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What would'st thou, boy? I love thee more and more; think more and more What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st on?


Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend?
Imo. He is a Roman; no more kin to me,
Than I to your highness; who, being born your
Am something nearer.

Wherefore ey'st him so? Imo. I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please To give me hearing.

Cym. Ay, with all my heart, And lend my best attention. What's thy name? Imo. Fidele, sir. Cym. Thou art my good youth, my page; I'll be thy master: Walk with me; speak freely. [CYMBELINE and IMOGEN converse apart. Bel. Is not this boy reviv'd from death? Arv. One sand another Not more resembles: That sweet rosy lad, Who died, and was Fidele: What think you? Gui. The same dead thing alive.

Bel. Peace, peace! see further; he eyes us not; forbear; Creatures may be alike: were't he, I am sure He would have spoke to us.

But we saw him dead.
Bel. Be silent; let's see further.

Since she is living, let the time run on, To good, or bad.

It is my mistress: [Aside.

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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 Posthúmus,
(What should I say? he was too good, to be
Where ill men were; and was the best of all
Among'st 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: —


I stand on fire:

Come to the matter.
All too soon I shall,
Unless thou would'st grieve quickly. · This Post-

(Most like a noble lord in love, and one
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

grieve thee,

As it doth me,) a nobler sir ne'er liv'd

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

Cym. All that belongs to this. 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


And then a mind put in't, either our brags
Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his description
Prov'd us unspeaking sots.


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
Pieces of gold, 'gainst this which then he wore
Upon his honour'd finger, to attain
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; And would so, had it been a carbuncle

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. Being thus quench'd
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,

Torments me to conceal. By villainy

I got this ring; 'twas Leonatus' jewel:

Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet,

Whom thou didst banish; and (which more, may (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.
Methinks, I see him now,


By wounding his belief in her renown
With tokens thus, and thus; averring notes

Ay, so thou dost [Coming forward. Italian fiend! - Ah me, most credulous fool, Egregious murderer, thief, any thing That's due to all the villains past, in being, To come!

- O, give me cord, or knife, or poison, 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 Posthúmus,


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, set
The dogs o'the street to bay me: every villain
Be call'd, Posthúmus Leonatus; and
Be villainy less than 'twas! O Imogen!
My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen !

Peace, my lord; hear, hear
Post. Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful
There lie thy part.

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Pis. Lady,

How fares my mistress?
Imo. O, get thee from my sight;
Thou gav'st me poison: dangerous fellow, hence!
Breathe not where princes are.

The tune of Imogen!

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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?


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It poison'd me.
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 cordial, she is serv'd
As I would serve a rat.

If I discover'd 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

[Striking her she falls.
O, gentlemen, help, help
Mine, and your mistress :-O, my lord Posthúmus!
You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now: - -Help, help! To seek her on the mountains near to Milford;
Mine honour'd lady!
Does the world go round?
Post. How come these staggers on me?
Wake, my mistress!
Cym. If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me
To death with mortal joy.

Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments,
Which he inforc'd 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:


Marry, the gods forefend!
I would not thy good deeds should from my lips
Pluck a hard sentence: pr'ythee, valiant youth,
Deny't again.
I have spoke it, and I did it.
Cym. He was a prince.

Gui. A most uncivil 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's head;
And am right glad, he is not standing here
To tell this tale of mine.


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.

My boys,

There was our error.


This is sure, Fidele. Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from you?

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My lord, Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord Cloten, Upon my lady's missing, came to me

With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, and



I slew him there.

I am sorry for thee.
By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must
Endure our law: Thou art dead.

That headless man

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I thought had been my lord.
Bind the offender,
And take him from our presence.
Stay, sir king:
This man is better than the man he slew,
As well descended as thyself; and hath
More of thee merited, than a band of Clotens
Had ever scar for. Let his arms alone;

[To the guard.


A banish'd traitor.


They were not born for bondage.
Why, old soldier,
Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for,
By tasting of our wrath? How of descent
As good as we ?
In that he spake too far.
Cym. And thou shalt die for't.

We will die all three.
But I will prove, that two of us are as good
As I have given out him.
For mine own part, unfold
Though, haply, well for you.

My sons, I must,
a dangerous speech,

Your danger is


Gui. And our good his.

