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I cannot project mine own cause so well
To make it clear; but do confess, I have
Been laden with like frailties, which before
Have often sham'd our sex.


Cleopatra, know, We will extenuate rather than enforce: If you apply yourself to our intents, (Which towards you are most gentle,) you shall find A benefit in this change; but if you seek To lay on me a cruelty, by taking Antony's course, you shall bereave yourself Of my good purposes, and put your children To that destruction which I'll guard them from, If thereon you rely. I'll take my leave.

Cleo. And may, through all the world: 'tis yours; and we, [shall Your 'scutcheons, and your signs of conquest, Hang in what place you please. Here, my good lord.

Sole sir o'the world, | Make not your thoughts your prisons: no, dear

Cæs. You shall advise me in all for Cleopatra. Cleo. This is the brief of money, plate, and jewels, I am possess'd of: 'tis exactly valued; Not petty things admitted.-Where's Seleucus? Sel. Here, madam.


Cleo. This is my treasurer; let him speak, my
Upon his peril, that I have reserv'd
To myself nothing. Speak the truth, Seleucus.
Sel. Madam,

I had rather seel my lips, than, to my peril,
Speak that which is not.

What have I kept back? Sel. Enough to purchase what you have made


Cas. Nay, blush not, Cleopatra; I approve Your wisdom in the deed.

Cleo. See, Cæsar! O, behold, How pomp is follow'd! mine will now be your's; And, should we shift estates, your's would be mine. The ingratitude of this Seleucus does Even make me wild :-O slave, of no more trust Than love that's hir'd!-What, goest thou back? thou shalt

Go back, I warrant thee; but I'll catch thine eyes,
Though they had wings: Slave, soul-less villain,
O rarely base!
Good queen, let us entreat you.
Cleo. O Cæsar, what a wounding shame is this;
That thou, vouchsafing here to visit me,
Doing the honour of thy lordliness
To one so meek, that mine own servant should
Parcel the sum of my disgraces by
Addition of his envy! Say, good Cæsar,
That I some lady's trifles have reserv'd,
Immoment toys, things of such dignity
As we greet modern friends withal; and say,
Some nobler token I have kept apart
For Livia and Octavia, to induce
Their mediation; must I be unfolded
With one that I have bred? The gods! it smites
Beneath the fall I have. Pr'ythee, go hence;
(To Seleucus.)
Or I shall shew the cinders of my spirits
Through the ashes of my chance :- -Wert thou a



Thou would'st have mercy on me.
Forbear, Seleucus.
[Exit Seleucus.
Cleo. Be it known, that we, the greatest, are mis-

For things that others do; and, when we fall,
We answer others' merits in our name,
Are therefore to be pitied.



Not what you have reserv'd, nor what acknowledg'd,
Put we i' the roll of conquest: still be it yours,
Bestow it at your pleasure; and believe,
Caesar's no merchant, to make prize with you
Of things that merchants sold. Therefore be cheer'd;

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I your servant. Adieu, good queen; I must attend on Cæsar. Cleo. Farewell, and thanks. [Exit Dol.] Now, Iras, what think'st thou! Thou, an Egyptian puppet, shalt be shewn In Rome, as well as I: mechanic slaves, With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall Uplift us to the view; in their thick breaths, Rank of gross diet, shall we be enclouded, And forced to drink their vapour.


The gods forbid!

Cleo. Nay, 'tis most certain, Iras: Saucy lictors
Will catch at us, like strumpets; and scald rhymers
Ballad us out o' tune: the quick comedians
Extemporally will stage us, and
Our Alexandrian revels; Antony

Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see
Some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness
I' the posture of a whore.

O the good gods!
Cleo. Nay, that is certain.
Iras. I'll never see it; for, I am sure, my nails
Are stronger than mine eyes.

Why, that's the way
To fool their preparation, and to conquer
Their most absurd intents.-Now Charmian?-

Shew me, my women, like a queen;-Go fetch
My best attires ;-I am again for Cydnus,
To meet Mark Antony:-Sirrah, Iras, go.-
Now, noble Charmian, we'll despatch indeed:
And, when thou hast done this chare, I'll give thee

To play till dooms-day.-Bring our crown and all.
Wherefore's this noise? [Exit Iras. A noise within.
Enter one of the Guard.
Here is a rural fellow,
That will not be denied your highness' presence;
He brings you figs.

Cleo. Let him come in. How poor an instrument [Exit Guard.

May do a noble deed! he brings me liberty.
My resolution's plac'd, and I have nothing
Of woman in me: Now from head to foot

I am marble-constant: now the fleeting moon No planet is of mine.

Re-enter Guard, with a Clown bringing a basket. Guard. This is the man. Cleo. Avoid, and leave him.- [Exit Guard. Hast thou the pretty worm of Nilus there, That kills and pains not?

