| ACT III SCENE V | A room in Cymbeline's palace. | |
| | Enter CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN, LUCIUS, Lords, and Attendants. | |
| CYMBELINE | Thus far; and so farewell. | |
| CAIUS LUCIUS | Thanks, royal sir. | |
| | My emperor hath wrote, I must from hence; | |
| | And am right sorry that I must report ye | 5 |
| | My master's enemy. | |
| CYMBELINE | Our subjects, sir, | |
| | Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself | |
| | To show less sovereignty than they, must needs | |
| | Appear unkinglike. | 10 |
| CAIUS LUCIUS | So, sir: I desire of you | |
| | A conduct over-land to Milford-Haven. | |
| | Madam, all joy befal your grace! | |
| QUEEN | And you! | |
| CYMBELINE | My lords, you are appointed for that office; | 15 |
| | The due of honour in no point omit. | |
| | So farewell, noble Lucius. | |
| CAIUS LUCIUS | Your hand, my lord. | |
| CLOTEN | Receive it friendly; but from this time forth | |
| | I wear it as your enemy. | 20 |
| CAIUS LUCIUS | Sir, the event | |
| | Is yet to name the winner: fare you well. | |
| CYMBELINE | Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords, | |
| | Till he have cross'd the Severn. Happiness! | |
| | Exeunt LUCIUS and Lords. | |
| QUEEN | He goes hence frowning: but it honours us | 25 |
| | That we have given him cause. | |
| CLOTEN | 'Tis all the better; | |
| | Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it. | |
| CYMBELINE | Lucius hath wrote already to the emperor | |
| | How it goes here. It fits us therefore ripely | 30 |
| | Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness: | |
| | The powers that he already hath in Gallia | |
| | Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves | |
| | His war for Britain. | |
| QUEEN | 'Tis not sleepy business; | 35 |
| | But must be look'd to speedily and strongly. | |
| CYMBELINE | Our expectation that it would be thus | |
| | Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen, | |
| | Where is our daughter? She hath not appear'd | |
| | Before the Roman, nor to us hath tender'd | 40 |
| | The duty of the day: she looks us like | |
| | A thing more made of malice than of duty: | |
| | We have noted it. Call her before us; for | |
| | We have been too slight in sufferance. | |
| | Exit an Attendant. | |
| QUEEN | Royal sir, | 45 |
| | Since the exile of Posthumus, most retired | |
| | Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord, | |
| | 'Tis time must do. Beseech your majesty, | |
| | Forbear sharp speeches to her: she's a lady | |
| | So tender of rebukes that words are strokes | 50 |
| | And strokes death to her. | |
| | Re-enter Attendant. | |
| CYMBELINE | Where is she, sir? How | |
| | Can her contempt be answer'd? | |
| Attendant | Please you, sir, | |
| | Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer | 55 |
| | That will be given to the loudest noise we make. | |
| QUEEN | My lord, when last I went to visit her, | |
| | She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close, | |
| | Whereto constrain'd by her infirmity, | |
| | She should that duty leave unpaid to you, | 60 |
| | Which daily she was bound to proffer: this | |
| | She wish'd me to make known; but our great court | |
| | Made me to blame in memory. | |
| CYMBELINE | Her doors lock'd? | |
| | Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that which I fear | 65 |
| | Prove false! | |
| | Exit | |
| QUEEN | Son, I say, follow the king. | |
| CLOTEN | That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant, | |
| | have not seen these two days. | |
| QUEEN | Go, look after. | 70 |
| | Exit CLOTEN | |
| | Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus! | |
| | He hath a drug of mine; I pray his absence | |
| | Proceed by swallowing that, for he believes | |
| | It is a thing most precious. But for her, | |
| | Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seized her, | 75 |
| | Or, wing'd with fervor of her love, she's flown | |
| | To her desired Posthumus: gone she is | |
| | To death or to dishonour; and my end | |
| | Can make good use of either: she being down, | |
| | I have the placing of the British crown. | 80 |
| | Re-enter CLOTEN. | |
| | How now, my son! | |
| CLOTEN | 'Tis certain she is fled. | |
| | Go in and cheer the king: he rages; none | |
| | Dare come about him. | |
| QUEEN | Aside. All the better; may | |
| | This night forestall him of the coming day! | 85 |
| | Exit Queen | |
| CLOTEN | I love and hate her: for she's fair and royal, | |
| | And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite | |
| | Than lady, ladies, woman; from every one | |
| | The best she hath, and she, of all compounded, | |
| | Outsells them all; I love her therefore: but | 90 |
| | Disdaining me and throwing favours on | |
| | The low Posthumus slanders so her judgment | |
| | That what's else rare is choked; and in that point | |
