Come to the matter. lach. All too soon I shall, Unless thou would'st grieve quickly. This Posthu

(Most like a noble lord in love, and one

That had a royal lover) took this hint;

[mus

[made,

And, not dispraising whom we prais'd, (therein He was as calm as virtue,) he began

His mistress' picture; which by his tongue being
And then a mind put in 't, either our brags

Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his description
Prov'd us unspeaking sots.
Cym.

Nay, nay, to the purpose.

lach. Your daughter's chastity-there it begins. He spake of her, as Dian had hot dreams, And she alone were cold: Whereat, I, wretch! Made scruple of his praise and wager'd with him Pieces of gold, 'gainst this which then he wore Upon his honour'd finger, to attain In suit the place of his bed, and win this ring By hers and mine adultery: he, true knight, No lesser of her honour confident Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring; And would so, had it been a carbuncle Of Phœbus' wheel; and might so safely, had it Been all the worth of his car. Away to Britain Post I in this design: Well may you, sir, Remember me at court, where I was taught Of your chaste daughter the wide difference Twixt amorous and villainous. Being thus quench'd Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain 'Gan in your duller Britain operate Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent; And, to be brief, my practice so prevail'd That I return'd with simular proof enough To make the noble Leonatus mad, By wounding his belief in her renown With tokens thus, and thus; averring notes Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet, (0, cunning, how I got it!) nay, some marks Of secret on her person, that he could not But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd, I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon,Methinks, I see him now,Post.

Ay, so thou dost, Coming forward,

[Aside.

torture me to leave unspoken that

Which, to be spoke, would torture thee.
Cym.

How! me?

lach. I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that
Which torments me to conceal. By villainy
I got this ring; 't was Leonatus' jewel:

Whom thou didst banish; and (which more may
As it doth me,) a nobler sir ne'er liv'd [grieve thee
'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my
Cym. All that belongs to this.
Iach.

[lord? That paragon, thy daughter, For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits Quail to remember, Give me leave; I faint.

Cym. My daughter! what of her? Renew thy

strength:

I had rather thou should'st live while nature will,
Than die ere I hear more: strive, man, and speak.
lach. Upon a time, (unhappy was the clock
That struck the hour!) it was in Rome, (accurs'd
The mansion where!) 't was at a feast, (O 'would
Our viands had been poison'd! or, at least,
Those which I heav'd to head!) the good Posthuinus,
(What should I say? he was too good, to be
Where ill men were; and was the best of all
Amongst the rar'st of good ones,) sitting sadly,
Hearing us praise our loves of Italy

For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast
Of him that best could speak for feature, laming
The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva,
Postures beyond brief nature; for condition,
A shop of all the qualities that man

Loves woman for; besides, that hook of wiving,

That's due to all the villains past, in being,
To come!-O, give me cord, or knife, or poison,
Some upright justicer! Thou, king, send out
For torturers ingenious: it is I

That all the abhorred things o' the earth amend,
By being worse than they. I am Posthumus,
That kill'd thy daughter:-villain-like, I lie;
That caus'd a lesser villain than myself,
A sacrilegious thief, to do 't:-the temple
Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself.

Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set
The dogs o' the street to bay me: every villain
Be call'd Posthumus Leonatus; and
Be villainy less than 't was!-- Imogen!
My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen!

Imo. Peace, my lord; hear, hear! [page Post. Shall 's have a play of this? Thou scornful There lie thy part. [Striking her: she falls.

Pis.

O, gentlemen, help Mine, and your mistress:-0, my lord Posthumus! You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now:-Help, heip!Mine honour'd lady! Cym.

Does the world go round! Post. How come these staggers on me? Pis.

Wake, my mistress

Cym. If this be so, the gods do mean to strike m To death with mortal joy. Pis.

How fares my mistress!

Imo. O, get thee from my sight; Thou gav'st me poison: dangerous fellow, hence! Breathe not where princes are!

Cym.

Pis. Lady

The tune of Iinogen! The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if That box I gave you was not thought by me precious thing; I had it from the queen. Cym. New New matter still?

A

Cym.

What's this, Cornelius?

Cor. The queen, sir, very oft importun'd me To temper poisons for her; still pretending The satisfaction of her knowledge only In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs Of no esteem: 1, dreading that her purpose Was of more danger, did compound for her A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would cease The present power of life; but, in short time, All offices of nature should again

Do their due functions. Have you ta'en of it? Imo. Most like I did, for I was dead.

