The Plays of William Shakspeare, Accurately Printed from the Text of the Corrected Copies, Left by the Late George Steevens, and Edmond Malone, with a Sketch of His Life, and a Glossary. New Ed. Rev

For mine's beyond beyond,) say, and speak thick,
(Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing,
To the smothering of the sense,) 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 e'er begot?
We'll talk of that hereafter. Pr'ythee, speak,
How many score of miles may we well ride
'Twixt hour and hour?

Pis.

One score, 'twixt sun and sun,
Madam, 's enough for you; and too much too.
Imo. Why, one that rode to his execution, man,
Could never go so slow: I have heard of riding
wagers,

Where horses have been nimbler than the sands
That run i'the clock's behalf:

foolery :

Have never wing'd from view o'the nest; nor know

not

What airs 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; travelling abed;
A prison for a debtor, that not dares
To stride a limit.
Arv.
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 discours
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 quire, as doth the prison'd bird,
And sing our bondage freely.
Bel.
How you speak !

But this is Did you but know the city's usuries,
And felt them knowingly: the art o'the court,
As hard to leave, as keep; whose top to climb
Is certain falling, or so slippery, that

Go, bid my woman feign a sickness; say
She'll home to her father: and provide me, pre-
sently,

A riding suit; no costlier than would fit
A franklin's housewife.

Pis.

Madam, you're best consider.
Imo. I see before me, man, nor here, nor here,
Nor what ensues; but have a fog in them,
That I cannot look through. Away, I pr'ythee;
Do as I bid thee: There's no more to say;
Accessible is none but Milford way.

[Exeunt.
A mountainous Country,
with a Cave.

SCENE III. - Wales.

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Bel. 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:
This service is not service, so being done,
But being so allow'd: 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-wing'd eagle. O, this life
Is nobler, than attending for a check ;
Richer than doing nothing for a babe ;
Prouder, than rustling in unpaid-for silk:
Such gain the cap of him, that makes them fine,
Yet keeps his book uncross'd: no life to ours.

Gui. Out of your proof you speak: we, poor
unfledg'd,

The fear's as bad as falling: the toil of the war,
A pain that only seems to seek out danger

I'the name of fame, and honour; which dies i'the
search;

And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph,

As record of fair act; nay, many times,

Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse,
Must cour'sey at the censure: — – O, boys, this story
The world may read in me: My body's mark'd
With Roman swords; and my report was once
First with the best of note: Cymbeline lov'd 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.
Gui.

Uncertain favour!

I'the cave, wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit
The roofs of palaces; and nature prompts them,
In simple and low things, to prince it, much
Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore,
The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, whom
The king his father call'd Guiderius,

Jove!

When on my three-foot stool I sit, and tell
The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out
Into my story: say, Thus mine enemy fell;
And thus I set my foot on his neck; even then
The princely blood flows in his check, he sweats,
Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in
posture

That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal, (Once Arvirágus,) in as like a figure,

Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more
His own conceiving. Hark! the game is rous'd! -
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 reft'st me of my lands. Euriphile,

Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for their mother,

And every day do honour to her grave:
Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call'd,
They take for natural father. The game is up.

SCENE IV. Near Milford-Haven.

Enter PISANIO and IMOGEN.

[Exit.

Imo. Thou told'st me, when we came from horse, the place

Was near at hand: - Ne'er long'd my mother so
To see me first, as I have now :- Pisanio! Man!
Where is Posthúmus? What is in thy mind,
That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that
sigh

From the inward of thee? One, but painted thus,
Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd
Beyond self-explication: Put thyself
Into a haviour of less fear, ere wildness
Vanquish my staider senses. What's the matter?
Why tender'st thou that paper to me, with
A look untender? If it be summer news,
Smile to't before: if winterly, thou need'st
But keep that countenance still. — My husband's
hand!

That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him,
And he's at some hard point. — Speak, man; thy
tongue

May take off some extremity, which to read Would be even mortal to me.

Pis.

Please you, read ; And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing The most disdain'd of fortune.

Imo. [Reads.] Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the strumpet in my bed; the testimonies whereof le 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, Pisanio, 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 opportunities at Milford-Haven: she hath letter for the purpose: Where, if thou fear to my strike, and to make me certain it is done, thou art the pandar to her dishonour, and equally to me disloyal.

