Royal Shakespeare Company: Cymbeline (2016) Movie Script

You do not meet a man but frowns.
What's the matter?
The Queen's daughter, and the heir of her kingdom,
whom she purposed to her husband's son...
a widower the Duke that late she married, hath
referred herself unto a poor but worthy gentleman
She's wedded, her husband banished,
she imprisoned, all is outward sorrow
- Though I think the Queen be touched
at very heart - None but the Queen?
He that hath lost her too. So is his father
the Duke, that most desired the match
But not a courtier, although we wear our
faces to the bent of the Queen's looks...
hath a heart that is not glad
at the thing we scowl at
And why so?
He that hath missed the Princess
is a thing too bad for bad report
And he that hath her is a creature such as to seek
through the regions of the earth 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
- You speak him far. What's his name and birth?
- I cannot delve him to the root
His father was called Sicilius,
who did join his honour against the Romans
He served with glory,
so gained the sur-addition Leonatus
And had, besides this gentleman
in question, two other sons...
who in the wars of 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 Queen she takes the babe to her
protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus
Breeds him, 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
ministered, and in his spring became a harvest
Lived in court, which rare it is to do,
most praised, most loved
To his mistress, for whom he now is banished,
her own price proclaims how she esteemed him
And his virtue by her election
may be truly read, what kind of man he is
I honour him even out of your report. But pray
you tell me, is she sole child to the Queen?
Her only child
She had two others.
If this be worth your hearing, mark it
The eldest of them at three years old,
in the swathing clothes the other...
from their nursery were stolen, and to this
hour no guess in knowledge which way they went
- How long is this ago?
- Some twenty years
That a Queen's children should be
so conveyed, so slackly guarded...
and the search so slow
that could not trace them!
Howsoe'er 'tis strange, or that the negligence
may well be laughed at, yet is it true
We must forbear.
Here comes the gentleman, the Duke
No, be assured
you shall not find me, daughter...
after the slander of most stepfathers,
evil-eyed unto you
You're my prisoner, but your jailer shall deliver
you the keys that lock up your restraint
For you, Posthumus, so soon as I can win the
offended Queen I will be known your advocate
Marry, yet the fire of rage is in her
And 'twere good you leaned unto her sentence
with what wisdom your patience may inform you
Please your highness I
will from hence today
You know the peril
I'll fetch a turn about the garden,
pitying the pangs of barred affections
Though the Queen hath charged
you should not speak together
O dissembling courtesy! How fine this
tyrant can tickle where he wounds
My dearest husband, I something fear my mother's
wrath, but nothing her rage can do on me
You must be gone, and I shall here abide
the hourly shot of angry eyes
Not comforted to live, but that there is
this jewel in the world that I may see again
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 loyalest husband
that did ever 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 though ink be made of gall
Be brief, I pray you. If the Queen come, I shall
incur I know not how much of her displeasure
Yet I'll move her to walk this way
I never do her wrong but she does buy my injuries
to be friends, pays dear for my offences
Should we be taking leave
as long a term as yet we have to live...
the loathness to depart would grow.
Nay, stay a little
Were you but riding forth to air yourself,
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 Innogen is dead
How, how? Another?
You gentle gods, give me but this I have...
and cere up my embracements from a next
with bonds of death
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 I still win of you
For my sake wear this, it is a manacle of love,
I'll place it upon this fairest prisoner
O the gods!
When shall we see again?
Thou basest thing,
avoid hence, from my sight!
If after this command thou frought the
court with thy unworthiness, thou diest
Away! Thou'rt poison to my blood
The gods protect you, and bless
the good remainders of the court. I am gone
There cannot be a pinch in death
more sharp than this is
O disloyal thing. That shouldst repair
my youth, thou heap'st a year's age on me
I beseech you madam,
harm not yourself with your vexation
I am senseless of your wrath. A touch
more rare subdues all pangs, all fears
- Past grace? Obedience?
- Past hope and in despair, that way past grace
- That mightst have had the sole son
of my lord - O blest that I might not
I chose an eagle
and did avoid a puttock
Thou took'st a beggar, wouldst have made
my throne a seat for baseness
- No, I rather added a lustre to it
- O thou vile one
Madam, 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
- What? Art thou mad?
- Almost, heaven restore me
Would I were a neatherd's daughter, and
my Leonatus our neighbour-shepherd's son
Thou foolish thing!
They were again together,
you have done not after our command
Away with her, and pen her up
Beseech your patience.
Peace, dear lady daughter, peace
Sweet sovereign, leave us to ourselves and make
yourself some comfort out of your best advice
Nay, let her languish a drop of blood a
day, and being aged, die of this folly
Fie, you must give way
Here is your servant.
How now, Pisania, what news?
- My lord your son drew on my master
- No harm I trust is done?
There might have been, but that my master rather
played than fought, and had no help of anger
- They were parted by gentlemen at hand
- I am very glad on't
Your son's my mother'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?
- On his command
He would not suffer me
to bring him to the haven
Left these notes of what commands I should be
subject to when it pleased you to employ me
Pray walk awhile
About some half hour hence, pray you speak with
me. You shall at least go see your lord aboard
Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt. The
violence of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice
If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it
- Have I hurt him?
- No, faith
Hurt him? His body's a passable carcass if he be not
hurt. It is a thoroughfare for steel if it be not hurt
Your steel was in debt,
it went to the backside of town
- The villain would not stand me.
- No, but he fled forward still towards your face
Stand you? You have land enough of your own, but
he added to your having, gave you some ground
I would they had not come between us. And that
she should love this fellow and refuse me!
Sir, as I told you always,
her beauty and her brain go not together
She's a good sign,
but I have seen small reflection of her wit
Come, I'll to my chamber.
Would there had been some hurt done
I wish not so, unless it had been the
fall of an ass, which is no great hurt
- You'll go with us?
- I'll attend your lordship
- Nay, come, let's go together
- Well, my lord
I would thou grewest unto the shores
of the haven, and questionedst every sail
If he should write and I not have it,
'twere a paper lost, as offered mercy is
- What was the last that he spake to thee?
- It was his queen, his queen
Then waved his handkerchief?
And kissed it, madam
Senseless Linen! happier therein than I!
And that was all?
No madam
For so long as he could make me with this
eye, or ear, distinguish him from others...
he did keep the deck, with glove,
or hat, or handkerchief still waving...
as the fits and stirs of his mind could best express
how slow his soul sailed on, how swift his ship
Thou shouldst have made him as little as
a crow, or less, ere left to after-eye him
Madam, so I did
I would have broke mine eye-strings,
cracked them, but to look upon him...
till the diminution of space
had pointed him sharp as my needle
Nay, followed him, till he had melted
from the smallness of a gnat to air
And then have turned mine eye, and wept
- But, good Pisania, when shall we hear from him?
- Be assured madam, at his next vantage
I did not take my leave of him,
but had most pretty things to say
Ere I could tell him how I would think on him
at certain hours, such thoughts and such...
Or I could make him swear the shes of Italy
should not betray mine interest and his honour...
Or have charged him, at the sixth hour of morn, at
noon, at midnight to encounter me with orisons...
for then I am in heaven for him
Or ere I could give him that parting kiss, which I had
set betwixt two charming words, comes in my mother...
and like the tyrannous breathing of the
north, shakes all our buds from growing
The Duke, madam,
desires your highness' company
- Those things I bid you do, get
them dispatched - Madam, I shall
Believe it, Philario,
I have seen Posthumus in Britain
He was then of a crescent note, expected to prove
so worthy as since he hath been allowed the name of
But I could then have looked on him
without the help of admiration...
though the catalogue of his endowments
had been tabled by his side
You speak of him, lachimo, when he
was less furnished than now he is...
with that which makes him
both without and within
I have seen him in France. We had very many there
could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he
This matter of marrying his Queen's
daughter, wherein he must be weighed...
rather by her value than his own, words
him, I doubt not, a great deal from the matter
And then his banishment
Ay, and the approbation of those that weep
this lamentable divorce under her colours...
are wonderfully to extend him, be it but
to fortify her judgement without less quality
But how comes it he is to sojourn with you?
How creeps acquaintance?
His father and I were soldiers together, to whom
I have been often bound for no less than my life
Here comes the Briton.
I beseech you all...
be better known to this gentleman Posthumus,
whom I commend to you as a noble friend of mine
Sir, we have known together in Orleans
Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies,
which I will be ever to pay, and yet pay still
Sir, you overrate my poor kindness. I was
glad I did atone my countryman and you...
- upon importance of so slight and trivial a nature
- By your pardon sir, I was then a young traveller
But upon my mended judgement, if I offend not to say
it is mended, my quarrel was not altogether slight
- Faith yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords -
Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference?
Safely, I think. It was much like an
argument that fell out last night...
where each of us fell in praise
of our country mistresses
This gentleman at that time vouching,
and upon warrant of bloody affirmation...
his to be more fair, virtuous,
wise, chaste, constant, qualified...
and less attemptable
than any the rarest of our ladies in France
That lady is not now living, or this
gentleman's opinion by this worn out
She holds her virtue still, and I my mind
You must not so far prefer her
before ours of Italy
Being so far provoked as I was in France
I would abate her nothing...
though I profess myself her adorer,
not her friend
As fair and as good had been something too
fair and too good for any lady in Britain
If she went before others I have seen, as that
diamond of yours outlustres many I have beheld...
I could not but
believe she excelled many
But I have not seen the most precious
diamond that is, nor you the lady
I praised her as I rated her,
so do I my stone
- What do you esteem it at?
- More than the world enjoys.
Either your unparagoned mistress is dead,
or she's outprized by a trifle.
You are mistaken.
The one may be sold or given
The other is not a thing for sale,
and only the gift of the gods
- Which the gods have given you?
- Which by their graces I will keep
You may wear her in title yours. But you know,
strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds
Your ring may be stolen too
A cunning thief, or a thatway accomplished courtier
would hazard the winning both of first and last
Your Italy contains none so accomplished a
courtier to convince the honour of my mistress
I do nothing doubt you have store of
thieves Notwithstanding, I fear not my ring
- Let us leave here, gentlemen.
- Sir, with all my heart...
This worthy signor, I thank him, makes
no stranger of me, we are familiar at first
With five times so much conversation,
I should get ground of your fair mistress
Make her go back even to the yielding,
had I admittance and opportunity to friend
No, no
I dare thereupon pawn the moiety of my estate, to your
ring, which in my opinion o'ervalues it something
But I make my wager rather against
your confidence than her reputation
And to bar your offence herein too, I durst
attempt it against any lady in the world
You are a great deal abused
in too bold a persuasion
And I doubt not you sustain
what you're worthy of by your attempt
- What's that?
- A repulse
Though your attempt, as you call it,
deserves more. A punishment too
Gentlemen, enough of this,
it came in too suddenly
Let it die as it was born,
and I pray you be better acquainted
Would I had put my estate and my neighbour's
on the approbation of what I have spoke
- What lady would you choose to assail?
- Yours, whom in constancy you think stands so safe
I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring,
that commend me to the court where your lady is...
with no more advantage
than the opportunity of a second conference
And I will bring from thence that honour of
hers, which you imagine so reserved
I will wage against your gold, gold to it. The
ring I hold dear as my finger, 'tis part of it
You are a friend, and therein the wiser
If you buy ladies' flesh at a million a
dram, you cannot preserve it from tainting
But I see you have some religion in you,
that you fear
This is but a custom in your tongue.
You bear a graver purpose, I hope
I am the master of my speeches,
and would undergo what's spoken, I swear
Will you? I shall but lend
my diamond till your return
My mistress exceeds in goodness
the hugeness of your unworthy thinking
I dare you to this match.
Here's my ring
- I will have it no lay.
- By the gods, it is one.