Bel.

My boys, There was our error. Gui. This is sure, Fidele. Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from Think that you are upon a rock, and now [you? Throw me again. [Embracing him.

Post.

Till the tree die! Cym.

Hang there like fruit, my soul,

How now, my flesh, my child?

What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act?
Wilt thou not speak to me?

Imo.

Your blessing, sir. [Kneeling. Bel. Though you did love this youth, I blame ye You had a motive for it.

Cym.

[not;

[To Guiderius and Arviragus. My tears, that fall,

Prove holy water on thee! Imogen, Thy mother's dead.

Imo.

I am sorry for 't, my lord. Cym. O, she was naught; and long of her it was That we meet here so strangely: But her son

Is gone, we know not how, nor where.

Pis.

My lord,

Now fear is from me, I 'll speak troth. Lord Cloten, Upon my lady's missing, came to me

[swore

With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, and If I discover'd not which way she was gone,

It was my instant death By accident,

I had a feigned letter of my master's

Then in my pocket; which directed him
To seek her on the mountains near to Milford;
Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments,
Which he inforc'd from me, away he posts
With unchaste purpose, and with oath to violate
My lady's honour: what became of him,

1 further know not.

First pay me for the nursing of thy sons;
And let it be confiscate all, so soon

As I have receiv'd it. Cym. Nursing of my sons?
Bel. 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;
They are the issue of your loins, my liege,
And blood of your begetting.

Bel. So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan,
Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd:
Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment
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
Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile,
Whon 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,
Excited me to treason: Their dear loss,

The more of you 't was 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:
The benediction of these covering heavens

Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy

To inlay heaven with stars.

A pair of worthier sons.

Bel.

Be pleas'd awhile.

This gentleman, whom I call Polydore,
Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius:
This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragu,
Your younger princely son; he, sir, was as lapp'd
In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand
Of his queen mother, which, for more probation,
I can with ease produce. Cym. Guiderius had
Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star;

It was a mark of wonder. Bel. 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. Cym. O, what, am I A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother Rejoic'd deliverance more:-Bless'd pray you be, That, after this strange starting from your orbs, You may reign in them now!- Imogen,

Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.

Imo.

No, my lord;

I have got two worlds by 't. O my gentle brothers, Have we thus inet? O never say hereafter

But I am truest speaker: you call'd me brother, When I was but your sister; I you brothers,

When you were so indeed.

Cym.

Did you e'er meet?

Arv. Ay, my good lord.
Gui.
Continued so, until we thought he died.
Cor. By the queen's drain she swallow'd.
Cym.

And at first meeting lov'd;

Orare instinct!

When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridg

Distinction should be rich in.-Where, how liv'd you,
And when came you to serve our Roman captive?
How parted with your brothers? how first met them?
Why fled you froin the court? and whither? These,
And your three motives to the battle, with
I know not how much more, should be demanded;
And all the other by-dependencies,
From chance to chance; but nor the time, nor place,
Will serve our long inter gatories. See,
Posthumus anchors upon Imogen;
And she, like harınless lightning, throws her eye
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.

Thou art my brother: So we 'll hold thee ever.

[To Belarius. Imo. You are my father too; and did relieve me, To see this gracious season.

Cym.

All o'erjoy'd,
Save these in bonds; let them be joyful too,
For they shall taste our comfort.
Imo.

I will yet do you service.
Luc.

My good master,

Happy be you!

Cym. The forlorn soldier that so nobly fought, He would have well becom'd this place, and grac'd The thankings of a king. Post. I am, sir, The soldier that did company these three

In poor beseeming; 't was a fitment for

The purpose I then follow'd:-That I was he,
Speak, lachimo: I had you down, and might
Have made you finish.

lach.

I am down again: [Kneeling. But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee, As then your force did. Take that life, 'beseech you, Which I so often owe: but, your ring first; And here the bracelet of the truest princess,

That ever swore her faith,

Luc.

Sooth. Here, my good lord. Luc.

Philarmonus !

Read, and declare the meaning.

Sooth. [Reads.] 'When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air; and when from a dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to stately cedar shall be lopped branches, which, being the 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,
Being Leo-natus, doth import so much :
The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter,

[To Cymbeline.

Which we call mollis aer; and mollis aer
We term it mulier: which mulier I divine
Is this most constant wife who, even now,
Answering the letter of the oracle,
Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about
With this most tender air.
Cym.

