by Tenantius whom | |
| | He served with glory and admired success, | |
| | So gain'd the sur-addition Leonatus; | |
| | And had, besides this gentleman in question, |
| | Two other sons, who in the wars o' the time | |
| | Died with their swords in hand; for which | |
| | their father, | |
| | Then old and fond of issue, took such sorrow | |
| | That he quit being, and his gentle lady, |
| | Big of this gentleman our theme, deceased | |
| | As he was born. The king he takes the babe | 40 |
| | To his protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus, | |
| | Breeds him and makes him of his bed-chamber, | |
| | Puts to him all the learnings that his time |
| | Could make him the receiver of; which he took, | |
| | As we do air, fast as 'twas minister'd, | |
| | And in's spring became a harvest, lived in court-- | |
| | Which rare it is to do--most praised, most loved, | |
| | A sample to the youngest, to the more mature |
| | A glass that feated them, and to the graver | |
| | A child that guided dotards; to his mistress, | 50 |
| | For whom he now is banish'd, her own price | |
| | Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue; | |
| | By her election may be truly read |
| | What kind of man he is. | |
| Second Gentleman | I honour him | |
| | Even out of your report. But, pray you, tell me, | |
| | Is she sole child to the king? | |
| First Gentleman | His only child. |
| | He had two sons: if this be worth your hearing, | |
| | Mark it: the eldest of them at three years old, | |
| | I' the swathing-clothes the other, from their nursery | |
| | Were stol'n, and to this hour no guess in knowledge | 60 |
| | Which way they went. |
| Second Gentleman | How long is this ago? | |
| First Gentleman | Some twenty years. | |
| Second Gentleman | That a king's children should be so convey'd! | |
| | So slackly guarded! and the search so slow, | |
| | That could not trace them! |
| First Gentleman | Howsoe'er 'tis strange, | |
| | Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at, | |
| | Yet is it true, sir. | |
| Second Gentleman | I do well believe you. | |
| First Gentleman | We must forbear: here comes the gentleman, |
| | The queen, and princess. | |
| | Exeunt | |
| | Enter the QUEEN, POSTHUMUS LEONATUS, and IMOGEN. | |
| QUEEN | No, be assured you shall not find me, daughter, | 70 |
| | After the slander of most stepmothers, | |
| | Evil-eyed unto you: you're my prisoner, but | |
| | Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys |
| | That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus, | |
| | So soon as I can win the offended king, | |
| | I will be known your advocate: marry, yet | |
| | The fire of rage is in him, and 'twere good | |
| | You lean'd unto his sentence with what patience |
| | Your wisdom may inform you. | |
| POSTHUMUS LEONATUS | Please your highness, | |
| | I will from hence to-day. | |
| QUEEN | You know the peril. | 80 |
| | I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying |
| | The pangs of barr'd affections, though the king | |
| | Hath charged you should not speak together. | |
| | Exit | |
| IMOGEN | O dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant | |
| | Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband, |
| | I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing-- | |
| | Always reserved my holy duty--what | |
| | His rage can do on me: you must be gone; | |
| | And I shall here abide the hourly shot | |
| | Of angry eyes, not comforted to live, | 90 |
| | But that there is this jewel in the world | |
| | That I may see again. | |
| POSTHUMUS LEONATUS | My queen! my mistress! | |
| | O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause | |
| | To be suspected of more tenderness |
| | Than doth become a man. I will remain | |
| | The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth: | |
| | My residence in Rome at one Philario's, | |
| | Who to my father was a friend, to me | |
| | Known but by letter: thither write, my queen, |
| | And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send, | 100 |
| | Though ink be made of gall. | |
| | Re-enter QUEEN. | |
| QUEEN | Be brief, I pray you: | |
| | If the king come, I shall incur I know not | |
| | How much of his displeasure. |
| | Aside | |
| | Yet I'll move him | |
| | To walk this way: I never do him wrong, | |
| | But he does buy my injuries, to be friends; | |
| | Pays dear for my offences. | |
| | Exit. | |