If I bring you no sufficient testimony that I have
enjoyed the dearest bodily part of your mistress...
my ten thousand ducats are yours,
so is your diamond too
If I come off and leave her in such honour
as you have trust in...
she your jewel,
this your jewel, and my gold are yours
Provided I have your commendation
for my more free entertainment
I embrace these conditions
If you make your voyage upon her and give me
directly to understand you have prevailed...
I am no further your enemy,
she is not worth our debate
If she remain unseduced,
you not making it appear otherwise...
for your ill opinion and the assault you have made
to her chastity you shall answer me with your sword
Your hand, a covenant
And straight away for Britain, lest the
bargain should catch cold and starve
- I will fetch my gold and have
our two wagers recorded - Agreed
- Will this hold, think you?
- Signior lachimo will not from it
Pray, let us follow them
Whiles yet the dew's on ground,
gather those flowers
- Who has the note of them?
- I, sir
Now, doctor, have you brought those drugs?
Pleaseth your highness, ay. Here they are, sir.
But I beseech your grace, without offence...
My conscience bids me ask... wherefore you have
Commanded of me those most poisonous compounds
which are the movers of a languishing
death, but though slow, deadly
I wonder, doctor, thou askest me such a
question. Have I not been thy pupil long?
Hast thou not learned
me to make perfumes, distil, preserve?
Ay, so that our great Queen herself
doth woo me oft for my confections?
Unless thou thinkest me devilish, ist not meet. That
I did amplify my judgement in other conclusions
I will try the forces of these thy compounds on
such creatures as we count not worth the hanging...
but none human,
to try the vigour of them...
and apply allayments to their act, and by
them gather their several virtues and effects
Your highness shall from this practice
but make hard your heart
Besides, the seeing these effects
will be both noisome and infectious
O, content thee
Here comes a flattering rascal,
upon her will I first work
She's for her master,
and enemy to my son
How now, Pisania?
Doctor, your service for this time is ended
Take your own way
I do not like him. He doth think
he has strange lingering poisons
I do know his spirit, and will not trust one of
his malice with a drug of such damned nature
Those she has
Will stupefy and dull the sense awhile;
Which first, perchance, he'll prove on
cats and dogs, then afterward up higher
But there is no danger
in what show of death it makes...
more than the locking up the spirits
a time, to be more fresh, reviving
He is fooled with a most false effect,
and I the truer so to be false with him
- No further service, Doctor, until I
send for thee - I humbly take my leave
Weeps she still, sayst thou?
Dost thou think in time she will not quench, and
let instructions enter where folly now possesses?
Do thou work. When thou canst
bring me word she loves my son...
I'll tell thee on the instant
thou art then as great as is thy master
Greater, for his fortunes all lie
speechless, and his name is at last gasp
Thou takest up thou knowest not what,
but take it for thy labour
It is a thing I made which hath the Queen
five times redeemed from death
I do not know what is more cordial
Nay, I prithee take it. It is an earnest
of a farther good that I mean to thee
Tell thy mistress how the case stands
with her. Do it, as from thyself
Think what a chance thou changest on,
but think thou hast thy mistress still...
to boot, my son
who shall take notice of thee
I'll move the Queen to any shape of
thy preferment, such as thou'lt desire
And then myself, I chiefly, am
bound to load thy merit richly
Call the women.
Think on my words
A sly and constant knave,
not to be shaked
I have given Pisania that, which if she take, shall
quite unpeople Innogen of liegers for her sweet
And which she after,
shall be assured to taste of too
So, so, well done, well done
The violets, cowslips, and the primroses
bear to my closet
- Fare thee well, Pisania,
think on my words - And shall do
But when to my good lord I prove untrue, I'll
choke myself. There's all I'll do for you
A mother cruel and a stepdad false
A foolish suitor to a wedded lady
that hath her husband banished
O, that husband, my supreme crown of grief,
and those repeated vexations of it
Had I been thief-stolen,
as my brother and my sister, happy
But most miserable
is the desire that's glorious
Blest be those, how mean soe'er, that have
their honest wills, which seasons comfort
Who may this be? Fie
Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome
comes from my lord with letters
Change you, madam
The worthy Leonatus is in safety,
and greets your highness dearly
Thanks good sir. You're kindly welcome
All of her that is out of door most rich!
If she be furnished with a mind so rare she is
alone the Arabian bird, and I have lost the wager
Boldness be my friend,
arm me, audacity, from head to foot
He is one of the noblest note, to whose
kindnesses I am most infinitely tied
Reflect upon him accordingly,
as you value your trust. Leonatus
So far I read aloud, but even the very middle of my
heart is warmed by the rest, and takes it thankfully
You are as welcome, worthy sir,
as I have words to bid you
- And shall find it so in all that I can do
- Thanks fairest lady
What, are men mad?
Hath nature given them eyes to see this vaulted
arch and the rich crop of sea and land...
which can distinguish 'twixt the fiery orbs above
and the twinned stones upon the unnumbered beach...
and can we not partition make with
spectacles so precious 'twixt fair and foul?
What makes your admiration?
It cannot be in the eye, for apes
and monkeys, 'twixt two such shes...
would chatter this way
and contemn with mows the other
Nor in the appetite. Sluttery, to
such neat excellence opposed...
should make desire vomit emptiness,
not so allured to feed
What is the matter, trow?
The cloyed will,
that satiate yet unsatisfied desire...
that tub both filled and running, ravening
first the lamb, longs after for the garbage
What, dear sir, thus raps you?
- Are you well?
- Thanks, madam, well
Beseech you, desire my man's abode where
I did leave him. He's strange and peevish
I was going, sir, to give him welcome
Continues well my lord?
His health, beseech you?
- Well, madam
- Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is
Exceeding pleasant. None a stranger there so merry
and so gamesome. He is called The Briton Reveller
When he was here he did incline to sadness,
and oft-times not knowing why
I never saw him sad. There is a Frenchman
his companion, one an eminent monsieur...
that it seems much loves
a Gallian girl at home
He furnaces the thick sighs from him, whiles the jolly
Briton, your lord I mean, laughs from's free lungs
Cries 'O, can my sides hold, to think that man, who
knows by history, report, or his own proof...'
'...what woman is,
yea, what she cannot choose but must be...'
'...will his free hours languish
for assured bondage?'
- Will my lord say so?
- Ay madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter
It is a recreation to be by
and hear him mock the Frenchman
But, heavens know,
some men are much to blame
- Not he, I hope
- Not he
But yet heaven's bounty towards him
might be used more thankfully
In himself 'tis much. In you, which
I account his, beyond all talents
Whilst I am bound to wonder,
I am bound to pity too
- What do you pity, sir?
- Two creatures heartily
Am I one, sir? You look on me. What wreck
discern you in me deserves your pity?
Lamentable! What, to hide me from the radiant
sun, and solace in the dungeon by a snuff?
I pray you sir, deliver with more openness your
answers to my demands. Why do you pity me?
That others do...
I was about to say enjoy your...
But it is an office of the gods to
venge it, not mine to speak on it
You do seem to know
something of me, or what concerns me
Pray you, since doubting things go ill
often hurts more than to be sure they do...
for certainties either are past remedies,
or, timely knowing, the remedy then born...
discover to me what
both you spur and stop
Had I this cheek to bathe my lips upon...
This hand whose touch, whose every touch, would
force the feeler's soul to the oath of loyalty...
This object which takes prisoner the wild
motion of mine eye, fixing it only here...
Should I, damned then, slaver with lips as
common as the stairs that mount the Capitol...
join grips with hands made hard with hourly
falsehood, falsehood, as with labour...
then by-peeping in an eye base and illustrous as
the smoky light that's fed with stinking tallow...
it were fit that all the plagues of hell
should at one time encounter such revolt
- My lord, I fear, has forgot Britain
- And himself
Not I inclined to this intelligence
pronounce the beggary of his change
But 'tis your graces that from my mutest
conscience to my tongue charms this report out
Let me hear no more
O dearest soul, your cause doth strike
my heart with pity that doth make me sick
A lady so fair, and fastened to an empery
would make the greatest king double
To be partnered with tomboys hired with that
self exhibition which your own coffers yield...
With diseased ventures that play with all infirmities
for gold which rottenness can lend nature...
Such boiled stuff as
well might poison poison
Be revenged, or she that bore you is no
queen, and you recoil from your great stock
Revenged? How should I be revenged?
If this be true, as I have such a heart that
both mine ears must not in haste abuse...
If it be true, how should I be revenged?
Should he make me live like Diana's priest betwixt
cold sheets whiles he is vaulting variable ramps...
in your despite, upon
your purse, revenge it
I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure,
more noble than that runagate to your bed
And will continue fast to your affection,
still close as sure
- What ho, Pisania!
- Let me my service tender on your lips
Away, I do condemn mine ears
that have so long attended thee
If thou wert honourable
thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue
Not for such an end thou seekest,
as base as strange
Thou wrongest a gentleman who is as
far from thy report as thou from honour
And solicitest here a lady that disdains
thee and the devil alike. What ho, Pisania!
The Queen my mother
shall be made acquainted of thy assault
If she shall think it fit a saucy stranger
in her court to mart as in a Romish stew...
and to expound his beastly mind to us,
she hath a court she little cares for
And a daughter who she not respects at all.
What ho, Pisania!
O happy Leonatus!
I may say, the credit that thy lady
hath of thee deserves thy trust...
and thy most perfect goodness
her assured credit
Blessed live you long, a lady to the
worthiest sir that ever country called his
And you his mistress, only for the
most worthiest fit. Give me your pardon
I have spoke this to know
if your affiance were deeply rooted
And shall make your lord that which he is
new o'er, and he is one the truest mannered
Such a holy witch that he enchants societies
into him, half all men's hearts are his
You make amends
He sits amongst men like a descended god
He hath a kind of honour
sets him off more than a mortal seeming
Be not angry, most mighty princess, that I have
adventured to try your taking of a false report...
which hath honoured with confirmation your great
judgement in the election of a sir so rare...
which you know cannot err
The love I bear him made me to fan you thus, but
the gods made you, unlike all others, chaffless
- Pray, your pardon - All's well, sir.
Take my power in the court for yours
My humble thanks
I had almost forgot to entreat your grace
but in a small request
And yet of moment too,
for it concerns your lord
Myself and other noble friends
are partners in the business
Pray what is it?
Some dozen Romans of us, and your lord,
the best feather of our wing...
have mingled sums to buy a present for the Emperor,
which I, the factor for the rest, have done in France
'Tis plate of rare device, and jewels of
rich and exquisite form, their values great
And I am something curious, being strange,
to have them in safe stowage
- May it please you to take them in protection?
- Willingly, and pawn mine honour for their safety
Since my lord hath interest in them,
I will keep them In my bedchamber
They are in a trunk attended by my man. I will
make bold to send them to you, only for this night
- I must aboard tomorrow
- O no, no
Yes I beseech, or I shall short my word
by lengthening my return
From Gallia I crossed the seas
on purpose and on promise to see your grace
- I thank you for your pains. But
not away tomorrow - O I must, madam
Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please
to greet your lord with writing, do it tonight
I have outstood my time, which is
material to the tender of our present
I will write. Send your trunk to me
It shall safe be kept, and truly
yielded you. You're very welcome
Was there ever man had such luck? When I kissed
the jack upon an upcast, to be hit away!
I had a hundred pound on it, and then a whoreson
jackanapes must take me up for swearing
What got he by that?
You have broke his pate with your bowl
When a gentleman is disposed to swear it is
not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths
- Ha?
- No my lord
Whoreson dog! I gave him satisfaction.
Would he had been one of my rank
To have smelled like a fool
I am not vexed more at anything
in the earth, a pox on it!
I had rather not be so noble as I am. They dare
not fight with me because of the Duke my father
Every jack-slave hath his bellyful of fighting, and I
must go up and down like a cock that nobody can match
You are a cock and capon too,
an you crow cock with your comb on
Sayst thou?
