The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works
Page 110
Like egg-shells mov’d upon their surges, crack’d
As easily ’gainst our rocks. For joy whereof
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The fam’d Cassibelan, who was once at point
(O giglot fortune!) to master Caesar’s sword,
Made Lud’s town with rejoicing-fires bright,
And Britons strut with courage.
CLOTEN Come, there’s no more tribute to be paid: our
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kingdom is stronger than it was at that time: and (as I
said) there is no moe such Caesars, other of them may
have crook’d noses, but to owe such straight arms,
none.
CYMBELINE Son, let your mother end.
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CLOTEN We have yet many among us can gripe as hard
as Cassibelan: I do not say I am one: but I have a hand.
Why tribute? Why should we pay tribute? If Caesar
can hide the sun from us with a blanket, or put the
moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for light:
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else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now.
CYMBELINE You must know,
Till the injurious Romans did extort
This tribute from us, we were free. Caesar’s
ambition,
Which swell’d so much that it did almost stretch
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The sides o’th’ world, against all colour here
Did put the yoke upon’s: which to shake off
Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon
Ourselves to be.
CLOTEN AND LORDS We do.
CYMBELINE Say then to Caesar,
Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which
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Ordain’d our laws, whose use the sword of Caesar
Hath too much mangled; whose repair, and franchise,
Shall (by the power we hold) be our good deed,
Though Rome be therefore angry. Mulmutius made
our laws,
Who was the first of Britain which did put
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His brows within a golden crown, and call’d
Himself a king.
LUCIUS I am sorry, Cymbeline,
That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar
(Caesar, that hath moe kings his servants than
Thyself domestic officers) thine enemy:
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Receive it from me, then. War and confusion
In Caesar’s name pronounce I ’gainst thee: look
For fury, not to be resisted. Thus defied,
I thank thee for myself.
CYMBELINE Thou art welcome, Caius.
Thy Caesar knighted me; my youth I spent
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Much under him; of him I gather’d honour,
Which he to seek of me again, perforce,
Behoves me keep at utterance. I am perfect
That the Pannonians and Dalmatians for
Their liberties are now in arms: a precedent
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Which not to read would show the Britons cold:
So Caesar shall not find them.
LUCIUS Let proof speak.
CLOTEN His majesty bids you welcome. Make pastime
with us a day or two, or longer: if you seek us
afterwards in other terms, you shall find us in our salt-
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water girdle: if you beat us out of it, it is yours: if you
fall in the adventure, our crows shall fare the better for
you: and there’s an end.
LUCIUS So, sir.
CYMBELINE
I know your master’s pleasure, and he mine:
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All the remain is ‘Welcome’. Exeunt.
3.2 Enter PISANIO, with a letter.
PISANIO How? of adultery? Wherefore write you not
What monster’s her accuser? Leonatus!
O master, what a strange infection
Is fall’n into thy ear! What false Italian
(As poisonous tongu’d as handed) hath prevail’d
5
On thy too ready hearing? Disloyal? No.
She’s punish’d for her truth; and undergoes,
More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults
As would take in some virtue. O my master,
Thy mind to her is now as low as were
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Thy fortunes. How? that I should murder her,
Upon the love and truth and vows which I
Have made to thy command? I, her? Her blood?
If it be so to do good service, never
Let me be counted serviceable. How look I,
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That I should seem to lack humanity
So much as this fact comes to? [reading]
Do’t: the letter
That I have sent her by her own command
Shall give thee opportunity. O damn’d paper!
Black as the ink that’s on thee! Senseless bauble,
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Art thou a feodary for this act, and look’st
So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes.
I am ignorant in what I am commanded.
Enter IMOGEN.
IMOGEN How now, Pisanio?
PISANIO Madam, here is a letter from my lord.
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IMOGEN Who? thy lord? that is my lord Leonatus!
O, learn’d indeed were that astronomer
That knew the stars as I his characters;
He’d lay the future open. You good gods,
Let what is here contain’d relish of love,
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Of my lord’s health, of his content: yet not
That we two are asunder; let that grieve him;
Some griefs are med’cinable, that is one of them,
For it doth physic love: of his content,
All but in that! Good wax, thy leave: blest be
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You bees that make these locks of counsel! Lovers
And men in dangerous bonds pray not alike:
Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet
You clasp young Cupid’s tables. Good news, gods!
[Reads.] Justice, and your father’s wrath (should he take
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me in his dominion) could not be so cruel to me, as you (O
the dearest of creatures) would even renew me with your
eyes. Take notice that I am in Cambria at Milford-Haven:
what your own love will out of this advise you, follow. So
he wishes you all happiness, that remains loyal to his vow,
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and your increasing in love.
