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
running scene 9
Enter Pisanio and Innogen
Innogen in a riding-suit
INNOGEN Thou told’st me when we came from horse1 the place
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?
PISANIO Alas, good lady.
INNOGEN I false? Thy conscience witness46: Iachimo,
Thou didst accuse him of incontinency.47
Thou then looked’st like a villain: now methinks
Thy favour’s good enough. Some jay49 of Italy,
Whose mother was her painting50, hath betrayed him:
Poor I am stale51, a garment out of fashion,
And for I am richer than to hang by th’walls52,
I must be ripped53: to pieces with me! O,
Men’s vows are women’s traitors. All good seeming54,
By thy revolt55, O husband, shall be thought
Put on for villainy; not born where’t grows56,
But worn a bait57 for ladies.
PISANIO Good madam, hear me.
INNOGEN True honest men being heard like false Aeneas59
Were in his time thought false: and Sinon’s60 weeping
Did scandal many a holy tear, took pity61
From most true wretchedness. So thou, Posthumus,
Wilt lay the leaven63 on all proper men;
Goodly and gallant shall be false and perjured
To Pisanio
From thy great fail.65— Come, fellow, be thou honest,
Do thou thy master’s bidding. When thou see’st him,
A little witness67 my obedience. Look,
Draws sword and gives it to Pisanio
I draw the sword myself: take it, and hit
The innocent mansion69 of my love, my heart.
Fear not, ’tis empty of all things but grief:
Thy master is not there, who was indeed
The riches of it. Do his bidding, strike.
Thou mayst be valiant in a better cause,
But now thou seem’st a coward.
PISANIO Hence, vile instrument75,
Throws away sword
Thou shalt not damn my hand!
INNOGEN Why, I must die:
And if I do not by thy hand, thou art
No servant of thy master’s. Against self-slaughter79
There is a prohibition so divine
That cravens81 my weak hand. Come, here’s my heart:
Something’s afore’t: soft, soft, we’ll no defence82,
Obedient as the scabbard.83 What is here?
Takes letters from her bosom
The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus84,
All turned to heresy? Away, away,
Throws letters away
Corrupters of my faith86, you shall no more
Be stomachers87 to my heart! Thus may poor fools
Believe false teachers: though those that are betrayed
Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor
Stands in worse case of woe.90 And thou, Posthumus,
That didst set up91 my disobedience gainst the king
My father, and make me put into contempt the suits92
Of princely93 fellows, shalt hereafter find
It is no act of common passage, but94
A strain of rareness: and I grieve myself
To think, when thou shalt be disedged96 by her
That now thou tirest97 on, how thy memory
Will then be panged by me. Prithee dispatch98,
The lamb entreats the butcher. Where’s thy knife?
Thou art too slow to do thy master’s bidding
When I desire it too.
PISANIO O gracious lady:
Since I received command to do this business
I have not slept one wink.
INNOGEN Do’t, and to bed then.
PISANIO I’ll wake mine eyeballs out first.106
INNOGEN Wherefore then
Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abused108
So many miles with a pretence? This place?
Mine action and thine own? Our horses’ labour?
The time inviting thee?111 The perturbed court
For my being absent, whereunto112 I never
Purpose113 return? Why hast thou gone so far
To be unbent when thou hast ta’en thy stand114,
Th’elected115 deer before thee?
PISANIO But to win time
To lose so bad employment, in the which
I have considered of a course118: good lady,
Hear me with patience.
INNOGEN Talk thy tongue weary, speak:
I have heard I am a strumpet121, and mine ear,
Therein false struck, can take122 no greater wound,
Nor tent to bottom123 that. But speak.
PISANIO Then, madam,
I thought you would not back125 again.
INNOGEN Most like126,
Bringing me here to kill me.
PISANIO Not so, neither:
But if I were as wise as honest, then
My purpose would prove130 well: it cannot be
But that my master is abused.131 Some villain,
Ay, and singular132 in his art, hath done you both
This cursèd injury.
INNOGEN Some Roman courtesan.134
PISANIO No, on my life:
I’ll give but notice you are dead, and send him
Some bloody sign of it, for ’tis commanded
I should do so: you shall be missed at court,
And that will well confirm it.
INNOGEN Why, good fellow,
What shall I do the while? Where bide?141 How live?
Or in my life what comfort, when I am
Dead to my husband?
PISANIO If you’ll back to th’court—
INNOGEN No court, no father, nor no more ado
With that harsh, noble, simple nothing,
That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me
As fearful as a siege.
PISANIO If not at court,
Then not in Britain must you bide.
INNOGEN Where then?
Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day? Night?
Are they not but in Britain? I’th’world’s volume153
Our Britain seems as of it, but not in’t:
In a great pool a swan’s nest.155 Prithee, think
There’s livers156 out of Britain.
PISANIO I am most glad
You think of other place: th’ambassador,
Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford Haven
Tomorrow. Now, if you could wear a mind160
Dark as your fortune is, and but disguise
That162 which, t’appear itself, must not yet be
But by self-danger163, you should tread a course
Pretty and full of view: yea, haply164, near
The residence of Posthumus; so nigh165, at least,
That though his actions were not visible, yet
Report should render167 him hourly to your ear
As truly as he moves.
INNOGEN O, for such means,
Though peril to my modesty, not death on’t170,
I would adventure.171
PISANIO Well then, here’s the point:
You must forget to be a woman: change
Command into obedience, fear and niceness174 —
The handmaids175 of all women, or more truly
Woman it pretty self — into a waggish176 courage,
Ready in gibes, quick-answered177, saucy and
As quarrellous178 as the weasel: nay, you must
Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek179,
Exposing it — but O, the harder heart!
Alack, no remedy — to the greedy touch
Of common-kissing Titan182, and forget
Your laboursome and dainty trims183, wherein
You made great Juno184 angry.
INNOGEN Nay, be brief.
I see into thy end186, and am almost
A man already.
PISANIO First, make yourself but like one.
Forethinking this, I have already fit189 —
↓Gives a bag of clothes↓
’Tis in my cloak-bag — doublet, hat, hose190, all
That answer to them: would you in their serving191,
And with what imitation you can borrow
From youth of such a season193, ’fore noble Lucius
Present yourself, desire his service194: tell him
Wherein you’re happy — which will make him know195,
If that his head have ear in music196 — doubtless
With joy he will embrace you, for he’s honourable,
And, doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad198:
You have me rich, and I will never fail
Beginning nor supplyment.200
INNOGEN Thou art all the comfort
The gods will diet202 me with. Prithee away,
There’s more to be considered: but we’ll even203
All that good time will give us.
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