The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 95

It may be probable she lost it, or Who knows if one her women, being corrupted Hath stol'n it from her?

POSTHUMUS. Very true; And so I hope he came by't. Back my ring.

Render to me some corporal sign about her, More evident than this; for this was stol'n.

IACHIMO. By Jupiter, I had it from her arm!

POSTHUMUS. Hark you, he swears; by Jupiter he swears.

'Tis true- nay, keep the ring, 'tis true. I am sure She would not lose it. Her attendants are All sworn and honourable- they induc'd to steal it!

And by a stranger! No, he hath enjoy'd her.

The cognizance of her incontinency Is this: she hath bought the name of wh.o.r.e thus dearly.

There, take thy hire; and all the fiends of h.e.l.l Divide themselves between you!

PHILARIO. Sir, be patient; This is not strong enough to be believ'd Of one persuaded well of.

POSTHUMUS. Never talk on't; She hath been colted by him.

IACHIMO. If you seek For further satisfying, under her breast- Worthy the pressing- lies a mole, right proud Of that most delicate lodging. By my life, I kiss'd it; and it gave me present hunger To feed again, though full. You do remember This stain upon her?

POSTHUMUS. Ay, and it doth confirm Another stain, as big as h.e.l.l can hold, Were there no more but it.

IACHIMO. Will you hear more?

POSTHUMUS. Spare your arithmetic; never count the turns.

Once, and a million!

IACHIMO. I'll be sworn- POSTHUMUS. No swearing.

If you will swear you have not done't, you lie; And I will kill thee if thou dost deny Thou'st made me cuckold.

IACHIMO. I'll deny nothing.

POSTHUMUS. O that I had her here to tear her limb-meal!

I will go there and do't, i' th' court, before Her father. I'll do something- Exit PHILARIO. Quite besides The government of patience! You have won.

Let's follow him and pervert the present wrath He hath against himself.

IACHIMO. With all my heart. Exeunt

SCENE V.

Rome. Another room in PHILARIO'S house

Enter POSTHUMUS

POSTHUMUS. Is there no way for men to be, but women Must be half-workers? We are all b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, And that most venerable man which I Did call my father was I know not where When I was stamp'd. Some coiner with his tools Made me a counterfeit; yet my mother seem'd The Dian of that time. So doth my wife The nonpareil of this. O, vengeance, vengeance!

Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd, And pray'd me oft forbearance; did it with A pudency so rosy, the sweet view on't Might well have warm'd old Saturn; that I thought her As chaste as unsunn'd snow. O, all the devils!

This yellow Iachimo in an hour- was't not?

Or less!- at first? Perchance he spoke not, but, Like a full-acorn'd boar, a German one, Cried 'O!' and mounted; found no opposition But what he look'd for should oppose and she Should from encounter guard. Could I find out The woman's part in me! For there's no motion That tends to vice in man but I affirm It is the woman's part. Be it lying, note it, The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers; l.u.s.t and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers; Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain, Nice longing, slanders, mutability, All faults that man may name, nay, that h.e.l.l knows, Why, hers, in part or all; but rather all; For even to vice They are not constant, but are changing still One vice but of a minute old for one Not half so old as that. I'll write against them, Detest them, curse them. Yet 'tis greater skill In a true hate to pray they have their will: The very devils cannot plague them better. Exit

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ACT III. SCENE I.

Britain. A hall in CYMBELINE'S palace

Enter in state, CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN, and LORDS at one door, and at another CAIUS LUCIUS and attendants

CYMBELINE. Now say, what would Augustus Caesar with us?

LUCIUS. When Julius Caesar- whose remembrance yet Lives in men's eyes, and will to ears and tongues Be theme and hearing ever- was in this Britain, And conquer'd it, Ca.s.sibelan, thine uncle, Famous in Caesar's praises no whit less Than in his feats deserving it, for him And his succession granted Rome a tribute, Yearly three thousand pounds, which by thee lately Is left untender'd.

QUEEN. And, to kill the marvel, Shall be so ever.

CLOTEN. There be many Caesars Ere such another Julius. Britain is A world by itself, and we will nothing pay For wearing our own noses.

QUEEN. That opportunity, Which then they had to take from 's, to resume We have again. Remember, sir, my liege, The kings your ancestors, together with The natural bravery of your isle, which stands As Neptune's park, ribb'd and pal'd in With rocks unscalable and roaring waters, With sands that will not bear your enemies' boats But suck them up to th' top-mast. A kind of conquest Caesar made here; but made not here his brag Of 'came, and saw, and overcame.' With shame- The first that ever touch'd him- he was carried From off our coast, twice beaten; and his s.h.i.+pping- Poor ignorant baubles!- on our terrible seas, Like egg-sh.e.l.ls mov'd upon their surges, crack'd As easily 'gainst our rocks; for joy whereof The fam'd Ca.s.sibelan, who was once at point- O, giglot fortune!- to master Caesar's sword, Made Lud's Town with rejoicing fires bright And Britons strut with courage.