LEONATUS POSTHUMUS.
O, for a horse with wings! Hear’st thou, Pisanio?
He is at Milford-Haven: read, and tell me
How far ’tis thither. If one of mean affairs
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May plod it in a week, why may not I
Glide thither in a day? Then, true Pisanio,
Who long’st, like me, to see thy lord; who long’st
(O let me bate) but not like me: yet long’st
But in a fainter kind. O, not like me:
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For mine’s beyond beyond: say, and speak thick,
(Love’s counsellor should fill the bores of hearing,
To th’smothering of the sense) how far it is
To this same blessed Milford. And by th’ way
Tell me how Wales was made so happy as
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T’inherit such a haven. But, first of all,
How we may steal from hence: and for the gap
That we shall make in time, from our hence-going
And our return, to excuse: but first, how get hence.
Why should excuse be born or ere begot?
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We’ll talk of that hereafter. Prithee speak,
How many score of miles may we well rid
’Twixt hour, and hour?
PISANIO One score
’twixt sun and sun,
Madam’s enough for you: and too much too.
IMOGEN Why, one that rode to’s execution, man,
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Could never go so slow: I have heard of riding
wagers,
Where horses have been nimbler than the sands
That run i’th’ clock’s behalf. But this is foolery:
Go, bid my woman feign a sickness, say
She’ll home to her father; and provide me presently
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A riding-suit; no costlier than would fit
A franklin’s housewife.
PISANIO Madam, you’re best consider.
IMOGEN I see before me, man: nor here, nor here,
Nor what ensues, but have a fog in them,
That I cannot look through. Away, I prithee,
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Do as I bid thee: there’s no more to say:
Accessible is none but Milford way. Exeunt.
3.3 Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS.
BELARIUS A goodly day not to keep house with such
Whose roof’s as low as ours! Stoop, boys: this gate
Instructs you how t’adore the heavens; and bows you
To a morning’s holy office. The gates of monarchs
Are arch’d so high that giants may jet through
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And keep their impious turbans on, without
Good morrow to the sun. Hail, thou fair heaven!
We house i’th’ rock, yet use thee not so hardly
As prouder livers do.
GUIDERIUS Hail, heaven!
ARVIRAGUS Hail, heaven!
BELARIUS
Now for our mountain sport, up to yond hill!
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Your legs are young: I’ll tread these flats. Consider,
When you above perceive me like a crow,
That it is place which lessens and sets off,
And you may then revolve what tales I have told you
Of courts, of princes; of the tricks in war.
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This service is not service, so being done,
But being so allow’d. To apprehend thus,
Draws us a profit from all things we see:
And often, to our comfort, shall we find
The sharded beetle in a safer hold
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Than is the full-wing’d eagle. O, this life
Is nobler than attending for a check:
Richer than doing nothing for a robe,
Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk:
Such gain the cap of him that makes him fine,
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Yet keeps his book uncross’d: no life to ours.
GUIDERIUS
Out of your proof you speak: we poor unfledg’d,
Have never wing’d from view o’th’ nest; nor know
not
What air’s from home. Haply this life is best
(If quiet life be best) sweeter to you
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That have a sharper known, well corresponding
With your stiff age; but unto us it is
A cell of ignorance, travelling a-bed,
A prison, or a debtor that not dares
To stride a limit.
ARVIRAGUS What should we speak of
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When we are old as you? When we shall hear
The rain and wind beat dark December? How
In this our pinching cave shall we discourse
The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing:
We are beastly: subtle as the fox for prey,
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Like warlike as the wolf for what we eat:
Our valour is to chase what flies: our cage
We make a quire, as doth the prison’d bird,
And sing our bondage freely.
BELARIUS How you speak!
Did you but know the city’s usuries,
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And felt them knowingly: the art o’th’ court,
As hard to leave as keep: whose top to climb
Is certain falling: or so slipp’ry that
The fear’s as bad as falling: the toil o’th’ war,
A pain that only seems to seek out danger
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I’th’ name of fame and honour, which dies i’th’
search,
And hath as oft a sland’rous epitaph
As record of fair act. Nay, many times,
Doth ill deserve by doing well: what’s worse,
Must court’sy at the censure. O boys, this story
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The world may read in me: my body’s mark’d
With Roman swords; and my report was once
First, with the best of note. Cymbeline lov’d me,
And when a soldier was the theme, my name
Was not far off: then was I as a tree
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Whose boughs did bend with fruit. But in one night,