| POSTHUMUS LEONATUS | Should we be taking leave |
| | As long a term as yet we have to live, | |
| | The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu! | |
| IMOGEN | Nay, stay a little: | |
| | Were you but riding forth to air yourself, | 110 |
| | Such parting were too petty. Look here, love; |
| | This diamond was my mother's: take it, heart; | |
| | But keep it till you woo another wife, | |
| | When Imogen is dead. | |
| POSTHUMUS LEONATUS | How, how! another? | |
| | You gentle gods, give me but this I have, |
| | And sear up my embracements from a next | |
| | With bonds of death! | |
| | [ Putting on the ring. ] | |
| | Remain, remain thou here | |
| | While sense can keep it on. And, sweetest, fairest, | |
| | As I my poor self did exchange for you, |
| | To your so infinite loss, so in our trifles | 120 |
| | I still win of you: for my sake wear this; | |
| | It is a manacle of love; I'll place it | |
| | Upon this fairest prisoner. | |
| | [ Putting a bracelet upon her arm. ] | |
| IMOGEN | O the gods! |
| | When shall we see again? | |
| | Enter CYMBELINE and Lords. | |
| POSTHUMUS LEONATUS | Alack, the king! | |
| CYMBELINE | Thou basest thing, avoid! hence, from my sight! | |
| | If after this command thou fraught the court | |
| | With thy unworthiness, thou diest: away! |
| | Thou'rt poison to my blood. | |
| POSTHUMUS LEONATUS | The gods protect you! | |
| | And bless the good remainders of the court! I am gone. | |
| | Exit | |
| IMOGEN | There cannot be a pinch in death | 130 |
| | More sharp than this is. |
| CYMBELINE | O disloyal thing, | |
| | That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap'st | |
| | A year's age on me. | |
| IMOGEN | I beseech you, sir, | |
| | Harm not yourself with your vexation |
| | I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare | |
| | Subdues all pangs, all fears. | |
| CYMBELINE | Past grace? obedience? | |
| IMOGEN | Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace. | |
| CYMBELINE | That mightst have had the sole son of my queen! |
| IMOGEN | O blest, that I might not! I chose an eagle, | |
| | And did avoid a puttock. | 140 |
| CYMBELINE | Thou took'st a beggar; wouldst have made my throne | |
| | A seat for baseness. | |
| IMOGEN | No; I rather added |
| | A lustre to it. | |
| CYMBELINE | O thou vile one! | |
| IMOGEN | Sir, | |
| | It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus: | |
| | You bred him as my playfellow, and he is |
| | A man worth any woman, overbuys me | |
| | Almost the sum he pays. | |
| CYMBELINE | What, art thou mad? | |
| IMOGEN | Almost, sir: heaven restore me! Would I were | |
| | A neat-herd's daughter, and my Leonatus |
| | Our neighbour shepherd's son! | |
| CYMBELINE | Thou foolish thing! | 150 |
| | Re-enter QUEEN. | |
| | They were again together: you have done | |
| | Not after our command. Away with her, | |
| | And pen her up. |
| QUEEN | Beseech your patience. Peace, | |
| | Dear lady daughter, peace! Sweet sovereign, | |
| | Leave us to ourselves; and make yourself some comfort | |
| | Out of your best advice. | |
| CYMBELINE | Nay, let her languish |
| | A drop of blood a day; and, being aged, | |
| | Die of this folly! | |
| | Exeunt CYMBELINE and Lords. | |
| QUEEN | Fie! you must give way. | |
| | Enter PISANIO. | |
| | Here is your servant. How now, sir! What news? | |
| PISANIO | My lord your son drew on my master. |
| QUEEN | Ha! | 160 |
| | No harm, I trust, is done? | |
| PISANIO | There might have been, | |
| | But that my master rather play'd than fought | |
| | And had no help of anger: they were parted |
| | By gentlemen at hand. | |
| QUEEN | I am very glad on't. | |
| IMOGEN | Your son's my father's friend; he takes his part. | |
| | To draw upon an exile! O brave sir! | |
| | I would they were in Afric both together; |
| | Myself by with a needle, that I might prick | |
| | The goer-back. Why came you from your master? | |
| PISANIO | On his command: he would not suffer me | 170 |
| | To bring him to the haven; left these notes | |
| | Of what commands I should be subject to, |
| | When 't pleased you to employ me. | |
| QUEEN | This hath been | |
| | Your faithful servant: I dare lay mine honour | |
| | He will remain so. | |
| PISANIO | I humbly thank your highness. |
| QUEEN | Pray, walk awhile. | |
| IMOGEN | About some half-hour hence, | |
| | I pray you, speak with me: you shall at least | |
| | Go see my lord aboard: for this time leave me. | |
| | Exeunt | |