It is not fit your lordship should undertake
every companion that you give offence to
No, I know that, but it is fit
I should commit offence to my inferiors
- Ay, it is fit for your lordship only
- Why, so I say
- Did you hear of a stranger that's come to court tonight?
- A stranger, and I not know on't?
There's an Italian come,
and 'tis thought one of Leonatus' friends
Leonatus? A banished rascal,
and he's another, whatsoever he be
Is it fit I went to look upon him?
Is there no derogation in it?
- You cannot derogate, my lord
- Not easily, I think
Come, I'll go see this Italian. What I have lost
today at bowls I'll win tonight of him. Come... go
That such a crafty devil as is his father
should yield the world this ass
Alas poor princess,
thou divine Innogen, what thou endurest
Betwixt a mother by thy stepdad governed...
A wooer more hateful than the foul
expulsion is of thy dear husband...
than that horrid act
of the divorce he'd make
The heavens hold firm
the walls of thy dear honour
Keep unshaked
that temple, thy fair mind
That thou mayst stand to enjoy thy
banished lord and this great land
- Who's there? My woman Helen?
- Please you, madam
- What hour is it?
- Almost midnight, madam
I have read three hours then.
Mine eyes are weak
Fold down the leaf where I have left.
To bed
Take not away the taper, leave it burning
And if thou canst awake by four o' the clock, I
prithee call me. Sleep hath seized me wholly
To your protection I commend me, gods
From fairies and the tempters of the night
guard me, beseech ye
The crickets sing, and man's
o'er-laboured sense repairs itself by rest
Our Tarquin thus did softly press the rushes
ere he wakened the chastity he wounded
Cytherea, how bravely thou becomest thy
bed, fresh lily, and whiter than the sheets
That I might touch
But kiss, one kiss
Rubies unparagoned,
how dearly they do it
'Tis her breathing
that perfumes the chamber thus
The flame of the taper bows toward her, and would
underpeep her lids to see the enclosed lights...
now canopied under these windows, white and
azure-laced with blue of heaven's own tinct
But my design.
To note the chamber, I will write all down
Such and such pictures, there the window
Such the adornment of her bed, figures, the arras,
why such and such, and the contents of the story
Ah, but some natural
notes about her body...
above ten thousand meaner movables
would testify to enrich mine inventory
O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her, and be
her sense but as a monument thus in a chapel lying
Come off, come off
As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard
'Tis mine, and this will witness outwardly,
as strongly as the conscience does within...
to the madding of her lord
On her left breast a mole cinque-spotted, like
the crimson drops in the bottom of a cowslip
Here's a voucher stronger
than ever law could make
This secret will force him think I have picked
the lock and taken the treasure of her honour
No more. To what end?
Why should I write that down
that's riveted, screwed to my memory?
She hath been reading
late, the tale of Tereus
Here the leaf's turned down
where Philomel gave up
I have enough. To the trunk
again, and shut the spring of it
Swift, swift, you dragons of the night,
that dawning may bare the raven's eye
I lodge in fear.
Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here
One, two, three
Time, time
Your lordship is the most patient man in loss,
the most coldest that ever turned up ace
It would make any man cold to lose
But not every man patient
after the noble temper of your lordship
- You are most hot and furious when you win
- Winning will put any man into courage
If I could get this foolish Innogen,
I should have gold enough
- It's almost morning, is it not?
- Day, my lord
We are advised to give her music
o'mornings, they say it will penetrate
Come, tune. If you can penetrate her with
your fingering, so. We'll try with tongue too
If none will do, let her remain,
but I'll never give o'er
First, a wonderful sweet air with admirable
rich words to it, and then let her consider
Arise, my lady, my lady...
Hark, hark, hark the lark
at heaven's gate sings
And Phoebus 'gins arise...
his steeds to water at those springs
on chaliced flowers that lies
And winking Mary-buds
begin to ope their golden eyes
With everything that pretty is,
my lady sweet arise
So, get you gone. If this penetrate
I will consider your music the better
Here comes the Queen
I am glad I was up so late,
for that's the reason I was up so early
She cannot choose but take
this service I have done motherly
Good morrow to your majesty,
and to my gracious father
Attend you here the door of our
stern daughter? Will she not forth?
I have assailed her with musics,
but she vouchsafes no notice
The exile of her minion is too new.
She hath not yet forgot him
Some more time must wear the print of his
remembrance on it, and then she's yours
You are most bound to the Queen, who lets go by
no vantages that may prefer you to her daughter
Frame yourself to orderly solicits,
and be friended with aptness of the season
Make denials increase your services. So seem,
as if you were inspired to do those duties...
which you tender to her,
that you in all obey her
So like you, madam, ambassadors from Rome.
The one is Caius Lucius
A worthy fellow,
albeit he comes on angry purpose now
But that's no fault of his. We must receive
him according to the honour of his sender
Our dear son, when you have given good morning
to your mistress, attend the Duke and us
We shall have need to employ you
towards this Roman. Come, away
I know her lady is about her.
What if I do line her hands?
'Tis gold which buys admittance, oft it
doth, yea. What can it not do and undo?
- By your leave. Your lady's person, is she ready?
- Aye, to keep her chamber
There is gold for you.
Sell me your good report
How, my good name? Or to report
of you what I shall think is good?
Good morrow, fairest
sister, your sweet hand
Good morrow sir, you lay out too much pains
for purchasing but trouble
The thanks I give is telling you that I am
poor of thanks, and scarce can spare them
- Still I swear I love you - If you
but said so, 'twere as deep with me
This is no answer
But that you shall not say I yield
being silent, I would not speak
I pray you spare me. Faith, I shall unfold
equal discourtesy to your best kindness
One of your great knowing should learn,
being taught, forbearance
To leave you in your madness,
'twere my sin. I will not
- Fools cure not mad folks
- Do you call me fool?
As I am mad I do. If you'll be patient,
I'll no more be mad. That cures us both
I am much sorry, sir, you put me to
forget a lady's manners by being so verbal
And learn now for all that I, which know my heart,
do here pronounce by the very truth of it...
I care not for you.
And am so near the lack of charity...
to accuse myself I hate you, which I
had rather you felt than make it my boast
You sin against obedience
which you owe your mother
For the contract you pretend with that base wretch,
one bred of alms and fostered with cold dishes...
With scraps of the court, it is no contract, none.
And though it be allowed in meaner parties...
Yet who than he be more mean? A base slave,
a hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth
A pantler, not so eminent
Profane fellow, wert thou the son of
Jupiter, thou wert too base to be his groom
The south-fog rot him
He never can meet more mischance
than come to be but named of thee
His meanest garment that ever hath but
clipped his body is dearer in my respect...
than all the hairs above thee,
were they all made such men
- How now, Pisania!
- His garment? Now the devil... his garment?
I am sprited with a fool,
frighted, and angered worse
Go bid Helen search for a jewel that too
casually hath left mine arm, it was thy master's
'Shrew me if I would lose it
for a revenue of any king's in Europe
I do think I saw it this morning.
Confident I am last night 'twas on mine arm
I kissed it. I hope it be not gone
to tell my lord that I kiss aught but he
- 'Twill not be lost
- I hope so. Go and search
You have abused me.
'His meanest garment'?
Ay, I said so sir. If you will make
it an action, call witness to it
- I will inform your mother
- Your father too
He's my good lord, and will conceive,
I hope, but the worst of me
So I leave you sir,
to the worst of discontent
I'll be revenged.
'His meanest garment'? Well
Fear it not, sir. I would I were so sure to win Cymbeline
as I am bold my wife's honour will remain hers
- What means do you make to the Queen?
- Not any, but abide the change of time
Quake in the present winter's state,
and wish that warmer days would come
In these seared hopes I barely gratify your
love. They failing, I must die much your debtor
Your very goodness and your company
o'erpays all I can do
By this, your Queen hath heard of great Augustus.
Caius Lucius will do his commission throughly
And I think she'll grant the tribute,
send the arrearages...
ere look upon our Romans whose
remembrance is yet fresh in their grief
I do believe, statist though I am none,
nor like to be, that this will prove a war
And you shall hear the legions now in Gallia
sooner landed in our not-fearing Britain...
than have tidings of
any penny tribute paid
Our countrymen are men more ordered than when
Julius Caesar smiled at their lack of skill...
but found their courage
worthy his frowning at
See lachimo. Welcome sir.
I hope the briefness of your answer
made the speediness of your return
Your lady is one of the fairest
that I have looked upon
- And therewithal the best
- Here are letters for you
- Their tenor good, I trust
- 'Tis very like
Was Caius Lucius in the Briton court
when you were there?
He was expected then,
but not approached
All is well yet. Sparkles this stone as it was
wont, or is it not too dull for your good wearing?
If I had lost it
I should have lost the worth of it in gold
I'll make a journey twice as far to enjoy
a second night of such sweet shortness...
which was mine in Britain,
for the ring is won
- The stone's too hard to come by
- Not a whit, your lady being so easy
Make not, sir, your loss your sport
- I hope you know that we must not continue
friends - Good sir, we must, if you keep covenant
Had I not brought the knowledge of your mistress
home, I grant we were to question farther
But I now profess myself the winner
of her honour, together with your ring
And not the wronger of her or you,
having proceeded but by both your wills
If you can make it apparent that you have
tasted her in bed, my hand and ring is yours
If not, the foul opinion you had of her pure
honour gains or loses your sword or mine...
or masterless leaves
both to who shall find them
Sir, my circumstances, being so near the truth as I
will make them, must first induce you to believe
Whose strength I will confirm with oath, which
I doubt not you'll give me leave to spare...
- when you shall find you need it not
- Proceed
First, her bedchamber, where I confess I slept
not, but profess had that was well worth watching
It was hanged with tapestry of silk and silver. The
story proud Cleopatra when she met her Roman...
and Cydnus swelled above the banks,
or for the press of boats, or pride
A piece of work so bravely done, so rich...
This is true. And this you might have
heard of here, by me or by some other
- More particulars must justify my knowledge
- So they must, Or do your honour injury
The chimney is south the chamber,
and the chimney-piece chaste Dian bathing
This is a thing which you might from relation
likewise reap, being, as it is, much spoke of
The roof of the chamber
with golden cherubins is fretted
Her andirons, I had forgot them,
were two winking Cupids of silver
Each on one foot standing, nicely,
depending on their brand
This is her honour! Let it be granted you have seen
all this, and praise be given to your remembrance
The description of what is in her chamber
nothing saves the wager you have laid
Then if you can be pale,
I beg but leave to air this jewel
See, and now 'tis up again. It must be
married to that your diamond, I'll keep them
Jove! Once more let me behold it.
Is it that which I left with her?
Sir, I thank her, that.
She stripped it from her arm. I see her yet
Her pretty action did outsell her gift,
and yet enriched it too
She gave it me,
and said she prized it once
- Maybe she plucked it off to send it me
- She writes so to you, doth she?
O no, no, no, 'tis true
Here, take this too. It is a basilisk
unto mine eye, kills me to look on it
Let there be no honour
where there is beauty
Have patience sir,
and take your ring again, 'tis not yet won
It may be probable she lost it, or who knows if one of
her women, being corrupted, hath stolen it from her?
Very true, and so I hope he came by it.
Back my ring
Render to me some corporal sign about her
more evident than this, for this was stolen
- By Jupiter, I had it from her arm
- Hark you, he swears, by Jupiter he swears
'Tis true, nay keep the ring, 'tis true.
I am sure she would not lose it
Her attendants are all sworn and honourable.
They induced to steal it? And by a stranger?
No, he hath enjoyed her
The cognizance of her incontinency is this.
She hath bought the name of whore thus dearly
There, take thy hire, and all the fiends
of hell divide themselves between you
Sir, be patient. This is not strong enough
to be believed of one persuaded well of
Never talk on't.
She hath been colted by him
If you seek for further satisfying,
under her breast, worthy the pressing...
lies a mole,
right proud of that most delicate lodging
By my life, I kissed it, and it gave me
present hunger to feed again, though full
You do remember this stain upon her?
