But suck them up to th’topmast.25 A kind of conquest
Caesar made here, but made not here his brag
Of ‘came, and saw, and overcame’27: with shame —
The first that ever touched him — he was carried
From off our coast, twice beaten: and his shipping —
Poor ignorant baubles30 — on our terrible seas
Like eggshells moved upon their surges, cracked
As easily gainst our rocks. For joy whereof
The famed Cassibelan, who was once at point33—
O giglot fortune! — to master34 Caesar’s sword,
Made Lud’s town35 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 more such Caesars. Other of them may have
crooked noses, but to owe such straight40 arms, none.
CYMBELINE Son, let your mother end.
CLOTEN We have yet many among us can grip42 as hard as
Cassibelan: 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: else46, sir, no more tribute, pray
you now.
To Lucius
CYMBELINE You must know,
Till the injurious49 Romans did extort
This tribute from us, we were free. Caesar’s ambition,
Which swelled so much that it did almost stretch
The sides o’th’world, against all colour52 here
Did put the yoke upon’s; which to shake off
Becomes54 a warlike people, whom we reckon
Ourselves to be. We do say then to Caesar,
Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which56
Ordained our laws, whose use57 the sword of Caesar
Hath too much mangled, whose repair and franchise58
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 called
Himself a king.
LUCIUS I am sorry, Cymbeline,
That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar —
Caesar, that hath more kings his servants than
Thyself domestic officers — thine enemy:
Receive it from me, then. War and confusion68
In Caesar’s name pronounce69 I gainst thee: look
For fury not to be resisted. Thus defied70,
I thank thee for myself.
CYMBELINE Thou art welcome, Caius.
Thy Caesar knighted me; my youth I spent
Much under him: of him I gathered honour,
Which he to seek of me again, perforce75,
Behoves me keep at utterance. I am perfect76
That the Pannonians and Dalmatians77 for
Their liberties are now in arms, a precedent78
Which not to read would show the Britons cold79:
So Caesar shall not find them.
LUCIUS Let proof speak.81
CLOTEN His majesty bids you welcome. Make pastime82 with
us a day or two, or longer: if you seek us afterwards in other
terms, you shall find us in our saltwater girdle84: if you beat us
out of it, it is yours: if you fall in the adventure, our crows85
shall fare the better for you: and there’s an end.
LUCIUS So87, sir.
CYMBELINE I know your master’s pleasure88, and he mine:
All the remain89 is ‘Welcome’.
Exeunt
Act 3 Scene 2
running scene 7 continues
Enter Pisanio, reading of a letter
PISANIO How? Of adultery? Wherefore1 write you not
What monster’s her accuser? Leonatus,
O master, what a strange infection
Is fall’n into thy ear! What false Italian,
As poisonous-tongued as handed5, hath prevailed
On thy too ready hearing? Disloyal? No.
She’s punished for her truth, and undergoes7,
More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults
As would take in some virtue.9 O my master,
Thy mind to her is now as low as were
Thy fortunes. How? That I should murder her,
Upon12 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
Reads
So much as this fact17 comes to? ‘Do’t: the letter
That I have sent her, by her own command
Shall give thee opportunity.’ O damned paper,
Black as the ink that’s on thee! Senseless bauble20,
Art thou a fedary21 for this act, and look’st
So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes.
Enter Innogen
I am ignorant in23 what I am commanded.
INNOGEN How now, Pisanio?
PISANIO Madam, here is a letter from my lord.
INNOGEN Who, thy lord? That is my lord, Leonatus!
O, learned indeed were that astronomer27
That knew the stars as I his characters28 —
He’d lay the future open. You good gods,
Let what is here contained relish30 of love,
Of my lord’s health, of his content: yet not31
That we two are asunder, let that grieve him;
Some griefs are med’cinable33, that is one of them,
For it doth physic love34: of his content,
All but in that. Good wax, thy leave35: blest be
Opens the seal
You bees that make these locks of counsel!36 Lovers
And men in dangerous bonds pray not alike:
Though forfeiters38 you cast in prison, yet
You clasp young Cupid’s tables.39 Good news, gods!