Clown. Truly I have him: but I would not be the party that should desire you to touch him, for his biting is immortal; those, that do die of it, do seldom or never recover.

Cleo. Remember'st thou any that have died on't? Clown. Very many, men and women too. I heard of one of them no longer than yesterday: a very honest woman, but something given to lie; as a woman should not do, but in the way of honesty: how she died of the biting of it, what pain she felt, -Truly, she makes a very good report o' the worm: But he that will believe all that they say, shall never be saved by half that they do: But this is most fallible, the worm's an odd worm.

Cleo. Get thee hence; farewell.

Clown. I wish you all joy o' the worm.

Cleo. Farewell. (Clown sets down the basket.) Clown. You must think this, look you, that the worm will do his kind.

Cleo. Ay, ay; farewell.

Clown. Look you, the worm is not to be trusted, but in the keeping of wise people; for, indeed, there is no goodness in the worm.

Cleo. Take thou no care; it shall be heeded. Clown. Very good: give it nothing, I pray you, for it is not worth the feeding.

Cleo. Will it eat me?

Clown. You must not think I am so simple, but I know the devil himself will not eat a woman:-I know, that a woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil dress her not. But, truly, these same whoreson devils do the gods great harm in their women; for in every ten that they make, the devils mar five. Cleo. Well, get thee gone; farewell. Clown. Yes, forsooth; I wish you joy of the [Exit.


Re-enter IRAS, with a robe, crown, &c.

Cleo. Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have Immortal longings in me: Now no more The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip:Yare, yare, good Iras; quick.-Methinks, I hear Antony call; I see him rouse himself To praise my noble act; I hear him mock The luck of Cæsar, which the gods give men To excuse their after wrath: Husband, I come : Now to that name my courage prove my title! I am fire, and air; my other elements I give to baser life.-So,-have you done? Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips. Farewell, kind Charmian;-Iras, long farewell. (Kisses them. Iras falls and dies.) Have I the aspick in my lips? Dost fall? If thou and nature can so gently part, The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, Which hurts, and is desir'd. Dost thou lie still? If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world It is not worth leave-taking.


Char. Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain; that I may The gods themselves do weep!

Cleo. Peace, peace! Dost thou not see my baby at my breast, That sucks the nurse asleep?

Cleo. This proves me base : If she first meet the curled Antony, He'll make demand of her: and spend that kiss, Which is my heaven to have. Come, mortal wretch, (To the asp, which she applies to her breast.) With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate Of life at once untie : poor venomous fool, Be angry, and despatch. O, could'st thou speak! might hear thee call great Cæsar, ass Unpolicied! Char.


O eastern star!

Char. O, break! O, break! Cleo. As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle,O Antony!-Nay, I will take thee too:(Applying another asp to her arm.) What should I say- (Falls on a bed and dies.) Char. In this wild world?-So, fare thee well.— Now boast thee, death! in thy possession lies A lass unparallel'd.-Downy windows, close; And golden Phoebus never be beheld Of eyes again so royal! Your crown's awry; I'll mend it, and then play.

Enter the Guard, rushing in. 1 Guard. Where is the queen! Char.

Speak softly, wake her not. 1 Guard. Cæsar hath sentChar. Too slow a messenger. (Applies the asp.)

O, come; apace, despatch: I partly feel thee. 1 Guard. Approach, ho! All's not well: Cæsar's beguil❜d. [call him. 2 Guard. There's Dolabella sent from Cæsar;1 Guard. What work is here?-Charmian, is this well done?

Char. It is well done, and fitting for a princess, Descended of so many royal kings. Ah, soldier!


Enter DOLABELLA. Dol. How goes it here? 2 Guard.

All dead.

Dol. Cæsar, thy thoughts Touch their effects in this: Thyself art coming To see perform'd the dreaded act, which thou So sought'st to hinder. Within.

A way there, way for Cæsar! Enter CESAR and Attendants. Dol. O, sir, you are too sure an augurer; That, you did fear, is done.


Bravest at the last: She levell'd at our purposes, and, being royal, Took her own way.-The manner of their deaths? I do not see them bleed.

Dol. Who was last with them? 1 Guard. A simple countryman, that brought her This was his basket. [figs;


Poison'd then.

1 Guard. O Cæsar, This Charmian liyed but now; she stood, and spake: I found her trimming up the diadem On her dead mistress; tremblingly she stood, And on the sudden dropp'd.


O noble weakness!If they had swallow'd poison, 'twould appear By external swelling: but she looks like sleep, As she would catch another Antony In her strong toil of grace.

Dol. Here, on her breast, There is a vent of blood, and something blown: The like is on her arm.

[leaves 1 Guard. This is an aspick's trail: and these figHave slime upon them, such as the aspick leaves Upon the caves of Nile.


