Cymbeline

1You do not meet a man but frowns: our bloods

2No more obey the heavens than our courtiers

3Still seem as does the king.

4But what's the matter?

5His daughter, and the heir of's kingdom, whom

6He purposed to his wife's sole son--a widow

7That late he married--hath referr'd herself

8Unto a poor but worthy gentleman: she's wedded;

9Her husband banish'd; she imprison'd: all

10Is outward sorrow; though I think the king

11Be touch'd at very heart.

12None but the king?

13He that hath lost her too; so is the queen,

14That most desired the match; but not a courtier,

15Although they wear their faces to the bent

16Of the king's look's, hath a heart that is not

17Glad at the thing they scowl at.

18And why so?

19He that hath miss'd the princess is a thing

20Too bad for bad report: and he that hath her--

21I mean, that married her, alack, good man!

22And therefore banish'd--is a creature such

23As, to seek through the regions of the earth

24For one his like, there would be something failing

25In him that should compare. I do not think

26So fair an outward and such stuff within

27Endows a man but he.

28You speak him far.

29I do extend him, sir, within himself,

30Crush him together rather than unfold

31His measure duly.

32What's his name and birth?

33I cannot delve him to the root: his father

34Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour

35Against the Romans with Cassibelan,

36But had his titles by Tenantius whom

37He served with glory and admired success,

38So gain'd the sur-addition Leonatus;

39And had, besides this gentleman in question,

40Two other sons, who in the wars o' the time

41Died with their swords in hand; for which

42their father,

43Then old and fond of issue, took such sorrow

44That he quit being, and his gentle lady,

45Big of this gentleman our theme, deceased

46As he was born. The king he takes the babe

47To his protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus,

48Breeds him and makes him of his bed-chamber,

49Puts to him all the learnings that his time

50Could make him the receiver of; which he took,

51As we do air, fast as 'twas minister'd,

52And in's spring became a harvest, lived in court--

53Which rare it is to do--most praised, most loved,

54A sample to the youngest, to the more mature

55A glass that feated them, and to the graver

56A child that guided dotards; to his mistress,

57For whom he now is banish'd, her own price

58Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue;

59By her election may be truly read

60What kind of man he is.

61I honour him

62Even out of your report. But, pray you, tell me,

63Is she sole child to the king?

64His only child.

65He had two sons: if this be worth your hearing,

66Mark it: the eldest of them at three years old,

67I' the swathing-clothes the other, from their nursery

68Were stol'n, and to this hour no guess in knowledge

69Which way they went.

70How long is this ago?

71Some twenty years.

72That a king's children should be so convey'd,

73So slackly guarded, and the search so slow,

74That could not trace them!

75Howsoe'er 'tis strange,

76Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at,

77Yet is it true, sir.

78I do well believe you.

79We must forbear: here comes the gentleman,

80The queen, and princess.

81No, be assured you shall not find me, daughter,

82After the slander of most stepmothers,

83Evil-eyed unto you: you're my prisoner, but

84Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys

85That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus,

86So soon as I can win the offended king,

87I will be known your advocate: marry, yet

88The fire of rage is in him, and 'twere good

89You lean'd unto his sentence with what patience

90Your wisdom may inform you.

91Please your highness,

92I will from hence to-day.

93You know the peril.

94I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying

95The pangs of barr'd affections, though the king

96Hath charged you should not speak together.

97O

98Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant

99Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband,

100I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing--

101Always reserved my holy duty--what

102His rage can do on me: you must be gone;

103And I shall here abide the hourly shot

104Of angry eyes, not comforted to live,

105But that there is this jewel in the world

106That I may see again.

107My queen! my mistress!

108O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause

109To be suspected of more tenderness

110Than doth become a man. I will remain

111The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth:

112My residence in Rome at one Philario's,

113Who to my father was a friend, to me

114Known but by letter: thither write, my queen,

115And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send,

116Though ink be made of gall.

117Be brief, I pray you:

118If the king come, I shall incur I know not

119How much of his displeasure.

120Yet I'll move him

121To walk this way: I never do him wrong,

122But he does buy my injuries, to be friends;

123Pays dear for my offences.

124Should we be taking leave

125As long a term as yet we have to live,

126The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu!

127Nay, stay a little:

128Were you but riding forth to air yourself,

129Such parting were too petty. Look here, love;

130This diamond was my mother's: take it, heart;

131But keep it till you woo another wife,

132When Imogen is dead.

133How, how! another?

134You gentle gods, give me but this I have,

135And sear up my embracements from a next

136With bonds of death!

137Remain, remain thou here

138While sense can keep it on. And, sweetest, fairest,

139As I my poor self did exchange for you,

140To your so infinite loss, so in our trifles

141I still win of you: for my sake wear this;

142It is a manacle of love; I'll place it

143Upon this fairest prisoner.

144O the gods!

145When shall we see again?

146Alack, the king!

147Thou basest thing, avoid! hence, from my sight!

148If after this command thou fraught the court

149With thy unworthiness, thou diest: away!

150Thou'rt poison to my blood.

151The gods protect you!

152And bless the good remainders of the court! I am gone.

153There cannot be a pinch in death

154More sharp than this is.

155O disloyal thing,

156That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap'st

157A year's age on me.

158I beseech you, sir,

159Harm not yourself with your vexation

160I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare

161Subdues all pangs, all fears.

162Past grace? obedience?

163Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace.

164That mightst have had the sole son of my queen!

165O blest, that I might not! I chose an eagle,

166And did avoid a puttock.

167Thou took'st a beggar; wouldst have made my throne

168A seat for baseness.

169No; I rather added

170A lustre to it.

171O thou vile one!

172Sir,

173It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus:

174You bred him as my playfellow, and he is

175A man worth any woman, overbuys me

176Almost the sum he pays.

177What, art thou mad?

178Almost, sir: heaven restore me! Would I were

179A neat-herd's daughter, and my Leonatus

180Our neighbour shepherd's son!

181Thou foolish thing!

182They were again together: you have done

183Not after our command. Away with her,

184And pen her up.

185Beseech your patience. Peace,

186Dear lady daughter, peace! Sweet sovereign,

187Leave us to ourselves; and make yourself some comfort

188Out of your best advice.

189Nay, let her languish

190A drop of blood a day; and, being aged,

191Die of this folly!

192Fie! you must give way.

193Here is your servant. How now, sir! What news?

194My lord your son drew on my master.

195Ha!

196No harm, I trust, is done?

197There might have been,

198But that my master rather play'd than fought

199And had no help of anger: they were parted

200By gentlemen at hand.

201I am very glad on't.

202Your son's my father's friend; he takes his part.

203To draw upon an exile! O brave sir!

204I would they were in Afric both together;

205Myself by with a needle, that I might prick

206The goer-back. Why came you from your master?

207On his command: he would not suffer me

208To bring him to the haven; left these notes

209Of what commands I should be subject to,

210When 't pleased you to employ me.

211This hath been

212Your faithful servant: I dare lay mine honour

213He will remain so.

214I humbly thank your highness.

215Pray, walk awhile.

216About some half-hour hence,

217I pray you, speak with me: you shall at least

218Go see my lord aboard: for this time leave me.

1Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the

2violence of action hath made you reek as a

3sacrifice: where air comes out, air comes in:

4there's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent.

5If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Have I hurt him?

6[Aside] No, 'faith; not so much as his patience.

7Hurt him! his body's a passable carcass, if he be

8not hurt: it is a thoroughfare for steel, if it be not hurt.

9[Aside] His steel was in debt; it went o' the

10backside the town.

11The villain would not stand me.

12[Aside] No; but he fled forward still, toward your face.

13Stand you! You have land enough of your own: but

14he added to your having; gave you some ground.

15[Aside] As many inches as you have oceans. Puppies!

16I would they had not come between us.

17[Aside] So would I, till you had measured how long

18a fool you were upon the ground.

19And that she should love this fellow and refuse me!

20[Aside] If it be a sin to make a true election, she

21is damned.

22Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain

23go not together: she's a good sign, but I have seen

24small reflection of her wit.

25[Aside] She shines not upon fools, lest the

26reflection should hurt her.

27Come, I'll to my chamber. Would there had been some

28hurt done!

29[Aside] I wish not so; unless it had been the fall

30of an ass, which is no great hurt.

31You'll go with us?

32I'll attend your lordship.

33Nay, come, let's go together.

34Well, my lord.

1I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' the haven,

2And question'dst every sail: if he should write

3And not have it, 'twere a paper lost,

4As offer'd mercy is. What was the last

5That he spake to thee?

6It was his queen, his queen!

7Then waved his handkerchief?

8And kiss'd it, madam.

9Senseless Linen! happier therein than I!

10And that was all?

11No, madam; for so long

12As he could make me with this eye or ear

13Distinguish him from others, he did keep

14The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief,

15Still waving, as the fits and stirs of 's mind

16Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on,

17How swift his ship.

18Thou shouldst have made him

19As little as a crow, or less, ere left

20To after-eye him.

21Madam, so I did.

