Cymbeline Read Online

Be what it is,

The action of my life is like it, which253 I’ll keep,

If but for sympathy.

Enter Jailer

JAILER    Come, sir, are you ready for death?

POSTHUMUS    Over-roasted rather: ready long ago.

JAILER    Hanging is the word, sir: if you be ready for that,

you are well cooked.

POSTHUMUS    So, if I prove a good repast to the spectators, the dish259

pays the shot.260

JAILER    A heavy reckoning261 for you, sir. But the comfort is

you shall be called to no more payments, fear no more

tavern-bills, which are as often the sadness of parting as the

procuring of mirth: you come in faint for want of meat,

depart reeling with too much drink: sorry that you have paid

too much, and sorry that you are paid266 too much: purse and

brain both empty: the brain the heavier for being too light267,

the purse too light, being drawn of heaviness. Of268 this

contradiction you shall now be quit.269 O, the charity of a

penny cord! It sums up thousands in a trice270: you have no true

debitor and creditor271 but it: of what’s past, is, and to come, the

discharge: your neck, sir, is pen, book and counters272; so the

acquittance273 follows.

POSTHUMUS    I am merrier to die than thou art to live.

FIRST JAILER    Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the toothache: but

a man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help

him to bed, I think he would change places with his officer277:

for look you, sir, you know not which way you shall go.

POSTHUMUS    Yes indeed do I, fellow.

FIRST JAILER    Your death280 has eyes in’s head then: I have not seen

him so pictured281: you must either be directed by some that

take upon them282 to know, or to take upon yourself that which

I am sure you do not know, or jump the after-inquiry283 on your

own peril: and how you shall speed284 in your journey’s end, I

think you’ll never return to tell on.285

POSTHUMUS    I tell thee, fellow, there are none want286 eyes to direct

them the way I am going, but such as wink287 and will not use

them.

FIRST JAILER    What an infinite mock289 is this, that a man should

have the best use of eyes to see the way of blindness! I am

sure hanging’s the way of winking.291

Enter a Messenger

MESSENGER    Knock off his manacles, bring your prisoner to the

king.

POSTHUMUS    Thou bring’st good news, I am called to be made

free.

FIRST JAILER    I’ll be hanged then.

POSTHUMUS    Thou shalt be then freer than a jailer: no bolts297 for

the dead.

[Exeunt Posthumus and Messenger]

FIRST JAILER    Unless a man would marry a gallows and beget

young gibbets, I never saw one so prone300: yet on my

conscience, there are verier knaves desire to live, for all301 he be

a Roman: and there be some of them too that die against

their wills; so should I, if I were one. I would we were all of

one mind, and one mind good: O, there were desolation304 of

jailers and gallowses! I speak against my present profit305, but

my wish hath a preferment306 in’t.

Exit

Act 5 Scene 4

running scene 18 continues

Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, Pisanio and Lords

CYMBELINE    Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made

Preservers of my throne: woe is my heart

That the poor soldier that so richly3 fought,

Whose rags shamed gilded arms, whose naked4 breast

Stepped before targes of proof5, cannot be found:

He shall be happy that can find him, if

Our grace7 can make him so.

BELARIUS    I never saw

Such noble fury in so poor a thing,

Such precious deeds in one that promised nought

But beggary and poor looks.

CYMBELINE    No tidings of him?

PISANIO    He hath been searched13 among the dead and living,

But no trace of him.

CYMBELINE    To my grief, I am

To Belarius and his sons

The heir of his reward16,— which I will add

To you, the liver, heart and brain17 of Britain,

By whom I grant18 she lives. ’Tis now the time

To ask of whence you are.19 Report it.

BELARIUS    Sir,

In Cambria are21 we born, and gentlemen:

Further to boast were neither true nor modest,

Unless I add we are honest.

CYMBELINE    Bow your knees:

They kneel

Arise my knights o’th’battle25, I create you

Companions to our person, and will fit26 you

With dignities becoming your estates.27

They rise

Enter Cornelius and Ladies

There’s business28 in these faces: why so sadly

Greet you our victory? You look like Romans,

And not o’th’court of Britain.