Most probable,
That so she died; for her physician tells me,
She hath pursu'd conclusions infinite
Of easy ways to die.-Take up her bed;
And bear her women from the monument :-
She shall be buried by her Antony:
No grave upon the earth shall clip in it
A pair so famous. High events as these
Strike those that make them: and their story is
No less in pity, than his glory, which
Brought them to be lamented. Our army shall
In solemn shew, attend this funeral;
And then to Rome.-Come, Dolabella, see
High order in this great solemnity.


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But what's the matter? 1 Gent. His daughter, and the heir of 's kingdom, whom

He purpos'd to his wife's sole son, (a widow,
That late he married,) hath referr'd herself
Unto a poor but worthy gentleman: she's wedded;
Her husband banish'd; she imprison'd: all
Is outward sorrow; though, I think, the king
Be touch'd at very heart.

2 Gent.

None but the king?

1 Gent. He, that hath lost her, too: so is the queen, That most desir'd the match: But not a courtier, Although they wear their faces to the bent Of the king's looks, hath a heart that is not Glad at the thing they scowl at.

2 Gent. And why so?

Two Gentlemen. Two Gaolers.

1 Gent. He, that hath miss'd the princess, is a thing Too bad for bad report: and he, that hath her, (I mean, that married her,-alack, good man!And therefore banish'd) 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.

Ten no Von Act II. Scene 2.

QUEEN, Wife to Cymbeline.

IMOGEN, Daughter to Cymbeline by a former Queen.
HELEN, Woman to Imogen.
Lords, Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes, Apparitions,
a Soothsayer, a Dutch Gentleman, a Spanish
Gentleman, Musicians, Officers, Captains, Soldiers,
Messengers, and other Attendants.

2 Gent.

You speak him far.

1 Gent. I do extend him, sir, within himself; Crush him together, rather than unfold His measure duly.

2 Gent. What's his name, and birth?

1 Gent. I cannot delve him to the root: His father Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour Against the Romans with Cassibelan; But had his titles by Tenantius, whom He serv'd with glory and admir'd success; So gain'd the sur-addition, Leonatus: And had, besides this gentleman in question, Two other sons, who, in the wars o'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, deceas'd
As he was born. The king, he takes the babe
To his protection; calls him Posthumus;
Breeds him, and makes him of his bed-chamber:
Puts him to all the learnings that his time
Could make him the receiver of; which he took,
As we do air, fast as 'twas minister'd; and
In his spring became a harvest: Liv'd in court,
(Which rare it is to do,) most prais'd, most lov'd:
A sample to the youngest; to the more mature,
A glass that feated them; and to the graver,
A child that guided dotards: to his mistress,
For whom he now is banish'd,-her own price
Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue;
By her election may be truly read,
What kind of man he is.
2 Gent.

I honour him

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I do well believe you. 1 Gent. We must forbear: Here comes the queen, and princess. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The same.

Enter the Queen, POSTHUMUS, and IMOGEN. Queen. No, be assur'd, you shall not find me, daughter,

After the slander of most step-mothers,
Evil-ey'd unto you: you are my prisoner, but
Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys,
That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus,
So soon as can win the offended king,
I will be known your advocate: marry, yet,
The fire of rage is in him; and 'twere good,
You lean'd unto his sentence, with what patience
Your wisdom may inform you.

Please your highness,


I will from hence to-day.


You know the peril :I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying The pangs of barr'd affections; though the king Hath charg'd you should not speak together. [Exit. Imo. 0,

Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant Can tickle where she wounds!--My dearest husband,

I something fear my father's wrath, but nothing,
(Always reserv'd my holy duty,) what
His 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.

Post. 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 loyal'st husband that did e'er 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.

Re-enter Queen. Queen. Be brief, I pray you: If the king come, I shall incur I know not How much of his displeasure: Yet I'll move him


To walk this way: I never do him wrong,
But he 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: Adieu!
Imo. Nay, stay a little:

Were you but riding forth to air yourself,
Such party were too petty. Look here, love;
This diamond was my mother's: take it, heart;
But keep it till you woo another wife,
When Imogen is dead.

Post. How! how! another?

You gentle gods, give me but this I have, And sear up my embracements from a next

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Imo. When shall we see again? Enter CYMBELINE and Lords. Alack, the king! Cym. Thou basest thing, avoid! hence from my sight!


If, after this command, thou fraught the court
With thy unworthiness, thou diest: Away!
Thou art poison to my blood.
The gods protect you!
And bless the good remainders of the court!
I am gone.
Imo. There cannot be a pinch in death
More sharp than this is.


O disloyal thing, That should'st repair my youth; thou heapest A year's age on me! Imo. I beseech you, sir, Harm not yourself with your vexation; I Am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare Subdues all pangs, all fears. Past grace? obedience? Imo. Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace. [queen! Cym. That might'st have had the sole son of my Imo. O bless'd, that I might not! I chose an eagle, And did avoid a puttock.