This hath some seeming.

Cym. Well,

Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline,
Personates thee and thy lopp'd branches point
Thy two sons forth who, by Belarius stolen,
For many years thought dead, are now reviv'd,
To the majestic cedar join'd; whose issue
Promises Britain peace and plenty.
My peace we will begin :-And, Caius Lucius,
Although the victor, we submit to Cæsar,
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,)
Have laid most heavy hand.

And

to the

Sooth. 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 this yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant 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 foreshow'd our princely eagle, The imperial Cæsar, should again unite

His favour with the radiant Cymbeline,

Which shines here in the west.

Cym.

Laud we the gods;

And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils
From our bless'd altars! Publish we this peace
To all our subjects. Set we forward: Let
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,

Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a peace.

[Exeunt.

nus.

Roman and Volscian Senators, Patricians, Aidiles, Lictors,

Soldiers, Citizens, Messengers, Servants to Aufidius, and other Attendants.

SCENE.-Partly in ROME; and partly in the territories of the VOLŚCIANS and ANTIATES.

[curs,

Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you
That like nor peace, nor war? the one affrights you,
The other makes your proud. He that trusts to you,
Where he should find you lions finds you hares;
Where foxes, geese: You are no surer, no,
Than is the coal of fire upon the ice,

Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is,

To make him worthy whose offence subdues him, And curse that justice did it. Who deserves greatness

Deserves your hate and your affections are
A sick man's appetite, who desires most that
Which would increase his evil. He that depends
Upon your favour swuns with fins of lead,
And hews down oaks with rushes. Hangye!
With every minute you do change a mind;
And call him noble that was now your hate,
Him vile that was your garland. What's the
That in these several places of the city
You cry against the noble senate, who,

Tit.

Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else Would feed on one another? What 's their seek

ing? Men. For corn at their own rates; whereof, they The city is well stor'd. [say, Mar. Hang 'em! They say ! They 'll sit by the fire, and presume to know What 's done i' the Capitol who's like to rise,

Com.

Mar.

Noble Marcius!

1 Sen. Hence! To your homes, be gone. To the Citizens. Nay, let them follow: The Volsces have much corn; take these ratsthither, To gnaw their garners:-Worshipful mutineers, Your valour puts well forth: pray, follow.

[Exeunt Senators, Com., Mar., Tit., and Menen. Citizens steal away.

give out

Bru. He has no equal.

Conjectural marriages; making parties strong,

And feebling such as stand not in their liking

Sic. When wewere chosen tribunes for the people,Bru. Mark'd you his lip and eyes?

Below their cobbled shoes. They say there's grain Would the nobility lay aside their ruth, [enough! And let me use my sword, I 'd make a quarry With thousands of these quarter'd slaves, as high As I could pick my lance.

Sic.

Nay, but his taunts.

[gods.

[suaded;

thoroughly

Men. Nay, these are almost thoroughly perFor though abundantly they lack discretion, Yet are they passing cowardly. But, I beseech you, What says the other troop?

Mar.

They are dissolved: Hang 'em! They said they were an-hungry; sigh'd forth proverbs,

That hunger broke stone walls, that dogs must eat, That meat was made for mouths, that the gods

Bru. Being mov'd, he will not spare to gird the
Sic. Be-mock the modest moon.
Bru. The present wars devour him: he is grown
Too proud to be so valiant.

Sic.

Such a nature,

Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow Which he treads on at noon: But I do wonder His insolence can brook to be cominanded Under Cominius.

Bru.

Fame, at the which he aims,

In whom already he is well grac'd, cannot
Better be held, nor more attain'd, than by
A place below the first: for what miscarries
Shall be the general's fault, though he perform
To the utmost of a man; and giddy censure
Will then cry out of Marcius, O, if he

Had borne the business!'
Sic.

Besides, if things go well,

Opinion, that so sticks on Marcius, shall
Of his demerits rob Cominius. Bru. Come:
Half all Cominius' honours are to Marcius,
Though Marcius earn'd them not; and all his faults
To Marcius shall be honours, though, indeed,
In aught he merit not.
Sic.

Let 's hence, and hear

How the despatch is made; and in what fashion,
More than in singularity, he goes
Upon this present action.

Bru.

Let's along. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. - Corioli. The Senate-House. Enter Tullus Aufidius, and certain Senators.

I Sen. So, your opinion is, Aufidius,
That they of Rome are enter'd in our counsels,