His arms thus leagued : I thought he slept; and put
My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness
Answer'd my steps too loud.
Gui.
Why, he but sleeps:
If he be gone, he 'll make his grave a bed;
With female fairies will his tomb be haunted,
And worms will not come to thee.
Arv.
With fairest flowers,
Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele,
I'll sweeten thy sad grave: Thou shalt not lack
The flower that 's like thy face, pale primrose; nor
The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor
The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,
Outsweeten'd not thy breath: the ruddock would,
With charitable bill (O bill, sore-shaming
Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie
Without a monument!) bring thee all this;
Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none,
To winter-ground thy corse.
And do not play in wench-like words with that
Which is so serious. Let us bury him,
And not protract with admiration what
Is now due debt.-To the grave.
Arv.
Gui. Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone and ta'en thy wages:
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Arv. Fear no more the frown o' the great,
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
Care no more to clothe, and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.
Gui. Fear no more the light'ning flash;
Are. Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Gui. Fear not slander, censure rash;
Arr. Thou hast finish'd joy and moan:
Both. All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.
Gui. No exorciser harm thee!
Art. Nor no witchcralt charm thee!
Gui. Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Arv. Nothing ill come near thee!
Both. Quiet consummation have;
And renowned be thy grave!
Re-enter BELARIUS, with the body of CLOTEN.
Gui. We have done our obsequies: Come, lay bir
Bel. Here's a few flowers; but about midnight, more
The herbs that have on them cold dew o' the night
Are strewings fitt'st for graves.-Upon their faces:-
You were as flowers, now wither'd even so
These herb'lets 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, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGES. Imo. [Awaking.] Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; Whic. is the way?
I thank you. By yon bush ?-Pray, how far thither! 'Ods pittikins-can it be six miles yet?—
I have gone all night :-'Faith, I'll lie down and slee
Say, where shall's lay him? But, soft! no bedfellow :-O, gods and goddesses!
Gui. By good Euriphile, our mother.
Arv.
[Seeing the bots.
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 cave-keeper,
And cook to honest creatures: But 't is not so;
"T was but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing,
Which the brain makes of fumes: Our very eyes,
Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good fain.
I tremble still with fear: But if there be
Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity
As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it!
The dream 's here still: even when I wake it is
Without me, as within me; not imagin'd, felt.
A headless man!-The garments of Posthumus!
I know the shape of his leg: this is his hand;
His foot Mercurial: his Martial thigh;
The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovial face-
Murther in heaven?-How ?-T is gone.-Pisanio,
All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou,
Conspir'd with that irregulous" devil, Cloten,
Hast here cut off my lord.-To write and read
Be henceforth treacherous!-Damn'd Pisaniɔ
Hath with his forged letters,-damn'd Pisanio-
From this most bravest vessel of the world
Struck the main-top!-O, Posthumus! alas,
Where is thy head? where's that? Ah me! where's that?
Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart,
And left this head on.-How should this he? Pisanio?
"T is he, and Cloten: malice and lucre in them
Have laid this woe here. O, 't is pregnant, pregnant!
The drug he gave me, which, he said, was precious
And cordial to me, have I not found it
Murd'rous to the senses? That confirms it home:
This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's: 0 !-
Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood,
That we the horrider may seem to those
Which chance to find us: O, my lord, my lord!
Enter LUCIUS, a Captain, and other Officers, and a Soothsayer.
Cap. To them, the legions garrison'd in Gallia, After your will, have cross'd the sea; attending You here at Milford-Haven, with your ships: They are here in readiness.
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Cap. With the next benefit o' the wind. Luc. This forwardness Makes our hopes fair. Command, our present numbers Be muster'd; bid the captains look to 't.-Now, sir, What have you dream'd, of late, of this war's purpose?
Sooth. Last night the very gods show'd me a vision: (I fast, and pray'd, for their intelligence,) Thus :— I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd From the spungy south to this part of the west, There vanish'd in the sunbeams: which portends (Unless my sins abuse my divination) Success to the Roman host.
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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 alter'd that good picture? What 's thy interest
In this sad wreck? How came it? Who is it?
What art thou?
Imo.
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 are 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.
• Irregulous- Arregular-disorderly. The word is only found In this passage of Shakspero.
