The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

  I thought had been my lord.

  CYMBELINE Bind the offender,

  300

  And take him from our presence.

  BELARIUS Stay, sir king.

  This man is better than the man he slew,

  As well descended as thyself, and hath

  More of thee merited than a band of Clotens

  Had ever scar for. [to the guard] Let his arms alone,

  305

  They were not born for bondage.

  CYMBELINE Why, old soldier:

  Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for

  By tasting of our wrath? How of descent

  As good as we?

  ARVIRAGUS In that he spake too far.

  CYMBELINE And thou shalt die for’t.

  BELARIUS We will die all three,

  310

  But I will prove that two on’s are as good

  As I have given out him. My sons, I must

  For mine own part unfold a dangerous speech,

  Though haply well for you.

  ARVIRAGUS Your danger’s ours.

  GUIDERIUS And our good his.

  BELARIUS Have at it then, by leave:

  315

  Thou hadst, great king, a subject, who

  Was call’d Belarius. –

  CYMBELINE What of him? he is a banish’d traitor.

  BELARIUS He it is that hath

  Assum’d this age: indeed a banish’d man,

  320

  I know not how a traitor.

  CYMBELINE Take him hence,

  The whole world shall not save him.

  BELARIUS Not too hot;

  First pay me for the nursing of thy sons,

  And let it be confiscate all, so soon

  As I have receiv’d it.

  CYMBELINE Nursing of my sons?

  325

  BELARIUS I am too blunt, and saucy: here’s my knee:

  Ere I arise I will prefer my sons;

  Then spare not the old father. Mighty sir,

  These two young gentlemen that call me father

  And think they are my sons, are none of mine;

  330

  They are the issue of your loins, my liege,

  And blood of your begetting.

  CYMBELINE How? my issue?

  BELARIUS

  So sure as you your father’s. I (old Morgan)

  Am that Belarius, whom you sometime banish’d:

  Your pleasure was my ne’er-offence, my punishment

  335

  Itself, and all my treason: that I suffer’d,

  Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes

  (For such and so they are) these twenty years

  Have I train’d up; those arts they have; as I

  Could put into them. My breeding was, sir, as

  340

  Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile,

  (Whom for the theft I wedded) stole these children

  Upon my banishment: I mov’d her to’t,

  Having receiv’d the punishment before

  For that which I did then. Beaten for loyalty

  345

  Excited me to treason. Their dear loss,

  The more of you ’twas felt, the more it shap’d

  Unto my end of stealing them. But gracious sir,

  Here are your sons again, and I must lose

  Two of the sweet’st companions in the world.

  350

  The benediction of these covering heavens

  Fall on their heads like dew, for they are worthy

  To inlay heaven with stars.

  CYMBELINE Thou weep’st, and speak’st:

  The service that you three have done is more

  Unlike than this thou tell’st. I lost my children:

  355

  If these be they, I know not how to wish

  A pair of worthier sons.

  BELARIUS Be pleas’d awhile;

  This gentleman, whom I call Polydore,

  Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius:

  This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus

  360

  Your younger princely son, he, sir, was lapp’d

  In a most curious mantle, wrought by th’ hand

  Of his queen mother, which for more probation

  I can with ease produce.

  CYMBELINE Guiderius had

  Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star;

  365

  It is a mark of wonder.

  BELARIUS This is he,

  Who hath upon him still that natural stamp:

  It was wise Nature’s end, in the donation

  To be his evidence now.

  CYMBELINE O, what am I?

  A mother to the birth of three? Ne’er mother

  370

  Rejoic’d deliverance more. Blest pray you be,

  That, after this strange starting from your orbs,

  You may reign in them now! O Imogen,

  Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.

  IMOGEN No, my lord;

  I have got two worlds by’t. O my gentle brothers,

  375

  Have we thus met? O, never say hereafter

  But I am truest speaker. You call’d me brother,

  When I was but your sister: I you brothers,

  When ye were so indeed.

  CYMBELINE Did you e’er meet?

  ARVIRAGUS Ay, my good lord.

  GUIDERIUS And at first meeting lov’d,

  380

  Continu’d so, until we thought he died.

  CORNELIUS By the queen’s dram she swallow’d.

  CYMBELINE O rare instinct!

  When shall I hear all through? This fierce

  abridgement

  Hath to it circumstantial branches, which

  Distinction should be rich in. Where? how liv’d you?

  385

  And when came you to serve our Roman captive?

  How parted with your brothers? how first met them?

  Why fled you from the court? and whither? These,

  And your three motives to the battle, with

  I know not how much more, should be demanded

  390

  And all the other by-dependances,

  From chance to chance. But nor the time nor place

  Will serve our long inter’gatories. See,

  Posthumus anchors upon Imogen;

  And she (like harmless lightning) throws her eye

  395

  On him: her brothers, me: her master hitting

  Each object with a joy: the counterchange

  Is severally in all. Let’s quit this ground,

  And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.

  [to Belarius] Thou art my brother; so we’ll hold thee

  ever.

  400

  IMOGEN You are my father too, and did relieve me,

  To see this gracious season.