22I would have broke mine eye-strings; crack'd them, but

23To look upon him, till the diminution

24Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle,

25Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from

26The smallness of a gnat to air, and then

27Have turn'd mine eye and wept. But, good Pisanio,

28When shall we hear from him?

29Be assured, madam,

30With his next vantage.

31I did not take my leave of him, but had

32Most pretty things to say: ere I could tell him

33How I would think on him at certain hours

34Such thoughts and such, or I could make him swear

35The shes of Italy should not betray

36Mine interest and his honour, or have charged him,

37At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight,

38To encounter me with orisons, for then

39I am in heaven for him; or ere I could

40Give him that parting kiss which I had set

41Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father

42And like the tyrannous breathing of the north

43Shakes all our buds from growing.

44The queen, madam,

45Desires your highness' company.

46Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch'd.

47I will attend the queen.

48Madam, I shall.

1Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Britain: he was

2then of a crescent note, expected to prove so worthy

3as since he hath been allowed the name of; but I

4could then have looked on him without the help of

5admiration, though the catalogue of his endowments

6had been tabled by his side and I to peruse him by items.

7You speak of him when he was less furnished than now

8he is with that which makes him both without and within.

9I have seen him in France: we had very many there

10could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he.

11This matter of marrying his king's daughter, wherein

12he must be weighed rather by her value than his own,

13words him, I doubt not, a great deal from the matter.

14And then his banishment.

15Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this

16lamentable divorce under her colours are wonderfully

17to extend him; be it but to fortify her judgment,

18which else an easy battery might lay flat, for

19taking a beggar without less quality. But how comes

20it he is to sojourn with you? How creeps

21acquaintance?

22His father and I were soldiers together; to whom I

23have been often bound for no less than my life.

24Here comes the Briton: let him be so entertained

25amongst you as suits, with gentlemen of your

26knowing, to a stranger of his quality.

27I beseech you all, be better known to this

28gentleman; whom I commend to you as a noble friend

29of mine: how worthy he is I will leave to appear

30hereafter, rather than story him in his own hearing.

31Sir, we have known together in Orleans.

32Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies,

33which I will be ever to pay and yet pay still.

34Sir, you o'er-rate my poor kindness: I was glad I

35did atone my countryman and you; it had been pity

36you should have been put together with so mortal a

37purpose as then each bore, upon importance of so

38slight and trivial a nature.

39By your pardon, sir, I was then a young traveller;

40rather shunned to go even with what I heard than in

41my every action to be guided by others' experiences:

42but upon my mended judgment--if I offend not to say

43it is mended--my quarrel was not altogether slight.

44'Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords,

45and by such two that would by all likelihood have

46confounded one the other, or have fallen both.

47Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference?

48Safely, I think: 'twas a contention in public,

49which may, without contradiction, suffer the report.

50It was much like an argument that fell out last

51night, where each of us fell in praise of our

52country mistresses; this gentleman at that time

53vouching--and upon warrant of bloody

54affirmation--his to be more fair, virtuous, wise,

55chaste, constant-qualified and less attemptable

56than any the rarest of our ladies in France.

57That lady is not now living, or this gentleman's

58opinion by this worn out.

59She holds her virtue still and I my mind.

60You must not so far prefer her 'fore ours of Italy.

61Being so far provoked as I was in France, I would

62abate her nothing, though I profess myself her

63adorer, not her friend.

64As fair and as good--a kind of hand-in-hand

65comparison--had been something too fair and too good

66for any lady in Britain. If she went before others

67I have seen, as that diamond of yours outlustres

68many I have beheld. I could not but believe she

69excelled many: but I have not seen the most

70precious diamond that is, nor you the lady.

71I praised her as I rated her: so do I my stone.

72What do you esteem it at?

73More than the world enjoys.

74Either your unparagoned mistress is dead, or she's

75outprized by a trifle.

76You are mistaken: the one may be sold, or given, if

77there were wealth enough for the purchase, or merit

78for the gift: the other is not a thing for sale,

79and only the gift of the gods.

80Which the gods have given you?

81Which, by their graces, I will keep.

82You may wear her in title yours: but, you know,

83strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds. Your

84ring may be stolen too: so your brace of unprizable

85estimations; the one is but frail and the other

86casual; a cunning thief, or a that way accomplished

87courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and last.

88Your Italy contains none so accomplished a courtier

89to convince the honour of my mistress, if, in the

90holding or loss of that, you term her frail. I do

91nothing doubt you have store of thieves;

92notwithstanding, I fear not my ring.

93Let us leave here, gentlemen.

94Sir, with all my heart. This worthy signior, I

95thank him, makes no stranger of me; we are familiar at first.

96With five times so much conversation, I should get

97ground of your fair mistress, make her go back, even

98to the yielding, had I admittance and opportunity to friend.

99No, no.

100I dare thereupon pawn the moiety of my estate to

101your ring; which, in my opinion, o'ervalues it

102something: but I make my wager rather against your

103confidence than her reputation: and, to bar your

104offence herein too, I durst attempt it against any

105lady in the world.

106You are a great deal abused in too bold a

107persuasion; and I doubt not you sustain what you're

108worthy of by your attempt.

109What's that?

110A repulse: though your attempt, as you call it,

111deserve more; a punishment too.

112Gentlemen, enough of this: it came in too suddenly;

113let it die as it was born, and, I pray you, be

114better acquainted.

115Would I had put my estate and my neighbour's on the

116approbation of what I have spoke!

117What lady would you choose to assail?

118Yours; whom in constancy you think stands so safe.

119I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring,

120that, commend me to the court where your lady is,

121with no more advantage than the opportunity of a

122second conference, and I will bring from thence

123that honour of hers which you imagine so reserved.

124I will wage against your gold, gold to it: my ring

125I hold dear as my finger; 'tis part of it.

126You are afraid, and therein the wiser. If you buy

127ladies' flesh at a million a dram, you cannot

128preserve it from tainting: but I see you have some

129religion in you, that you fear.

130This is but a custom in your tongue; you bear a

131graver purpose, I hope.

132I am the master of my speeches, and would undergo

133what's spoken, I swear.

134Will you? I shall but lend my diamond till your

135return: let there be covenants drawn between's: my

136mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness of your

137unworthy thinking: I dare you to this match: here's my ring.

138I will have it no lay.

139By the gods, it is one. If I bring you no

140sufficient testimony that I have enjoyed the dearest

141bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats

142are yours; so is your diamond too: if I come off,

143and leave her in such honour as you have trust in,

144she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are

145yours: provided I have your commendation for my more

146free entertainment.

147I embrace these conditions; let us have articles

148betwixt us. Only, thus far you shall answer: if

149you make your voyage upon her and give me directly

150to understand you have prevailed, I am no further

151your enemy; she is not worth our debate: if she

152remain unseduced, you not making it appear

153otherwise, for your ill opinion and the assault you

154have made to her chastity you shall answer me with

155your sword.

156Your hand; a covenant: we will have these things set

157down by lawful counsel, and straight away for

158Britain, lest the bargain should catch cold and

159starve: I will fetch my gold and have our two

160wagers recorded.

161Agreed.

162Will this hold, think you?

163Signior Iachimo will not from it.

164Pray, let us follow 'em.

1Whiles yet the dew's on ground, gather those flowers;

2Make haste: who has the note of them?

3I, madam.

4Dispatch.

5Now, master doctor, have you brought those drugs?

6Pleaseth your highness, ay: here they are, madam:

7But I beseech your grace, without offence,--

8My conscience bids me ask--wherefore you have

9Commanded of me those most poisonous compounds,

10Which are the movers of a languishing death;

11But though slow, deadly?

12I wonder, doctor,

13Thou ask'st me such a question. Have I not been

14Thy pupil long? Hast thou not learn'd me how

15To make perfumes? distil? preserve? yea, so

16That our great king himself doth woo me oft

17For my confections? Having thus far proceeded,--

18Unless thou think'st me devilish--is't not meet

19That I did amplify my judgment in

20Other conclusions? I will try the forces

21Of these thy compounds on such creatures as

22We count not worth the hanging, but none human,

23To try the vigour of them and apply

24Allayments to their act, and by them gather

25Their several virtues and effects.

26Your highness

27Shall from this practise but make hard your heart:

28Besides, the seeing these effects will be

29Both noisome and infectious.

30O, content thee.

31Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him

32Will I first work: he's for his master,

33An enemy to my son. How now, Pisanio!

34Doctor, your service for this time is ended;

35Take your own way.

36[Aside] I do suspect you, madam;

37But you shall do no harm.

38[To PISANIO] Hark thee, a word.

39[Aside] I do not like her. She doth think she has

40Strange lingering poisons: I do know her spirit,

41And will not trust one of her malice with

42A drug of such damn'd nature. Those she has

43Will stupefy and dull the sense awhile;

44Which first, perchance, she'll prove on

45cats and dogs,

46Then afterward up higher: but there is

47No danger in what show of death it makes,

48More than the locking-up the spirits a time,

49To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool'd

50With a most false effect; and I the truer,

51So to be false with her.

52No further service, doctor,

53Until I send for thee.

54I humbly take my leave.

