The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 104

CYMBELINE. How? me?

IACHIMO. I am glad to be constrain'd 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 n.o.bler sir ne'er liv'd 'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord?

CYMBELINE. All that belongs to this.

IACHIMO. That paragon, thy daughter, For whom my heart drops blood and my false spirits Quail to remember- Give me leave, I faint.

CYMBELINE. 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.

IACHIMO. Upon a time- unhappy was the clock That struck the hour!- 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 Posthumus- What should I say? he was too good to be 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- CYMBELINE. I stand on fire.

Come to the matter.

IACHIMO. All too soon I shall, Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This Posthumus, Most like a n.o.ble 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 made, And then a mind put in't, either our brags Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his description Prov'd us unspeaking sots.

CYMBELINE. Nay, nay, to th' purpose.

IACHIMO. Your daughter's chast.i.ty- 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's 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's 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 n.o.ble Leonatus mad, By wounding his belief in her renown With tokens thus and thus; averring 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 chast.i.ty quite crack'd, I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon- Methinks I see him now- POSTHUMUS. [Coming forward] Ay, so thou dost, Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool, Egregious murderer, thief, anything 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 th' abhorred things o' th' 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, set The dogs o' th' 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!

IMOGEN. Peace, my lord. Hear, hear!

POSTHUMUS. Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful page, There lies thy part. [Strikes her. She falls]

PISANIO. O gentlemen, help!

Mine and your mistress! O, my lord Posthumus!

You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now. Help, help!

Mine honour'd lady!

CYMBELINE. Does the world go round?

POSTHUMUS. How comes these staggers on me?

PISANIO. Wake, my mistress!

CYMBELINE. If this be so, the G.o.ds do mean to strike me To death with mortal joy.

PISANIO. How fares my mistress?

IMOGEN. O, get thee from my sight; Thou gav'st me poison. Dangerous fellow, hence!

Breathe not where princes are.

CYMBELINE. The tune of Imogen!

PISANIO. Lady, The G.o.ds 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.

CYMBELINE. New matter still?

IMOGEN. It poison'd me.

CORNELIUS. O G.o.ds!

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.'

CYMBELINE. What's this, Cornelius?

CORNELIUS. The Queen, sir, very oft importun'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 pow'r of life, but in short time All offices of nature should again Do their due functions. Have you ta'en of it?

IMOGEN. Most like I did, for I was dead.

BELARIUS. My boys, There was our error.

GUIDERIUS. This is sure Fidele.

IMOGEN. Why did you throw your wedded lady from you?

Think that you are upon a rock, and now Throw me again. [Embracing him]

POSTHUMUS. Hang there like fruit, my soul, Till the tree die!

CYMBELINE. How now, my flesh? my child?

What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act?

Wilt thou not speak to me?

IMOGEN. [Kneeling] Your blessing, sir.

BELARIUS. [To GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS] Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not; You had a motive for't.

CYMBELINE. My tears that fall Prove holy water on thee! Imogen, Thy mother's dead.

IMOGEN. I am sorry for't, my lord.

CYMBELINE. O, she was naught, and long of her it was That we meet here so strangely; but her son Is gone, we know not how nor where.

PISANIO. 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 swore, 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 To seek her on the mountains near to Milford; Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments, Which he enforc'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.

GUIDERIUS. Let me end the story: I slew him there.

CYMBELINE. Marry, the G.o.ds forfend!

I would not thy good deeds should from my lips Pluck a hard sentence. Prithee, valiant youth, Deny't again.

GUIDERIUS. I have spoke it, and I did it.

CYMBELINE. He was a prince.

GUIDERIUS. 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's head, And am right glad he is not standing here To tell this tale of mine.

CYMBELINE. I am sorry for thee.

By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must Endure our law. Thou'rt dead.

IMOGEN. That headless man I thought had been my lord.

CYMBELINE. Bind the offender, And take him from our presence.

BELARIUS. 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. [To the guard] Let his arms alone; They were not born for bondage.

CYMBELINE. Why, old soldier, Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for By tasting of our wrath? How of descent As good as we?

ARVIRAGUS. In that he spake too far.

CYMBELINE. And thou shalt die for't.

BELARIUS. We will die all three; But I will prove that two on's 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.

ARVIRAGUS. Your danger's ours.

GUIDERIUS. And our good his.

BELARIUS. Have at it then by leave!

Thou hadst, great King, a subject who Was call'd Belarius.

CYMBELINE. What of him? He is A banish'd traitor.

BELARIUS. He it is that hath a.s.sum'd this age; indeed a banish'd man; I know not how a traitor.

CYMBELINE. Take him hence, The whole world shall not save him.

BELARIUS. Not too hot.

First pay me for the nursing of thy sons, And let it be confiscate all, so soon As I have receiv'd it.

CYMBELINE. Nursing of my sons?

BELARIUS. 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.

CYMBELINE. How? my issue?

BELARIUS. 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 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.

CYMBELINE. 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.

BELARIUS. 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 th' hand Of his queen mother, which for more probation I can with ease produce.

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

BELARIUS. 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.

CYMBELINE. O, what am I?

A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother Rejoic'd deliverance more. Blest pray you be, That, after this strange starting from your orbs, You may reign in them now! O Imogen, Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.

IMOGEN. No, my lord; I have got two worlds by't. O my gentle brothers, 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 we were so indeed.

CYMBELINE. Did you e'er meet?

ARVIRAGUS. Ay, my good lord.

GUIDERIUS. And at first meeting lov'd, Continu'd so until we thought he died.

CORNELIUS. By the Queen's dram she swallow'd.

CYMBELINE. O rare instinct!

When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridgment Hath to it circ.u.mstantial 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?