| | I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed, | |
| | To be revenged upon her. For when fools Shall-- | 95 |
| | Enter PISANIO. | |
| | Who is here? What, are you packing, sirrah? | |
| | Come hither: ah, you precious pander! Villain, | |
| | Where is thy lady? In a word; or else | |
| | Thou art straightway with the fiends. | |
| PISANIO | O, good my lord! | 100 |
| CLOTEN | Where is thy lady? Or, by Jupiter,-- | |
| | I will not ask again. Close villain, | |
| | I'll have this secret from thy heart, or rip | |
| | Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus? | |
| | From whose so many weights of baseness cannot | 105 |
| | A dram of worth be drawn. | |
| PISANIO | Alas, my lord, | |
| | How can she be with him? When was she missed? | |
| | He is in Rome. | |
| CLOTEN | Where is she, sir? Come nearer; | 110 |
| | No further halting: satisfy me home | |
| | What is become of her. | |
| PISANIO | O, my all-worthy lord! | |
| CLOTEN | All-worthy villain! | |
| | Discover where thy mistress is at once, | 115 |
| | At the next word: no more of 'worthy lord!' | |
| | Speak, or thy silence on the instant is | |
| | Thy condemnation and thy death. | |
| PISANIO | Then, sir, | |
| | This paper is the history of my knowledge | 120 |
| | Touching her flight. | |
| | Presenting a letter. | |
| CLOTEN | Let's see't. I will pursue her | |
| | Even to Augustus' throne. | |
| PISANIO | Aside. Or this, or perish. | |
| | She's far enough; and what he learns by this | |
| | May prove his travel, not her danger. | 125 |
| CLOTEN | Hum! | |
| PISANIO | Aside | |
| | Safe mayst thou wander, safe return again! | |
| CLOTEN | Sirrah, is this letter true? | |
| PISANIO | Sir, as I think. | |
| CLOTEN | It is Posthumus' hand; I know't. Sirrah, if thou | 130 |
| | wouldst not be a villain, but do me true service, | |
| | undergo those employments wherein I should have | |
| | cause to use thee with a serious industry, that is, | |
| | what villany soe'er I bid thee do, to perform it | |
| | directly and truly, I would think thee an honest | 135 |
| | man: thou shouldst neither want my means for thy | |
| | relief nor my voice for thy preferment. | |
| PISANIO | Well, my good lord. | |
| CLOTEN | Wilt thou serve me? for since patiently and | |
| | constantly thou hast stuck to the bare fortune of | 140 |
| | that beggar Posthumus, thou canst not, in the | |
| | course of gratitude, but be a diligent follower of | |
| | mine: wilt thou serve me? | |
| PISANIO | Sir, I will. | |
| CLOTEN | Give me thy hand; here's my purse. Hast any of thy | 145 |
| | late master's garments in thy possession? | |
| PISANIO | I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same suit he | |
| | wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress. | |
| CLOTEN | The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit | |
| | hither: let it be thy lint service; go. | 150 |
| PISANIO | I shall, my lord. | |
| | Exit | |
| CLOTEN | Meet thee at Milford-Haven!--I forgot to ask him one | |
| | thing; I'll remember't anon:--even there, thou | |
| | villain Posthumus, will I kill thee. I would these | |
| | garments were come. She said upon a time--the | 155 |
| | bitterness of it I now belch from my heart--that she | |
| | held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect | |
| | than my noble and natural person together with the | |
| | adornment of my qualities. With that suit upon my | |
| | back, will I ravish her: first kill him, and in her | 160 |
| | eyes; there shall she see my valour, which will then | |
| | be a torment to her contempt. He on the ground, my | |
| | speech of insultment ended on his dead body, and | |
| | when my lust hath dined,--which, as I say, to vex | |
| | her I will execute in the clothes that she so | 165 |
| | praised,--to the court I'll knock her back, foot | |
| | her home again. She hath despised me rejoicingly, | |
| | and I'll be merry in my revenge. | |
| | Re-enter PISANIO, with the clothes. | |
| | Be those the garments? | |
| PISANIO | Ay, my noble lord. | 170 |
| CLOTEN | How long is't since she went to Milford-Haven? | |
| PISANIO | She can scarce be there yet. | |
| CLOTEN | Bring this apparel to my chamber; that is the second | |
| | thing that I have commanded thee: the third is, | |
| | that thou wilt be a voluntary mute to my design. Be | 175 |
| | but duteous, and true preferment shall tender itself | |
| | to thee. My revenge is now at Milford: would I had | |
| | wings to follow it! Come, and be true. | |
| | Exit | |
| PISANIO | Thou bid'st me to my loss: for true to thee | |
| | Were to prove false, which I will never be, | 180 |
| | To him that is most true. To Milford go, | |
| | And find not her whom thou pursuest. Flow, flow, | |
| | You heavenly blessings, on her! This fool's speed | |
| | Be cross'd with slowness; labour be his meed! | |
| | Exit | |