CLOTEN. Come, there's no more tribute to be paid. Our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time; and, as I said, there is no moe such Caesars. Other of them may have crook'd noses; but to owe such straight arms, none.

CYMBELINE. Son, let your mother end.

CLOTEN. We have yet many among us can gripe as hard as Ca.s.sibelan.

I do not say I am one; but I have a hand. Why tribute? Why should we pay tribute? If Caesar can hide the sun from us with a blanket, or put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for light; else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now.

CYMBELINE. You must know, Till the injurious Romans did extort This tribute from us, we were free. Caesar's ambition- Which swell'd so much that it did almost stretch The sides o' th' world- against all colour here Did put the yoke upon's; which to shake of Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon Ourselves to be.

CLOTEN. We do.

CYMBELINE. Say then to Caesar, Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which Ordain'd our laws- whose use the sword of Caesar Hath too much mangled; whose repair and franchise Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed, Though Rome be therefore angry. Mulmutius made our laws, Who was the first of Britain which did put His brows within a golden crown, and call'd Himself a king.

LUCIUS. I am sorry, Cymbeline, That I am to p.r.o.nounce Augustus Caesar- Caesar, that hath moe kings his servants than Thyself domestic officers- thine enemy.

Receive it from me, then: war and confusion In Caesar's name p.r.o.nounce I 'gainst thee; look For fury not to be resisted. Thus defied, I thank thee for myself.

CYMBELINE. Thou art welcome, Caius.

Thy Caesar knighted me; my youth I spent Much under him; of him I gather'd honour, Which he to seek of me again, perforce, Behoves me keep at utterance. I am perfect That the Pannonians and Dalmatians for Their liberties are now in arms, a precedent Which not to read would show the Britons cold; So Caesar shall not find them.

LUCIUS. Let proof speak.

CLOTEN. His majesty bids you welcome. Make pastime with us a day or two, or longer. If you seek us afterwards in other terms, you shall find us in our salt-water girdle. If you beat us out of it, it is yours; if you fall in the adventure, our crows shall fare the better for you; and there's an end.

LUCIUS. So, sir.

CYMBELINE. I know your master's pleasure, and he mine; All the remain is, welcome. Exeunt

SCENE II.

Britain. Another room in CYMBELINE'S palace

Enter PISANIO reading of a letter

PISANIO. How? of adultery? Wherefore write you not What monsters her accuse? Leonatus!

O master, what a strange infection Is fall'n into thy ear! What false Italian- As poisonous-tongu'd as handed- hath prevail'd On thy too ready hearing? Disloyal? No.

She's punish'd for her truth, and undergoes, More G.o.ddess-like than wife-like, such a.s.saults As would take in some virtue. O my master!

Thy mind to her is now as low as were Thy fortunes. How? that I should murder her?

Upon the love, and truth, and vows, which I Have made to thy command? I, her? Her blood?

If it be so to do good service, never Let me be counted serviceable. How look I That I should seem to lack humanity So much as this fact comes to? [Reads] 'Do't. The letter That I have sent her, by her own command Shall give thee opportunity.' O d.a.m.n'd paper, Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble, Art thou a fedary for this act, and look'st So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes.

Enter IMOGEN

I am ignorant in what I am commanded.

IMOGEN. How now, Pisanio!

PISANIO. Madam, here is a letter from my lord.

IMOGEN. Who? thy lord? That is my lord- Leonatus?

O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer That knew the stars as I his characters- He'd lay the future open. You good G.o.ds, Let what is here contain'd relish of love, Of my lord's health, of his content; yet not That we two are asunder- let that grieve him!

Some griefs are med'cinable; that is one of them, For it doth physic love- of his content, All but in that. Good wax, thy leave. Blest be You bees that make these locks of counsel! Lovers And men in dangerous bonds pray not alike; Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet You clasp young Cupid's tables. Good news, G.o.ds!

[Reads]

'Justice and your father's wrath, should he take me in his dominion, could not be so cruel to me as you, O the dearest of creatures, would even renew me with your eyes. Take notice that I am in Cambria, at Milford Haven. What your own love will out of this advise you, follow. So he wishes you all happiness that remains loyal to his vow, and your increasing in love LEONATUS POSTHUMUS.'

O for a horse with wings! Hear'st thou, Pisanio?

He is at Milford Haven. Read, and tell me How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs May plod it in a week, why may not I Glide thither in a day? Then, true Pisanio- Who long'st like me to see thy lord, who long'st- O, let me 'bate!- but not like me, yet long'st, But in a fainter kind- O, not like me, For mine's beyond beyond!-say, and speak thick- Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing To th' smothering of the sense- how far it is To this same blessed Milford. And by th' way Tell me how Wales was made so happy as T' 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 ere begot?

We'll talk of that hereafter. Prithee speak, How many score of miles may we well ride 'Twixt hour and hour?