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Have at it then.
By leave ;- Thou hadst, great king, a subject, who
Was call'd Belarius.

What of him? he is

He it is, that hath

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Nursing of my sons? Bel. I am too blunt, and saucy: Here's my knee; Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons; Then, spare not the old father. Mighty sir, These two young gentlemen, that call me father, And think they are my sons, are none of mine; They are the issue of your loins, my liege, And blood of your begetting.


How! my issue?

Bel. So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan, Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd : Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd, Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes (For such, 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 sweet'st 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, is more 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, Arvirágus, 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.


Guiderius had Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star; It was a mark of wonder.


This is he; Who hath upon him still that natural stamp: It was wise nature's end in the donation, To be his evidence now.

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And when came you to serve our Roman captive? How parted with your brothers? how first met them? Why fled you from the court? and whither? These, And your three motives to the battle, with

I know not how much more, should be demanded;
And all the other by-dependancies,

From chance to chance; but nor the time, nor place,
Will serve our long intergatories. See,
Posthúmus anchors upon Imogen;

And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye
On him, her brothers, me, her master; hitting
Each object with a joy; the counterchange
Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground,
And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.
Thou art my brother; So we'll hold thee ever.
Imo. You are my father too; and did relieve me,
To see this gracious season.


All o'erjoy'd,
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! Cym. The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought He would have well becom'd this place, and grac'd The thankings of a king.


I am, sir,
The soldier that did company these three
In poor beseeming; 'twas a fitment for
The purpose I then follow'd;- That I was he,
Speak, Iachimo: I had you down, and might
Have made you finish.

Iach. I am down again: [Kneeling. 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 doom'd; We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law; Pardon's the word to all.

You holp us, sir,
As you did mean indeed to be our brother;
Joy'd are we, that you are.

Good my lord o

Post. Your servant, princes. 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.



Sooth. Here, my good lord. Luc. Read, and declare the meaning. Sooth. [Reads.] 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; 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 majestick cedar join'd; whose issue Promises Britain peace and plenty.

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SCENE I. Rome. Before the Capitol. The tomb of the Andronici appearing; the Tribunes and Senators aloft, as in the Senate. Enter, below, SATURNINUS and his Followers, on one side; and BASSIANUS and his Followers, on the other; with drum and colours.

EMILIUS, a noble Roman.


AARON, a moor, beloved by Tamora.
A Captain, Tribune, Messenger, and Clown;
Goths and Romans.

Sat. Noble patricians, patrons of my right,
Defend the justice of my cause with arms;
And, countrymen, my loving followers,
Plead my successive title with your swords:
I am his first-born son, that was the last
That ware the imperial diadem of Rome;
Then let my father's honours live in me,
Nor wrong mine age with this indignity.


ROME; and the Country near it.


my right,

If ever Bassianus, Cæsar's son,
Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome,
Keep then this passage to the Capitol ;
And suffer not disaonour to approach
The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate,
To justice, continence, and nobility:
But let desert in pure election shine;
Ad, Romans, fight for freedom in your choice.

sons to Tamora.

TAMORA, Queen of the Goths.

LAVINIA, daughter to Titus Andronicus.
A Nurse, and a black Child.

Enter MARCUS ANDRONICUS, aloft, with the crown.
Mar. Princes-that strive by factions, and by
Ambitiously for rule and empery,

Know, that the people of Rome, for whom we stand
A special party, have, by common voice,
In election for the Roman empery,
Chosen Andronicus, surnamed Pius
For many good and great deserts to Rome;
A nobler man, a braver warrior,

Lives not this day within the city walls:
He by the senate is accited home,

From weary wars against the barbarous Goths;
That, with his sons, a terror to our foes,
Hath yok'd a nation strong, train'd up in arms.

Bas. Romans,-friends, followers, favourers of Ten years are spent, since first he undertook

This cause of Rome, and chastised with arms

Our enemies' pride: Five times he hath return'd
Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons
In coffins from the field;

Kinsmen of Titus, Senators, Tribunes, Officers,
Soldiers, and Attendants.


And now at last, laden with honour's spoils,
Returns the good Andronicus to Rome,
Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms.
Let us entreat.

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By honour of his name, Whom, worthily, you would have now succeed,

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