55Weeps she still, say'st thou? Dost thou think in time

56She will not quench and let instructions enter

57Where folly now possesses? Do thou work:

58When thou shalt bring me word she loves my son,

59I'll tell thee on the instant thou art then

60As great as is thy master, greater, for

61His fortunes all lie speechless and his name

62Is at last gasp: return he cannot, nor

63Continue where he is: to shift his being

64Is to exchange one misery with another,

65And every day that comes comes to decay

66A day's work in him. What shalt thou expect,

67To be depender on a thing that leans,

68Who cannot be new built, nor has no friends,

69So much as but to prop him?

70Thou takest up

71Thou know'st not what; but take it for thy labour:

72It is a thing I made, which hath the king

73Five times redeem'd from death: I do not know

74What is more cordial. Nay, I prethee, take it;

75It is an earnest of a further good

76That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how

77The case stands with her; do't as from thyself.

78Think what a chance thou changest on, but think

79Thou hast thy mistress still, to boot, my son,

80Who shall take notice of thee: I'll move the king

81To any shape of thy preferment such

82As thou'lt desire; and then myself, I chiefly,

83That set thee on to this desert, am bound

84To load thy merit richly. Call my women:

85Think on my words.

86A sly and constant knave,

87Not to be shaked; the agent for his master

88And the remembrancer of her to hold

89The hand-fast to her lord. I have given him that

90Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her

91Of liegers for her sweet, and which she after,

92Except she bend her humour, shall be assured

93To taste of too.

94So, so: well done, well done:

95The violets, cowslips, and the primroses,

96Bear to my closet. Fare thee well, Pisanio;

97Think on my words.

98And shall do:

99But when to my good lord I prove untrue,

100I'll choke myself: there's all I'll do for you.

1A father cruel, and a step-dame false;

2A foolish suitor to a wedded lady,

3That hath her husband banish'd;--O, that husband!

4My supreme crown of grief! and those repeated

5Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stol'n,

6As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable

7Is the desire that's glorious: blest be those,

8How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills,

9Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fie!

10Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome,

11Comes from my lord with letters.

12Change you, madam?

13The worthy Leonatus is in safety

14And greets your highness dearly.

15Thanks, good sir:

16You're kindly welcome.

17[Aside] All of her that is out of door most rich!

18If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare,

19She is alone the Arabian bird, and I

20Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend!

21Arm me, audacity, from head to foot!

22Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight;

23Rather directly fly.

24[Reads] 'He is one of the noblest note, to whose

25kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon

26him accordingly, as you value your trust--

27LEONATUS.'

28So far I read aloud:

29But even the very middle of my heart

30Is warm'd by the rest, and takes it thankfully.

31You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I

32Have words to bid you, and shall find it so

33In all that I can do.

34Thanks, fairest lady.

35What, are men mad? Hath nature given them eyes

36To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop

37Of sea and land, which can distinguish 'twixt

38The fiery orbs above and the twinn'd stones

39Upon the number'd beach? and can we not

40Partition make with spectacles so precious

41'Twixt fair and foul?

42What makes your admiration?

43It cannot be i' the eye, for apes and monkeys

44'Twixt two such shes would chatter this way and

45Contemn with mows the other; nor i' the judgment,

46For idiots in this case of favour would

47Be wisely definite; nor i' the appetite;

48Sluttery to such neat excellence opposed

49Should make desire vomit emptiness,

50Not so allured to feed.

51What is the matter, trow?

52The cloyed will,

53That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub

54Both fill'd and running, ravening first the lamb

55Longs after for the garbage.

56What, dear sir,

57Thus raps you? Are you well?

58Thanks, madam; well.

59Beseech you, sir, desire

60My man's abode where I did leave him: he

61Is strange and peevish.

62I was going, sir,

63To give him welcome.

64Continues well my lord? His health, beseech you?

65Well, madam.

66Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is.

67Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there

68So merry and so gamesome: he is call'd

69The Briton reveller.

70When he was here,

71He did incline to sadness, and oft-times

72Not knowing why.

73I never saw him sad.

74There is a Frenchman his companion, one

75An eminent monsieur, that, it seems, much loves

76A Gallian girl at home; he furnaces

77The thick sighs from him, whiles the jolly Briton--

78Your lord, I mean--laughs from's free lungs, cries 'O,

79Can my sides hold, to think that man, who knows

80By history, report, or his own proof,

81What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose

82But must be, will his free hours languish for

83Assured bondage?'

84Will my lord say so?

85Ay, madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter:

86It is a recreation to be by

87And hear him mock the Frenchman. But, heavens know,

88Some men are much to blame.

89Not he, I hope.

90Not he: but yet heaven's bounty towards him might

91Be used more thankfully. In himself, 'tis much;

92In you, which I account his beyond all talents,

93Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound

94To pity too.

95What do you pity, sir?

96Two creatures heartily.

97Am I one, sir?

98You look on me: what wreck discern you in me

99Deserves your pity?

100Lamentable! What,

101To hide me from the radiant sun and solace

102I' the dungeon by a snuff?

103I pray you, sir,

104Deliver with more openness your answers

105To my demands. Why do you pity me?

106That others do--

107I was about to say--enjoy your--But

108It is an office of the gods to venge it,

109Not mine to speak on 't.

110You do seem to know

111Something of me, or what concerns me: pray you,--

112Since doubling things go ill often hurts more

113Than to be sure they do; for certainties

114Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing,

115The remedy then born--discover to me

116What both you spur and stop.

117Had I this cheek

118To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch,

119Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul

120To the oath of loyalty; this object, which

121Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,

122Fixing it only here; should I, damn'd then,

123Slaver with lips as common as the stairs

124That mount the Capitol; join gripes with hands

125Made hard with hourly falsehood--falsehood, as

126With labour; then by-peeping in an eye

127Base and unlustrous as the smoky light

128That's fed with stinking tallow; it were fit

129That all the plagues of hell should at one time

130Encounter such revolt.

131My lord, I fear,

132Has forgot Britain.

133And himself. Not I,

134Inclined to this intelligence, pronounce

135The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces

136That from pay mutest conscience to my tongue

137Charms this report out.

138Let me hear no more.

139O dearest soul! your cause doth strike my heart

140With pity, that doth make me sick. A lady

141So fair, and fasten'd to an empery,

142Would make the great'st king double,--to be partner'd

143With tomboys hired with that self-exhibition

144Which your own coffers yield! with diseased ventures

145That play with all infirmities for gold

146Which rottenness can lend nature! such boil'd stuff

147As well might poison poison! Be revenged;

148Or she that bore you was no queen, and you

149Recoil from your great stock.

150Revenged!

151How should I be revenged? If this be true,--

152As I have such a heart that both mine ears

153Must not in haste abuse--if it be true,

154How should I be revenged?

155Should he make me

156Live, like Diana's priest, betwixt cold sheets,

157Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps,

158In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge it.

159I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure,

160More noble than that runagate to your bed,

161And will continue fast to your affection,

162Still close as sure.

163What, ho, Pisanio!

164Let me my service tender on your lips.

165Away! I do condemn mine ears that have

166So long attended thee. If thou wert honourable,

167Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, not

168For such an end thou seek'st,--as base as strange.

169Thou wrong'st a gentleman, who is as far

170From thy report as thou from honour, and

171Solicit'st here a lady that disdains

172Thee and the devil alike. What ho, Pisanio!

173The king my father shall be made acquainted

174Of thy assault: if he shall think it fit,

175A saucy stranger in his court to mart

176As in a Romish stew and to expound

177His beastly mind to us, he hath a court

178He little cares for and a daughter who

179He not respects at all. What, ho, Pisanio!

180O happy Leonatus! I may say

181The credit that thy lady hath of thee

182Deserves thy trust, and thy most perfect goodness

183Her assured credit. Blessed live you long!

184A lady to the worthiest sir that ever

185Country call'd his! and you his mistress, only

186For the most worthiest fit! Give me your pardon.

187I have spoke this, to know if your affiance

188Were deeply rooted; and shall make your lord,

189That which he is, new o'er: and he is one

190The truest manner'd; such a holy witch

191That he enchants societies into him;

192Half all men's hearts are his.

193You make amends.

194He sits 'mongst men like a descended god:

195He hath a kind of honour sets him off,

196More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry,

197Most mighty princess, that I have adventured

198To try your taking a false report; which hath

199Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment

200In the election of a sir so rare,

201Which you know cannot err: the love I bear him

202Made me to fan you thus, but the gods made you,

203Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray, your pardon.

204All's well, sir: take my power i' the court

205for yours.

206My humble thanks. I had almost forgot

207To entreat your grace but in a small request,

208And yet of moment to, for it concerns

209Your lord; myself and other noble friends,

210Are partners in the business.

211Pray, what is't?

212Some dozen Romans of us and your lord--

213The best feather of our wing--have mingled sums

214To buy a present for the emperor

215Which I, the factor for the rest, have done

216In France: 'tis plate of rare device, and jewels

217Of rich and exquisite form; their values great;

218And I am something curious, being strange,

219To have them in safe stowage: may it please you

220To take them in protection?

221Willingly;

222And pawn mine honour for their safety: since

223My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them

224In my bedchamber.

225They are in a trunk,

226Attended by my men: I will make bold

227To send them to you, only for this night;

228I must aboard to-morrow.

229O, no, no.

230Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my word

231By lengthening my return. From Gallia

232I cross'd the seas on purpose and on promise

233To see your grace.

234I thank you for your pains:

235But not away to-morrow!

236O, I must, madam:

237Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please

238To greet your lord with writing, do't to-night:

239I have outstood my time; which is material

240To the tender of our present.

241I will write.

242Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept,

243And truly yielded you. You're very welcome.

1Was there ever man had such luck! when I kissed the

2jack, upon an up-cast to be hit away! I had a

3hundred pound on't: and then a whoreson jackanapes

4must take me up for swearing; as if I borrowed mine

5oaths of him and might not spend them at my pleasure.

6What got he by that? You have broke his pate with

7your bowl.

8[Aside] If his wit had been like him that broke it,

9it would have run all out.

10When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is not for

11any standers-by to curtail his oaths, ha?

12No my lord;

13nor crop the ears of them.

14Whoreson dog! I give him satisfaction?

15Would he had been one of my rank!

16[Aside] To have smelt like a fool.

17I am not vexed more at any thing in the earth: a

18pox on't! I had rather not be so noble as I am;

19they dare not fight with me, because of the queen my

20mother: every Jack-slave hath his bellyful of

21fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that

22nobody can match.

23[Aside] You are cock and capon too; and you crow,

24cock, with your comb on.

25Sayest thou?

26It is not fit your lordship should undertake every

27companion that you give offence to.

28No, I know that: but it is fit I should commit

29offence to my inferiors.

30Ay, it is fit for your lordship only.

31Why, so I say.

32Did you hear of a stranger that's come to court to-night?

33A stranger, and I not know on't!

34[Aside] He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it

35not.

36There's an Italian come; and, 'tis thought, one of

37Leonatus' friends.

38Leonatus! a banished rascal; and he's another,

39whatsoever he be. Who told you of this stranger?

40One of your lordship's pages.

41Is it fit I went to look upon him? is there no

42derogation in't?

43You cannot derogate, my lord.

44Not easily, I think.

45[Aside] You are a fool granted; therefore your

46issues, being foolish, do not derogate.

47Come, I'll go see this Italian: what I have lost

48to-day at bowls I'll win to-night of him. Come, go.

49I'll attend your lordship.

50That such a crafty devil as is his mother

51Should yield the world this ass! a woman that

52Bears all down with her brain; and this her son

53Cannot take two from twenty, for his heart,

54And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess,

55Thou divine Imogen, what thou endurest,

56Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern'd,

57A mother hourly coining plots, a wooer

58More hateful than the foul expulsion is

59Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act

60Of the divorce he'ld make! The heavens hold firm

61The walls of thy dear honour, keep unshaked

62That temple, thy fair mind, that thou mayst stand,

63To enjoy thy banish'd lord and this great land!

1Who's there? my woman Helen?

2Please you, madam

3What hour is it?

4Almost midnight, madam.

5I have read three hours then: mine eyes are weak:

6Fold down the leaf where I have left: to bed:

7Take not away the taper, leave it burning;

8And if thou canst awake by four o' the clock,

9I prithee, call me. Sleep hath seized me wholly

10To your protection I commend me, gods.

11From fairies and the tempters of the night

12Guard me, beseech ye.

13The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd sense

14Repairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus

15Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken'd

16The chastity he wounded. Cytherea,

17How bravely thou becomest thy bed, fresh lily,

18And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch!

19But kiss; one kiss! Rubies unparagon'd,

20How dearly they do't! 'Tis her breathing that

21Perfumes the chamber thus: the flame o' the taper

22Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids,

23To see the enclosed lights, now canopied

24Under these windows, white and azure laced

25With blue of heaven's own tinct. But my design,

26To note the chamber: I will write all down:

27Such and such pictures; there the window; such

28The adornment of her bed; the arras; figures,

29Why, such and such; and the contents o' the story.

30Ah, but some natural notes about her body,

31Above ten thousand meaner moveables

32Would testify, to enrich mine inventory.

33O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her!

34And be her sense but as a monument,

35Thus in a chapel lying! Come off, come off:

36As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard!

37'Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly,

38As strongly as the conscience does within,

39To the madding of her lord. On her left breast

40A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops

41I' the bottom of a cowslip: here's a voucher,

42Stronger than ever law could make: this secret

43Will force him think I have pick'd the lock and ta'en

44The treasure of her honour. No more. To what end?

45Why should I write this down, that's riveted,

46Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late

47The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's turn'd down

48Where Philomel gave up. I have enough:

49To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it.

50Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning

51May bare the raven's eye! I lodge in fear;

52Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here.

53One, two, three: time, time!

1Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the

2most coldest that ever turned up ace.

3It would make any man cold to lose.

4But not every man patient after the noble temper of

5your lordship. You are most hot and furious when you win.

6Winning will put any man into courage. If I could

7get this foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough.

8It's almost morning, is't not?

9Day, my lord.

10I would this music would come: I am advised to give

11her music o' mornings; they say it will penetrate.

12Come on; tune: if you can penetrate her with your

13fingering, so; we'll try with tongue too: if none

14will do, let her remain; but I'll never give o'er.

15First, a very excellent good-conceited thing;

16after, a wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich

17words to it: and then let her consider.

18Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,

19And Phoebus 'gins arise,

20His steeds to water at those springs

21On chaliced flowers that lies;

22And winking Mary-buds begin

23To ope their golden eyes:

24With every thing that pretty is,

25My lady sweet, arise:

26Arise, arise.

27So, get you gone. If this penetrate, I will

28consider your music the better: if it do not, it is

29a vice in her ears, which horse-hairs and

30calves'-guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to

31boot, can never amend.

32Here comes the king.

33I am glad I was up so late; for that's the reason I

34was up so early: he cannot choose but take this

35service I have done fatherly.

36Good morrow to your majesty and to my gracious mother.

37Attend you here the door of our stern daughter?

38Will she not forth?

39I have assailed her with music, but she vouchsafes no notice.

40The exile of her minion is too new;

41She hath not yet forgot him: some more time

42Must wear the print of his remembrance out,

43And then she's yours.

44You are most bound to the king,

45Who lets go by no vantages that may

46Prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself

47To orderly soliciting, and be friended

48With aptness of the season; make denials

49Increase your services; so seem as if

50You were inspired to do those duties which

51You tender to her; that you in all obey her,

52Save when command to your dismission tends,

53And therein you are senseless.

54Senseless! not so.

55So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome;

56The one is Caius Lucius.

57A worthy fellow,

58Albeit he comes on angry purpose now;

59But that's no fault of his: we must receive him

60According to the honour of his sender;

61And towards himself, his goodness forespent on us,

62We must extend our notice. Our dear son,

63When you have given good morning to your mistress,

64Attend the queen and us; we shall have need

65To employ you towards this Roman. Come, our queen.

66If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not,

67Let her lie still and dream.

68By your leave, ho!

69I Know her women are about her: what

70If I do line one of their hands? 'Tis gold

71Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and makes

72Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up

73Their deer to the stand o' the stealer; and 'tis gold

74Which makes the true man kill'd and saves the thief;

75Nay, sometime hangs both thief and true man: what

76Can it not do and undo? I will make

77One of her women lawyer to me, for

78I yet not understand the case myself.

79By your leave.

80Who's there that knocks?

81A gentleman.

82No more?

83Yes, and a gentlewoman's son.

84That's more

85Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours,

86Can justly boast of. What's your lordship's pleasure?

87Your lady's person: is she ready?

88Ay,

89To keep her chamber.

90There is gold for you;

91Sell me your good report.

92How! my good name? or to report of you

93What I shall think is good?--The princess!

94Good morrow, fairest: sister, your sweet hand.

95Good morrow, sir. You lay out too much pains

96For purchasing but trouble; the thanks I give

97Is telling you that I am poor of thanks

98And scarce can spare them.

99Still, I swear I love you.

100If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me:

101If you swear still, your recompense is still

102That I regard it not.

103This is no answer.

104But that you shall not say I yield being silent,

105I would not speak. I pray you, spare me: 'faith,

106I shall unfold equal discourtesy

107To your best kindness: one of your great knowing

108Should learn, being taught, forbearance.

109To leave you in your madness, 'twere my sin:

110I will not.

111Fools are not mad folks.

112Do you call me fool?

113As I am mad, I do:

114If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad;

115That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir,

116You put me to forget a lady's manners,

117By being so verbal: and learn now, for all,

118That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce,

119By the very truth of it, I care not for you,

120And am so near the lack of charity--

121To accuse myself--I hate you; which I had rather

122You felt than make't my boast.

123You sin against

124Obedience, which you owe your father. For

125The contract you pretend with that base wretch,

126One bred of alms and foster'd with cold dishes,

127With scraps o' the court, it is no contract, none:

128And though it be allow'd in meaner parties--

129Yet who than he more mean?--to knit their souls,

130On whom there is no more dependency

131But brats and beggary, in self-figured knot;

132Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by

133The consequence o' the crown, and must not soil

134The precious note of it with a base slave.

135A hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth,

136A pantler, not so eminent.

137Profane fellow

138Wert thou the son of Jupiter and no more

139But what thou art besides, thou wert too base

140To be his groom: thou wert dignified enough,

141Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made

142Comparative for your virtues, to be styled

143The under-hangman of his kingdom, and hated

144For being preferred so well.

145The south-fog rot him!

146He never can meet more mischance than come

147To be but named of thee. His meanest garment,

148That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer

149In my respect than all the hairs above thee,

150Were they all made such men. How now, Pisanio!

151'His garment!' Now the devil--

152To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently--

153'His garment!'

154I am sprited with a fool.

155Frighted, and anger'd worse: go bid my woman

156Search for a jewel that too casually

157Hath left mine arm: it was thy master's: 'shrew me,

158If I would lose it for a revenue

159Of any king's in Europe. I do think

160I saw't this morning: confident I am

161Last night 'twas on mine arm; I kiss'd it:

162I hope it be not gone to tell my lord

163That I kiss aught but he.

164'Twill not be lost.

165I hope so: go and search.

166You have abused me:

167'His meanest garment!'

168Ay, I said so, sir:

169If you will make't an action, call witness to't.

170I will inform your father.

171Your mother too:

172She's my good lady, and will conceive, I hope,

173But the worst of me. So, I leave you, sir,

174To the worst of discontent.

175I'll be revenged:

176'His meanest garment!' Well.

1Fear it not, sir: I would I were so sure

2To win the king as I am bold her honour

3Will remain hers.

4What means do you make to him?

5Not any, but abide the change of time,

6Quake in the present winter's state and wish

7That warmer days would come: in these sear'd hopes,

8I barely gratify your love; they failing,

9I must die much your debtor.

10Your very goodness and your company

11O'erpays all I can do. By this, your king

12Hath heard of great Augustus: Caius Lucius

13Will do's commission throughly: and I think

14He'll grant the tribute, send the arrearages,

15Or look upon our Romans, whose remembrance

16Is yet fresh in their grief.

17I do believe,

18Statist though I am none, nor like to be,

19That this will prove a war; and you shall hear

20The legions now in Gallia sooner landed

21In our not-fearing Britain than have tidings

22Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen

23Are men more order'd than when Julius Caesar

24Smiled at their lack of skill, but found

25their courage

26Worthy his frowning at: their discipline,

27Now mingled with their courages, will make known

28To their approvers they are people such

29That mend upon the world.

30See! Iachimo!

31The swiftest harts have posted you by land;

32And winds of all the comers kiss'd your sails,

33To make your vessel nimble.

34Welcome, sir.

35I hope the briefness of your answer made

36The speediness of your return.

37Your lady

38Is one of the fairest that I have look'd upon.

39And therewithal the best; or let her beauty

40Look through a casement to allure false hearts

41And be false with them.

42Here are letters for you.

43Their tenor good, I trust.

44'Tis very like.

45Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court

46When you were there?

47He was expected then,

48But not approach'd.

49All is well yet.

50Sparkles this stone as it was wont? or is't not

51Too dull for your good wearing?

52If I had lost it,

53I should have lost the worth of it in gold.

54I'll make a journey twice as far, to enjoy

55A second night of such sweet shortness which

56Was mine in Britain, for the ring is won.

57The stone's too hard to come by.

58Not a whit,

59Your lady being so easy.

60Make not, sir,

61Your loss your sport: I hope you know that we

62Must not continue friends.

63Good sir, we must,

64If you keep covenant. Had I not brought

65The knowledge of your mistress home, I grant

66We were to question further: but I now

67Profess myself the winner of her honour,

68Together with your ring; and not the wronger

69Of her or you, having proceeded but

70By both your wills.

71If you can make't apparent

72That you have tasted her in bed, my hand

73And ring is yours; if not, the foul opinion

74You had of her pure honour gains or loses

75Your sword or mine, or masterless leaves both

76To who shall find them.

77Sir, my circumstances,

78Being so near the truth as I will make them,

79Must first induce you to believe: whose strength

80I will confirm with oath; which, I doubt not,

81You'll give me leave to spare, when you shall find

82You need it not.

83Proceed.

84First, her bedchamber,--

85Where, I confess, I slept not, but profess

86Had that was well worth watching--it was hang'd

87With tapesty of silk and silver; the story

88Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman,

89And Cydnus swell'd above the banks, or for

90The press of boats or pride: a piece of work

91So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive

92In workmanship and value; which I wonder'd

93Could be so rarely and exactly wrought,

94Since the true life on't was--

95This is true;

96And this you might have heard of here, by me,

97Or by some other.

98More particulars

99Must justify my knowledge.

100So they must,

101Or do your honour injury.

102The chimney

103Is south the chamber, and the chimney-piece

104Chaste Dian bathing: never saw I figures

105So likely to report themselves: the cutter

106Was as another nature, dumb; outwent her,

107Motion and breath left out.

108This is a thing

109Which you might from relation likewise reap,

110Being, as it is, much spoke of.

111The roof o' the chamber

112With golden cherubins is fretted: her andirons--

113I had forgot them--were two winking Cupids

114Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely

115Depending on their brands.

116This is her honour!

117Let it be granted you have seen all this--and praise

118Be given to your remembrance--the description

119Of what is in her chamber nothing saves

120The wager you have laid.

121Then, if you can,

122Be pale: I beg but leave to air this jewel; see!

123And now 'tis up again: it must be married

124To that your diamond; I'll keep them.

125Jove!

126Once more let me behold it: is it that

127Which I left with her?

128Sir--I thank her--that:

129She stripp'd it from her arm; I see her yet;

130Her pretty action did outsell her gift,

131And yet enrich'd it too: she gave it me, and said

132She prized it once.

133May be she pluck'd it off

134To send it me.

135She writes so to you, doth she?

136O, no, no, no! 'tis true. Here, take this too;

137It is a basilisk unto mine eye,

138Kills me to look on't. Let there be no honour

139Where there is beauty; truth, where semblance; love,

140Where there's another man: the vows of women

141Of no more bondage be, to where they are made,

142Than they are to their virtues; which is nothing.

143O, above measure false!

144Have patience, sir,

145And take your ring again; 'tis not yet won:

146It may be probable she lost it; or

147Who knows if one of her women, being corrupted,

148Hath stol'n it from her?

149Very true;

150And so, I hope, he came by't. Back my ring:

151Render to me some corporal sign about her,

152More evident than this; for this was stolen.

153By Jupiter, I had it from her arm.

154Hark you, he swears; by Jupiter he swears.

155'Tis true:--nay, keep the ring--'tis true: I am sure

156She would not lose it: her attendants are

157All sworn and honourable:--they induced to steal it!

158And by a stranger!--No, he hath enjoyed her:

159The cognizance of her incontinency

160Is this: she hath bought the name of whore

161thus dearly.

162There, take thy hire; and all the fiends of hell

163Divide themselves between you!

164Sir, be patient:

165This is not strong enough to be believed

166Of one persuaded well of--

167Never talk on't;

168She hath been colted by him.

169If you seek

170For further satisfying, under her breast--

171Worthy the pressing--lies a mole, right proud

172Of that most delicate lodging: by my life,

173I kiss'd it; and it gave me present hunger

174To feed again, though full. You do remember

175This stain upon her?

176Ay, and it doth confirm

177Another stain, as big as hell can hold,

178Were there no more but it.

179Will you hear more?

180Spare your arithmetic: never count the turns;

181Once, and a million!

182I'll be sworn--

183No swearing.

184If you will swear you have not done't, you lie;

185And I will kill thee, if thou dost deny

186Thou'st made me cuckold.

187I'll deny nothing.

188O, that I had her here, to tear her limb-meal!

189I will go there and do't, i' the court, before

190Her father. I'll do something--

191Quite besides

192The government of patience! You have won:

193Let's follow him, and pervert the present wrath

194He hath against himself.

195With an my heart.

1Is there no way for men to be but women

2Must be half-workers? We are all bastards;

3And that most venerable man which I

4Did call my father, was I know not where

5When I was stamp'd; some coiner with his tools

6Made me a counterfeit: yet my mother seem'd

7The Dian of that time so doth my wife

8The nonpareil of this. O, vengeance, vengeance!

9Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd

10And pray'd me oft forbearance; did it with

11A pudency so rosy the sweet view on't

12Might well have warm'd old Saturn; that I thought her

13As chaste as unsunn'd snow. O, all the devils!

14This yellow Iachimo, in an hour,--wast not?--

15Or less,--at first?--perchance he spoke not, but,

16Like a full-acorn'd boar, a German one,

17Cried 'O!' and mounted; found no opposition

18But what he look'd for should oppose and she

19Should from encounter guard. Could I find out

20The woman's part in me! For there's no motion

21That tends to vice in man, but I affirm

22It is the woman's part: be it lying, note it,

23The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;

24Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers;

25Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,

26Nice longing, slanders, mutability,

27All faults that may be named, nay, that hell knows,

28Why, hers, in part or all; but rather, all;

29For even to vice

30They are not constant but are changing still

31One vice, but of a minute old, for one

32Not half so old as that. I'll write against them,

33Detest them, curse them: yet 'tis greater skill

34In a true hate, to pray they have their will:

35The very devils cannot plague them better.