Pis. What shall I need to draw my sword? the

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Æneas, Were, in his time, thought false and Sinon's weeping

Did scandal many a holy tear; took pity
From most true wretchedness: So, thou, Posthúmus,
Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men;
Goodly, and gallant, shall be false, and perjur'd,
From thy great fail. - Come, fellow, be thou honest:
Do thou thy master's bidding: When thou see'st
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; 'tis empty of all things, but grief:
Thy master is not there; who was, indeed,
The riches of it: Do his bidding; strike.
Thou may'st be valiant in a better cause;
But now thou seem'st a coward.

That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's my
heart;
Something's afore't: ·Soft, soft; we'll no defence;
Obedient as the scabbard. · - What is here?
The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus,
All turn'd to heresy? Away, away,
Corrupters of my faith! you shall no more
Be stomachers to my heart! Thus may poor fools
Believe false teachers: Though those that are be
tray'd

Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor
Stands in worse case of woe.

And thou, Posthúmus, thou that did'st set up
My disobedience 'gainst the king my father,
And make me put into contempt the suits
Of princely fellows, shalt hereafter find
It is no act of common passage, but
A strain of rareness: and I grieve myself,
To think, when thou shalt be disedg'd by her
That now thou tir'st on, how thy memory
Will then be pang'd by me. - Pr'ythee, despatch:

The lamb entreats the butcher: Where's thy knife?
Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding,
When I desire it too.

Pis.

O gracious lady,

Since I receiv'd command to do this business,
I have not slept one wink.

Imo.

Pis. I'll wake mine eye-balls blind first.
Imo.

O, for such means!

Imo.
Though peril to my modesty, not death on't,
I would adventure.

Pis.

Well then, here's the point:

You must forget to be a woman; change
Command into obedience; fear, and niceness,

Do't, and to bed then. (The handmaids of all women, or, more truly,
Woman its pretty self,) to a waggish courage;
Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy, and
As quarrellous as the weasel; nay, you must
Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek,
Exposing it (but, O, the harder heart!
Alack no remedy!) to the greedy touch
Of common-kissing Titan: and forget
Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein
You made great Juno angry.

Wherefore then
Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abus'd
So many miles, with a pretence? this place?
Mine action, and thine own? our horses' labour?
The time inviting thee? the perturb'd court,
For my being absent; whereunto I never
Purpose return? Why hast thou gone so far,
To be unbent, when thou hast ta'en thy stand,
The elected deer before thee?

Pis.

But to win time
To lose so bad employment: in the which
I have consider'd of a course; Good lady,
Hear me with patience.

Imo.
Talk thy tongue weary; speak:
I have heard, I am a strumpet; and mine ear,
Therein false struck, can take no greater wound,
Nor tent to bottom that. But speak.
Pis.

Imo.

Nay, be brief:
I see into thy end, and am almost
A man already.

Pis.

First, make yourself but like one
Fore-thinking this, I have already fit,
('Tis in my cloak-bag,) doublet, hat, hose, all
That answer to them: Would you, in their serving,
And with what imitation you can borrow

From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius
Then, madam, Present yourself, desire his service, tell him
Wherein you are happy, (which you'll make him
Most like;
know,
Not so, neither:

I thought you would not back again.
Imo.

Bringing me here to kill me.

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 miss'd at court,
And that will well confirm it.

Imo.
Why, good fellow,
What shall I do the while? Where bide? How live?
Or in my life what comfort, when I am
Dead to my husband?

Pis.
If you'll back to the court,
Imo. No court, no father; nor no more ado
With that harsh, noble, simple, nothing:
That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me
As fearful as a siege.

Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night,
Are they not but in Britain? I'the world's volume
Our Britain seems as of it, but not in it;
In a great pool, a swan's nest; Pr'ythee, think
There's livers out of Britain.

Pis.
I am most glad
You think of other place. The embassador,
Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven
To-morrow; 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 Postk umus: so nigh, at least,
That though his actions were not visible, yet
Report should render him hourly to your ear,
As truly as he moves.

If that his head have ear in musick,) doubtless
With joy he will embrace you; for he's honourable,
And, doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad
You have me, rich; and I will never fail
Beginning, nor supplyment.

Imo.

Thou art all the comfort
The gods will diet me with. Pr'ythee, away:
There's more to be consider'd; but we'll even
All that good time will give us: This attempt
I'm soldier to, and will abide it with
A prince's courage. Away, I pr'ythee.

Pis. Well, madam, we must take a short farewell,
Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of

Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress,
Here is a box: I had it from the queen;
What's in't is precious; if you are sick at sea,
Or stomach-qualm'd 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!
Imo.

Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself
To show less sovereignty than they, must needs
Appear unkinglike.

Luc.

So, sir, I desire of you

A conduct over land, to Milford-Haven.
Madam, all joy befal your grace, and you!
Cym. My lords, you are appointed for that office:
The due of honour in no point omit ·

So, farewell, noble Lucius.

'Tis not sleepy business;

But must be look'd to speedily, and strongly.
Cym. Our expectation that it would be thus,
Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen,
Where is our daughter? She hath not appear'd
Before the Roman, nor to us hath tender'd
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.
[Exit an Attendant.
Queen.
Royal sir,
Since the exíle of Posthumus, most retir'd
Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord,
'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.

Queen. Son, I say, follow the king. Clo. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant, I have not seen these two days.

Queen.

Go, look after. [Exit CLOTEN. Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus! He hath a drug of mine: I pray, his absence Proceed by swallowing that; for he believes It is a thing most precious. But for her, Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seiz'd her; Or, wing'd with fervour of her love, she's flown To her desir'd Posthúmus: 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.

Clo. I love, and hate her: for she's fair and royal;
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 Posthúmus, slanders so her judgment,
That what's else rare, is chok'd; and, in that point,
I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed,
To be reveng'd upon her. For, when fools

Who is here? What are you packing,
sirrah?

Come hither: Ah, you precious pander! Villain,
Where is thy lady! In a word; or else
Thou art straightway with the fiends.

Pis.

O, good my lord! Clo. 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 Posthúmus? From whose so many weights of baseness cannot A dram of worth be drawn.

No further halting: satisfy me home, What is become of her?

Pis. O, my all-worthy lord!

Clo.

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.

Pis.

Then, sir,

This paper is the history of my knowledge Touching her flight.

Clo.

[Presenting a letter. Let's see't: — I will pursue her

Pis. I'll write to my lord she's dead. O Imogen, Safe may'st thou wander, safe return again! [Aside. Clo. Sirrah, is this letter true? Pis.

Sir, as I think. Clo. It is Posthumus' hand; I know't.- Sirrah, if thou would'st 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, I would think thee an honest man; thou should'st neither want my means for thy relief, nor my voice for thy prefer

ment.

Pis. Well, my good lord.

Clo. Wilt thou serve me? For since patiently

Is worse in kings, than beggars. My dear lord!
Thou art one o'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?
Here is a path to it: 'Tis some savage hold:
I were best not call; I dare not call: yet famine,
Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant.
Plenty, and peace, breeds cowards; hardness ever
Of hardiness is mother. Ho! who's here?
If any thing that's civil, speak; if savage,

Clo. The first service thou dost me, fetch that Take, or lend.-Ho!-No answer? then I'll enter. suit hither let it be thy first service; go.

Clo. Meet thee at Milford-Haven: :- I forgot to ask him one thing; I'll remember't 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 row 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.

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Milford,

But that my resolution helps me.
When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd thee,
Thou wast within a ken: O Jove! I think,
Foundations fly the wretched: such, I mean,
Where they should be reliev'd. 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 fulness
Is sorer, than to lie for need; and falsehood

Best draw my sword; and if mine enemy
But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look on't.
Such a foe, good heavens! [She goes into the cave.
Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.
Bel. You, Polydore, have prov'd best woodman,
and

Are master of the feast: Cadwal, and I,
Will play the cook, and servant; 'tis our match :
The sweat of industry would dry, and die,
But for the end it works to. Come; our stomachs
Will make what's homely, savoury: Weariness
Can snore upon the flint, when restive sloth
Finds the down pillow hard. Now, peace be here,
Poor house, that keep'st thyself!
Gui.
I am throughly weary.
Arv. I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite.
Gui. There is cold meat i'the cave; we'll browze
on that

Bel. By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not, An earthly paragon! No elder than a boy!

Enter IMOGEN.

Imo. Good masters, harm me not: Before I enter'd here, I call'd; and thought To have begg'd, or bought what I have took : Good troth,

I have stolen nought; nor would not, though I had found

Gold strew'd o'the floor. Here's money for my

meat :

I would have left it on the board, so soon As I had made my meal; and parted With prayers for the provider.

Gui.

Money, youth?

Arv. All gold and silver rather turn to dirt! As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those Who worship dirty gods.

Imo.

Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should Have died, had I not made it.

Bel.

I see you are angry :

Whither bound?

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The Plays of William Shakspeare, Accurately Printed from the Text of the ...