Luc. 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 master'd; but, be sure, No less belov'd. The Roman emperor's letters, Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner Than thine own worth prefer thee. Go with me. Imo. 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 have strew'd his
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SCENE III-A Room in Cymbeline's Palace.
Enter CYMBELINE, Lords, and PISANIO.
Cym. Again; and bring me word how 't is with her.
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! Imogen,
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.-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.
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.
1 Lord. 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.
Your preparation can affront no less
Arv. That when they hear the Roman horses neigh,
Than what you hear of: come more, for more you re Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes ready;
The want is, but to put those powers in motion That long to move.
Cym. I thank you: Let 's withdraw; And meet the time, as it seeks us. What can from Italy annoy us; but We grieve at chances here.-Away.
Pis. I heard no letter from my master since I wrote him Imogen was slain: "T is 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 Perplex'd 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' the king, or I'll fall in them. All other doubts by time let them be clear'd:
And ears so cloy'd importantly as now,
That they will waste their time upon our note,
To know from whence we are.
O, I am known Of many in the army: many years, Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore hia. From my remembrance. And, besides, the king Hath not deserv'd 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 promis'd, But to be still hot summer's tanlings, and The shrinking slaves of winter.
Than be so, Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to the army: I and my brother are not known; yourself So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown,
Fortune brings in some boats that are not steer'd. [Exit. Cannot be question'd.
Arv. By this sun that shines, I'll thither: What thing is it, that I never Did see man die? scarce ever look'd 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 asham'd To look upon the holy sun, to have The benefit of his bless'd beams, remaining So long a poor unknown.
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!
Arv.
So say I; Amen.
Bel. No reason I, since of your lives you set
So slight a valuation, should reserve
My crack'd one to more care.
If in your country wars you chance to die,
That is my bed too, lads, and there I'll lie:
Lead, lead.-The time seems long: their blood thin's
Till it fly out and show them princes born.
SCENE 1.-A Field between the British and Roman | To have them fall no more: you some permit
Thou shouldst be colour'd thus. You married ones,
If each of you should take this course, how many
Must murther 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 liv'd to put on this: so had you saved
The noble Imogen to repent; and struck
Me, wretch, more worth your vengeance: But, alack,
You snatch some hence for little faults; that's love,
a Malone suggests that by letter is not meant an epistle; but that the phrase is equivalent to I heard no syllable.
b Wrying. The use of wry as a verb is uncommon. We have a passage in Sidney's Arcadia' which is at once an example and an explanation:-"That from the right line of virtue are wryed to these crooked shifts.
To second ills with ills, each elder worse,"
And make them dread it, to the doers' thrift.
But Imogen is your own: Do your best wills,
And make me bless'd to obey !-I am brought hitler
Among the Italian gentry, and to fight
Against my lady's kingdom: T is enough
That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress.
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: so I'll fight
Against the part I come with; so I'll die
For thee, O Imogen, even for whom my life
Is, every breath, a death: and thus, unknown,
Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril
a "The last deed is certainly not the oldest," says Dr. Jhu son. That is, perhaps, prosaically true; but as the man w goes on in the commission of ill is older when he commits th last ill than when he committed the first, we do not believe !D. Shakspere, as Malone says, "inadvertently considered the attit evil deed as the elder." The confusion, if there be any, in t text may be reconciled by Bacon's notion, that what we call t old world is really the young world; and so a man's first sit ja his youngest sin.
Myself I'll dedicate. Let me make men know
More valour in me, than my habits show.
Gods, put the strength o' the Leonati in me!
To shame the guise o' the world, I will begin
The fashion less without, and more within.
So long a breeding as his white beard came to.
In doing this for his country;-athwart the lane,
He, with two striplings, (lads more like to run
The country base, than to commit such slaughter;
[Exit. With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer
Enter at one door LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and the Roman
army; and the British army at another. LEONA-
TUS POSTHUMUS following, like a poor soldier.