1Now say, what would Augustus Caesar with us?

2When Julius Caesar, whose remembrance yet

3Lives in men's eyes and will to ears and tongues

4Be theme and hearing ever, was in this Britain

5And conquer'd it, Cassibelan, thine uncle,--

6Famous in Caesar's praises, no whit less

7Than in his feats deserving it--for him

8And his succession granted Rome a tribute,

9Yearly three thousand pounds, which by thee lately

10Is left untender'd.

11And, to kill the marvel,

12Shall be so ever.

13There be many Caesars,

14Ere such another Julius. Britain is

15A world by itself; and we will nothing pay

16For wearing our own noses.

17That opportunity

18Which then they had to take from 's, to resume

19We have again. Remember, sir, my liege,

20The kings your ancestors, together with

21The natural bravery of your isle, which stands

22As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in

23With rocks unscalable and roaring waters,

24With sands that will not bear your enemies' boats,

25But suck them up to the topmast. A kind of conquest

26Caesar made here; but made not here his brag

27Of 'Came' and 'saw' and 'overcame: ' with shame--

28That first that ever touch'd him--he was carried

29From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping--

30Poor ignorant baubles!-- upon our terrible seas,

31Like egg-shells moved upon their surges, crack'd

32As easily 'gainst our rocks: for joy whereof

33The famed Cassibelan, who was once at point--

34O giglot fortune!--to master Caesar's sword,

35Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright

36And Britons strut with courage.

37Come, there's no more tribute to be paid: our

38kingdom is stronger than it was at that time; and,

39as I said, there is no moe such Caesars: other of

40them may have crook'd noses, but to owe such

41straight arms, none.

42Son, let your mother end.

43We have yet many among us can gripe as hard as

44Cassibelan: I do not say I am one; but I have a

45hand. Why tribute? why should we pay tribute? If

46Caesar can hide the sun from us with a blanket, or

47put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute

48for light; else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now.

49You must know,

50Till the injurious Romans did extort

51This tribute from us, we were free:

52Caesar's ambition,

53Which swell'd so much that it did almost stretch

54The sides o' the world, against all colour here

55Did put the yoke upon 's; which to shake off

56Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon

57Ourselves to be.

58We do.

59Say, then, to Caesar,

60Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which

61Ordain'd our laws, whose use the sword of Caesar

62Hath too much mangled; whose repair and franchise

63Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed,

64Though Rome be therefore angry: Mulmutius made our laws,

65Who was the first of Britain which did put

66His brows within a golden crown and call'd

67Himself a king.

68I am sorry, Cymbeline,

69That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar--

70Caesar, that hath more kings his servants than

71Thyself domestic officers--thine enemy:

72Receive it from me, then: war and confusion

73In Caesar's name pronounce I 'gainst thee: look

74For fury not to be resisted. Thus defied,

75I thank thee for myself.

76Thou art welcome, Caius.

77Thy Caesar knighted me; my youth I spent

78Much under him; of him I gather'd honour;

79Which he to seek of me again, perforce,

80Behoves me keep at utterance. I am perfect

81That the Pannonians and Dalmatians for

82Their liberties are now in arms; a precedent

83Which not to read would show the Britons cold:

84So Caesar shall not find them.

85Let proof speak.

86His majesty bids you welcome. Make

87pastime with us a day or two, or longer: if

88you seek us afterwards in other terms, you

89shall find us in our salt-water girdle: if you

90beat us out of it, it is yours; if you fall in

91the adventure, our crows shall fare the better

92for you; and there's an end.

93So, sir.

94I know your master's pleasure and he mine:

95All the remain is 'Welcome!'

1How? of adultery? Wherefore write you not

2What monster's her accuser? Leonatus,

3O master! what a strange infection

4Is fall'n into thy ear! What false Italian,

5As poisonous-tongued as handed, hath prevail'd

6On thy too ready hearing? Disloyal! No:

7She's punish'd for her truth, and undergoes,

8More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults

9As would take in some virtue. O my master!

10Thy mind to her is now as low as were

11Thy fortunes. How! that I should murder her?

12Upon the love and truth and vows which I

13Have made to thy command? I, her? her blood?

14If it be so to do good service, never

15Let me be counted serviceable. How look I,

16That I should seem to lack humanity

17so much as this fact comes to?

18'Do't: the letter

19that I have sent her, by her own command

20Shall give thee opportunity.' O damn'd paper!

21Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble,

22Art thou a feodary for this act, and look'st

23So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes.

24I am ignorant in what I am commanded.

25How now, Pisanio!

26Madam, here is a letter from my lord.

27Who? thy lord? that is my lord, Leonatus!

28O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer

29That knew the stars as I his characters;

30He'ld lay the future open. You good gods,

31Let what is here contain'd relish of love,

32Of my lord's health, of his content, yet not

33That we two are asunder; let that grieve him:

34Some griefs are med'cinable; that is one of them,

35For it doth physic love: of his content,

36All but in that! Good wax, thy leave. Blest be

37You bees that make these locks of counsel! Lovers

38And men in dangerous bonds pray not alike:

39Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet

40You clasp young Cupid's tables. Good news, gods!

41'Justice, and your father's wrath, should he take me

42in his dominion, could not be so cruel to me, as

43you, O the dearest of creatures, would even renew me

44with your eyes. Take notice that I am in Cambria,

45at Milford-Haven: what your own love will out of

46this advise you, follow. So he wishes you all

47happiness, that remains loyal to his vow, and your,

48increasing in love,

49LEONATUS POSTHUMUS.'

50O, for a horse with wings! Hear'st thou, Pisanio?

51He is at Milford-Haven: read, and tell me

52How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs

53May plod it in a week, why may not I

54Glide thither in a day? Then, true Pisanio,--

55Who long'st, like me, to see thy lord; who long'st,--

56let me bate,-but not like me--yet long'st,

57But in a fainter kind:--O, not like me;

58For mine's beyond beyond--say, and speak thick;

59Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing,

60To the smothering of the sense--how far it is

61To this same blessed Milford: and by the way

62Tell me how Wales was made so happy as

63To inherit such a haven: but first of all,

64How we may steal from hence, and for the gap

65That we shall make in time, from our hence-going

66And our return, to excuse: but first, how get hence:

67Why should excuse be born or e'er begot?

68We'll talk of that hereafter. Prithee, speak,

69How many score of miles may we well ride

70'Twixt hour and hour?

71One score 'twixt sun and sun,

72Madam, 's enough for you:

73and too much too.

74Why, one that rode to's execution, man,

75Could never go so slow: I have heard of

76riding wagers,

77Where horses have been nimbler than the sands

78That run i' the clock's behalf. But this is foolery:

79Go bid my woman feign a sickness; say

80She'll home to her father: and provide me presently

81A riding-suit, no costlier than would fit

82A franklin's housewife.

83Madam, you're best consider.

84I see before me, man: nor here, nor here,

85Nor what ensues, but have a fog in them,

86That I cannot look through. Away, I prithee;

87Do as I bid thee: there's no more to say,

88Accessible is none but Milford way.

1A goodly day not to keep house, with such

2Whose roof's as low as ours! Stoop, boys; this gate

3Instructs you how to adore the heavens and bows you

4To a morning's holy office: the gates of monarchs

5Are arch'd so high that giants may jet through

6And keep their impious turbans on, without

7Good morrow to the sun. Hail, thou fair heaven!

8We house i' the rock, yet use thee not so hardly

9As prouder livers do.

10Hail, heaven!

11Hail, heaven!

12Now for our mountain sport: up to yond hill;

13Your legs are young; I'll tread these flats. Consider,

14When you above perceive me like a crow,

15That it is place which lessens and sets off;

16And you may then revolve what tales I have told you

17Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war:

18This service is not service, so being done,

19But being so allow'd: to apprehend thus,

20Draws us a profit from all things we see;

21And often, to our comfort, shall we find

22The sharded beetle in a safer hold

23Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O, this life

24Is nobler than attending for a cheque,

25Richer than doing nothing for a bauble,

26Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk:

27Such gain the cap of him that makes 'em fine,

28Yet keeps his book uncross'd: no life to ours.

29Out of your proof you speak: we, poor unfledged,

30Have never wing'd from view o' the nest, nor know not

31What air's from home. Haply this life is best,

32If quiet life be best; sweeter to you

33That have a sharper known; well corresponding

34With your stiff age: but unto us it is

35A cell of ignorance; travelling a-bed;

36A prison for a debtor, that not dares

37To stride a limit.

38What should we speak of

39When we are old as you? when we shall hear

40The rain and wind beat dark December, how,

41In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse

42The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing;

43We are beastly, subtle as the fox for prey,

44Like warlike as the wolf for what we eat;

45Our valour is to chase what flies; our cage

46We make a quire, as doth the prison'd bird,

47And sing our bondage freely.

