The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works
Page 389
GUIDERIUS
No exorcisor harm thee,
ARVIRAGUS
Nor no witchcraft charm thee.
GUIDERIUS
Ghost unlaid forbear thee.
ARVIRAGUS
Nothing ill come near thee.
GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS
Quiet consummation have,
And renowned be thy grave.
Enter Belarius with the body of Cloten in Posthumus’ suit
GUIDERIUS
We have done our obsequies. Come, lay him down.
BELARIUS
Here’s a few flowers, but ‘bout midnight more;
The herbs that have on them cold dew o’th’ night
Are strewings fitt‘st for graves upon th’earth’s face.
You were as flowers, now withered; even so
These herblets shall, which we upon you strow.
Come on, away; apart upon our knees
⌈ ⌉
The ground that gave them first has them again.
Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain.
Exeunt Belarius, Arviragus, and Guiderius
INNOGEN (awakes)
Yes, sir, to Milford Haven. Which is the way?
I thank you. By yon bush? Pray, how far thither?
‘Od’s pitykins, can it be six mile yet?
I have gone all night. ’Faith, I’ll lie down and sleep.
She sees Cloten
But soft, no bedfellow! O gods and goddesses!
These flowers are like the pleasures of the world,
This bloody man the care on’t. I hope I dream,
For so I thought I was a cavekeeper,
And cook to honest creatures. But ‘tis not so.
’Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot of nothing,
Which the brain makes of fumes. Our very eyes
Are sometimes like our judgements, blind. Good faith,
I tremble still with fear; but if there be
Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity
As a wren’s eye, feared gods, a part of it!
The dream’s here still. Even when I wake it is
Without me as within me; not imagined, felt.
A headless man? The garments of Posthumus?
I know the shape of ’s leg; this is his hand,
His foot Mercurial, his Martial thigh,
The brawns of Hercules; but his Jovial face-
Murder in heaven! How? ‘Tis gone. Pisanio,
All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou,
Conspired with that irregulous devil Cloten,
Hath here cut off my lord. To write and read
Be henceforth treacherous! Damned Pisanio
Hath with his forged letters-damned Pisanio-
From this most bravest vessel of the world
Struck the main-top) O Posthumus, alas,
Where is thy head? Where’s that? Ay me, where’s
that?
Pisanio might have killed thee at the heart
And left thy head on. How should this be? Pisanio?
’Tis he and Cloten. Malice and lucre in them
Have laid this woe here. O, ‘tis pregnant, pregnant!
The drug he gave me, which he said was precious
And cordial to me, have I not found it
Murd’rous to th’ senses? That confirms it home.
This is Pisanio’s deed, and Cloten-O,
Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood,
That we the horrider may seem to those
Which chance to find usl
⌈She smears her face with blood⌉
O my lord, my lord!
⌈She faints.⌉
Enter Lucius, Roman Captains, and a Soothsayer
A ROMAN CAPTAIN (to Lucius)
To them the legions garrisoned in Gallia
After your will have crossed the sea, attending
You here at Milford Haven with your ships.
They are hence in readiness.
LUCIUS
But what from Rome?
A ROMAN CAPTAIN
The senate hath stirred up the confiners
And gentlemen of Italy, most willing spirits
That promise noble service, and they come
Under the conduct of bold Giacomo,
Siena’s brother.
LUCIUS
When expect you them?
A ROMAN CAPTAIN
With the next benefit o’th’ wind.
LUCIUS
This forwardness
Makes our hopes fair. Command our present numbers
Be mustered; bid the captains look to’t.
⌈Exit one or more⌉
(To Soothsayer) Now, sir,
What have you dreamed of late of this war’s purpose?
SOOTHSAYER
Last night the very gods showed me a vision—
I fast, and prayed for their intelligence-thus:
I saw Jove’s bird, the Roman eagle, winged
From the spongy south to this part of the west,
There vanished in the sunbeams; which portends,
Unless my sins abuse my divination,
Success to th’ Roman host.
LUCIUS
Dream often so,
And never false.
He sees Cloten’s body
Soft, ho, what trunk is here
Without his top? The ruin speaks that sometime
It was a worthy building. How, a page?
Or dead or sleeping on him? But dead rather,
For nature doth abhor to make his bed
With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead.
Let’s see the boy’s face.
A ROMAN CAPTAIN
He’s alive, my lord.