CORNELIUS    Hail, great king!

To sour your happiness, I must report

The queen is dead.

CYMBELINE    Who worse than a physician

Would this report become? But I consider

By med’cine life may be prolonged, yet death

Will seize the doctor too. How ended she?

CORNELIUS    With horror, madly dying, like her life,

Which, being cruel to the world, concluded

Most cruel to herself. What she confessed

I will report, so please you. These her women

Can trip me42 if I err, who with wet cheeks

Were present when she finished.

CYMBELINE    Prithee, say.

CORNELIUS    First, she confessed she never loved you, only

Affected greatness got by46 you, not you:

Married your royalty, was wife to your place,

Abhorred your person.

CYMBELINE    She alone knew this;

And, but50 she spoke it dying, I would not

Believe her lips in opening51 it. Proceed.

CORNELIUS    Your daughter, whom she bore in hand52 to love

With such integrity, she did confess

Was as a scorpion to her sight, whose life,

But that her flight prevented it, she had55

Ta’en off by poison.

CYMBELINE    O most delicate57 fiend!

Who is’t can read a woman? Is there more?

CORNELIUS    More, sir, and worse. She did confess she had

For you a mortal mineral60, which being took,

Should by the minute61 feed on life, and, ling’ring,

By inches waste you. In which time, she purposed62

By watching, weeping, tendance63, kissing, to

O’ercome you with her show64; and in time,

When she had fitted65 you with her craft, to work

Her son into th’adoption of the crown66:

But, failing of her end67 by his strange absence,

Grew shameless-desperate, opened68, in despite

Of heaven and men, her purposes, repented

The evils she hatched were not effected: so

Despairing died.

CYMBELINE    Heard you all this, her women?

LADY    We did, so please your highness.

CYMBELINE    Mine eyes

Were not in fault, for she was beautiful,

Mine ears76, that heard her flattery, nor my heart,

That thought her like her seeming. It had been vicious77

To have mistrusted her: yet, O my daughter,

That it was folly in me thou mayst say,

And prove it in thy feeling.80 Heaven mend all!

Enter Lucius, Iachimo, [the Soothsayer] and other Roman prisoners, [Posthumus] Leonatus behind, and Innogen

Thou com’st not, Caius, now for tribute. That

The Britons have razed out82, though with the loss

Of many a bold one: whose kinsmen have made suit83

That their84 good souls may be appeased with slaughter

Of you their captives, which ourself have granted,

So think of your estate.86

LUCIUS    Consider, sir, the chance of war. The day

Was yours by accident: had it gone with us88,

We should not, when the blood was cool, have threatened

Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods

Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives

May be called ransom, let it come: sufficeth92

A Roman with a Roman’s heart can suffer:

Augustus lives to think on’t94: and so much

For my peculiar care.95 This one thing only

I will entreat: my boy, a Briton born,

Let him be ransomed: never master had

A page so kind, so duteous, diligent,

So tender over his occasions99, true,

So feat100, so nurse-like: let his virtue join

With my request, which I’ll make bold your highness

Cannot deny: he hath done no Briton harm,

Though he have served a Roman. Save him, sir,

And104 spare no blood beside.

CYMBELINE    I have surely seen him:

His favour106 is familiar to me. Boy,

Thou hast looked thyself into my grace107,

And art mine own. I know not why, wherefore,

To say ‘Live, boy.’ Ne’er thank thy master109: live,

And ask of Cymbeline what boon110 thou wilt,

Fitting my bounty and thy state111, I’ll give it,

Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner,

The noblest ta’en.

INNOGEN    I humbly thank your highness.

LUCIUS    I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad,

And yet I know thou wilt.

INNOGEN    No, no, alack,

There’s other work in hand: I see a thing

Bitter to me as death: your life, good master,

Must shuffle120 for itself.

LUCIUS    The boy disdains me,

He leaves me, scorns me: briefly122 die their joys

That place them on the truth123 of girls and boys.