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 renew42 me with your eyes. Take
notice that I am in Cambria, at Milford Haven43: 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 affairs49
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 bate53 — but not like me: yet long’st
But in a fainter kind.54 O, not like me,
For mine’s beyond, beyond: say, and speak thick55 —
Love’s counsellor should fill the bores of hearing56,
To th’smothering57 of the sense — how far it is
To this same blessèd Milford. And by th’way58
Tell me how Wales was made so happy as
T’inherit such a haven. But first of all,
How we may steal61 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.63
Why should excuse be born or e’er begot?64
We’ll talk of that hereafter. Prithee, speak,
How many score of miles may we
well66 ride
’Twixt hour and hour?67
PISANIO One score ’twixt sun and sun68,
Madam, ’s enough for you: and too much too.
INNOGEN Why, one that rode to’s execution, man,
Could never go so slow: I have heard of riding wagers71,
Where horses have been nimbler than the sands
That run i’th’clock’s behalf.73 But this is foolery:
Go, bid my woman feign74 a sickness, say
She’ll home to her father; and provide me presently75
A riding-suit, no costlier than would fit76
A franklin77’s housewife.
PISANIO Madam, you’re best78 consider.
INNOGEN I see before me, man: nor79 here, nor here,
Nor what ensues, but80 have a fog in them
That I cannot look through. Away, I prithee,
Do as I bid thee: there’s no more to say:
Accessible is none83 but Milford way.
Exeunt
Act 3 Scene 3
running scene 8
Enter Belarius, Guiderius and Arviragus
From their cave
BELARIUS A goodly day not to keep house with such1
Whose roof’s as low as ours. Stoop, boys: this gate2
Instructs you how t’adore the heavens3, and bows you
To a morning’s holy office.4 The gates of monarchs
Are arched so high that giants may jet5 through
And keep their impious turbans6 on, without
Good morrow to the sun. Hail, thou fair heaven!
We house i’th’rock, yet use thee not so hardly8
As prouder livers9 do.
GUIDERIUS Hail, heaven!
ARVIRAGUS Hail, heaven!
BELARIUS Now for our mountain sport. Up to yond hill,
Your legs are young: I’ll tread these flats.13 Consider,
When you above perceive me like a crow,
That it is place which lessens and sets off15,
And you may then revolve16 what tales I have told you
Of courts, of princes, of the tricks17 in war.
This service is not service, so being done,
But being so allowed. To apprehend thus19
Draws us a profit from all things we see:
And often, to our comfort, shall we find
The sharded beetle in a safer hold22
Than is the full-winged eagle. O, this life
Is nobler than attending for a check24,
Richer than doing nothing for a robe25,
Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk:
Such gain the cap of him that makes ’em fine27,
Yet keeps his book uncrossed: no life to28 ours.
GUIDERIUS Out of your proof you speak: we poor unfledged29
Have never winged from view o’th’nest, nor know not
What air’s from home. Haply31 this life is best,
If quiet life be best: sweeter to you
That have a sharper known, well corresponding
With your stiff34 age; but unto us it is
A cell of ignorance, travelling abed35,
A prison for a debtor that not dares
To stride a limit.37
ARVIRAGUS 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 pinching41 cave, shall we discourse
The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing:
We are beastly43: subtle as the fox for prey,
Like44 warlike as the wolf for what we eat:
Our valour is to chase what flies45: our cage
We make a choir, as doth the prisoned bird,
And sing our bondage freely.
BELARIUS How you speak!