LUCIUS
He’ll then instruct us of this body. Young one,
Inform us of thy fortunes, for it seems
They crave to be demanded. Who is this
Thou mak’st thy bloody pillow? Or who was he
That, otherwise than noble nature did,
Hath altered that good picture? What’s thy interest
In this sad wreck? How came’t? Who is’t?
What art thou?
INNOGEN
I am nothing; or if not,
Nothing to be were better. This was my master,
A very valiant Briton, and a good,
That here by mountaineers lies slain. Alas,
There is no more such masters. I may wander
From east to occident, cry out for service,
Try many, all good; serve truly, never
Find such another master.
LUCIUS
’Lack, good youth,
Thou mov’st no less with thy complaining than
Thy master in bleeding. Say his name, good friend.
INNOGEN
Richard du Champ. (Aside) If I do lie and do
No harm by it, though the gods hear I hope
They’ll pardon it. (Aloud) Say you, sir?
LUCIUS
Thy name?
INNOGEN
Fidele, sir.
LUCIUS
Thou dost approve thyself the very same.
Thy name well fits thy faith, thy faith thy name.
Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say
Thou shalt be so well mastered, but be sure,
No less beloved. The Roman Emperor’s letters
Sent by a consul to me should not sooner
Than thine own worth prefer thee. Go with me.
INNOGEN
I’ll follow, sir. But first, an’t please the gods,
I’ll hide my master from the flies as deep
As these poor pickaxes can dig; and when
With wild-wood leaves and weeds I ha’ strewed his
grave
And on it said a century of prayers,
Such as I can, twice o’er I’ll weep and sigh,
And leaving so h
is service, follow you,
So please you entertain me.
LUCIUS Ay, good youth,
And rather father thee than master thee. My friends,
The boy hath taught us manly duties. Let us
Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can,
And make him with our pikes and partisans
A grave. Come, arm him. Boy, he is preferred
By thee to us, and he shall be interred
As soldiers can. Be cheerful. Wipe thine eyes.
Some falls are means the happier to arise.
Exeunt with Cloten’s body
4.3 Enter Cymbeline, Lords, and Pisanio
CYMBELINE
Again, and bring me word how ’tis with her.
Exit one or more
A fever with the absence of her son,
A madness of which her life’s in danger-heavens,
How deeply you at once do touch me! Innogen,
The great part of my comfort, gone; my queen
Upon a desperate bed, and in a time
When fearful wars point at me; her son gone,
So needful for this present! It strikes me past
The hope of comfort. (To Pisanio) But for thee, fellow,
Who needs must know of her departure and
Dost seem so ignorant, we’ll enforce it from thee
By a sharp torture.
PISANIO
Sir, my life is yours.
I humbly set it at your will. But for my mistress,
I nothing know where she remains, why gone,
Nor when she purposes return. Beseech your
highness,
Hold me your loyal servant.
A LORD
Good my liege,
The day that she was missing he was here.
I dare be bound he’s true, and shall perform
All parts of his subjection loyally. For Cloten,
There wants no diligence in seeking him,
And will no doubt be found.
CYMBELINE
The time is troublesome.
(To Pisanio) We’ll slip you for a season, but our jealousy
Does yet depend.
A LORD
So please your majesty,
The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn,
Are landed on your coast with a supply
Of Roman gentlemen by the senate sent.
CYMBELINE
Now for the counsel of my son and queen!
I am amazed with matter.
A LORD
Good my liege,
Your preparation can affront no less
Than what you hear of. Come more, for more you’re
ready.
The want is but to put those powers in motion
That long to move.
CYMBELINE
I thank you. Let’s withdraw,
And meet the time as it seeks us. We fear not
What can from Italy annoy us, but
We grieve at chances here. Away.
Exeunt Cymbeline and Lords
PISANIO
I heard no letter from my master since
I wrote him Innogen was slain. ‘Tis strange.
Nor hear I from my mistress, who did promise
To yield me often tidings. Neither know I
What is betid to Cloten, but remain
Perplexed in all. The heavens still must work.
Wherein I am false I am honest; not true, to be true.
These present wars shall find I love my country
Even to the note o’th’ King, or I’ll fall in them.
All other doubts, by time let them be cleared:
Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered.
Exit
4.4 Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus
GUIDERIUS
The noise is round about us.
BELARIUS
Let us from it.
ARVIRAGUS
What pleasure, sir, find we in life to lock it
From action and adventure?
GUIDERIUS
Nay, what hope
Have we in hiding us? This way the Romans
Must or for Britains slay us, or receive us
For barbarous and unnatural revolts
During their use, and slay us after.
