The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness.

  The powers that he already hath in Gallia

  Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves

  His war for Britain.

  QUEEN

  ’Tis not sleepy business,

  But must be looked to speedily and strongly.

  CYMBELINE

  Our expectation that it would be thus

  Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen,

  Where is our daughter? She hath not appeared

  Before the Roman, nor to us hath tendered

  The duty of the day. She looks us like

  A thing more made of malice than of duty.

  We have noted it. Call her before us, for

  We have been too slight in sufferance.

  Exit one or more

  QUEEN Royal Sir,

  Since the exile of Posthumus most retired

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

  ’Tis time must do. Beseech your majesty

  Forbear sharp speeches to her. She’s a lady

  So tender of rebukes that words are strokes,

  And strokes death to her.

  Enter a Messenger

  CYMBELINE

  Where is she, sir? How

  Can her contempt be answered?

  MESSENGER

  Please you, sir,

  Her chambers are all locked, and there’s no answer

  That will be given to th’ loud’st of noise we make.

  QUEEN

  My lord, when last I went to visit her

  She prayed me to excuse her keeping close,

  Whereto constrained by her infirmity,

  She should that duty leave unpaid to you

  Which daily she was bound to proffer. This

  She wished me to make known, but our great

  court

  Made me to blame in memory.

  CYMBELINE

  Her doors locked?

  Not seen of late? Grant heavens that which I

  Fear prove false.

  Exit

  QUEEN

  on, I say, follow the King.

  CLOTEN

  That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant,

  I have not seen these two days.

  QUEEN

  Go, look after.

  Exit Cloten

  Pisanio, thou that stand’st so for Posthumus!

  He hath a drug of mine. I pray his absence

  Proceed by swallowing that, for he believes

  It is a thing most precious. But for her,

  Where is she gone? Haply despair hath seized her,

  Or, winged with fervour of her love, she’s flown

  To her desired Posthumus. Gone she is

  To death or to dishonour, and my end

  Can make good use of either. She being down,

  I have the placing of the British crown.

  Enter Cloten

  How now, my son?

  CLOTEN

  ’Tis certain she is fled.

  Go in and cheer the King. He rages, none

  Dare come about him.

  QUEEN

  All the better. May

  This night forestall him of the coming day. Exit

  CLOTEN

  I love and hate her. For she’s fair and royal,

  And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite

  Than lady, ladies, woman—from every one

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

  Outsells them all—I love her therefore; but

  Disdaining me, and throwing favours on

  The low Posthumus, slanders so her judgement

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

  I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed,

  To be revenged upon her. For when fools

  Shall—

  Enter Pisanio

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

  Come hither. Ah, you precious pander! Villain,

  Where is thy lady? In a word, or else

  Thou art straightway with the fiends.

  PISANIO

  O good my lord!

  CLOTEN

  Where is thy lady?—or, by Jupiter,

  I will not ask again. Close villain,

  I’ll have this secret from thy tongue or rip

  Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus,

  From whose so many weights of baseness cannot

  A dram of worth be drawn?

  PISANIO

  Alas, my lord,

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

  He is in Rome.

  CLOTEN

  Where is she, sir? Come nearer.

  No farther halting. Satisfy me home

  What is become of her.

  PISANIO O my all-worthy lord!

  CLOTEN All-worthy villain,

  Discover where thy mistress is at once,

  At the next word. No more of ‘worthy lord’.

  Speak, or thy silence on the instant is

  Thy condemnation and thy death.

  PISANIO

  Then, sir,

  This paper is the history of my knowledge

  Touching her flight.

  He gives Cloten a letter

  CLOTEN

  Let’s see’t. I will pursue her

  Even to Augustus’ throne.

  PISANIO ⌈aside⌉

  Or this or perish.

  She’s far enough, and what he learns by this

  May prove his travel, not her danger.

  CLOTEN Hum!

  PISANIO (aside)

  I’ll write to my lord she’s dead. O Innogen,

  Safe mayst thou wander, safe return again!

  CLOTEN

  Sirrah, is this letter true?

  PISANIO

  Sir, as I think.

  CLOTEN It is Posthumus’ hand; I know’t. Sirrah, if thou wouldst not be a villain but do me true service, undergo those employments wherein I should have cause to use thee with a serious industry—that is, what villainy soe’er I bid thee do, to perform it directly and truly—I would think thee an honest man. Thou shouldst neither want my means for thy relief nor my voice for thy preferment.

  PISANIO Well, my good lord.

  CLOTEN Wilt thou serve me? For since patiently and constantly thou hast stuck to the bare fortune of that beggar Posthumus, thou canst not in the course of gratitude but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou serve me? 121

  PISANIO Sir, I will.

  CLOTEN Give me thy hand. Here’s my purse. Hast any of thy late master’s garments in thy possession?