Innogen looks closely at Iachimo

Why stands he so perplexed?124

CYMBELINE    What wouldst thou, boy?

I love thee more and more: think more and more

What’s best to ask. Know’st him thou look’st on? Speak,

Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? Thy friend?

INNOGEN    He is a Roman, no more kin to me

Than I to your highness, who, being born your vassal130,

Am something nearer.131

CYMBELINE    Wherefore ey’st him so?132

INNOGEN    I’ll tell you, sir, in private, if you please

To give me hearing.

CYMBELINE    Ay, with all my heart,

And lend my best attention. What’s thy name?

INNOGEN    Fidele, sir.

CYMBELINE    Thou’rt my good youth, my page:

I’ll be thy master: walk with me, speak freely.

Cymbeline and Innogen converse apart

BELARIUS    Is not this boy revived from death?

ARVIRAGUS    One sand another

Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad

Who died, and was Fidele. What think you?

GUIDERIUS    The same dead thing alive.

BELARIUS    Peace, peace, see further: he eyes us not, forbear.145

Creatures may be alike: were’t he, I am sure

He would have spoke to us.

GUIDERIUS    But we see him dead.148

BELARIUS    Be silent: let’s see further.

Aside

PISANIO    It is my mistress:

Since she is living, let the time run on

To good or bad.

Cymbeline and Innogen come forward

CYMBELINE    Come, stand thou by our side,

To Iachimo

Make thy demand aloud.— Sir, step you forth,

Give answer to this boy, and do it freely

Or by our greatness and the grace of it,

Which is our honour, bitter torture shall

Winnow158 the truth from falsehood. On, speak to him.

INNOGEN    My boon is that this gentleman may render159

Points to the ring

Of whom he had this ring.

Aside

POSTHUMUS    What’s that to him?

To Iachimo

CYMBELINE    That diamond upon your finger, say,

How came it yours?

IACHIMO    Thou’lt torture me164 to leave unspoken that

Which to be spoke would torture thee.

CYMBELINE    How? Me?

IACHIMO    I am glad to be constrained to utter that

Which torments me to conceal. By villainy

I got this ring: ’twas Leonatus’ jewel,

Whom thou didst banish: and — which more may grieve thee,

As it doth me — a nobler sir ne’er lived

’Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord?

CYMBELINE    All that belongs to this.173

IACHIMO    That paragon, thy daughter,

For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits

Quail to remember — give me leave, I faint.

CYMBELINE    My daughter? What of her? Renew thy strength:

I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will178

Than die ere179 I hear more: strive, man, and speak.

IACHIMO    Upon a time — unhappy was the clock

That struck the hour! — it was in Rome — accursed

The mansion where! — ’twas at a feast — O, would

Our viands183 had been poisoned, or at least

Those which I heaved to head!184 — the good Posthumus —

What should I say? He was too good to be

Where ill men were, and was the best of all

Amongst the rar’st of good ones — sitting sadly187,

Hearing us praise our loves of Italy

For beauty that made barren189 the swelled boast

Of him that best could speak: for feature, laming190

The shrine of Venus or straight-pight Minerva191,

Postures beyond brief nature: for condition192,

A shop193 of all the qualities that man

Loves woman for, besides that hook of wiving194,

Fairness which strikes the eye—

CYMBELINE    I stand on fire.196

Come to the matter.197

IACHIMO    All too soon I shall,

Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This Posthumus,

Most like a noble lord in love and one

That had a royal lover, took his hint201,

And not dispraising whom we praised — therein

He was as calm as virtue — he began

His mistress’ picture, which by his tongue being made,

And then a mind put in’t205, either our brags

Were cracked of kitchen-trulls206, or his description

Proved us unspeaking sots.207

CYMBELINE    Nay, nay, to th’purpose.208

IACHIMO    Your daughter’s chastity — there it begins.

