Cym. Come, stand thou by our side;
Pieces of gold, 'gainst this which then he wure
Make thy demand aloud. Sir, [to Iach.] step Upon his honour'd finger, to attain
Give answer to this boy, and do it freely; Or, by our greatness, and the grace of it, Which is our honour, bitter torment shall
In suit the place of his bed, and win this ring By hers and mine adultery: he, true knight, No lesser of her honour confident Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring;
Winnow the truth from falsehood.-On, speak to And would so, had it been a carbuncle
Imo. My boon is, that this gentleman may renOf whom he had this ring. [der [aside.
Post. What's that to him?
Cym. That diamond upon your finger, say, How came it yours?
Iach. Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that Which, to be spoke, would torture thee.
Iach. I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that, Torments me to conceal. By villainy I got this ring; 'twas Leonatus' jewel: Whom thou didst banish; and (which more may grieve thee,
As it doth me), a nobler sir ne'er liv'd. Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, Cym. All, that belongs to this. [my lord? Iach. That paragon, thy daughter,- For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits
Quail to remember,-Give me leave; I faint. Cym. My daughter! what of her ? renew thy strength:
I had rather thou should'st live while nature will, Than die ere I hear more: strive, man, and speak. Iach. Upon a time, (unhappy was the clock That struck the hour!) it was in Rome, (accurs'd The mansion where!) 'twas at a feast, O 'would Our viands had been poison'd! or, at least, Those which I heav'd to head!) the good Posthú- (What should I say? he was too good to be [mus Where ill men were; and was the best of all Amongst the rar'st of good ones), sitting sadly, Hearing us praise our loves of Italy
For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast Of him that best could speak: for feature laming The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva, Postures beyond brief nature; for condition, A shop of all the qualities that man Loves woman for; besides that hook of wiving, Fairness which strikes the eye :-
Cym. I stand on fire: Come to the matter,
Iach. All too soon I shall,
Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly.-This Post- (Most like a noble lord in love, and one [húmus That had a royal lover), took his hint; And, not dispraising whom we prais'd (therein He was as calm as virtue), he began
His mistress' picture; which by his tongue being
And then a mind put in't, either our brags Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his description Prov'd us unspeaking sots.
Cym. Nay, nay, to the purpose.
Iach. 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 wager'd with him
Of Phoebus' wheel; and might so safely, had it Been all the worth of his car. Away to Britain Post I in this design: well may you, sir, Remember me at court, where I was taught Of your chaste daughter the wide difference 'Twixt amorous and villainous.
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 prevail'd That I return'd with simular proof enough To make the noble Leonatus mad, By wounding his belief in her renown With tokens thus, and thus: avering notes Of chamber-hanging, pictures, 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 crack'd, I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon,— Methinks I see him now,-
Post. Ay, so thou dost, [coming forward Italian fiend!-Ah me, most credulous fool, Egregious murderer, thief, auy thing That's due to all the villains past, in being, To come!-O, give me cord, or knife, or polson, Some upright justicer! thou king, send out For torturers ingenious: it is I That all the abhorred things o'the earth amend, By being worse than they. I am Posthumus, That kill'd thy daughter:-villain-like, I lie; That caus'd a lesser villain than myself, A sacrilegious thief, to do't:-the temple Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself. Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, se The dogs o'the street to bay me: every villain Be call'd, Posthumus Leonatus; and Be villainy less than 'twas!-O Imogen! My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen, Imogen, Imogen !
Imo. Peace, my lord: hear, hear,— Post. Shall's have a play of this? thou scornful page,
[striking her; she falls Pis. O, gentlemen, help, help
Mine, and your mistress:-O, my lord Posthúmus! You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now:— -Help, helpMine honour'd lady!
Cym. Does the world go round?
Post. How come these staggers on me? Pis. Wake, my mistress!
Cym. If this be so, the gods do mean to strike
To death with mortal joy.
Thou gav'sť me poison: dangerous fellow, hence, Breathe not where princes are.
Cym. The tune of Imogen! Pis. 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 queen. Cym. New matter still? Imo. It poison'd me. Cor. O gods!