  PISANIO I have, my lord, at my lodging the same suit he wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress.

  CLOTEN The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit hither. Let it be thy first service. Go.

  PISANIO I shall, my lord. Exit

  CLOTEN Meet thee at Milford Haven! I forgot to ask him one thing; I’ll remember’t anon. Even there, thou villain Posthumus, will I kill thee. I would these garments were come. She said upon a time—the bitterness of it I now belch from my heart—that she held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect than my noble and natural person, together with the adornment of my qualities. With that suit upon my back will I ravish her—first kill him, and in her eyes; there shall she see my valour, which will then be a torment to her contempt. He on the ground, my speech of insultment ended on his dead body, and when my lust hath dined—which, as I say, to vex her I will execute in the clothes that she so praised—to the court I’ll knock her back, foot her home again. She hath despised me rejoicingly, and I’ll be merry in my revenge.

  Enter Pisanio with Posthumus’ suit

  Be those the garments?

  PISANIO

  Ay, my noble lord.

  CLOTEN

  How long is’t since she went to Milford Haven?

  PISANIO She can scarce be there yet.

  CLOTEN Bring this apparel to my chamber. That is the second thing that
I have commanded thee. The third is that thou wilt be a voluntary mute to my design. Be but duteous, and true preferment shall tender itself to thee. My revenge is now at Milford. Would I had wings to follow it. Come, and be true. Exit

  PISANIO

  Thou bidd’st me to my loss, for true to thee

  Were to prove false, which I will never be

  To him that is most true. To Milford go,

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

  You heavenly blessings, on her. This fool’s speed

  Be crossed with slowness; labour be his meed. Exit

  3.6 Enter Innogen, dressed as a man, before the cave

  INNOGEN

  I see a man’s life is a tedious one.

  I have tired myself, and for two nights together

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

  But that my resolution helps me. Milford,

  When from the mountain-top Pisanio showed thee,

  Thou wast within a ken. O Jove, I think

  Foundations fly the wretched—such, I mean,

  Where they should be relieved. Two beggars told me

  I could not miss my way. Will poor folks lie,

  That have afflictions on them, knowing ‘tis

  A punishment or trial? Yes. No wonder,

  When rich ones scarce tell true. To lapse in fullness

  Is sorer than to lie for need, and falsehood

  Is worse in kings than beggars. My dear lord,

  Thou art one o’th’ false ones. Now I think on thee

  My hunger’s gone, but even before I was

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

  Here is a path to’t. ‘Tis some savage hold.

  I were best not call; I dare not call; yet famine,

  Ere clean it o’erthrow nature, makes it valiant.

  Plenty and peace breeds cowards, hardness ever

  Of hardiness is mother. Ho! Who’s here?

  If anything that’s civil, speak; if savage,

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

  Best draw my sword, and if mine enemy

  But fear the sword like me he’ll scarcely look on’t.

  Such a foe, good heavens!

  Exit into the cave

  Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus

  BELARIUS

  You, Polydore, have proved best woodman and

  Are master of the feast. Cadwal and I

  Will play the cook and servant; ‘tis our match.

  The sweat of industry would dry and die

  But for the end it works to. Come, our stomachs

  Will make what’s homely savoury. Weariness

  Can snore upon the flint when resty sloth

  Finds the down pillow hard. Now peace be here,

  Poor house, that keep’st thyself.

  GUIDERIUS I am throughly weary.

  ARVIRAGUS

  I am weak with toil yet strong in appetite.

  GUIDERIUS

  There is cold meat i’th’ cave. We’ll browse on that

  Whilst what we have killed be cooked.

  BELARIUS (looking into the cave) Stay, come not in.

  But that it eats our victuals I should think

  Here were a fairy.

  GUIDERIUS What’s the matter, sir?

  BELARIUS

  By Jupiter, an angel—or, if not,

  An earthly paragon. Behold divineness

  No elder than a boy.

  Enter Innogen from the cave, dressed as a man

  INNOGEN

  Good masters, harm me not.

  Before I entered here I called, and thought

  To have begged or bought what I have took. Good

  truth,

  I have stol’n naught, nor would not, though I had

  found

  Gold strewed i’th’ floor. Here’s money for my meat.

  I would have left it on the board so soon

  As I had made my meal, and parted

  With prayers for the provider.

  GUIDERIUS

  Money, youth?

  ARVIRAGUS

  All gold and silver rather turn to dirt,

  As ’tis no better reckoned but of those

  Who worship dirty gods.

  INNOGEN

  I see you’re angry.

  Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should

  Have died had I not made it.

  BELARIUS

  Whither bound?

  INNOGEN

  To Milford Haven.

  BELARIUS

  What’s your name?