Cym. Thou took'st a beggar; would'st have made A seat for baseness. [my throne No; I rather added


A lustre to it.

O thou vile one!



It is your fault that I have lov'd Posthumus:
You bred him as my play-fellow; and he is
A man, worth any woman; overbuys me
Almost the sum he pays.


What!-art thou mad? Imo. Almost, sir: Heaven restore me !—'Would I were

A neat-herd's daughter! and my Leonatus
Our neighbour shepherd's son!
Re-enter Queen.

Thou foolish thing!-
They were again together: you have done
(To the Queen.)
Not after our command. Away with her,
And pen her up.

Dear lady daughter, peace ;-Sweet sovereign,
Queen. 'Beseech your patience :-Peace,
Leave us to ourselves; and make yourself some
Out of your best advice.
Nay, let her languish
A drop of blood a-day; and, being aged,
Die of this folly!



[Exit. Fy!-you must give way: Here is your servant.-How now, sir? What news! Pis. My lord, your son, drew on my master. Queen.


No barm, I trust, is done?

There might have been,
But that my master rather play'd than fought,
And had no help of anger: they were parted
By gentlemen at hand.

I am very glad on't.

Queen. [part.Imo. Your son's my father's friend; he takes his 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?

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2 Lord. No; but he fled forward still, toward your face.

(Aside.) 1 Lord. Stand you! You have land enough of your own: but he added to your having; gave you some ground.

2 Lord. As many inches as you have oceans: Puppies! (Aside.) Clo. I would, they had not come between us. 2 Lord. So would I, till you had measured how long a fool ou were upon the ground. (Aside.) Clo. And that she should love this fellow, and

refuse me!

she is damned.

2 Lord. If it be a sin to make a true election, (Aside.)

1 Lord. 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.

2 Lord. She shines not upon fools, lest the reflection should hurt her. (Aside.)

Clo. Come, I'll to my chamber: 'Would there had been some hurt done!

2 Lord. I wish not so; unless it had been the fall of an ass, which is no great hurt.


Clo. You'll go with us?

1 Lord. I'll attend your lordship.


Clo. Nay, come, let's go 2 Lord. Well, my lord. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. A Room in Cymbeline's Palace. Enter IMOGEN and PISANIO.

Imo. I would thou grew'st unto the shores o'the haven, And question'dst every sail: If he should write, And I not have it, 'twere a paper lost As offer'd mercy is. What was the last That he spake to thee?


'Twas, His queen, his queen! Imo. Then wav'd his handkerchief? Pis. And kiss'd it, madam. Imo. Senseless linen! happier therein than I And that was all?

Pis. 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 sail'd on, How swift his ship.

Thou should'st have made him
As little as a crow, or less, ere left
To after-eye him.


Madam, so I did.

Imo. I would have broke mine eye-strings; crack'd them, but

To look upon him; till the diminution
Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle:
Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from
The smallness of a gnat to air; and then [nio,
Have turn'd mine eye, and wept.-But, good Pisa-
When shall we hear from him


Be assur'd, madam,

With his next vantage.

Imo. 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 charg'd 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 father, And, like the tyrannous breathing of the north, Shakes all our buds from growing. Enter a Lady.

Lady. The queen, madam, Desires your highness' company. [patch'd.Imo. Those things I bid you do, get them desI will attend the queen. Pis.

SCENE V.-Rome.

Madam, I shall. [Exeunt. An Apartment in Philario's House.

Enter PHILARIO, IACHIMO, a Frenchman, a Dutchman, and a Spaniard.

Iach. Believe it, sir: I have seen him 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, and I

to peruse him by items.

Phi. You speak of him, when he was less furnished, than now he is, with that which makes him both without and within.

French. I have seen him in France: we had very many there, could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he.

Iach. This matter of marrying his king'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.

French. And then his banishment:

Iach. 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 judgment, which else an easy battery might lay flat, for taking a beggar without more quality. But how comes it, he is to sojourn with you? How creeps acquaintance!

Phi. His father and I were soldiers together; to whom I have been often bound for no less than my life:

Enter POSTHUMUS. Here comes the Briton: Let him be so entertained amongst you, as suits, with gentlemen of your knowing, to a stranger of his quality.-I beseech you all, be better known to this gentleman; whom I commend to you, as a noble friend of mine: How worthy he is, I will leave to appear hereafter, rather than story him in his own hearing.

French. Sir, we have known together in Orleans. Post. Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies, which I will be ever to pay, and yet pay still.

French. Sir, you o'er-rate my poor kindness: I was glad I did atone my countryman and you; it had been pity, you should have been put together with so mortal a purpose, as then each bore, upon importance of so slight and trivial a nature,

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