Then enter again in
They march over, and go out.
skirmish, IACHIMO and POSTHUMUS: he vanquisheth
and disarmeth IACHIMO, and then leaves him.a
Iach. 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,b
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
Than those for preservation cas'd, or shame,)
Made good the passage; cried to those that fled,
"Our Britain's harts die flying, not our men:
To darkness fleet, souls that fly backwards! Stand;
Or we are Romans, and will give you that
Like beasts, which you shun beastly; and may save,
But to look back in frown: stand, stand."-These three,
Three thousand confident, in act as many,
(For three performers are the file when all
The rest do nothing,) with this word, "stand, stand,"
Accommodated by the place, more charming
With their own nobleness, (which could have turn'd
A distaff to a lance,) gilded pale looks,
Part shame, part spirit renew'd; that some, turn'd
coward
But by example (O, a sin in war,
Damn'd in the first beginners!) 'gan to look
The way that they did, and to grin like lions
Upon the pikes o' the hunters. Then began
A stop i' the chaser, a retire; anon,
A rout, confusion thick: Forthwith, they fly
Chickens, the way
which they stoop'd eagles; slaves,
The strides they victors made: And now our cowards
Bel. Stand, stand! We have the advantage of the (Like fragments in hard voyages) became
Is, that we scarce are men, and you are gods.
The battle continues; the Britous fly; CYMBELINE is
taken; then enter, to his rescue, BELARIUS, GUIDE-
RIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.
The lane is guarded; nothing routs us but
The villainy of our fears.
Enter POSTHUMUS, and seconds the Britons: They
Then, enter
rescue CYMBELINE, and exeunt.
LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and IMOGEN.
Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself:
For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such
As war were hood-wink'd.
T is their fresh supplies.
Iach.
Luc. It is a day turn'd strangely: Or betimes
Let's re-enforce, or fly.
SCENE III-Another Part of the Field.
Enter POSTHUMUS and a British Lord.
Lord. Cam'st thou from where they made the stand?
Post.
Though you, it seems, come from the fliers.
Post. No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost,
But that the heavens fought: The king himself
Of his wings destitute, the army broken,
And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying
Through a strait lane; the enemy full-hearted,
Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having work
More plentiful than tools to do 't, struck down
Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling
Merely through fear; that the strait pass was damm'd
with dead men, hurt behind, and cowards living
To die with lengthen'd shame.
Where was this lane?
Post. Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd with
turf;
Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier,-
An honest one, I warrant; who deserv'd
It will be observed throughout this act that the stage-directions are extremely full, and that the action of the drama at the close of the third scene is entirely what was called a dumb The drama preceding Shakspere was full of such examBut Shakspere uniformly rejected the practice, except in We have followed in the stage-directions the
show. pies. this instance.
original copy, which has been departed from by the modern Carl-enurl.
The life of the need, having found the back-door open
Of the unguarded hearts: Heavens, how they wound!
Some slain before; some dying; some their friends
O'er-borne i' the former wave; ten, chas'd by one,
Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty :
Those that would die or ere resist are grown
The mortal bugs bo' the field.
Lord.
This was strange chance:
A narrow lane! an old man, and two boys!
Post. Nay, do not wonder at it: You are made
Rather to wonder at the things you hear,
Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon 't,
And vent it for a mockery? Here is one:
"Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane,
Preserv'd the Britons, was the Romans' bane."
Lord. Nay, be not angry, sir.
Post.
'Lack, to what end!
Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his friend:
For if he'll do, as he is made to do,
I know he 'll quickly fly my friendship too.
You have put me into rhyme.
Lord.
Farewell; you are angry. [Exit.
Post. Still going?-This is a lord! O noble misery
To be i' the field, and ask what news of me!
To-day, how many would have given their honours
To have sav'd their carcasses? took heel to do 't,
And yet died too? I, in mine own woe charm'd,
Could not find death where I did hear him groan;
Nor feel him where he struck: Being an ugly monster,
"T is strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds,
Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we
That draw his knives i' the war.-Well, I will find
him :
For being now a favourer to the Briton,
No more a Briton, I have resum'd again
The part I came in: Fight I will no more,
But yield me to the veriest hind that shall
Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is
Here made by the Roman; great the answer be
Britons must take; For me, my ransom 's death;
On either side I come to spend my breath:
Which neither here I'll keep, nor hear again,
But end it by some means for Imogen.
Country-base-the rustic game of prison bars, or prison base.
b Bugs-terrors.
2 T
The penitent instrument, to pick that bolt,
Then, free for ever! Is 't enough I am sorry?
So children temporal fathers do appease ;
Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent?
I cannot do it better than in gyves,
Desir'd, more than constrain'd: to satisfy,
If of my freedom 't is the main part, take
No stricter render of me, than my all.