I left out one thing which the queen confess'd, Which must approve thee honest: if Pisanio Have, said she, given his mistress that confection Which I gave him for a cordial, she is serv'd As I would serve a rat.
Cym. What's this, Cornelius?
Cor. The queen, sir, very oft impórtun'd me To temper poisons for her; still pretending The satisfaction of her knowledge, only In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs Of no esteem: I, dreading that her purpose Was of more danger, did compound for her A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would cease The present power of life; but, in short time, All offices of nature should again
Do their due functions.-Have you ta'en of it? Imo. Most like I did; for I was dead. Bel. My boys,
Now fear is from me, I'll speak truth. Upon my lady's missing, came to me
Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for, By tasting of our wrath? how of descent As good as we ?
Arv. In that he spake too far. Cym. And thou shalt die for't. Bel. We will die all three:
But I will prove, that two of us are as good As I have given out him.-My sons, I must, For mine own part, unfold a dangerous speech, Though, haply, well for you. Arv. Your danger is
Gui. And our good his.
Bel. Have at it then.
By leave:-Thou hadst, great king, a subject who Was call'd Belarius.
Cym. What of him? he is
A banish'd traitor.
Bel. He it is, that hath
Assum'd this age: indeed, a banish'd man; I know not how, a traitor.
Cym. Take him hence;
The whole world shall not save him. Bel. Not too hot:
With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, and First pay me for the nursing of thy sons;
If I discover'd not which way she was gone,
It was my instant death: by accident,
I had a feign'd 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 inforc'd from me, away he posts With unchaste purpose, and with oaths to violate My lady's honour: what became of him, I further know not.
Gui. Let me end the story:
I slew him there.
Cym. Marry, the gods forfend!
I would not thy good deeds should from my lips Pluck a hard sentence: pr'ythee, valiant youth, Deny't again.
For euch, and so they are), these twenty years Have I train'd up: those arts they have, as I Could put into them; my breeding was, sir, as Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile, Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children Upon my banishment: I mov'd her to't; Having receiv'd the punishment before, For that which I did then: beaten for loyalty Excited me to treason: their dear loss, The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir, Here are your sons 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.
Cym. Thou weep'st, and speak'st. The service, that you three have done, Unlike than this thou tell'st: I lost my children; If these be they, I know not how to wish A pair of worthier sons.
Bel. Be pleas'd awhile,
This gentleman, whom I call Polydore,
Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius; This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus, Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lapp'd In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand Of his queen mother, which, for more probation, I can with ease produce.
Cym. Guiderius had
Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star;
It was a mark of wonder.
Bel. This is he;
I have got two worlds by't-O, my gentle Have we thus met? O never say hereafter, But I am truest speaker; you call'd me brother, When I was but your sister; I you brothers, When you were so indeed.
Cym. Did you e'er meet?
Arv. Ay, my good lord.
Gui. And at first meeting lov'd;
Continued so, until we thought he died.
Cor. By the queen's dram she swallow'd. Cym. O rare instinct!
When shall I hear all through? This fierce
Hath to it circumstantial branches, which Distinction should be rich in. Where? how liv'd you?
And when came you to serve our Roman captive? How parted with your brothers? how first met them? [These, Why fled you from the court? and whither? And your three motives to the battle, with I know not how much more, should be demanded; And all the other by-dependencies,
Which I so often owe; but, your ring first; And here the bracelet of the truest princess, That ever swore her faith.
Post. 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.
Cym. Nobly doom'd:
We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law; Pardon's the word to all.
Arv. You holp us, sir,
As you did mean indeed to be our brother, Joy'd are we, that you are.
Post. Your servant, princes.-Good my lord of Rome,
Call forth your soothsayer. As I slept, methought, Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back, Appear'd to me, with other spritely shows Of mine own kindred: when I wak'd, I found This label on my bosom; whose containing Is so from sense in hardness, that I can Make no collection of it; let him show His skill in the construction.
Luc. Philarmonus,
Sooth. Here, my good lord.
Luc. Read, and declare the meaning. Sooth. [reads] "When as a lion's whelp, &c." 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 sir, thy virtuous daughter, [to Cym
Which we call mollis aer, and mollis aer We term it mulier: which mulier, I divine, Is this most constant wife; who, even now,
Answering the letter of the oracle,
Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about With this most tender air.
Cym. This hath some seeming.
Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, Personates thee: and thy lopp'd branches point Thy two sons forth: who, by Belarius stolen, For many years thought dead, are now reviv'd, To the majestic cedar join'd; whose issue Promises Britain peace and plenty. Cym. Well,
My peace we will begin :-And, Caius Lucius, Although the victor, we submit to Cæsar, And to the Roman empire; promising To pay our wonted tribute, from the which We were dissuaded by our wicked queen; Whom heavens, in justice, (both on her, and hers,) Have laid most heavy hand.
Sooth. 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: for the Roman eagle, From south to west on wing soaring aloft, Lessen'd herself, and in the beams o'tho sun So vanish'd: which foreshow'd our princely eagle, The imperial Cæsar, should again unite His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, Which shines here in the west.
Cym. Laud we the gods;
And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils From our bless'd 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.- Set on there:-Never was a war did cease, Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a peace. [exeunt
SCENE I. A HALL IN THE DUKE'S PALACE.
Enter Duke, Egeon, Gaoler, Officers, and other Attendants.
Ege. PROCEED, Solinus, to procure my fall, And, by the doom of death, end woes and all. Duke. Merchant of Syracusa, plead no more; I am not partial to infringe our laws: The enmity and discord, which of late Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your duke To merchants, our well-dealing countrymen,— Who, wanting gilders to redeem their lives, Have seal'd his rigorous statutes with their bloods-
Excludes all pity from our threat'ning looks. For, since the mortal and intestine jars 'Twixt thy seditious countrymen and us, It hath in solemn synods been decreed, Both by the Syracusans and ourselves, To admit no traffic to our adverse towns: Nay, more,
If any, born at Ephesus, be seen At any Syracusan marts and fairs; Again, if any Syracusan born
Come to the bay of Ephesus, he dies, His goods confiscate to the duke's dispose; Unless a thousand marks be levied,
To quit the penalty, and to ransome him. Thy substance, valued at the highest rate, Cannot amount unto a hundred marks: Therefore, by law thou art condemn'd to die. Ege. Yet this my comfort; when your words are done,
My woes end likewise with the evening sun. Duke. Well, Syracusan, eay, in brief, the cause Why thou departed'st from thy native home; And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus. Ege. A heavier task could not have been im- Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable: [pos'd, Yet, that the world may witness, that my end Was wrought by nature, not by vile offence,
I'll utter what my sorrow gives me leave. In Syracusa was I born; and wed Unto a woman, happy but for me, And by me too, had not our hap been bad. With her I liv'd in joy; our wealth increas'd, By prosperous voyages I often made To Epidamnum, 'till my factor's death; And he (great care of goods at random left) Drew me from kind embracements of my spouse: From whom my absence was not six months old Before herself (almost at fainting under The pleasing punishment that women bear), Had made provision for her following me, And soon, and safe, arrived where I was. There she had not been long, but she became A joyful mother of two goodly sons; And, which was strange, the one so like the other As could not be distinguish'd but by names. That very hour, and in the self-same inn, A poor mean woman was delivered
Of such a burden, male twins, both alike: Those, for their parents were exceeding poor, I bought, and brought up to attend my sons. My wife, not meanly proud of two such boys, Made daily motions for our home return: Unwilling I agreed; alas, too soon, We came aboard:
A league from Epidamnum had we sail'd, Before the always wind-obeying deep Gave any tragic instance of our harm: But longer did we not retain much hope; For what obscured light the heavens did grant, Did but convey unto our fearful minds A doubtful warrant of immediate death; Which, though myself would gladly have embrac'i, Yet the incessant weepings of my wife, Weeping before what she saw must come, And piteous plainings of the pretty babes, That mourn'd for fashion, ignorant what to fear, Forc'd me to seek delays for them and me.
« PreviousContinue » |