  INNOGEN

  Fidele, sir. I have a kinsman who

  Is bound for Italy. He embarked at Milford,

  To whom being going, almost spent with hunger,

  I am fall’n in this offence.

  BELARIUS

  Prithee, fair youth,

  Think us no churls, nor measure our good minds

  By this rude place we live in. Well encountered.

  ’Tis almost night. You shall have better cheer

  Ere you depart, and thanks to stay and eat it.

  Boys, bid him welcome.

  GUIDERIUS

  Were you a woman, youth,

  I should woo hard but be your groom in honesty,

  Ay, bid for you as I’d buy.

  ARVIRAGUS

  I’ll make’t my comfort

  He is a man, I’ll love him as my brother.

  (To Innogen) And such a welcome as I’d give to him

  After long absence, such is yours. Most welcome.

  Be sprightly, for you fall ’mongst friends.

  INNOGEN ’Mongst friends

  If brothers. (Aside) Would it had been so that they

  Had been my father’s sons. Then had my price

  Been less, and so more equal ballasting

  To thee, Posthumus.

  The three men speak apart

  BELARIUS

  He wrings at some distress.

  GUIDERIUS

  Would I could free’t.

  ARVIRAGUS

  Or I, whate’er it be,

  What pain it cost, what danger. Gods!

  BELARIUS

  Hark, boys.

  They whisper

  INNOGEN (aside) Great men

  That had a court no bigger than this cave,

  That did attend themselves and had the virtue

  Which their own conscience sealed them, laying by

  That nothing-gift of differing multitudes,

  Could not outpeer these twain. Pardon me, gods,

  I’d change my sex to be companion with them,

  Since Leonatus’ false.

  BELARIUS

  It shall be so.

  Boys, we’ll go dress our hunt. Fair youth, come in.

  Discourse is heavy, fasting. When we have supped

  We’ll mannerly demand thee of thy story,

  So far as thou wilt speak it.

  GUIDERIUS

  Pray draw near.

  ARVIRAGUS

  The night to th’ owl and morn to th’ lark less welcome.

  INNOGEN

  Thanks, sir.

  ARVIRAGUS I pray draw near.

  Exeunt into the cave

  3.7 Enter two Roman Senators, and Tribunes

  FIRST SENATOR

  This is the tenor of the Emperor’s writ:

  That since the common men are now in action

  ‘Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians,

  And that the legions now in Gallia are

  Full weak to undertake our wars against

  The fall’n-off Britons, that we do incite

  The gentry to this business. He creates

  Lucius pro-consul, and to you the tribunes,

  For this immediate levy, he commends

  His absolute commission. Long live Caesar!

  A TRIBUNE

  Is Lucius general of the forces?

  SECOND SENATOR

  Ay.

  A TRIB
UNE

  Remaining now in Gallia?

  FIRST SENATOR

  With those legions

  Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy

  Must be supplyant. The words of your commission

  Will tie you to the numbers and the time

  Of their dispatch.

  A TRIBUNE

  We will discharge our duty.

  Exeunt

  4.1 Enter Cloten, in Posthumus’ suit

  CLOTEN I am near to th’ place where they should meet, if Pisanio have mapped it truly. How fit his garments serve me! Why should his mistress, who was made by him that made the tailor, not be fit too?—the rather—saving reverence of the word—for ’tis said a woman’s fitness comes by fits. Therein I must play the workman. I dare speak it to myself, for it is not vainglory for a man and his glass to confer in his own chamber. I mean the lines of my body are as well drawn as his: no less young, more strong, not beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in the advantage of the time, above him in birth, alike conversant in general services, and more remarkable in single oppositions. Yet this imperceiverant thing loves him in my despite. What mortality is! Posthumus, thy head which now is growing upon thy shoulders shall within this hour be off, thy mistress enforced, thy garments cut to pieces before thy face; and all this done, spurn her home to her father, who may haply be a little angry for my so rough usage; but my mother, having power of his testiness, shall turn all into my commendations. My horse is tied up safe. Out, sword, and to a sore purpose! Fortune, put them into my hand. This is the very description of their meeting-place, and the fellow dares not deceive me.

  Exit

  4.2 Enter Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, and Innogen dressed as a man, from the cave

  BELARIUS (to Innogen)

  You are not well. Remain here in the cave.

  We’ll come to you from hunting.

  ARVIRAGUS (to Innogen)

  Brother, stay here.

  Are we not brothers?

  INNOGEN

  So man and man should be,

  But clay and clay differs in dignity,

  Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick.

  GUIDERIUS (to Belarius and Arviragus)

  Go you to hunting. I’ll abide with him.

  INNOGEN

  So sick I am not, yet I am not well;

  But not so citizen a wanton as

  To seem to die ere sick. So please you, leave me.

  Stick to your journal course. The breach of custom

  Is breach of all. I am ill, but your being by me