I know you are more clement than vile men,
Who of their broken debtors take a third,
A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again
On their abatement: that 's not my desire:
For Imogen's dear life take mine; and though
'T is not so dear, yet 't is a life; you coin'd it:
"Tween man and man, they weigh not every stamp;
Though light, take pieces for the figure's sake:
You rather mine, being yours: And so, great powers,
If you will take this audit, take this life,
And cancel these cold bonds. O Imogen!
I'll speak to thee in silence.
Solemn Music. Enter, as in an apparition, SICILIUS LEONATUS, father to POSTHUMUS, an old man, attired like a warrior; leading in his hand an ancient matron, his wife, and mother to POSTHUMUS, with music before them. Then, after other music, follow the Two young Leonati, brothers to PoSTHUMUS, with wounds, as they died in the wars. They circle POSTHUMUS round, as he lies sleeping.
Sici. No more, thou thunder-master, show
Thy spite on mortal flies;
With Mars fall out, with Juno chide,
That thy adulteries
Rates and revenges.
Hath my poor boy done aught but well,
Whose face I never saw?
I died, whilst in the womb he stay'd
Attending Nature's law.
Whose father then (as men report,
Thou orphans' father ait,)
Thou shouldist have been, and shielded him From this earth-vexing smart.
Moth. Lucra lent not me her aid,
But took me in my throes;
That from me was Posthumus ripp'd,
Came crying 'mougst his foes,
A thing of pity!
Sici. Great nature, like his ancestry,
Moulded the stuff so fair,
That he deserv'd the praise o' the world,
As great Sicilius' heir.
1 Bro. When once he was mature for man In Britain where was he
That could stand up his parallel;
Or fruitful object be
In eye of Imogen, that best
Could deem his dignity?
Moth. With marriage wherefore was he mock'd, To be exil'd, and thrown
From Leonati' seat, and cast
From her his dearest one,
Sweet Imogen ?
Sici. Why did you suffer lachimo,
Slight thing of Italy,
To taint his nobler heart and brain
With needless jealousy;
And to become the geek and scorn
O' the other's villainy?
2 Bro. For this, from stiller seats we came,
Our parents and us twain,
That, striking in our country's cause,
Fell bravely, and were slain;
Our fealty, and Tenantius' right,
With honour to maintain.
1 Bro. Like hardiment Posthumus hath To Cymbeline perform'd:
Then Jupiter, thou king of gods,
Why hast thou thus adjourn'd The graces for his merits due;
Being all to dolours turn'd?
Sici. Thy crystal window ope; look out;
No longer exercise,
Upon a valiant race, thy harsh
Ard potent injuries.
Moth. Since, Jupiter, our son is good,
Take off his miseries.
Sici. Peep through thy marble mansion; help!
Or we poor ghosts will cry
To the shining synod of the rest,
Against thy deity.
2 Bro. Help, Jupiter; or we appeal,
And from thy justice fly.
JUPITER descends in thunder and lightning, sitting upon an engi he throws a thunder-bolt. The Ghosts fall on their shees
Jup. No more, you petty spirits of region low,
Offend our hearing: hush!-How dare you ghosts
Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt you know,
Sky-planted, batters all rebelling coasts?
Poor shadows of Elysium, hence: and rest
Upon your never-withering banks of flowers.
Be not with mortal accidents opprest;
No care of yours it is; you know, 't is ours.
Whom best I love I cross; to make my gift,
The more delay'd, delighted. Be content;
Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift:
His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent.
Our Jovial star reign'd at his birth, and in
Our temple was he married.-Kise, and fade!—
He shall be lord of lady Imogen,
Aud happier much by his affliction made.
This tablet lay upon his breast; wherein
Our pleasure his fuil fortune doth confine
And so, away: no farther with your din
Express impatience, lest you stir up mine.-
Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline.
Sici. He came in thunder; his celestial breath
Was sulphurous to smell: the holy eagle
Stoop'd, as to foot us: his ascension is
More sweet than our bless'd fields: his roval bird
Prunes the immortal wing, and cloys his beak,
As when his god is pleas'd.
Sici. The marble pavement closes, he is enter' His radiant roof:-Away! and, to be blest,
Let us with care perform his great behest. [Ghats rumah
Post. [Waking.] Sleep, thou hast been a grandsus
A father to me: and thou last created
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