  CYMBELINE All o’erjoy’d,

  Save these in bonds, let them be joyful too,

  For they shall taste our comfort.

  IMOGEN My good master,

  I will yet do you service.

  LUCIUS Happy be you!

  405

  CYMBELINE The forlorn soldier that so nobly fought,

  He would have well becom’d this place, and grac’d

  The thankings of a king.

  POSTHUMUS I am, sir,

  The soldier that did company these three

  In poor beseeming: ’twas a fitment for

  410

  The purpose I then follow’d. That I was he,

  Speak, Iachimo: I had you down, and might

  Have made you finish.

  IACHIMO [kneels] I am down again:

  But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee,

  As then your force did. Take that life, beseech you,

  415

  Which I so often owe: but your ring first,

  And here the bracelet of the truest princess

  That ever swore her faith.


  POSTHUMUS Kneel not to me:

  The power that I have on you, is to spare you:

  The malice towards you, to forgive you. Live

  420

  And deal with others better.

  CYMBELINE Nobly doom’d!

  We’ll learn our freeness of a son-in-law:

  Pardon’s the word to all.

  ARVIRAGUS You holp us, sir,

  As you did mean indeed to be our brother;

  Joy’d are we that you are.

  425

  POSTHUMUS

  Your servant, princes. Good my lord of Rome,

  Call forth your soothsayer: as I slept, methought

  Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back’d,

  Appear’d to me, with other spritely shows

  Of mine own kindred. When I wak’d, I found

  430

  This label on my bosom; whose containing

  Is so from sense in hardness, that I can

  Make no collection of it. Let him show

  His skill in the construction.

  LUCIUS Philarmonus!

  SOOTHSAYER Here, my good lord.

  LUCIUS Read, and declare the meaning.

  435

  SOOTHSAYER [Reads.] When as a lion’s whelp shall, to

  himself unknown, without seeking find, and be

  embrac’d by a piece of tender air: and when from a

  stately cedar shall be lopp’d branches, which, being

  dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the

  440

  old stock, and freshly grow, then shall Posthumus end

  his miseries, Britain be fortunate, and flourish in peace

  and plenty.

  Thou, Leonatus, art the lion’s whelp,

  The fit and apt construction of thy name,

  445

  Being Leo-natus, doth impart so much:

  [to Cymbeline] The piece of tender air, thy virtuous

  daughter,

  Which we call mollis aer; and mollis aer

  We term it mulier: which mulier I divine

  Is this most constant wife, who even now,

  450

  Answering the letter of the oracle,

  Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp’d about

  With this most tender air.

  CYMBELINE This hath some seeming.

  SOOTHSAYER The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline,

  Personates thee: and thy lopp’d branches point

  455

  Thy two sons forth: who, by Belarius stol’n,

  For many years thought dead, are now reviv’d,

  To the majestic cedar join’d; whose issue

  Promises Britain peace and plenty.

  CYMBELINE Well,

  My peace we will begin: and Caius Lucius,

  460

  Although the victor, we submit to Caesar,

  And to the Roman empire; promising

  To pay our wonted tribute, from the which

  We were dissuaded by our wicked queen,

  Whom heavens in justice both on her, and hers,

  465

  Have laid most heavy hand.

  SOOTHSAYER The fingers of the powers above do tune

  The harmony of this peace. The vision,

  Which I made known to Lucius ere the stroke

  Of yet this scarce-cold battle, at this instant

  470

  Is full accomplish’d. For the Roman eagle,

  From south to west on wing soaring aloft,

  Lessen’d herself and in the beams o’the sun

  So vanish’d; which foreshadow’d our princely eagle,

  Th’imperial Caesar, should again unite

  475

  His favour with the radiant Cymbeline,

  Which shines here in the west.

  CYMBELINE Laud we the gods,

  And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils

  From our blest altars. Publish we this peace

  To all our subjects. Set we forward: let

  480

  A Roman, and a British ensign wave

  Friendly together: so through Lud’s town march,

  And in the temple of great Jupiter

  Our peace we’ll ratify: seal it with feasts.

  Set on there! Never was a war did cease

  485

  (Ere bloody hands were wash’d) with such a peace.

  Exeunt.

  Hamlet

  A short play called The Tragical History of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark was printed in 1603. It was ascribed to William Shakespeare on its title-page which also claimed that it had been ‘divers times acted by his Highness’ servants in the city of London, as also in the two universities of Cambridge and Oxford and elsewhere’; this text is known as the First Quarto (Q1). Soon another version appeared, variously dated 1604 or 1605, claiming on its title-page to be ‘newly imprinted and enlarged to almost as much again as it was, according to the true and perfect copy’; this text is known as the Second Quarto (Q2). Its claim as to length is more or less accurate, and it is also a much more careful and coherent text than Q1, which has generally been dismissed as a ‘bad’ quarto, an unreliable version put together from the memories of actors or reporters. Finally, yet a third text (F) appeared in the First Folio in 1623, very like Q2 in many ways, but lacking around 230 lines that are in Q2 and adding around 70 lines of its own; it also has numerous minor verbal variants, some of which seem to be corrections but others of which are substitutions or errors.