Did you but know the city’s usuries49,
And felt them knowingly: the art50 o’th’court,
As hard to leave as keep51, whose top to climb
Is certain falling, or so slipp’ry that
The fear’s as bad as falling: the toil o’th’war,
A pain54 that only seems to seek out danger
I’th’name of fame and honour, which dies i’th’search,
And hath as oft56 a sland’rous epitaph
As record of fair act.57 Nay, many times
Doth ill deserve58 by doing well: what’s worse,
Must curtsy at the censure.59 O boys, this story
The world may read in me: my body’s marked
With Roman swords, and my report61 was once
First with the best of note.62 Cymbeline loved me,
And when a soldier was the theme63, my name
Was not far off: then was I as64 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 hangings67, nay, my leaves,
And left me bare to weather.68
GUIDERIUS Uncertain favour!69
BELARIUS My fault being nothing — as I have told you oft —
But that two villains, whose false oaths prevailed
Before my perfect72 honour, swore to Cymbeline
I was confederate with the Romans: so
Followed my banishment, and this74 twenty years
This rock and these demesnes75 have been my world
Where I have lived at76 honest freedom, paid
More pious debts to heaven than in all
The fore-end of my time.78 But up to th’mountains!
This is not hunters’ language. He that strikes
The venison80 first shall be the lord o’th’feast,
To him the other two shall minister81,
And we will fear no poison, which attends82
In place of greater state. I’ll meet you in the valleys.
Exeunt [Guid. and Arv.]
How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature!84
These boys know little they are sons to th’king,
Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive.
They think they are mine, and though trained up thus meanly87
I’th’cave wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit88
The roofs of palaces and nature prompts them
In simple and low things to prince it90 much
Beyond the trick91 of others. This Polydore,
The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, who
The king his father called Guiderius — Jove!
When on my three-foot94 stool I sit, and tell
The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out
Into my story: say96 ‘Thus mine enemy fell,
And thus I set my foot on’s neck’, even then
The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats,
Strains his young nerves99, and puts himself in posture
That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal,
Once Arviragus, in as like a figure101
Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more102
A horn sounds
His own conceiving. Hark, the game is roused!103
O Cymbeline, heaven and my conscience knows
Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon105,
At three and two years old, I stole these babes,
Thinking to bar thee of succession107, as
Thou reft’st108 me of my lands. Euriphile,
Thou wast their nurse109, they took thee for their mother,
And every day do honour to her110 grave:
Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan called,
They take for natural father. The game is up.
Exit
Act 3 Scene 4
running scene 9
Enter Pisanio and Innogen
Innogen in a riding-suit
INNOGEN Thou told’st me when we came from horse1 the place<
br />
Was near at hand: ne’er longed my mother so2
To see me first as I have now. Pisanio, man,
Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind
That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh
From th’inward of thee? One but painted thus6
Would be interpreted a thing perplexed7
Beyond self-explication. Put thyself8
Into a ’haviour of less fear, ere9 wildness
Vanquish my staider10 senses. What’s the matter?
Why tender’st thou that paper11 to me with
A look untender? If’t be summer12 news,
Smile to’t before: if winterly13, thou need’st
But keep that count’nance still. My husband’s hand?14
That drug-damned Italy hath out-craftied15 him,
And he’s at some hard point. Speak, man, thy tongue16
May take off some extremity, which to read
Would be even mortal18 to me.
PISANIO Please you read,
And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing
The most disdained of fortune.
INNOGEN Reads ‘Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the
strumpet in my bed: the testimonies whereof lies bleeding in23
me. I speak not out of weak surmises, but from proof as
strong as my grief25, and as certain as I expect my revenge.
That part thou, Pisanio, must act for me, if thy faith be not
tainted27 with the breach of hers; let thine own hands take
away her life: I shall give thee opportunity at Milford Haven.
She hath my letter for the purpose: where, if thou fear to
strike, and to make me certain it is done, thou art the pander30
to her dishonour, and equally to me disloyal.’
Aside
PISANIO What32 shall I need to draw my sword? The paper
Hath cut her throat already. No, ’tis slander,
Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue
Outvenoms all the worms of Nile35, whose breath
Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie36
All corners of the world. Kings, queens and states37,
Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave
This viperous slander enters. What cheer, madam?
INNOGEN False to his bed? What is it to be false?
To lie in watch there, and to think on him?
To weep ’twixt clock and clock? If sleep charge42 nature,
To break it with a fearful dream of him,
And cry myself awake? That’s false to’s bed, is it?
Cymbeline Page 8
