The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (moboreader .TXT) 📕

SECOND GENTLEMAN. How long is this ago?

FIRST GENTLEMAN. Some twenty years.

SECOND GENTLEMAN. That a king’s children should be so convey’d, So slackly guarded, and the search so slow That could not trace them!

FIRST GENTLEMAN. Howsoe’er ‘tis strange, Or that the negligence may well be laugh’d at, Yet is it true, sir.

SECOND GENTLEMAN. I do well believe you.

FIRST GENTLEMAN. We must forbear; here comes the gentleman, The Queen, and Princess. Exeunt Enter the QUEEN, POSTHUMUS, and IMOGEN

QUEEN. No, be assur’d you shall not find me, daughter, After the slander of most stepmothers, Evil-ey’d unto you. You’re my prisoner, but Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus, So soon as I can win th’ offended King, I will be known your advocate. Marry, yet The fire of rage is in him, and ‘twere good You lean’d unto his sentence with what patience Your wisdom may inform you.

POSTHUMUS. Please your Highness,

I will from hence to-day.

QUEEN. You know the peril.

I’ll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying The pangs of barr’d affections, though the King Hath charg’d you should not speak together. Exit IMOGEN. O dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband, I something fear my father’s wrath, but nothing-Always reserv’d my holy duty-what

His rage can do on me. You must be gone; And I shall here abide the hourly shot Of angry eyes, not comforted to live

But that there is this jewel in the world That I may see again.

POSTHUMUS. My queen! my mistress!

O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause To be suspected of more tenderness

Than doth become a man. I will remain The loyal’st husband that did e’er plight troth; My residence in Rome at one Philario’s, Who to my father was a friend, to me

Known but by letter; thither write, my queen, And with mine eyes I’ll drink the words you send, Though ink be made of gall.

Re-enter QUEEN

QUEEN. Be brief, I pray you.

If the King come, I shall incur I know not How much of his displeasure. [Aside] Yet I’ll move him To walk this way. I never do him wrong But he does buy my injuries, to be friends; Pays dear for my offences. Exit POSTHUMUS. Should we be taking leave

As long a term as yet we have to live, The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu!

IMOGEN. Nay, stay a little.

Were you but riding forth to air yourself, Such parting were too petty. Look here, love: This diamond was my mother’s; take it, heart; But keep it till you woo another wife, When Imogen is dead.

POSTHUMUS. How, how? Another?

You gentle gods, give me but this I have, And sear up my embracements from a next With bonds of death! Remain, remain thou here [Puts on the ring]

While sense can keep it on. And, sweetest, fairest, As I my poor self did exchange for you, To your so infinite loss, so in our trifles I still win of you. For my sake wear this; It is a manacle of love; I’ll place it Upon this fairest prisoner. [Puts a bracelet on her arm]

IMOGEN. O the gods!

When shall we see again?

Enter CYMBELINE and LORDS

POSTHUMUS. Alack, the King!

CYMBELINE. Thou basest thing, avoid; hence from my sight If after this command thou fraught the court With thy unworthiness, thou diest. Away!

Thou’rt poison to my blood.

POSTHUMUS. The gods protect you,

And bless the good remainders of the court!

I am gone. Exit IMOGEN. There cannot be a pinch in death More sharp than this is.

CYMBELINE. O disloyal thing,

That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap’st A year’s age on me!

IMOGEN. I beseech you, sir,

Harm not yourself with your vexation.

I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare Subdues all pangs, all fears.

CYMBELINE. Past grace? obedience?

IMOGEN. Past hope, and in despair; that way past grace.

CYMBELINE. That mightst have had the sole son of my queen!

IMOGEN. O blessed that I might not! I chose an eagle, And did avoid a puttock.

CYMBELINE. Thou took’st a beggar, wouldst have made my throne A seat for baseness.

IMOGEN. No; I rather added

A lustre to it.

CYMBELINE. O thou vile one!

IMOGEN. Sir,

It is your fault that I have lov’d Posthumus.

You bred him as my playfellow, and he is A man worth any woman; overbuys me

Almost the sum he pays.

CYMBELINE. What, art thou mad?

IMOGEN. Almost, sir. Heaven restore me! Would I were A neat-herd’s daughter, and my Leonatus Our neighbour shepherd’s son!

Re-enter QUEEN

CYMBELINE. Thou foolish thing!

[To the QUEEN] They were again together. You have done Not after our command. Away with her, And pen her up.

QUEEN. Beseech your patience.- Peace,

Dear lady daughter, peace!- Sweet sovereign, Leave us to ourselves, and make yourself some comfort Out of your best advice.

CYMBELINE. Nay, let her languish

A drop of blood a day and, being aged, Die of this folly. Exit, with LORDS

Enter PISANIO

QUEEN. Fie! you must give way.

Here is your servant. How now, sir! What news?

PISANIO. My lord your son drew on my master.

QUEEN. Ha!

No harm, I trust, is done?

PISANIO. There might have been,

But that my master rather play’d than fought, And had no help of anger; they were parted By gentlemen at hand.

QUEEN. I am very glad on’t.