Ay, and it doth confirm another stain as big
as hell can hold, were there no more but it
Will you hear more?
Spare your arithmetic, never count
the turns. Once, and a million
- I'll be sworn
- No swearing
If you will swear you have
not done it, you lie...
and I will kill thee if thou dost deny
thou hast made me cuckold
I'll deny nothing
O that I had her here to tear her limb-meal
I will go there and do it, in the court,
before her mother. I'll do something
Quite besides the government of patience.
You have won
Is there no way for men to be,
but women must be half-workers?
We are all bastards
And that most venerable man which I did call my
father was I know not where when I was stamped
Some coiner with his tools
made me a counterfeit
Yet my mother seemed the Dian of that time.
So doth my wife the nonpareil of this
O vengeance, vengeance!
Me of my lawful pleasure she restrained,
and prayed me oft forbearance
Did it with a pudency so rosy the sweet view
on't might well have warmed old Saturn...
that I thought her as
chaste as unsunned snow
O all the devils! This yellow lachimo
in an hour, was it not? Or less, at first?
Perchance he spoke not, but like a full-acorned
boar, a German one, cried 'O!' and mounted
Found no opposition but what he looked for should
oppose, and she should from encounter guard
Could I find out
the woman's part in me...
For there's no motion that tends to vice
in man but I affirm it is the woman's part
Be it lying, note it, the woman's.
Flattering, hers, deceiving, hers
Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers,
revenges, hers
Ambitions, covetings, change of prides,
disdain, nice longing, slanders, mutability...
All faults that man can name, nay, that hell
knows, why hers, in part or all, but rather all
For even to vice they are not constant,
but are changing still...
one vice but of a minute old
for one not half so old as that
I'll write against them,
detest them, curse them
Yet 'tis greater skill in a true hate
to pray they have their will
The very devils cannot plague them better
Now say, what would
Augustus Caesar with us?
When Julius Caesar, whose remembrance yet lives
in men's eyes and will to ears and tongues...
be theme and hearing ever,
was in this Britain and conquered it
Cassibelan, thine uncle, famous in Caesar's praises,
no whit less than in his feats deserving it...
For him and his sucession granted Rome a
tribute, yearly three thousand pounds...
which by thee lately is left untendered
And to kill the marvel,
shall be so ever
There be many Caesars
ere such another Julius
Britain's a world by itself, and we will
nothing pay for wearing our own noses
That opportunity which then they had to
take from us, to resume we have again
Remember madam, my Queen,
the kings your ancestors...
Together with the natural bravery of your
isle, which stands as Neptune's park...
Ribbed and paled in with oaks unscalable
and roaring waters...
with sands that will not bear your enemies'
boats, but suck them up to the topmast
A kind of conquest Caesar made here, but made not
here his brag of 'came and saw and overcame'
With shame, the first that ever touched him he
was carried from off our coast, twice beaten
And his shipping, poor ignorant baubles,
on our terrible seas like eggshells...
moved upon their surges,
cracked as easily against our rocks
For joy whereof the famed Cassibelan, who was once at
point, O giglot fortune, to master Caesar's sword...
made Lud's town with rejoicing fires
bright, and Britons strut with courage
Come, there's no more tribute to be paid
Our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time,
and, as I said, there is no more such Caesars
Other of them may have crooked noses,
but to owe such straight arms, none
Son, let your father end
We have yet many among us
can grip as hard as Cassibelan
I do not say I am one, but I have a hand.
Why tribute? Why should we pay tribute?
If Caesar can hide the sun from us with a
blanket, or put the moon in his pocket...
we will pay him tribute for light.
Else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now
You must know, till the injurious Romans did
extort this tribute from us we were free
Caesar's ambition, which swelled so much that
it did almost stretch the sides of the world...
against all colour here
did put the yoke upon us
Which to shake off becomes a warlike
people, whom we reckon ourselves to be
We do
Say then to Caesar, our ancestor was
that Mulmutius which ordained our laws...
whose use the sword of Caesar
hath too much mangled
Whose repair and franchise shall, by the power we hold,
be our good deed, though Rome be therefore angry
I am sorry, Cymbeline, that I am to
pronounce Augustus Caesar thine enemy
Receive it from me then. War and confusion
in Caesar's name pronounce I against thee
Look for fury not to be resisted
- Thus defied, I thank thee for myself
- Thou art welcome, Caius
Thy Caesar knighted me. My youth I spent
much under him. Of him I gathered honour...
which he to seek of me again perforce
behoves me keep at utterance
I am perfect that the Pannonians and
Dalmatians for their liberties are now in arms
A precedent which not to read would show the
Britons cold. So Caesar shall not find them
Let proof speak
Her majesty bids you welcome.
Make pastime with us a day or two or longer
If you seek us afterwards,
you shall find us in our saltwater girdle
If you beat us out of it, it is yours
If you fall in the adventure,
our crows shall fare the better for you
- And there's an end
- So, madam
I know your master's pleasure, and he mine.
All the remain is 'Welcome'
How? Of adultery? Wherefore write you not
what monster's her accuser?
Leonatus, O master, what a strange
infection is fallen into thy ear!
What false Italian, as poisonous tongued as
handed, hath prevailed on thy too ready hearing?
Disloyal? No.
She's punished for her truth
O my master, thy mind to hers
is now as low as were thy fortunes
How? That I should murder her, upon the love and
truth and vows which I have made to thy command?
I her? Her blood?
If it be so to do good service,
never let me be counted serviceable
How look I, that I should seem to lack
humanity so much as this fact come to?
Do it. The letter that I have sent her, by
her own command shall give thee opportunity
O damned paper,
black as the ink that's on thee
Senseless bauble, art thou a fedary for this
act, and lookest so virgin-like without?
- How now, Pisania?
- Madam, here is a letter from my lord
Who, thy lord? That is my lord, Leonatus!
Good wax, thy leave
Justice and your mother's wrath, should she take me in
her dominion, could not be so cruel to me as you...
O the dearest of creatures,
would even renew me with your eyes
Take notice that I am in Cambria, at Milford Haven.
What your own love will out of this advise you, follow
So he wishes you all happiness, that remains loyal to his
vow, and your increasing in love, Leonatus Posthumus
O for a horse with wings!
Hearest thou, Pisania? He is at Milford Haven.
Read, and tell me how far it is thither
If one of mean affairs may plod it in a
week, why may not I glide thither in a day?
Then true Pisania,
who longest like me to see thy lord
Who longest, O let me bate... But not
like me, yet longest but in a fainter kind
O not like me, for mine's beyond, beyond. Say,
how far it is to this same blessed Milford
And by the way tell me how Wales was
made so happy as to inherit such a haven
But first of all, how
we may steal from hence
And for the gap that we shall make in time
from our hence-going and our return, to excuse
But first, how get hence.
Why should excuse be born or ere begot?
We'll talk of that hereafter. Prithee speak, how many
score of miles may we well ride 'twixt hour and hour?
One score 'twixt sun and sun, madam,
is enough for you, and too much too
Why, one that rode to his execution, woman,
could never go so slow. But this is foolery
Go and provide me presently a riding-suit no
costlier than would fit a franklin's housewife
- Madam, you're best consider
- I see before me, woman
Nor here, nor here, nor what ensues, but have
a fog in them that I cannot look through
Away, I prithee, do as I bid thee. There's no
more to say. Accessible is none but Milford way
A goodly day not to keep house
with such whose roof's as low as ours
Stoop, this tree instructs you how to adore the
heavens, and bows you to a morning's holy office
- Hail, thou fair heaven
- Hail, heaven
Now for our mountain sport. Up to yon hill,
your legs are young. I'll tread these flats
Consider, when you above perceive me like a crow,
that it is place which lessens and sets off
And you may then revolve what tales I have told
you of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war
To apprehend thus
draws us a profit from all things we see
And often to our comfort shall we find the sharded
beetle in a safer hold than is the full-winged eagle
O, this life is nobler than attending for a
check, is richer than doing nothing for a robe...
- prouder than rustling in unpaid-for
silk - Out of your proof you speak
We poor unfledged
have never winged from view of the nest...
nor know not what air's from home. Haply
this life is best, if quiet life be best
Sweeter to you that have a sharper known,
well corresponding with your stiff age
- But unto us it is a cell of ignorance - 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 pinching cave,
shall we discourse the freezing hours away?
We have seen nothing
We are beastly. Subtle as the fox for prey,
like warlike as the wolf for what we eat
Our valour is to chase what flies.
Our cage we make a choir...
as doth the prisoned bird,
and sing our bondage freely
How you speak! Did you but know the
city's usuries, and felt them knowingly...
The art of the court, as hard to leave as keep,
whose top to climb is certain falling...
or so slippery that the
fear's as bad as falling
The toil of the war, a pain that only seems to
seek out danger in the name of fame and honour...
O this story the world may read in me,
my body's marked with Roman swords
Cymbeline loved me, and when a soldier
was the theme, my name was not far off
Then was I as 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 hangings, nay my leaves...
- and left me bare to weather
- Uncertain favour
My fault being nothing, as I have told you oft, but
that two villains, whose false oaths prevailed...
swore to Cymbeline
I was confederate with the Romans
So followed my banishment,
and this twenty years...
this rock and these demesnes have been my
world, where I have lived at honest freedom...
Paid more pious debts to heaven
than in all the fore-end of my time
But up to the mountains!
This is not hunter's language
- Whosoever strikes the venison first shall be...
- The lord of the feast
I'll meet you in the valleys
How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature
These two know little they are born of the
Queen, nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive
They think they are mine, and though trained
up thus meanly in the cave wherein they bow...
their thoughts do
hit the roofs of palaces
This Polydore, the heir of Cymbeline and Britain,
who the Queen her mother called Guideria
Jove, when on my three-foot stool I sit...
and tell the warlike feats I have done,
her spirits fly out into my story
Say 'Thus mine enemy fell, and thus I set my foot on his
neck', even then the noble blood flows in her cheek
She sweats, strains her young nerves, and
puts herself in posture that acts my words
The younger brother,
Cadwal, once Arviragus...
in as like a figure strikes life into my
speech, and shows much more his own conceiving
The game is roused
O Cymbeline, heaven and my conscience
knows thou didst unjustly banish me
Whereon at three and two years old
I stole these babes...
thinking to bar thee of succession
as thou reftest me of my lands
Euriphile, thou wast their nurse. They took thee for
their mother, and every day do honour to thy grave
Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan called,
they take for natural father
The game is up
Thou toldest me when we came from horse
the place was near at hand
Never longed my mother so
to see me first as I have now
Pisania, where is Posthumus?
What is in thy mind that makes thee stare thus?
Wherefore breaks that sigh from the inward of thee?
Put thyself into a 'haviour of less fear,
ere wildness vanquish my staider senses
What's the matter? Why tenderest thou
that paper to me with a look untender?
My husband's hand? That drug-damned Italy hath
out-craftied him, and he's at some hard point. Speak
Please you read, And you shall find me,
wretched, a thing the most disdained of fortune
Thy mistress, Pisania, hath played the strumpet in
my bed, the testimonies whereof lies bleeding in me
I speak not out of weak surmises but from proof as
strong as my grief and as certain as I expect my revenge
That part thou, Pisania, must act for me, if thy
faith be not tainted 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 pander to her dishonour
and equally to me disloyal
What 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 Nile
- What cheer, madam?
- 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 charge nature, to break it with a
fearful dream of him and cry myself awake?
- That's false to his bed, is it?
- Alas, good lady
I false? Thy conscience witness. Iachimo,
thou didst accuse him of incontinency
Thou then lookedest like a villain
Now methinks thy favour's good enough
Some jay of Italy, whose mother
was her painting, hath betrayed him
- O, men's vows are women's traitors
- Good madam, hear me
Come, be thou honest, do thou thy master's bidding.
When thou seest him, a little witness my obedience
Look, I draw the sword myself. Take it, and
hit the innocent mansion of my love, my heart
Fear not, it is 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 seemest a coward
Hence vile instrument,
thou shalt not damn my hand
Why, I must die, And if I do not by thy
hand, thou art no servant of thy master's
Against self-slaughter there is a prohibition
so divine that cravens my weak hand
Come, here's my heart. Something's afore it. Soft,
soft, we'll no defence. Obedient as the scabbard
What is here? The scriptures of the
loyal Leonatus, all turned to heresy?
Away, away, corrupters of my faith,
you shall no more be stomachers to my heart
Thus may poor fools believe false teachers.
Prithee dispatch. The lamb entreats the butcher
O gracious lady, since I received command to
do this business I have not slept one wink
- Do it, and to bed then
- I'll wake mine eyeballs out first
Wherefore then didst undertake it? Why hast
thou abused so many miles with a pretence?
This place?
Mine action, and thine own?
The perturbed court, for my being absent,
whereunto I never purpose return?
Why hast thou gone so far to be unbent when thou
hast taken thy stand, the elected deer before thee?
But to win time to lose so bad employment,
in the which I have considered of a course
- Good lady, Hear me with patience
- Talk thy tongue weary, speak
I have heard I am a strumpet, and mine ear,
therein false struck, can take no greater wound
- Then, madam, I thought you would not back
again - Most like, bringing me here to kill me
Not so neither.
It cannot be but that my master is abused
Some villain, ay, and singular in his art,
hath done you both this cursed injury
- Some Roman courtesan
- 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
Why Pisania, what shall I do the while?
Where bide? How live?
Or in my life what comfort,
when I am dead to my husband?
- If you'll back to the court...
- No court, no mother
Nor no more ado
with that harsh, noble, simple nothing
That Cloten, whose love suit
hath been to me as fearful as a siege
- If not at court, then not in
Britain must you bide - Where then?
Hath Britain all the sun that shines?
Day? Night? Are they not but in Britain?
In the world's volume our Britain seems as of it,
but not in it, in a great pool a swan's nest
- Prithee, think there's livers out of Britain.
- I am most glad you think of other place
The ambassador, Lucius the Roman,
comes to Milford Haven tomorrow
Now if you could wear a mind dark as
your fortune is, and but disguise...
that which to appear itself
must not yet be but by self-danger...
you should tread a course pretty and full of
view, yea, haply near the residence of Posthumus
- O for such means I would adventure
- Well then, here's the point
You must forget to be a woman.
Change command into obedience
Fear and niceness into a waggish courage, ready in
gibes, quick-answered, and as quarrellous as the weasel
Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek,
your laboursome and dainty trims
Nay, be brief. I see into thy end,
and am almost a man already
Before noble Lucius present yourself,
desire his service
Doubtless with joy he will embrace you,
for he's honourable
Your means abroad, you have me rich.
And I will never fail
Thou art all the comfort the gods will diet me with,
this attempt I am soldier to. Away, I prithee
Well madam, we must
take a short farewell...
lest being missed, I be suspected
of your carriage from the court
My noble mistress,
here is a box, what's in it is precious
If you are sick at sea or stomach-qualmed at
land, a dram of this will drive away distemper
To some shade, and fit you to your manhood
- May the gods direct you to the best
- Amen. I thank thee
Thus far, and so farewell
Thanks, royal madam.
My emperor hath wrote I must from hence
And am right sorry that I must report ye
my master's enemy
Our subjects, sir,
will not endure his yoke
And for ourself to show less sovereignty
than they must needs appear unqueenlike
So, madam, I desire of you
a conduct overland to Milford Haven
- Madam, all joy befall your grace and you -
My lords, you are appointed for that office
The due of honour in no point omit
- So farewell, noble Lucius
- Your hand, my lord
Receive it friendly, but from this
time forth I wear it as your enemy
Sir, the event
is yet to name the winner. Fare you well
Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords,
till he have crossed the Severn. Happiness
He goes hence frowning, but it honours us
that we have given him cause
'Tis all the better. Your valiant
Britons have their wishes in it
Lucius hath wrote already to the Emperor
how it goes here
It fits us therefore ripely our soldiers 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
'Tis not sleepy business,
but must be looked to speedily and strongly
Our expectation that it would be thus
hath made us forward
But my gentle husband,
where is our daughter?
She hath not appeared before the Roman,
nor to us hath tendered 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
Royal madam, since the exile of Posthumus,
most retired hath her life been
The cure whereof, my lady, 'tis time must do.
Beseech your majesty forbear sharp speeches to her
She's a lady so tender of rebukes that
words are strokes, and strokes death to her
Where is she, madam?
How can her contempt be answered?
Please you, madam,
her chambers are all locked
And there's no answer that will be given
to the loudest of noise we make
My lady, when last I went to visit her she prayed
me to excuse her keeping close, whereto...
constrained by her infirmity she should that duty
leave unpaid to you which daily she was bound to proffer
This she wished me to make known, but our
great court made me to blame in memory
Her doors locked? Not seen of late?
Grant heavens that which I fear prove false
Son, I say, follow the queen
That woman of hers, Pisania,
I have not seen these two days
Go, look after
Pisania, thou that standest so for
Posthumus. She hath a drug of mine
I pray her absence proceed by swallowing that,
for she believes it is a thing most precious
But for Innogen, where is she gone?
Haply despair hath seized her
Or, winged with fervour 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
- How now, my son?
- 'Tis certain she is fled
Go in and cheer the Queen,
she rages, none dare come about her
All the better. May this night
forestall her of the coming day
I love and hate the princess,
for she's fair
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 disdaining me, and
throwing favours on the low Posthumus...
slanders so her judgement
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...
Who is here?
What, are you packing, wench?
Come hither.
Ah you precious pandar, villain
Where is thy lady? In a word,
or thou art straightway with the fiends
- O good my lord - 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?
Alas, my lord, how can she be with him?
When was she missed? He is in Rome
Where is she? Come nearer, no farther
halting. What is become of her?
- O my all-worthy lord
- All-worthy villain
Discover where thy mistress is at once,
at the next word, no more of 'worthy lord'
Speak, or thy silence on the instant
is thy condemnation and thy death
Then sir, this paper is the history
of my knowledge touching her flight
Let's see it,
I will pursue her even to Augustus' throne
Or this or perish. She's far enough, and what he
learns from this may prove his travel, not her danger
I'll write to my lord she's dead. O Innogen,
safe mayst thou wander, safe return again
- Wench, is this letter true?
- Sir, as I think
It is Posthumus' hand, I know it. If thou 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 villainy soe'er I bid thee
do, to perform it directly and truly
Wilt thou serve me?
For since patiently and constantly thou hast stuck
to the bare fortune of that beggar Posthumus...
thou canst not in the course of gratitude
but be a diligent follower of mine
- Wilt thou serve me?
- Sir, I will
Give me thy hand
Here's my purse
Hast any of thy late master's garments
in thy possession?
I have, my lord, at my lodging the same suit he
wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress
The first service thou dost me, fetch that
suit hither. Let it be thy first service, go
- I shall, my lord
- Meet thee at Milford Haven
I forgot to ask her one thing,
I'll remember it anon
Even there, thou villain Posthumus, will I
kill thee. I would these garments were come
She said upon a time, the 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 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 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
- Be those the garments?
- Ay, my noble lord
- How long is it since she went to Milford Haven?
- She can scarce be there yet
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 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
Thou bid'st me to my loss, for true to thee
were to prove false, which I will never be
I see a man's life is a tedious one
I have tired myself, and for two nights
together have made the ground my bed
I should be sick,
but that my resolution helps me
Milford, when from the mountain-top
Pisania showed thee, thou wast within a ken
Two beggars told me I could not miss my way
Will poor folks lie, that have afflictions
on them, knowing 'tis a punishment or trial?
Yes, no wonder when rich
ones scarce tell true
To lapse in fullness is sorer than to lie for need,
and falsehood is worse in kings than beggars
My good lord, thou art
one of the false ones
Now I think on thee my hunger's gone, but
even before I was at point to sink for food
But what is this?
'Tis some savage hold
I were best not call. I dare not call, yet famine,
ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant
Ho! Who's here?
If anything that's civil, speak,
if savage, take or lend
No answer? Then I'll enter
Best draw my sword, and if mine enemy but fear
the sword like me, he'll scarcely look on it
Such a foe, good heavens
You, Polydore, have proved best hunter
and are mistress of the feast
Cadwal and I will play the cook and servant. Come,
our stomachs will make what's homely savoury
Weariness can snore upon the flint
when resty sloth finds the down pillow hard
- I am throughly weary - I am weak
with toil, yet strong in appetite
There is cold meat in the cave. We'll browse
on that whilst what we have killed be cooked
Stay, come not in. But that it eats our
victuals, I should think here were a fairy
- What's the matter, sir?
- By Jupiter, an angel. No elder than a boy
Good masters, harm me not
Before I entered here I called, and thought
to have begged or bought what I have took
Good truth, I have stolen naught.
Here's money for my meat
I would have left it on the board
so soon as I had made my meal
- Money, youth?
- All gold and silver rather turn to dirt...
as 'tis no better reckoned
but of those who worship dirty gods
I see you're angry. Know, if you kill me for
my fault, I should have died had I not made it
- Whither bound?
- To Milford Haven
- What's your name?
- Fidele, sir
I have a kinsman who is bound for Italy,
he embarked at Milford
To whom being going, almost spent with
hunger, I am fallen in this offence
Prithee, fair youth, think us no churls, nor measure
our good minds by this rude place we live in
Well encountered. 'Tis almost night
You shall have better cheer ere you depart,
and thanks to stay and eat it
Come, bid him welcome
Were you a woman, youth, I should
woo hard but be your groom in honesty
I'll make it my comfort
he is a man, I'll love him as my brother
Most welcome!
Be sprightly, for you fall amongst friends
Amongst friends? Would it had been
so that they had been my mother's
Then had my prize been less, and so
more equal ballasting to thee, Posthumus
- He wrings at some distress
- Would I could free it
- Or I, whate'er it be
- We'll go dress our hunt
- Pray draw near - The night to the
owl and morn to the lark less welcome
Fair youth, when we have supped we'll mannerly demand
thee of thy story, so far as thou wilt speak it
Thanks, sir
I am near to the place where they should
meet, if Pisania have mapped it truly
How fit his garments serve me.
Why should his mistress not be fit too?
I mean, the lines of my body are as well
drawn as his. No less young, more strong...
not beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in
the advantage of the time, above him in birth
Yet this imperceiverant thing loves him
in my despite. What mortality is!
Posthumus, thy head, which now is growing above
thy shoulders, shall within this hour be off...
thy mistress enforced,
thy garments cut to pieces before her face
And all this done, spurn her home to her mother, who
may haply be a little angry at my so rough usage
But my father, having power of her testiness,
shall turn all into my commendations
Up sword, and to a sore purpose.
Fortune put them into my hand
- Hail thou, fair Heaven
- Hail Heaven
You are not well. Remain here in the cave,
we'll come to you after hunting
- Brother, stay here. Are we not brothers?
- So man and man should be
But clay and clay differs in dignity,
whose dust is both alike
- I am very sick
- Go you to hunting. I'll abide with him
Stick to your journal course.
The breach of custom is breach of all
I am ill, but your being by me cannot amend
me. Society is no comfort to one not sociable
I am not very sick, since I can
reason of it. Pray you, trust me here
I love thee. I have spoke it. How much the quantity,
the weight as much, as I do love my father
- What? How, how?
- If it be sin to say so, sir...
I yoke me in my good sister's fault.
I know not why I love this youth
And I have heard you say
love's reason's without reason
The bier at door and a demand who is it shall
die, I'd say 'My father, not this youth'
O noble strain.
O worthiness of nature, breed of greatness!
I am not their father, yet who this should
be doth miracle itself, loved before me
'Tis the ninth hour of the morn
- Brother, farewell
- I wish ye sport
You health.