He spake of her as Dian had hot210 dreams

And she alone were cold211: whereat I, wretch,

Made scruple212 of his praise, and wagered with him

Pieces of gold gainst this, which then he wore

Upon his honoured finger, to attain

In suit215 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 carbuncle219

Of Phoebus’ wheel, and might so220 safely had it

Been all the worth of’s car.221 Away to Britain

Post222 I in this design: well may you, sir,

Remember me at court, where I was taught

Of224 your chaste daughter the wide difference

’Twixt amorous and villainous. Being thus quenched

Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain

’Gan in your duller Britain227 operate

Most vilely: for my vantage228, excellent.

And, to be brief, my practice so prevailed

That I returned with simular230 proof enough

To make the noble Leonatus mad

By wounding his belief in her renown232

With tokens thus, and thus: averring233 notes

Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet —

Shows the 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 cracked237,

I having ta’en the forfeit.238 Whereupon —

Methinks I see him now—

Comes forward

POSTHUMUS    Ay, so thou dost,

Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool,

Egregious murderer, thief, anything242

That’s due to all the villains past, in being243,

To come! O, give me cord244, or knife, or poison,

Some upright justicer!245 Thou, king, send out

For torturers ingenious246: it is I

That all th’abhorrèd things o’th’earth amend247

By being worse than they. I am Posthumus,

That killed thy daughter — villain-like, I lie —

That caused a lesser villain than myself,

A sacrilegious thief, to do’t. The temple251

Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself.252

Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set

The dogs o’th’street to bay254 me: every villain

Be called Posthumus Leonatus, and

Be villainy less than ’twas!256 O Innogen!

My queen, my life, my wife: O Innogen,

Innogen, Innogen!

She runs to him?

INNOGEN    Peace, my lord, hear, hear.

POSTHUMUS    Shall’s have260 a play of this? Thou scornful page,

There lie thy part.261

He strikes her and she falls

PISANIO    O, gentlemen, help!

Mine and your mistress: O, my lord Posthumus,

You ne’er killed Innogen till now. Help, help!

Mine honoured lady.

CYMBELINE    Does the world go round?

POSTHUMUS    How comes these staggers267 on me?

PISANIO    Wake, my mistress!

CYMBELINE    If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me

To death with mortal270 joy.

PISANIO    How fares my mistress?

INNOGEN    O, get thee from my sight,

Thou gavest me poison: dangerous fellow, hence!

Breathe not where princes are.

CYMBELINE    The tune275 of Innogen.

PISANIO    Lady, the gods throw stones of sulphur276 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.

INNOGEN    It poisoned me.

CORNELIUS    O gods!

I left out one thing which the queen confessed,

Which must approve283 thee honest. ‘If Pisanio

Have’, said she, ‘given his mistress that confection284

Which I gave him for cordial285, she is served

As I would serve a rat.’

CYMBELINE    What’s this, Cornelius?

CORNELIUS    The queen, sir, very oft importuned me

To temper poisons for her, still pretending289

The satisfaction of her knowledge only

In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs,

Of no esteem.292 I, dreading that her purpose

Was of more danger, did compound for her

A certain stuff which, being ta’en, would cease294

The present power of life, but in short time

All offices of nature296 should again

Do their due functions. Have you ta’en of it?

INNOGEN    Most like298 I did, for I was dead.

BELARIUS    My boys,

There was our error.

GUIDERIUS    This is sure301 Fidele.

INNOGEN    Why did you throw your wedded lady from you?

Think that you are upon a rock, and now

Embraces him

Throw me again.

POSTHUMUS    Hang there like fruit, my soul,

Till the tree306 die.

CYMBELINE    How now, my flesh, my child?

What, mak’st thou me a dullard in this act?308

Wilt thou not speak to me?

Kneels

INNOGEN    Your blessing, sir.

To Guiderius and Arviragus

BELARIUS    Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not.

You had a motive312 for’t.

CYMBELINE    My tears that fall

Prove holy water on thee! Innogen,

Thy mother’s315 dead.

INNOGEN    I am sorry for’t, my lord.

CYMBELINE    O, she was naught, and long of317 her it was

That we meet here so strangely318: 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 missing322, came to me

With his sword drawn, foamed at the mouth, and swore,

If I discovered324 not which way she was gone,

It was my instant death.