48How you speak!

49Did you but know the city's usuries

50And felt them knowingly; the art o' the court

51As hard to leave as keep; whose top to climb

52Is certain falling, or so slippery that

53The fear's as bad as falling; the toil o' the war,

54A pain that only seems to seek out danger

55I' the name of fame and honour; which dies i'

56the search,

57And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph

58As record of fair act; nay, many times,

59Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse,

60Must court'sy at the censure:--O boys, this story

61The world may read in me: my body's mark'd

62With Roman swords, and my report was once

63First with the best of note: Cymbeline loved me,

64And when a soldier was the theme, my name

65Was not far off: then was I as a tree

66Whose boughs did bend with fruit: but in one night,

67A storm or robbery, call it what you will,

68Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves,

69And left me bare to weather.

70Uncertain favour!

71My fault being nothing--as I have told you oft--

72But that two villains, whose false oaths prevail'd

73Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline

74I was confederate with the Romans: so

75Follow'd my banishment, and this twenty years

76This rock and these demesnes have been my world;

77Where I have lived at honest freedom, paid

78More pious debts to heaven than in all

79The fore-end of my time. But up to the mountains!

80This is not hunters' language: he that strikes

81The venison first shall be the lord o' the feast;

82To him the other two shall minister;

83And we will fear no poison, which attends

84In place of greater state. I'll meet you in the valleys.

85How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature!

86These boys know little they are sons to the king;

87Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive.

88They think they are mine; and though train'd

89up thus meanly

90I' the cave wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit

91The roofs of palaces, and nature prompts them

92In simple and low things to prince it much

93Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore,

94The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, who

95The king his father call'd Guiderius,--Jove!

96When on my three-foot stool I sit and tell

97The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out

98Into my story: say 'Thus, mine enemy fell,

99And thus I set my foot on 's neck;' even then

100The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats,

101Strains his young nerves and puts himself in posture

102That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal,

103Once Arviragus, in as like a figure,

104Strikes life into my speech and shows much more

105His own conceiving.--Hark, the game is roused!

106O Cymbeline! heaven and my conscience knows

107Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon,

108At three and two years old, I stole these babes;

109Thinking to bar thee of succession, as

110Thou reft'st me of my lands. Euriphile,

111Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for

112their mother,

113And every day do honour to her grave:

114Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call'd,

115They take for natural father. The game is up.

1Thou told'st me, when we came from horse, the place

2Was near at hand: ne'er long'd my mother so

3To see me first, as I have now. Pisanio! man!

4Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind,

5That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh

6From the inward of thee? One, but painted thus,

7Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd

8Beyond self-explication: put thyself

9Into a havior of less fear, ere wildness

10Vanquish my staider senses. What's the matter?

11Why tender'st thou that paper to me, with

12A look untender? If't be summer news,

13Smile to't before; if winterly, thou need'st

14But keep that countenance still. My husband's hand!

15That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him,

16And he's at some hard point. Speak, man: thy tongue

17May take off some extremity, which to read

18Would be even mortal to me.

19Please you, read;

20And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing

21The most disdain'd of fortune.

22[Reads] 'Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the

23strumpet in my bed; the testimonies whereof lie

24bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak surmises,

25but from proof as strong as my grief and as certain

26as I expect my revenge. That part thou, Pisanio,

27must act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with

28the breach of hers. Let thine own hands take away

29her life: I shall give thee opportunity at

30Milford-Haven. She hath my letter for the purpose

31where, if thou fear to strike and to make me certain

32it is done, thou art the pandar to her dishonour and

33equally to me disloyal.'

34What shall I need to draw my sword? the paper

35Hath cut her throat already. No, 'tis slander,

36Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue

37Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose breath

38Rides on the posting winds and doth belie

39All corners of the world: kings, queens and states,

40Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave

41This viperous slander enters. What cheer, madam?

42False to his bed! What is it to be false?

43To lie in watch there and to think on him?

44To weep 'twixt clock and clock? if sleep

45charge nature,

46To break it with a fearful dream of him

47And cry myself awake? that's false to's bed, is it?

48Alas, good lady!

49I false! Thy conscience witness: Iachimo,

50Thou didst accuse him of incontinency;

51Thou then look'dst like a villain; now methinks

52Thy favour's good enough. Some jay of Italy

53Whose mother was her painting, hath betray'd him:

54Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion;

55And, for I am richer than to hang by the walls,

56I must be ripp'd:--to pieces with me!--O,

57Men's vows are women's traitors! All good seeming,

58By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought

59Put on for villany; not born where't grows,

60But worn a bait for ladies.

61Good madam, hear me.

62True honest men being heard, like false Aeneas,

63Were in his time thought false, and Sinon's weeping

64Did scandal many a holy tear, took pity

65From most true wretchedness: so thou, Posthumus,

66Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men;

67Goodly and gallant shall be false and perjured

68From thy great fall. Come, fellow, be thou honest:

69Do thou thy master's bidding: when thou see'st him,

70A little witness my obedience: look!

71I draw the sword myself: take it, and hit

72The innocent mansion of my love, my heart;

73Fear not; 'tis empty of all things but grief;

74Thy master is not there, who was indeed

75The riches of it: do his bidding; strike

76Thou mayst be valiant in a better cause;

77But now thou seem'st a coward.

78Hence, vile instrument!

79Thou shalt not damn my hand.

80Why, I must die;

81And if I do not by thy hand, thou art

82No servant of thy master's. Against self-slaughter

83There is a prohibition so divine

84That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's my heart.

85Something's afore't. Soft, soft! we'll no defence;

86Obedient as the scabbard. What is here?

87The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus,

88All turn'd to heresy? Away, away,

89Corrupters of my faith! you shall no more

90Be stomachers to my heart. Thus may poor fools

91Believe false teachers: though those that

92are betray'd

93Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor

94Stands in worse case of woe.

95And thou, Posthumus, thou that didst set up

96My disobedience 'gainst the king my father

97And make me put into contempt the suits

98Of princely fellows, shalt hereafter find

99It is no act of common passage, but

100A strain of rareness: and I grieve myself

101To think, when thou shalt be disedged by her

102That now thou tirest on, how thy memory

103Will then be pang'd by me. Prithee, dispatch:

104The lamb entreats the butcher: where's thy knife?

105Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding,

106When I desire it too.

107O gracious lady,

108Since I received command to do this business

109I have not slept one wink.

110Do't, and to bed then.

111I'll wake mine eye-balls blind first.

112Wherefore then

113Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abused

114So many miles with a pretence? this place?

115Mine action and thine own? our horses' labour?

116The time inviting thee? the perturb'd court,

117For my being absent? whereunto I never

118Purpose return. Why hast thou gone so far,

119To be unbent when thou hast ta'en thy stand,

120The elected deer before thee?

121But to win time

122To lose so bad employment; in the which

123I have consider'd of a course. Good lady,

124Hear me with patience.

125Talk thy tongue weary; speak

126I have heard I am a strumpet; and mine ear

127Therein false struck, can take no greater wound,

128Nor tent to bottom that. But speak.

129Then, madam,

130I thought you would not back again.

131Most like;

132Bringing me here to kill me.

133Not so, neither:

134But if I were as wise as honest, then

135My purpose would prove well. It cannot be

136But that my master is abused:

137Some villain, ay, and singular in his art.

138Hath done you both this cursed injury.

139Some Roman courtezan.

140No, on my life.

141I'll give but notice you are dead and send him

142Some bloody sign of it; for 'tis commanded

143I should do so: you shall be miss'd at court,

144And that will well confirm it.

145Why good fellow,

146What shall I do the where? where bide? how live?

147Or in my life what comfort, when I am

148Dead to my husband?

149If you'll back to the court--

150No court, no father; nor no more ado

151With that harsh, noble, simple nothing,

152That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me

153As fearful as a siege.

154If not at court,

155Then not in Britain must you bide.

156Where then

157Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night,

158Are they not but in Britain? I' the world's volume

159Our Britain seems as of it, but not in 't;

160In a great pool a swan's nest: prithee, think

161There's livers out of Britain.

162I am most glad

163You think of other place. The ambassador,

164Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven

165To-morrow: now, if you could wear a mind

166Dark as your fortune is, and but disguise

167That which, to appear itself, must not yet be

168But by self-danger, you should tread a course

169Pretty and full of view; yea, haply, near

170The residence of Posthumus; so nigh at least

171That though his actions were not visible, yet

172Report should render him hourly to your ear

173As truly as he moves.

174O, for such means!

175Though peril to my modesty, not death on't,

176I would adventure.

177Well, then, here's the point:

178You must forget to be a woman; change

179Command into obedience: fear and niceness--

180The handmaids of all women, or, more truly,

181Woman its pretty self--into a waggish courage:

182Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy and

183As quarrelous as the weasel; nay, you must

184Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek,

185Exposing it--but, O, the harder heart!

186Alack, no remedy!--to the greedy touch

187Of common-kissing Titan, and forget

188Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein

189You made great Juno angry.