So please you, sir
These are kind creatures.
Gods, what lies I have heard
Our courtiers say all's savage but at
court. Experience, O thou disprovest report
I am sick still, heart-sick.
Pisania, I'll now taste of thy drug
I could not stir him. He said he was gentle, but
unfortunate, dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest
Thus did he answer me,
yet said hereafter I might know more
We'll leave you for this
time, go in and rest
- We'll not be long away
- Pray be not sick
- Well or ill, I am bound to you
- And shalt be ever
This youth, however distressed,
appears he hath had good ancestors
- How angel-like he sings
- But his neat cookery
- He cut our roots in characters
- Nobly he yokes a smiling with a sigh
I do note that grief and patience, rooted
in them both, mingle their spurs together
Grow, patience, and let the stinking-elder, grief,
untwine his perishing root, with the increasing vine
It is great morning. Come away.
Who's there?
I cannot find those runagates. That
villain Pisania hath mocked me. I am faint
'Those runagates'?
Means he not us?
I partly know him, 'tis Cloten, the
son of the Duke. I fear some ambush
I saw him not these many years, and yet I
know 'tis he. We are held as outlaws. Hence!
He is but one. You and my brother search what companies
are near. Pray you away, let me alone with him
Soft, what are you that fly me thus?
Some villainous mountaineers?
I have heard of such.
What slave art thou?
A thing more slavish did I ne'er
than answering a slave without a knock
Thou art a robber, a law-breaker.
Yield thee, thief
To who? To thee? What art thou? Have not
I an arm as big as thine? A heart as big?
Thy words I grant are bigger,
for I wear not my dagger in my mouth
Say what thou art, why
I should yield to thee
- Thou villain base, knowest me not by my clothes?
- No
- Thou precious wretch - Thou art
some fool, I am loath to beat thee
- Thou injurious thief, hear but my
name and tremble - What's thy name?
- Cloten, thou villain
- Cloten, thou double villain be thy name
I cannot tremble at it. Were it toad or
adder, spider, 'twould move me sooner
To thy further fear, nay, to thy mere
confusion, thou shalt know I am son to the Duke
- I am sorry for it, not seeming so
worthy as thy birth - Art not afeard?
Those that I reverence, those I fear,
the wise. At fools I laugh, not fear them
Die the death
When I have slain thee with my proper hand
I'll follow those that even now fled hence...
and on the gates of
Lud's town set your heads
Yield, rustic mountaineer
- No company's abroad?
- None in the world. You did mistake him, sure
I cannot tell. Long is it since I saw him, but time hat h
nothing blurred those lines of favour which then he wore
The snatches in his voice and burst of speaking
were as his. I am absolute 'twas very Cloten
In this place we left them. I wish my sister
make good time with him, you say he is so fell
Defect of judgement is oft the
cease of fear. But see thy sister
This Cloten was a fool, an empty purse,
there was no money in it
Not Hercules could have knocked
out his brains, for he had none
Yet I not doing this,
the fool had borne my head, as I do his
What hast thou done?
I am perfect what. Cut off one Cloten's
head, son to the Duke, after his own report
Who called me traitor, mountaineer, and swore
with his own single hand he'd take us in...
displace our heads where, thank the
gods, they grow, and set them on Lud's town
- We are all undone
- Why?
Worthy father, what have we to lose
but that he swore to take, our lives?
The law protects not us, then why should we be tender
to let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us...
play judge and executioner all himself,
for we do fear the law?
What company discover you abroad?
No single soul can we set eye on, but in all
safe reason he must have some attendants
Though his humour was nothing but mutation,
ay, and that from one bad thing to worse...
not frenzy, not absolute madness, could
so far have raved to bring him here alone
Although perhaps it may be heard at court that
such as we cave here, hunt here, are outlaws
The which he hearing might swear he'd
fetch us in, then on good ground we fear
Let ordinance come as the gods foresay it.
Howsoever, my sister hath done well
I had no mind to hunt this day. The boy
Fidele's sickness did make my way long forth
With his own sword, which he did wave against
my throat, I have taken his head from him
I'll throw it into the creek behind
our rock, and let it to the sea...
and tell the fishes he's the
Duke's son, Cloten. That's all I reck
I fear 'twill be revenged.
Would, Polydore, thou hadst not done it
Would I had done it,
so the revenge alone pursued me
Polydore, I love thee brotherly, but envy
much thou hast robbed me of this deed
Well, 'tis done. We'll hunt no more today,
nor seek for danger where there's no profit
I prithee to our rock.
You and Fidele play the cooks
I'll stay till hasty Polydore return,
and bring her to dinner presently
Poor sick Fidele, I'll willingly to him
To gain his colour I'd let a parish of such
Cloten's blood, and praise myself for charity
O thou goddess, thou divine Nature,
how thyself thou blazonest in these two
'Tis wonder that an invisible instinct
should frame them to royalty unlearned...
Honour untaught, civility not seen from
other, valour that wildly grows in them...
but yields a crop
as if it had been sowed
Yet still it's strange what Cloten's being here
to us portends, or what his death will bring us
Where's my brother?
I have sent Cloten's clotpoll down
the stream in embassy to his father
- His body's hostage for his return
- My ingenious instrument
Hark, Polydore, it sounds. But what
occasion hath Cadwal now to give it motion?
What does he mean? Since death of my dearest
mother it did not speak before. Is Cadwal mad?
Look, here he comes, and brings the dire
occasion in his arms of what we blame him for
The bird is dead that
we have made so much on
I had rather have skipped from sixteen years of age to
sixty, to have turned my leaping-time into a crutch...
- than have seen this
- O sweetest, fairest lily
O melancholy. Thou blessed thing,
Jove knows what man thou mightst have made
But aye thou diedst, a most rare boy,
of melancholy. How found you him?
Stark, as you see, thus smiling
as some fly had tickled slumber
- Where?
- On the floor
- I thought he slept
- Why, he but sleeps
If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed.
With female fairies will his tomb be haunted
And worms will not come to thee
With fairest flowers whilst summer lasts and I
live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave
Thou shalt not lack the flower that's like thy face,
pale primrose, nor the azured harebell, like thy veins
No, nor the leaf of eglantine, whom, not
to slander, out-sweetened not thy breath
Prithee have done, and do not play in
wench-like words with that which is so serious
- Let us bury him
- Say, where shall's lay him?
- By good Euriphile, our mother
- Be it so
And let us, Polydore, though now my
voice has got the mannish crack...
sing him to the ground as once our mother. Use like
note and words, save that Euriphile must be Fidele
- Cadwal, I cannot sing. I'll weep
- We'll speak it then
Great griefs, I see, medicine the less,
for Cloten is quite forgot
Our foe was princely, and though you took his
life as being our foe, yet bury him as a prince
Pray you fetch him hither. Thersites' body
is as good as Ajax', when neither are alive
If you'll go fetch him,
we'll sing our song the whilst
So Polydore, begin
Fear no more the heat of the sun,
nor the furious winter's rages
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
home art gone and taken thy wages
Golden lads and girls all must,
as chimney-sweepers, come to dust
Fear no more the frown of the great,
thou art past the tyrant's stroke
Care no more to clothe and eat,
to thee the reed is as the oak
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
all follow this and come to dust
- Fear no more the lightning flash
- Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone
- Fear not slander, censure rash
- Thou hast finished joy and moan
All lovers young, all lovers must
consign to thee and come to dust
No exorciser harm thee,
nor no witchcraft charm thee
Ghost unlaid forbear thee.
Nothing ill come near thee
Here's a few flowers,
but about midnight more
The herbs that have on them cold dew of the night
are strewings fittest for graves upon their faces
You were as flowers, now withered. Even so
these herblets shall, which we upon you strew
Come on, away, apart upon our knees
The ground that gave them first has them again.
Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain
Yes sir, to Milford
Haven, which is the way?
I thank you, by yon bush?
Pray how far thither?
'Od's pitikins, can it be six mile yet? I have
gone all night. Faith, I'll lie down and sleep
But soft, no bedfellow.
O gods and goddesses!
These flowers are like the pleasures of
the world, this bloody man the care on it
I hope I dream, for so I thought I was a
cavekeeper, and cook to honest creatures
But 'tis not so. 'Twas but a bolt of nothing,
shot at nothing, which the brain makes of fumes
Our very eyes are sometimes like our judgements,
blind. Good faith, I tremble still with fear
But if there be yet left in heaven as small a drop
of pity as a wren's eye, feared gods, a part of it
The dream's here still. Even when I wake it is
without me as within me. Not imagined, felt
A headless man?
The garments of Posthumus?
I know the shape of his leg, this is his
hand, his foot mercurial, his martial thigh
The brawns of Hercules. But his Jovial
face... Murder in heaven, how? 'Tis gone!
Pisania, all curses madded Hecuba gave the
Greeks and mine to boot, be darted on thee
Thou, conspired with that irregulous
devil Cloten, hath here cut off my lord
To write and read
be henceforth treacherous
Damned Pisania hath with her
forged letters... Damned Pisania...
from this most bravest vessel
of the world struck the main-top
O Posthumus, alas, where is thy head?
Where's that? Ay me, where's that?
Pisania might have killed thee at the heart
and left this head on
How should this be, Pisania? 'Tis she and Cloten.
Malice and lucre in them have laid this woe here
O 'tis pregnant, pregnant
The drug she gave me, which she said
was precious and cordial to me...
have I not found it
murderous to the senses?
That confirms it home.
This is Pisania's deed, and Cloten
O, give colour to my pale cheek with thy
blood, that we the horrider may seem...
to those which chance to find us.
O my lord, my lord
Sir, the common men are now in action
against the Pannonians and the Dalmatians
But the legions garrisoned in Gallia
after your will have crossed the sea...
attending you here at Milford Haven
with your ships
- They are in readiness
- But what from Rome?
Since the legions are full weak to undertake
our wars against the fallen-off Britons...
the senate hath stirred up the gentlemen of Italy,
most willing spirits that promise noble service
And they come under the
conduct of bold lachimo
- When expect you them?
- With the next benefit of the wind
This forwardness makes our hopes fair.
Command our present numbers be mustered
Go, bid the captains look to it
Now madam, what have you dreamed
of late of this war's purpose?
Last night the very gods showed me a vision
I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle...
winged from the spongy south to this part
of the west, there vanished in the sunbeams
Which portends, unless my sins abuse my
divination, success to the Roman host
Dream often so, and never false
Soft ho, what trunk is here?
Without his top?
The ruin speaks
that sometime it was a worthy building
How, a page? Or dead or sleeping on him?
Let's see the boy's face
He's alive, my lord
Who is this thou makest thy bloody pillow?
What art thou?
I am nothing. Or if not,
nothing to be were better
This was my master, a very valiant Briton, and
a good, that here by mountaineers lies slain
Alas, there are no more such masters. I may wander
from east to occident, cry out for service...
try many, all good, serve truly,
never find such another master
- Say his name, good friend
- Richard du Champ
If I do lie and do no harm by it, though the gods
hear, I hope they'll pardon it. Say you, sir?
- Thy name?
- Fidele, sir
Thy name well fits thy faith, thy faith
thy name. Wilt take thy chance with me?
I will not say thou shalt be so well mastered,
but be sure, no less beloved. Go with me
I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please the
gods, I'll hide my master from the flies...
as deep as these poor pickaxes can dig
And when with wildwood leaves and weeds
I have strewed his grave...
and on it said a century of prayers,
such as I can, twice over...
I'll weep and sigh,
and leaving so his service, follow you
Ay good youth,
and rather father thee than master thee
My friends, the boy hath taught us manly duties. Come,
arm him. Boy, he shall be interred as soldiers can
Be cheerful, wipe thine eyes.
Some falls are means the happier to arise
Again, and bring me word how 'tis with him
A fever with the absence of his son,
a madness of which his life's in danger
Heavens, how deeply you at once do touch me.
Innogen, the great part of my comfort, gone
My lord upon a desperate bed,
and in a time when fearful wars point at me
His son gone, so needful for this present.
It strikes me, past the hope of comfort
But for thee, Pisania, who needs must know of
her departure and dost seem so ignorant...
- we'll enforce it from thee by a sharp torture -
Madam, my life is yours, I humbly set it at your will
But for my mistress, I nothing know where she
remains, why gone, nor when she purposes return
Beseech your highness,
hold me your loyal servant
Good my queen, the day that she was missing
Pisania was here
I dare be bound she's true, and shall
perform all parts of her subjection loyally
For Cloten, there wants no diligence
in seeking him, and will no doubt be found
The time is troublesome. We'll slip you for
a season, but our jealousy does yet depend
So please your majesty, the Roman legions,
all from Gallia drawn...
are landed on your coast with a supply
of Roman gentlemen by the senate sent
Now for the counsel of my son and lord!
I am amazed with matter
Good your highness, your preparation can
affront no less than what you hear of
Come more, for more you're ready. The want is but
to put those powers in motion that long to move
I thank you. Let's withdraw,
and meet the time as it seeks us
We fear not what can from Italy annoy us,
but we grieve at chances here
I heard no letter from my master since I
wrote him Innogen was slain. 'Tis strange
Nor hear I from my mistress. Neither know I what
is betid to Cloten, but remain perplexed in all
The heavens still must work. Wherein I am
false I am honest. Not true, to be true
These present wars shall find I love my country
even to the note of the Queen, or I'll fall in them
All other doubts, by time let them be cleared.
Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered
- The noise is round about us
- Let us from it
What pleasure, sir, find we in life
to lock it from action and adventure?
Nay, what hope have we in hiding us? This way
the Romans must or for Britains slay us...
or receive us for barbarous revolts
during their use, and slay us after
We'll higher to the mountains, there secure
us. To the Queen's party there's no going
Newness of Cloten's death, we being not
known, not mustered among the bands...
may drive us to a render where we have lived,
and so extort from us that which we have done
Whose answer would be
death drawn on with torture
This is, sir, a doubt in such a time
nothing becoming you nor satisfying us
It is not likely that they will waste their
time upon our note, to know from whence we are
O, I am known of many in the army. Many years,
though Cloten then but young, you see...
not wore him from my remembrance.
And besides...
the Queen hath not deserved my service nor your
loves, who find in my exile the want of breeding...
the certainty of this hard life. Aye hopeless
to have the courtesy of your cradle promised...
but to be still hot summer's tanlings,
and the shrinking slaves of winter
Than be so, better to cease to be. Pray sir,
to the army. I and my brother are not known
Yourself so out of thought, and thereto
so o'ergrown, cannot be questioned
By this sun that shines, I'll thither. What
thing is it that I never did see man die
Scarce ever looked on blood but that
of coward hares, hot goats, and venison
I am ashamed to look upon the holy sun...
to have the benefit of his blest beams,
remaining so long a poor unknown
By heavens, I'll go. If you will bless me, sir,
and give me leave, I'll take the better care
But if you will not, the hazard therefore
due fall on me by the hands of Romans
So say I, amen
No reason I, since of your lives you set so slight a
valuation, should reserve my cracked one to more care
Have with you
If in your country wars you chance to die,
that is my bed too, and there I'll lie
Lead, lead. The time seems long, their blood thinks
scorn till it fly out and show them nobly born
Yea bloody cloth, I'll keep thee,
for I wished thou shouldst be coloured thus
You married ones,
if each of you should take this course...
how many must murder wives much better
than themselves for wrying but a little?
O Pisania, every good servant does not
all commands, no bond but to do just ones
Gods, if you should have taken vengeance on
my faults, I never had lived to put on this
So had you saved the noble Innogen to repent, and
struck me, wretch, more worth your vengeance
But alack, you snatch some hence for little
faults. That's love, to have them fall no more
You some permit to second ills with ills,
each elder worse
But Innogen is your own. Do your
best wills, and make me blest to obey
I am brought hither among the Italian gentry,
and to fight against my lady's kingdom
'Tis enough that, Britain, I have killed thy
mistress. Peace, I'll give no wound to thee
Therefore, good heavens, hear patiently my
purpose. I'll disrobe me of these Italian weeds...
and suit myself as does a Briton peasant.
So I'll fight against the part I come with
So I'll die for thee, O Innogen, even
to whom my life is every breath a death
And thus unknown, pitied nor hated,
to the face of peril myself I'll dedicate
Let me make men know more valour in me
than my habits show
Gods, put the strength of the Leonati in me
To shame the guise of the world, I will begin
the fashion. Less without and more within
The heaviness and guilt within my bosom
takes off my manhood
I have belied a lady, the princess of this
country, and the air on't revengingly enfeebles me
Or could this carl, a very drudge of
nature's, have subdued me in my profession?
Knighthoods and honours, borne as I
wear mine, are titles but of scorn
If that thy gentry, Britain, go before
this lout as he exceeds our lords...
the odds is that we scarce are men
and you are gods
Stand, stand, we have the
advantage of the ground
The lane is guarded. Nothing routs
us but the villainy of our fears
Stand stand and fight!
Stand stand and fight!
Away boy, from the troops, and save thyself
For friends kill friends, and the
disorder's such as war were hoodwinked
- Cam'st thou from where they made the stand?
- I did
- Though you, it seems,
come from the fliers - I did
No blame be to you sir, for all was lost,
but that the heavens fought
The Queen herself of her wings destitute, the
army broken, and but the backs of Britons seen
All flying through a strait lane,
cowards living to die with lengthened shame
- Where was this lane?
- Close by the battle, ditched, and walled with turf
Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier,
an honest one, I warrant, athwart the lane
He with two striplings made good the
passage, cried to those that fled
'Our Britain's harts die flying, not
her men. Stand, or we are Romans...'
'...and will give you that like beasts
which you shun beastly. Stand, stand!'
And now our cowards, those that would die or ere
resist are grown the mortal bugs of the field
'A narrow lane, an old man, and two
striplings' This was strange chance
Nay, do not wonder at it: you are made rather to
wonder at the things you hear than to work any
- Will you rhyme upon it and vent it for a mockery?
- Nay, be not angry, sir
'Lack, to what end? Who dares not
stand his foe, I'll be his friend
For if he'll do as he is made to do,
I know he'll quickly fly my friendship too
- You have put me into rhyme
- Farewell, you're angry
Today how many would have given their
honours to save their carcasses?
Took heel to do it, and yet died too
I, in mine own woe charmed, could not find death where
I did hear him groan, nor feel him where he struck
Well, I will find him.
For being now a favourer to the Briton...
no more a Briton, I have resumed again
the part I came in. Fight I will no more
Great the slaughter is here made by the
Roman, great the answer be Britons must take
For me, my ransom's death,
on either side I come to spend my breath
Which neither here I'll keep nor bear
again, but end it by some means for Innogen
Great Jupiter be praised, Lucius is taken. 'Tis
thought the old man and his youths were angels
There was a fourth man, in a silly habit,
that gave the affront with them
So 'tis reported, but
none of 'em can be found
- Stand, who's there?
- A Roman
Lay hands on him. A dog, a leg of Rome shall not
return to tell what crows have pecked them here
He brags his service as if he were of note.
Bring him to the Queen
You shall not now be stolen,
you have locks upon you
Most welcome bondage, for thou art a way,
I think, to liberty
Yet am I better than one that's sick of the gout,
since he had rather groan so in perpetuity...
than be cured by the sure physician,
death, who is the key to unbar these locks
My conscience, thou art fettered
more than my shanks and wrists
You good gods, give me the penitent instrument
to pick that bolt, then free for ever
Is it enough I am sorry?
So children temporal fathers do appease.
Gods are more full of mercy
Must I repent, I cannot do it better than
in gyves, desired more than constrained
To satisfy, if of my freedom 'tis the main part,
take no stricter render of me than my all
For Innogen's dear life take mine, and
though 'tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life
O Innogen, I'll speak to thee in silence
No more, no more, thou thunder-master,
show no more thy spite on mortal flies
Hath my poor boy done aught but well,
Whose face I never saw?
I died whilst in the womb he stayed,
attending nature's law
Lucina lent not me her aid,
but took me in my throes
That from me was Posthumus ripped, came
crying 'mongst his foes, a thing of pity
When once he was mature for a man, in Britain
where was he that could stand up his parallel
Or fruitful object be in eye of Innogen,
that best could deem his dignity?
Why did you suffer lachimo,
slight thing of Italy...
to taint his nobler heart and brain
with needless jealousy?
And to become the geck and scorn
of the other's villainy?
With hardiment Posthumus hath
to Cymbeline performed
Then, Jupiter, thou king of gods,
take off his miseries
Help, Jupiter, or we appeal,
and from thy justice fly
No more, you petty spirits of region low,
offend our hearing
Hush! How dare you ghosts
accuse the thunderer...
whose bolt, you know,
sky-planted, batters all rebelling coasts?
Poor shadows of Elysium, hence, and rest
upon your never-withering banks of flowers
Be not with mortal accidents oppressed.
No care of yours it is, you know 'tis ours
This tablet lay upon his breast, wherein
our pleasure his full fortune doth confine
And so away. No farther with your din
express impatience, lest you stir up mine
Mount eagle, to my palace crystalline
Sleep, thou hast been a grandsire,
and begot a father to me
And thou hast created
a mother and two brothers
But O scorn, gone!
They went hence so soon as they were born
And so I am awake
Poor wretches that depend on greatness' favour,
dream as I have done, wake and find nothing
But alas, I swerve. Some dream not to find,
neither deserve, and yet are steeped in favours
So am I, that have this
golden chance and know not why
What fairies haunt this ground?
'Tis still a dream, or else such stuff
as madmen tongue, and brain not
Either both, or nothing, or senseless speaking,
or a speaking such as sense cannot untie
Be what it is, the action of my life is like
it, which I'll keep, if but for sympathy
- Come sir, are you ready for death?
- Over-roasted rather, ready long ago
Hanging is the word, sir. If you be
ready for that, you are well cooked
Stand by my side, you whom the gods
have made preservers of my throne
Woe is my heart that the poor soldier
that so richly fought, cannot be found
- I never saw such noble fury in so
poor a thing - No tidings of him?
He hath been searched among the
dead and living, but no trace of him
To my grief I am the heir of his reward, which I will
add to you, the liver, heart, and brain of Britain...
by whom I grant she lives. 'Tis now the
time to ask of whence you are. Report it
Madam, in Cambria are we born, and gentry we.
Further to boast were neither true nor modest
Bow your knees.
Arise my knights of the battle
I create you companions to our person, and will
fit you with dignities becoming your estates
Cornelia! There's business in your face.
Why so sadly greet you our victory?
You look like a Roman,
and not of the court of Britain
Hail great Queen! To sour your happiness
I must report your lord is dead
Who worse than a physician
would this report become? How ended he?
With horror, madly dying, like his life, which, being
cruel to the world, concluded most cruel to himself
- What he confessed I will report,
so please you - Prithee say
First, he confessed he never loved you,
only affected greatness got by you, not you
Married your royalty, was husband
to your place, abhorred your person
- Proceed
- Your daughter...
whom he bore in hand to love with such integrity,
he did confess was as a scorpion to his sight
Whose life, but that her flight
prevented it, he had taken off by poison
O most delicate fiend!
Who is't can read a man? Is there more?
More madam, and worse. He did confess
he had for you a mortal mineral...
which being took, should by the minute feed
on life, and lingering, by inches waste you
And in time, when he had fitted you with his craft,
to work his son into the adoption of the crown
But failing of his end by his son's
strange absence, grew shameless-desperate
Opened, in despite of heaven and men,
his purposes
Repented the evils he hatched were not
effected. So despairing, died
Mine eyes were not in
fault, for he was beautiful
Mine ears that heard his flattery, nor my
heart that thought him like his seeming
It had been vicious to have mistrusted him.