BELARIUS
Sons,
We’ll higher to the mountains; there secure us.
To the King’s party there’s no going. Newness
Of Cloten’s death-we being not known, not mustered
Among the bands—may drive us to a render
Where we have lived, and so extort from ’s that
Which we have done, whose answer would be death
Drawn on with torture.
GUIDERIUS
This is, sir, a doubt
In such a time nothing becoming you
Nor satisfying us.
ARVIRAGUS
It is not likely
That when they hear the Roman horses neigh,
Behold their quartered files, have both their eyes
And ears so cloyed importantly as now,
That they will waste their time upon our note,
To know from whence we are.
BELARIUS
O, I am known
Of many in the army. Many years,
Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore him
From my remembrance. And besides, the King
Hath not deserved my service nor your loves,
Who find in my exile the want of breeding,
The certainty of this hard life; aye hopeless
To have the courtesy your cradle promised,
But to be still hot summer’s tanlings, and
The shrinking slaves of winter.
GUIDERIUS
Than be so,
Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to th‘army.
I and my brother are not known; yourself
So out of thought, and thereto so o’ergrown,
Cannot be questioned.
ARVIRAGUS
By this sun that shines,
I’ll thither. What thing is’t that I never
Did see man die, scarce ever looked on blood
But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison,
Never bestrid a horse save one that had
A rider like myself, who ne’er wore rowel
Nor iron on his heel! I am ashamed
To look upon the holy sun, to have
The benefit of his blest beams, remaining
So long a poor unknown.
GUIDERIUS
By heavens, I’ll go.
If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave,
I’ll take the better care; but if you will not,
The hazard therefore due fall on me by
The hands of Romans.
ARVIRAGUS
So say I, amen.
BELARIUS
No reason I, since of your lives you set
So slight a valuation, should reserve
My cracked one to more care. Have with you, boys!
If in your country wars you chance to die,
That is my bed, too, lads, and there I’ll lie.
Lead, lead. (Aside) The time seems long. Their blood
thinks scorn
Till it fly out and show them princes born.
Exeunt
5.1 Enter Posthumus, dressed as an Italian gentleman, carrying a bloody cloth
POSTHUMUS
Yea, bloody cloth, I’ll keep thee, for I once wished
Thou shouldst be coloured thus. You married ones,
If each of you should take this course, how many
Must murder wives much better than themselves
For wrying but a little! O Pisanio,
Every good servant does not all commands,
No bond but to do just ones. Gods, if you
Should have ta‘en vengeance on my faults, I never
Had lived to put on this; so had you
saved
The noble Innogen to repent, and struck
Me, wretch, more worth your vengeance. But alack,
You snatch some hence for little faults; that’s love,
To have them fall no more. You some permit
To second ills with ills, each elder worse,
And make them dread ill, to the doer’s thrift.
But Innogen is your own. Do your blest wills,
And make me blest to obey. I am brought hither
Among th’Italian gentry, and to fight
Against my lady’s kingdom. ’Tis enough
That, Britain, I have killed thy mistress-piece;
I’ll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heavens,
Hear patiently my purpose. I’ll disrobe me
Of these Italian weeds, and suit myself
As does a Briton peasant.
⌈He disrobes himself⌉
So I’ll fight
Against the part I come with; so I’ll die
For thee, O Innogen, even for whom my life
Is every breath a death; and, thus unknown,
Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril
Myself I’ll dedicate. Let me make men know
More valour in me than my habits show.
Gods, put the strength o‘th’ Leonati in me.
To shame the guise o’th’ world, I will begin
The fashion-less without and more within. Exit
5.2 ⌈A march.⌉ Enter Lucius, Giacomo, and the Roman army at one door, and the Briton army at another, Leonatus Posthumus following like a poor soldier. They march over and go out. ⌈Alarums.⌉ Then enter again in skirmish Giacomo and Posthumus: he vanquisheth and disarmeth Giacomo, and then leaves him
GIACOMO
The heaviness and guilt within my bosom
Takes off my manhood. I have belied a lady,
The princess of this country, and the air on’t
Revengingly enfeebles me; or could this carl,
A very drudge of nature’s, have subdued me
In my profession? Knighthoods and honours borne
As I wear mine are titles but of scorn.
If that thy gentry, Britain, go before
This lout as he exceeds our lords, the odds
Is that we scarce are men and you are gods.
Exit
5.3 The battle continues. ⌈Alarums. Excursions. The trumpets sound a retreat.⌉ The Britons fly, Cymbeline is taken. Then enter to his rescue Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus