Cymbeline

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Cymbeline Page 6

by William Shakespeare


  More noble than that runagate158 to your bed,

  And will continue fast159 to your affection,

  Still close as sure.

  Calls

  INNOGEN    What ho, Pisanio!

  IACHIMO    Let me my service tender on your lips.162

  INNOGEN    Away, I do condemn mine ears that have

  So long attended thee.164 If thou wert honourable

  Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, not

  For such an end thou seek’st, as base as strange.

  Thou wrong’st a gentleman who is as far

  From thy report as thou from honour, and

  Solicit’st here a lady that disdains

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

  The king my father shall be made acquainted

  Of thy assault: if he shall think it fit,

  A saucy stranger in his court to mart173

  As in a Romish stew174, and to expound

  His beastly mind to us175, he hath a court

  He little cares for, and a daughter who

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

  IACHIMO    O happy Leonatus I may say,

  The credit179 that thy lady hath of thee

  Deserves thy trust, and thy most perfect goodness

  Her assured credit. Blessèd live you long,

  A lady to the worthiest sir that ever

  Country called his; and you his mistress, only

  For the most worthiest fit. Give me your pardon.

  I have spoke this to know if your affiance185

  Were deeply rooted, and shall make your lord

  That which he is new o’er187: and he is one

  The truest mannered, such a holy witch188

  That he enchants societies into him:

  Half all men’s hearts are his.

  INNOGEN    You make amends.

  IACHIMO    He sits ’mongst men like a descended god;

  He hath a kind of honour sets him off

  More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry,

  Most mighty princess, that I have adventured

  To try your taking196 of a false report, which hath

  Honoured with confirmation your great judgement

  In the election of a sir so rare198,

  Which you know cannot err. The love I bear him

  Made me to fan200 you thus, but the gods made you,

  Unlike all others, chaffless.201 Pray your pardon.

  INNOGEN    All’s well, sir: take my power i’th’court for yours.

  IACHIMO    My humble thanks. I had almost forgot

  T’entreat your grace but204 in a small request,

  And yet of moment205 too, for it concerns

  Your lord: myself and other noble friends

  Are partners in the business.

  INNOGEN    Pray what is’t?

  IACHIMO    Some dozen Romans of us and your lord —

  The best feather of our wing — have mingled sums210

  To buy a present for the emperor:

  Which I, the factor212 for the rest, have done

  In France: ’tis plate of rare device213, and jewels

  Of rich and exquisite form, their value’s great,

  And I am something curious, being strange215,

  To have them in safe stowage: may it please you

  To take them in protection?

  INNOGEN    Willingly:

  And pawn219 mine honour for their safety, since

  My lord hath interest220 in them. I will keep them

  In my bedchamber.

  IACHIMO    They are in a trunk

  Attended by my men: I will make bold

  To send them to you, only for this night:

  I must aboard tomorrow.

  INNOGEN    O, no, no.

  IACHIMO    Yes, I beseech: or I shall short227 my word

  By length’ning my return. From Gallia228

  I crossed the seas on purpose and on promise

  To see your grace.

  INNOGEN    I thank you for your pains:

  But not away tomorrow.

  IACHIMO    O, I must, madam.

  Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please

  To greet your lord with writing, do’t tonight.

  I have outstood my time, which is material236

  To th’tender237 of our present.

  INNOGEN    I will write:

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

  And truly yielded you. You’re very welcome.

  Exeunt

  Act 2 Scene 1

  running scene 4

  Enter Cloten and the two Lords

  CLOTEN    Was there ever man had such luck? When I kissed1

  the jack upon an upcast2, to be hit away! I had a hundred

  pound on’t: and then a whoreson jackanapes must take me3

  up for swearing, as if I borrowed mine oaths of4 him, and

  might not spend them at my pleasure.5

  FIRST LORD    What got he by that? You have broke his pate6 with

  your bowl.

  Aside

  SECOND LORD    If his wit had been like him that broke it, it8

  would have run all out.

  CLOTEN    When a gentleman10 is disposed to swear, it is not for

  any standers-by to curtail11 his oaths. Ha?

  Aside

  SECOND LORD    No my lord.—

  Nor crop the ears of them.

  CLOTEN    Whoreson dog! I give him satisfaction? Would he

  had been one of my rank.15

  Aside

  SECOND LORD    To have smelled like a fool.

  CLOTEN    I am not vexed more at anything in th’earth: a pox17

  on’t! I had rather not be so18 noble as I am: they dare not fight

  with me, because of the queen my mother: every jack-slave19

  hath his bellyful of fighting, and I must go up and down like

  a cock21 that nobody can match.

  Aside

  SECOND LORD    You are cock and capon22 too, and you crow,

  cock, with your comb23 on.

  CLOTEN    Sayest thou?24

  SECOND LORD    It is not fit your lordship should undertake25 every

  companion26 that you give offence to.

  CLOTEN    No, I know that: but it is fit I should commit offence27

  to my inferiors.

  SECOND LORD    Ay, it is fit for your lordship only.29

  CLOTEN    Why, so I say.

  FIRST LORD    Did you hear of a stranger that’s come to court

  tonight?

  CLOTEN    A stranger, and I not know on’t?

  Aside

  SECOND LORD    He’s a strange fellow himself, and knows

  it not.

  FIRST LORD    There’s an Italian come, and ’tis thought one of

  Leonatus’ friends.

  CLOTEN    Leonatus? A banished rascal; and he’s another,

  whatsoever39 he be. Who told you of this stranger?

  FIRST LORD    One of your lordship’s pages.

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

  derogation42 in’t?

  SECOND LORD    You cannot derogate43, my lord.

  CLOTEN    Not easily, I think.

  Aside

  SECOND LORD    You are a fool granted, therefore your issues45,

  being foolish, do not derogate.

  CLOTEN    Come, I’ll go see this Italian: what I have lost today

  at bowls I’ll win tonight of him. Come, go.

  SECOND LORD    I’ll attend your lordship.—

  Exeunt [Cloten and First Lord]

  That such a crafty devil as is his mother
>
  Should yield the world this ass: a woman that

  Bears all down52 with her brain, and this her son

  Cannot take two from twenty, for his heart53,

  And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess,

  Thou divine Innogen, what thou endur’st,

  Betwixt56 a father by thy stepdame governed,

  A mother hourly coining57 plots, a wooer

  More hateful than the foul expulsion58 is

  Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act

  Of the divorce he’d make!60 The heavens hold firm

  The walls of thy dear honour, keep unshaked

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

  T’enjoy thy banished lord and this great land.

  Exit

  Act 2 Scene 2

  running scene 5

  Enter Innogen in her bed, and a Lady

  A trunk is brought in

  INNOGEN    Who’s there? My woman Helen?

  LADY    Please you, madam.

  INNOGEN    What hour is it?

  LADY    Almost midnight, madam.

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

  Gives her the book

  Fold down the leaf where I have left6: to bed.

  Take not away the taper7, leave it burning:

  And if thou canst awake by four o’th’clock,

  I prithee call me.— Sleep hath seized me wholly.

  [Exit Lady]

  To your protection I commend me, gods,

  From fairies and the tempters of the night.11

  Guard me, beseech ye.

  Sleeps

  Iachimo from the trunk

  IACHIMO    The crickets sing, and man’s o’er-laboured sense13

  Repairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin14 thus

  Did softly press the rushes, ere15 he wakened

  The chastity he wounded. Cytherea16,

  How bravely thou becom’st thy bed; fresh lily17,

  And whiter than the sheets: that I might touch,

  But kiss, one kiss! Rubies unparagoned19,

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

  Perfumes the chamber thus: the flame o’th’taper

  Bows toward her, and would underpeep her lids22

  To see th’enclosèd lights, now canopied23

  Under these windows, white and azure laced24

  With blue of heaven’s own tinct. But my design25:

  To note the chamber. I will write all down.

  Writes

  Such and such pictures, there the window, such

  Th’adornment of her bed; the arras, figures28,

  Why, such and such: and the contents29 o’th’story.

  Ah, but some natural notes about30 her body,

  Above ten thousand meaner movables31

  Would testify t’enrich mine inventory.32

  O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull33 upon her,

  And be her sense but as a monument34

  Thus in a chapel lying. Come off, come off;

  Takes off her bracelet

  As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard.36

  ’Tis mine, and this will witness outwardly37,

  As strongly as the conscience does within,

  To th’madding39 of her lord. On her left breast

  A mole cinque-spotted: like the crimson drops40

  I’th’bottom of a cowslip. Here’s a voucher41

  Stronger than ever law could make; this secret42

  Will force him think I have picked43 the lock and ta’en

  The treasure of her honour. No more: to what end?

  Why should I write this down that’s riveted,

  Screwed to my memory? She hath been reading late,

  The tale of Tereus.47 Here the leaf’s turned down

  Where Philomel gave up.48 I have enough.

  To th’trunk again, and shut the spring49 of it.

  Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning50

  May bare the raven’s eye! I lodge in fear:

  Though this52 a heavenly angel, hell is here.

  Clock strikes

  One, two, three: time, time!

  Exit [into the trunk]

  Bed and trunk removed

  Act 2 Scene 3

  running scene 5 continues

  Enter Cloten and Lords

  FIRST LORD    Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the

  most coldest that ever turned up ace.2

  CLOTEN    It would make any man cold3 to lose.

  FIRST LORD    But not every man patient after the noble temper4 of

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

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

  get this foolish Innogen, I should have gold enough. It’s

  almost morning, is’t not?

  FIRST LORD    Day, my lord.

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

  her music o’ mornings, they say it will penetrate.11—

  Enter Musicians

  Come on, tune: if you can penetrate her with your fingering12,

  so: we’ll try with tongue too: if none will do, let her remain13:

  but I’ll never give o’er. First, a very excellent good-conceited14

  thing; after, a wonderful sweet air15, with admirable rich words

  to it, and then let her consider.

  Song

  Sung by either Cloten or a Musician

  Hark, hark, the lark at heaven’s gate sings,

  And Phoebus ’gins18 arise,

  His steeds to water at those springs19

  On chaliced20 flowers that lies:

  And winking Mary-buds21 begin to ope their golden eyes

  With everything that pretty is, my lady sweet, arise:

  Arise, arise.

  CLOTEN    So, get you gone: if this penetrate, I will consider

  your music the better: if it do not, it is a vice in her ears

  which horsehairs and calves’ guts, nor the voice of unpaved26

  eunuch to boot27, can never amend.

  [Exeunt Musicians]

  Enter Cymbeline and Queen

  SECOND LORD    Here comes the king.

  CLOTEN    I am glad I was up so late, for that’s the reason I was

  up so early: he cannot choose but take this service I have

  done fatherly.31— Good morrow to your majesty and to my

  gracious mother.

  CYMBELINE    Attend you here33 the door of our stern daughter?

  Will she not forth?

  CLOTEN    I have assailed her with musics, but she vouchsafes35

  no notice.

  CYMBELINE    The exile of her minion37 is too new,

  She hath not yet forgot him: some more time

  Must wear39 the print of his remembrance on’t,

  And then she’s yours.

  QUEEN    You are most bound41 to th’king,

  Who lets go by no vantages42 that may

  Prefer you to his daughter: frame yourself43

  To orderly solicits, and be friended44

  With aptness of the season: make denials45

  Increase your services: so seem, as if

  You were inspired to do those duties which

  You tender to her: that you in all obey her,

  Save when command to your dismission49 tends,

  And therein you are senseless.50

  CLOTEN    Senseless? Not so.

  [Enter a Messenger]

  MESSENGER    So like you52, sir, ambassadors from Rome;

  The one is Caius Lucius.

  CYMBELINE    A worthy fellow,

  Albeit55 he comes on angry purpose now;

  But that’s no fault of his: we must receive56 him

  According to the honour of his sen
der57,

  And towards himself, his goodness forspent58 on us,

  We must extend our notice.59 Our dear son,

  When you have given good morning to your mistress,

  Attend the queen and us. We shall have need

  T’employ you towards this Roman.— Come, our queen.

  Exeunt [all but Cloten]

  CLOTEN    If she be up, I’ll speak with her: if not,

  Let her lie still and dream.— By your leave, ho!—

  Knocks

  I know her women are about her: what

  If I do line66 one of their hands? ’Tis gold

  Which buys admittance — oft it doth — yea, and makes

  Diana’s rangers false68 themselves, yield up

  Their deer to th’stand o’th’stealer69: and ’tis gold

  Which makes the true70 man killed and saves the thief:

  Nay, sometime hangs both thief and true man: what

  Can it not do and undo? I will make

  One of her women lawyer to me73, for

  I yet not understand the case74 myself.—

  Knocks

  By your leave.

  Enter a Lady

  LADY    Who’s there that knocks?

  CLOTEN    A gentleman.

  LADY    No more?

  CLOTEN    Yes, and a gentlewoman’s son.

  LADY    That’s more80

  Than some whose tailors are as dear as yours

  Can justly boast of: what’s your lordship’s pleasure?

  CLOTEN    Your lady’s person: is she ready?

  LADY    Ay,

  To keep85 her chamber.

  CLOTEN    There is gold for you,

  Gives money

  Sell me your good report.87

  LADY    How, my good name? Or to report of you

  What I shall think is good? The princess.

  Enter Innogen

  CLOTEN    Good morrow, fairest: sister, your90 sweet hand.

  [Exit Lady]

  INNOGEN    Good morrow, sir. You lay out91 too much pains

  For purchasing but92 trouble: the thanks I give

  Is telling you that I am poor of thanks,

  And scarce can spare them.

  CLOTEN    Still I swear I love you.

  INNOGEN    If you but said so, ’twere as deep96 with me:

  If you swear still97, your recompense is still

 

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