Yet O my daughter!
That it was folly in me thou mayst say, and
prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all
Thou com'st not, Caius, now for tribute
That the Britons have razed out, though with
the loss of many a bold one whose kinsmen...
have made suit that their good souls may be
appeased with slaughter of you their captives...
which ourself have granted,
so think of your estate
Consider madam, the chance of war.
The day was yours by accident
Had it gone with us, we should not, when the blood was
cool, have threatened our prisoners with the sword
Sufficeth a Roman with a
Roman's heart can suffer
Augustus lives to think on it,
and so much for my peculiar care
This one thing only I will entreat.
My boy, a Briton born, let him be ransomed
Never master had a page so true.
He hath done no Briton harm...
though he have served a Roman.
Save him, madam, and spare no blood beside
Is not this boy revived from death?
One sand another not more resembles that
sweet rosy lad who died, and was Fidele
- What think you?
- The same dead thing alive
Peace, peace, see further. He eyes us
not, forbear. Creatures may be alike
- But we see him dead
- Be silent, let's see further
I have surely seen him,
his favour is familiar to me
Boy, thou hast looked thyself
into my grace, and art mine own
I know not why, wherefore,
to say 'Live, boy'. Ne'er thank thy master
Live, and ask of Cymbeline what boon
thou wilt fitting my bounty and thy state
I'll give it, yea, though thou do demand
a prisoner the noblest taken
I humbly thank your highness
I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad,
and yet I know thou wilt
No, no, alack.
I see a thing bitter to me as death
- Your life, good master, must shuffle for itself -
The boy disdains me. Why stands he so perplexed?
What wouldst thou, boy?
I love thee more and more.
Think more and more what's best to ask
Knowest him thou look'st on? Speak, Wilt
have him live? Is he thy kin? Thy friend?
He is a Roman,
no more kin to me than I to your highness
- Wherefore eyest him so?
- I'll tell you, madam, in private...
- if you please to give me hearing - Ay,
with all my heart, and lend my best attention
- What's thy name?
- Fidele, madam
Thou'rt my good youth.
Walk with me, speak freely
Were it he,
I am sure he would have spoke to us
It is my mistress. Since she is living,
let the time run on to good or bad
Come, stand thou by our side,
make thy demand aloud
Sir, step you forth. Give answer
to this boy, and do it freely...
or bitter torture shall winnow
the truth from falsehood. On, speak to him
My boon is that this gentleman
may render of whom he had this ring
That diamond upon your finger,
say, how came it yours?
Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken
that which to be spoke would torture thee
How? Me?
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 never lived 'twixt sky and ground
- Wilt thou hear more, my lady?
- All that belongs to this
That paragon thy daughter, for
whom my heart drops blood...
My daughter? What of her?
Renew thy strength
I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will
than die ere I hear more. Strive man, and speak
Upon a time... It was in Rome, accursed the mansion
where, 'twas at a feast... O, the good Posthumus...
What should I say?
He was too good to be where ill men were...
sitting sadly,
hearing us praise our loves of Italy
I stand on fire. Come to the matter
This Posthumus, most like a noble lord in love
and one that had a royal lover, took his hint
And not dispraising whom we praised,
therein he was calm as virtue
- Nay, nay, to the purpose
- 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 wagered with him pieces of gold against this
Which then he wore upon his honoured finger,
to attain in suit the place of his bed...
and win this ring by
hers and mine adultery
Well may you, madam,
remember me at court...
where I was taught of your chaste daughter the
wide difference 'twixt amorous and villainous
Being thus quenched 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 prevailed
that I returned with simular proof enough...
to make the noble Leonatus mad by wounding
his belief in her renown with 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 cracked, I having taken the forfeit. Whereupon...
- Methinks I see him now
- Ay, so thou dost, Italian fiend
Ay me, most credulous fool,
egregious murderer, thief
O give me cord, or knife, or poison, some upright
justicer. Thou Queen, send out for torturers ingenious
It is I that all the abhorred things of
the earth amend 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 it
The temple of virtue was
she, yea, and she herself
Spit and throw stones, cast mire upon me,
set the dogs of the street to bay me
Every villain be called Posthumus Leonatus,
and be villainy less than 'twas
O Innogen! My queen, my life, my wife
Peace, my lord, hear, hear
Shall's have a play of this?
Thou scornful page, there lie thy part
Mine and your lady! O, my lord Posthumus,
you never killed Innogen till now
- Help, help! Mine honoured lady
- Does the world go round?
- How comes these staggers on me?
- Wake, my mistress!
If this be so, the gods do mean to
strike me to death with mortal joy
- How fares my mistress?
- O get thee from my sight
Thou gav'st me poison.
Dangerous villain, hence
- Breathe not where princes are
- The tune of Innogen
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 Duke
- New matter still
It poisoned me
O gods! I left out one thing which the Duke
confessed which must approve thee honest
'If Pisania have', said he, 'given her mistress
that confection which I gave her for cordial...'
- '...Innogen is served as I would
serve a rat' - What's this, Cornelia?
Your lord, madam, very oft importuned me
to temper poisons for him...
still pretending the satisfaction of his knowledge o nly
in killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs of no esteem
I, dreading that his purpose was of more
danger, did compound for him a certain stuff
Which, being taken, would cease
the present power of life
But in short time all offices of nature
should again do their due functions
- Have you taken of it?
- Most like I did, for I was dead
- There was our error
- This is sure Fidele
Why did you throw your
wedded lady from you?
Think that you are upon a rock,
and now throw me again
Hang there like fruit, my soul,
till the tree die
How now, my flesh, my child?
What, makest thou me a dullard in this act?
- Wilt thou not speak to me?
- Your blessing, madam
Though you did love this youth,
I blame ye not. You had a motive for it
My tears that fall prove holy water on thee
- Innogen, thy father's dead
- I am sorry for it, my lady
O he was naught. But his son is gone,
we know not how nor where
Your highness, now fear is from me
I'll speak truth
Lord Cloten, upon my lady's missing, came to
me with his sword drawn, foamed at the mouth
And swore if I discovered 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 enforced 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
- Let me end the story
- I slew him there
- Marry, the gods forfend
I would not thy good deeds should from my lips pluck a
hard sentence. Prithee, valiant youth, deny it again
- I have spoke it, and I did it
- He was a prince
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 his head, and am right glad he is
not standing here to tell this tale of mine
By thine own tongue thou art condemned,
and must endure our law. Thou art dead
That headless man I
thought had been my lord
- Bind the offender, and take her
from our presence - Stay, madam Queen
This woman is better than the man she slew,
as well descended as thyself
And hath more of thee merited
than a band of Clotens had ever scar for
Let her arms alone,
they were not born for bondage
Why old soldier, wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpa id
for by tasting of our wrath? How of descent as good aswe?
- In that he spake too far
- And thou shalt die for it
We will die all three, but I will prove that
two on us are as good as I have given out her
I must for mine own part unfold a
dangerous speech, though haply well for you
- Your danger's ours
- And our good his
Have at it then, by leave. Great Queen, thou
hadst a subject who was called Belarius
What of him?
He is a banished traitor
He it is that hath assumed this age. Indeed
a banished man, I know not how a traitor
Take him hence,
the whole world shall not save him
Not too hot. First pay me for
the nursing of thy children
- Nursing of my children?
- I am too blunt and saucy, here's my knee
Ere I arise I will prefer them both,
then spare not the old father
Mighty Queen, these two youths that call me father,
and think they are my children, are none of mine
They are the issue of your womb, your
highness, and blood of your begetting
- How, my issue?
- So sure as you your mother's
I am that Belarius whom you sometime banished.
Your pleasure was my mere offence...
my punishment itself, and all my treason.
That I suffered, was all the harm I did
These gentle nobles, for such and so they
are, these twenty years have I trained up
Those arts they have as
I could put into them
Their nurse Euriphile, whom for the theft I
wedded, stole these children upon my banishment
I moved her to it.
Beaten for loyalty excited me to treason
Their dear loss, the more of you 'twas felt, the
more it shaped unto my end of stealing them
But, gracious madam, here they are again, and I must
lose two of the sweetest 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
- Thou weep'st, and speak'st. I lost
my children - Be pleased a while
This gentle lady, whom I call Polydore, most
worthy princess, as yours, is true Guideria
This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus,
your younger princely son
He madam, was lapped in a most curious mantle
wrought by the hand of you, his mother
Guideria had upon her neck a mole,
a sanguine star. It was a mark of wonder
This is she,
who hath upon her still that natural stamp
O, what am I, a mother to the birth of three?
Ne'er mother rejoiced deliverance more
Blest pray you be, that after this strange
starting from your orbs, you may reign in them now
- O Innogen, thou hast lost by this a kingdom
- No, my lady, I have got two worlds by it
O, sister, brother, have we thus met?
O never say hereafter but I am truest speaker.
You called me brother when I was but your sister
- Did you ever meet?
- Ay my good lady
And at first meeting loved,
continued so until we thought he died
O rare instinct!
When shall I hear all through?
But nor the time nor place
will serve our long interogatories
Let's quit this ground,
and smoke the temple with our sacrifices
Thou art my brother,
so we'll hold thee ever
You are my father too, and did
relieve me to see this gracious season
All o'erjoyed, save these in bonds. Let them be
joyful too, for they shall taste our comfort
- My good master, I will yet do you service
- Happy be you
The forlorn soldier that so nobly fought,
he would have well becomed this place...
and graced the thankings of a Queen
I am, madam, the soldier that did company
these three in poor beseeming
'Twas a fitment for the
purpose I then followed
That I was he, speak lachimo. I had you
down, and might have made you finish
I am down again. But now my heavy conscience
sinks my knee, as then your force did
Take that life, beseech you,
which I so often owe. But your ring first
And here the bracelet of the truest
princess that ever swore her faith
Kneel not to me. The power that
I have on you is to spare you
The malice towards you to forgive you.
Live, and deal with others better
Nobly doomed. We'll learn our freeness
from a son-in-law. Pardon's the word to all
You holp us, sir,
as you did mean indeed to be our brother
- Joyed are we that you are
- Your servant
Good my lord of Rome,
call forth your soothsayer
As I slept, methought great Jupiter appeared to
me with other spritely shows of mine own kindred
When I waked I found this label on my bosom,
whose containing is so from sense in hardness...
that I can make no collection of it.
Let her show her skill in the construction
- Philharmonia
- Here, my good lord
Read, and declare the meaning
When as a lion's whelp shall,
to himself unknown...
without seeking find,
and be embraced by a piece of tender air
And when from a stately cedar shall be lopped
branches, which being dead many years...
shall after revive, be jointed
to the old stock and freshly grow...
then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain
be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty
Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp
The fit and apt construction of thy name,
being 'leo-natus' doth import so much
The piece of tender air thy virtuous
daughter, which we call 'mollis aer'
And 'mollis aer', we term it 'mulier', which
'mulier' I divine is this most constant wife
This hath some seeming
The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, personates thee,
and thy lopped branches point thy children forth
Who by Belarius stolen, for many
years thought dead, are now revived...
to the majestic cedar joined, whose
issue promises Britain peace and plenty
Well, my peace we will begin.
And Caius Lucius, although the victor...
we submit to Caesar
and to the Roman empire
Promising to pay our wonted tribute, from the
which we were dissuaded by our wicked duke
The fingers of the powers above
do tune the harmony of this peace
The vision, which I made known to Lucius ere
the stroke of this yet scarce-cold battle...
at this instant is full accomplished
Laud we the gods, and let our crooked smokes
climb to their nostrils from our blest altars
Publish we this peace to all our subjects.
Set we forward
Let a Roman and a British ensign wave friendly
together. So through Lud's town march...
and in the temple of great Jupiter
our peace we'll ratify, seal it with feasts
Never was a war did cease, ere bloody
hands were washed, with such a peace