IMOGEN. Your son’s my father’s friend; he takes his part To draw upon an exile! O brave sir!

I would they were in Afric both together; Myself by with a needle, that I might prick The goer-back. Why came you from your master?

PISANIO. On his command. He would not suffer me To bring him to the haven; left these notes Of what commands I should be subject to, When’t pleas’d you to employ me.

QUEEN. This hath been

Your faithful servant. I dare lay mine honour He will remain so.

PISANIO. I humbly thank your Highness.

QUEEN. Pray walk awhile.

IMOGEN. About some half-hour hence,

Pray you speak with me. You shall at least Go see my lord aboard. For this time leave me. Exeunt

SCENE II.

Britain. A public place

Enter CLOTEN and two LORDS

FIRST LORD. Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the violence of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice. Where air comes out, air comes in; there’s none abroad so wholesome as that you vent.

CLOTEN. If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Have I hurt him?

SECOND LORD. [Aside] No, faith; not so much as his patience.

FIRST LORD. Hurt him! His body’s a passable carcass if he be not hurt. It is a throughfare for steel if it be not hurt.

SECOND LORD. [Aside] His steel was in debt; it went o’ th’ back side the town.

CLOTEN. The villain would not stand me.

SECOND LORD. [Aside] No; but he fled forward still, toward your face.

FIRST LORD. Stand you? You have land enough of your own; but he added to your having, gave you some ground.

SECOND LORD. [Aside] As many inches as you have oceans.

Puppies!

CLOTEN. I would they had not come between us.

SECOND LORD. [Aside] So would I, till you had measur’d how long a fool you were upon the ground.

CLOTEN. And that she should love this fellow, and refuse me!

SECOND LORD. [Aside] If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damn’d.

FIRST LORD. Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain go not together; she’s a good sign, but I have seen small reflection of her wit.

SECOND LORD. [Aside] She shines not upon fools, lest the reflection should hurt her.

CLOTEN. Come, I’ll to my chamber. Would there had been some hurt done!

SECOND LORD. [Aside] I wish not so; unless it had been the fall of an ass, which is no great hurt.

CLOTEN. You’ll go with us?

FIRST LORD. I’ll attend your lordship.

CLOTEN. Nay, come, let’s go together.

SECOND LORD. Well, my lord. Exeunt

SCENE III.

Britain. CYMBELINE’S palace

Enter IMOGEN and PISANIO

IMOGEN. I would thou grew’st unto the shores o’ th’ haven, And questioned’st every sail; if he should write, And I not have it, ‘twere a paper lost, As offer’d mercy is. What was the last That he spake to thee?

PISANIO. It was: his queen, his queen!

IMOGEN. Then wav’d his handkerchief?

PISANIO. And kiss’d it, madam.

IMOGEN. Senseless linen, happier therein than I!

And that was all?

PISANIO. No, madam; for so long

As he could make me with his eye, or care Distinguish him from others, he did keep The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief, Still waving, as the fits and stirs of’s mind Could best express how slow his soul sail’d on, How swift his ship.

IMOGEN. Thou shouldst have made him

As little as a crow, or less, ere left To after-eye him.

PISANIO. Madam, so I did.

IMOGEN. I would have broke mine eyestrings, crack’d them but To look upon him, till the diminution Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle; Nay, followed him till he had melted from The smallness of a gnat to air, and then Have turn’d mine eye and wept. But, good Pisanio, When shall we hear from him?

PISANIO. Be assur’d, madam,

With his next vantage.

IMOGEN. I did not take my leave of him, but had Most pretty things to say. Ere I could tell him How I would think on him at certain hours Such thoughts and such; or I could make him swear The shes of Italy should not betray

Mine interest and his honour; or have charg’d him, At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight, T’ encounter me with orisons, for then I am in heaven for him; or ere I could Give him that parting kiss which I had set Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father, And like the tyrannous breathing of the north Shakes all our buds from growing.

Enter a LADY

LADY. The Queen, madam,

Desires your Highness’ company.

IMOGEN. Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch’d.

I will attend the Queen.

PISANIO. Madam, I shall. Exeunt

SCENE IV.

Rome. PHILARIO’S house

Enter PHILARIO, IACHIMO, a FRENCHMAN, a DUTCHMAN, and a SPANIARD

IACHIMO. Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Britain. He was then of a crescent note, expected to prove so worthy as since he hath been allowed the name of. But I could then have look’d on him without the help of admiration, though the catalogue of his endowments had been tabled by his side, and I to peruse him by items.

PHILARIO. You speak of him when he was less furnish’d than now he is with that which makes him both without and within.

FRENCHMAN. I have seen him in France; we had very many there could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he.

IACHIMO. This matter of marrying his king’s daughter, wherein he must be weighed rather by her value than his own, words him, I doubt not, a great deal from the matter.

FRENCHMAN. And then his banishment.

IACHIMO. Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this lamentable divorce under her colours are wonderfully to extend him, be it but to fortify her judgment, which else an easy battery might lay flat, for taking a beggar, without less quality. But how comes it he is to sojourn with you? How creeps acquaintance?

PHILARIO. His father and I were soldiers together, to whom I have