190Nay, be brief

191I see into thy end, and am almost

192A man already.

193First, make yourself but like one.

194Fore-thinking this, I have already fit--

195'Tis in my cloak-bag--doublet, hat, hose, all

196That answer to them: would you in their serving,

197And with what imitation you can borrow

198From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius

199Present yourself, desire his service, tell him

200wherein you're happy,--which you'll make him know,

201If that his head have ear in music,--doubtless

202With joy he will embrace you, for he's honourable

203And doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad,

204You have me, rich; and I will never fail

205Beginning nor supplyment.

206Thou art all the comfort

207The gods will diet me with. Prithee, away:

208There's more to be consider'd; but we'll even

209All that good time will give us: this attempt

210I am soldier to, and will abide it with

211A prince's courage. Away, I prithee.

212Well, madam, we must take a short farewell,

213Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of

214Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress,

215Here is a box; I had it from the queen:

216What's in't is precious; if you are sick at sea,

217Or stomach-qualm'd at land, a dram of this

218Will drive away distemper. To some shade,

219And fit you to your manhood. May the gods

220Direct you to the best!

221Amen: I thank thee.

1Thus far; and so farewell.

2Thanks, royal sir.

3My emperor hath wrote, I must from hence;

4And am right sorry that I must report ye

5My master's enemy.

6Our subjects, sir,

7Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself

8To show less sovereignty than they, must needs

9Appear unkinglike.

10So, sir: I desire of you

11A conduct over-land to Milford-Haven.

12Madam, all joy befal your grace!

13And you!

14My lords, you are appointed for that office;

15The due of honour in no point omit.

16So farewell, noble Lucius.

17Your hand, my lord.

18Receive it friendly; but from this time forth

19I wear it as your enemy.

20Sir, the event

21Is yet to name the winner: fare you well.

22Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords,

23Till he have cross'd the Severn. Happiness!

24He goes hence frowning: but it honours us

25That we have given him cause.

26'Tis all the better;

27Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it.

28Lucius hath wrote already to the emperor

29How it goes here. It fits us therefore ripely

30Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness:

31The powers that he already hath in Gallia

32Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves

33His war for Britain.

34'Tis not sleepy business;

35But must be look'd to speedily and strongly.

36Our expectation that it would be thus

37Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen,

38Where is our daughter? She hath not appear'd

39Before the Roman, nor to us hath tender'd

40The duty of the day: she looks us like

41A thing more made of malice than of duty:

42We have noted it. Call her before us; for

43We have been too slight in sufferance.

44Royal sir,

45Since the exile of Posthumus, most retired

46Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord,

47'Tis time must do. Beseech your majesty,

48Forbear sharp speeches to her: she's a lady

49So tender of rebukes that words are strokes

50And strokes death to her.

51Where is she, sir? How

52Can her contempt be answer'd?

53Please you, sir,

54Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer

55That will be given to the loudest noise we make.

56My lord, when last I went to visit her,

57She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close,

58Whereto constrain'd by her infirmity,

59She should that duty leave unpaid to you,

60Which daily she was bound to proffer: this

61She wish'd me to make known; but our great court

62Made me to blame in memory.

63Her doors lock'd?

64Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that which I fear

65Prove false!

66Son, I say, follow the king.

67That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant,

68have not seen these two days.

69Go, look after.

70Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus!

71He hath a drug of mine; I pray his absence

72Proceed by swallowing that, for he believes

73It is a thing most precious. But for her,

74Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seized her,

75Or, wing'd with fervor of her love, she's flown

76To her desired Posthumus: gone she is

77To death or to dishonour; and my end

78Can make good use of either: she being down,

79I have the placing of the British crown.

80How now, my son!

81'Tis certain she is fled.

82Go in and cheer the king: he rages; none

83Dare come about him.

84[Aside] All the better: may

85This night forestall him of the coming day!

86I love and hate her: for she's fair and royal,

87And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite

88Than lady, ladies, woman; from every one

89The best she hath, and she, of all compounded,

90Outsells them all; I love her therefore: but

91Disdaining me and throwing favours on

92The low Posthumus slanders so her judgment

93That what's else rare is choked; and in that point

94I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed,

95To be revenged upon her. For when fools Shall--

96Who is here? What, are you packing, sirrah?

97Come hither: ah, you precious pander! Villain,

98Where is thy lady? In a word; or else

99Thou art straightway with the fiends.

100O, good my lord!

101Where is thy lady? Or, by Jupiter,--

102I will not ask again. Close villain,

103I'll have this secret from thy heart, or rip

104Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus?

105From whose so many weights of baseness cannot

106A dram of worth be drawn.

107Alas, my lord,

108How can she be with him? When was she missed?

109He is in Rome.

110Where is she, sir? Come nearer;

111No further halting: satisfy me home

112What is become of her.

113O, my all-worthy lord!

114All-worthy villain!

115Discover where thy mistress is at once,

116At the next word: no more of 'worthy lord!'

117Speak, or thy silence on the instant is

118Thy condemnation and thy death.

119Then, sir,

120This paper is the history of my knowledge

121Touching her flight.

122Let's see't. I will pursue her

123Even to Augustus' throne.

124[Aside] Or this, or perish.

125She's far enough; and what he learns by this

126May prove his travel, not her danger.

127Hum!

128[Aside] I'll write to my lord she's dead. O Imogen,

129Safe mayst thou wander, safe return again!

130Sirrah, is this letter true?

131Sir, as I think.

132It is Posthumus' hand; I know't. Sirrah, if thou

133wouldst not be a villain, but do me true service,

134undergo those employments wherein I should have

135cause to use thee with a serious industry, that is,

136what villany soe'er I bid thee do, to perform it

137directly and truly, I would think thee an honest

138man: thou shouldst neither want my means for thy

139relief nor my voice for thy preferment.

140Well, my good lord.

141Wilt thou serve me? for since patiently and

142constantly thou hast stuck to the bare fortune of

143that beggar Posthumus, thou canst not, in the

144course of gratitude, but be a diligent follower of

145mine: wilt thou serve me?

146Sir, I will.

147Give me thy hand; here's my purse. Hast any of thy

148late master's garments in thy possession?

149I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same suit he

150wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress.

151The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit

152hither: let it be thy lint service; go.

153I shall, my lord.

154Meet thee at Milford-Haven!--I forgot to ask him one

155thing; I'll remember't anon:--even there, thou

156villain Posthumus, will I kill thee. I would these

157garments were come. She said upon a time--the

158bitterness of it I now belch from my heart--that she

159held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect

160than my noble and natural person together with the

161adornment of my qualities. With that suit upon my

162back, will I ravish her: first kill him, and in her

163eyes; there shall she see my valour, which will then

164be a torment to her contempt. He on the ground, my

165speech of insultment ended on his dead body, and

166when my lust hath dined,--which, as I say, to vex

167her I will execute in the clothes that she so

168praised,--to the court I'll knock her back, foot

169her home again. She hath despised me rejoicingly,

170and I'll be merry in my revenge.

171Be those the garments?

172Ay, my noble lord.

173How long is't since she went to Milford-Haven?

174She can scarce be there yet.

175Bring this apparel to my chamber; that is the second

176thing that I have commanded thee: the third is,

177that thou wilt be a voluntary mute to my design. Be

178but duteous, and true preferment shall tender itself

179to thee. My revenge is now at Milford: would I had

180wings to follow it! Come, and be true.

181Thou bid'st me to my loss: for true to thee

182Were to prove false, which I will never be,

183To him that is most true. To Milford go,

184And find not her whom thou pursuest. Flow, flow,

185You heavenly blessings, on her! This fool's speed

186Be cross'd with slowness; labour be his meed!

1I see a man's life is a tedious one:

2I have tired myself, and for two nights together

3Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick,

4But that my resolution helps me. Milford,

5When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd thee,

6Thou wast within a ken: O Jove! I think

7Foundations fly the wretched; such, I mean,

8Where they should be relieved. Two beggars told me

9I could not miss my way: will poor folks lie,

10That have afflictions on them, knowing 'tis

11A punishment or trial? Yes; no wonder,

12When rich ones scarce tell true. To lapse in fulness

13Is sorer than to lie for need, and falsehood

14Is worse in kings than beggars. My dear lord!

15Thou art one o' the false ones. Now I think on thee,

16My hunger's gone; but even before, I was

17At point to sink for food. But what is this?

18Here is a path to't: 'tis some savage hold:

19I were best not to call; I dare not call:

20yet famine,

21Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant,

22Plenty and peace breeds cowards: hardness ever

23Of hardiness is mother. Ho! who's here?

24If any thing that's civil, speak; if savage,

25Take or lend. Ho! No answer? Then I'll enter.

26Best draw my sword: and if mine enemy

27But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look on't.

28Such a foe, good heavens!

29You, Polydote, have proved best woodman and

30Are master of the feast: Cadwal and I

31Will play the cook and servant; 'tis our match:

32The sweat of industry would dry and die,

33But for the end it works to. Come; our stomachs

34Will make what's homely savoury: weariness

35Can snore upon the flint, when resty sloth

36Finds the down pillow hard. Now peace be here,