William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition (545 page)
Read William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition Online
Authors: William Shakespeare
Tags: #Drama, #Literary Criticism, #Shakespeare
BOOK: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition
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PILASIO
Have patience, sir,
And take your ring again; ’tis not yet won.
It may be probable she lost it, or
Who knows if one her woman, being corrupted,
Hath stol’n it from her?
It may be probable she lost it, or
Who knows if one her woman, being corrupted,
Hath stol’n it from her?
POSTHUMUS
Very true,
And so I hope he came by’t. Back my ring.
He takes his ring again
Render to me some corporal sign about her
More evident than this; for this was stol’n.
More evident than this; for this was stol’n.
GIACOMO
By Jupiter, I had it from her arm.
POSTHUMUS
Hark you, he swears, by Jupiter he swears.
‘Tis true, nay, keep the ring, ’tis true. I am sure
She would not lose it. Her attendants are
All sworn and honourable. They induced to steal it?
And by a stranger? No, he hath enjoyed her.
The cognizance of her incontinency
Is this. She hath bought the name of whore thus
dearly.
‘Tis true, nay, keep the ring, ’tis true. I am sure
She would not lose it. Her attendants are
All sworn and honourable. They induced to steal it?
And by a stranger? No, he hath enjoyed her.
The cognizance of her incontinency
Is this. She hath bought the name of whore thus
dearly.
He gives Giacomo his ring
There, take thy hire, and all the fiends of hell
Divide themselves between you!
Divide themselves between you!
FILARIO
Sir, be patient.
This is not strong enough to be believed
Of one persuaded well of.
Of one persuaded well of.
POSTHUMUS
Never talk on’t.
She hath been colted by him.
GIACOMO
If you seek
For further satisfying, under her breast—
Worthy the pressing—lies a mole, right proud
Of that most delicate lodging. By my life,
I kissed it, and it gave me present hunger
To feed again, though full. You do remember
This stain upon her?
Worthy the pressing—lies a mole, right proud
Of that most delicate lodging. By my life,
I kissed it, and it gave me present hunger
To feed again, though full. You do remember
This stain upon her?
POSTHUMUS
Ay, and it doth confirm
Another stain as big as hell can hold,
Were there no more but it.
Were there no more but it.
GIACOMO
Will you hear more?
POSTHUMUS
Spare your arithmetic, never count the turns.
Once, and a million!
Once, and a million!
GIACOMO
I’ll be sworn.
POSTHUMUS
No swearing.
If you will swear you have not done‘t, you lie,
And I will kill thee if thou dost deny
Thou’st made me cuckold.
And I will kill thee if thou dost deny
Thou’st made me cuckold.
GlACOMO
I’ll deny nothing.
POSTHUMUS
O that I had her here to tear her limb-meal!
I will go there and do’t i’th’ court, before
Her father. I’ll do something.
I will go there and do’t i’th’ court, before
Her father. I’ll do something.
Exit
FILARIO
Quite besides
The government of patience! You have won.
Let’s follow and pervert the present wrath
He hath against himself.
Let’s follow and pervert the present wrath
He hath against himself.
GIACOMO
With all my heart.
Exeunt
2.5Enter Posthumus
POSTHUMUS
Is there no way for men to be, but women
Must be half-workers? We are bastards all,
And that most venerable man which I
Did call my father was I know not where
When I was stamped. Some coiner with his tools
Made me a counterfeit; yet my mother seemed
The Dian of that time: so doth my wife
The nonpareil of this. O vengeance, vengeance!
Me of my lawful pleasure she restrained,
And prayed me oft forbearance; did it with
A pudency so rosy the sweet view on’t
Might well have warmed old Saturn; that I thought
her
As chaste as unsunned snow. O all the devils!
This yellow Giacomo in an hour—was’t not?—
Or less—at first? Perchance he spoke not, but
Like a full-acorned boar, a German one,
Cried ‘O!’ and mounted; found no opposition
But what he looked for should oppose and she
Should from encounter guard. Could I find out
The woman’s part in me—for there’s no motion
That tends to vice in man but I affirm
It is the woman’s part; be it lying, note it,
The woman’s; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;
Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers;
Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,
Nice longing, slanders, mutability,
All faults that man can name, nay, that hell knows,
Why, hers in part or all, but rather all—
For even to vice
They are not constant, but are changing still
One vice but of a minute old for one
Not half so old as that. I’ll write against them,
Detest them, curse them, yet ’tis greater skill
In a true hate to pray they have their will.
The very devils cannot plague them better.
Must be half-workers? We are bastards all,
And that most venerable man which I
Did call my father was I know not where
When I was stamped. Some coiner with his tools
Made me a counterfeit; yet my mother seemed
The Dian of that time: so doth my wife
The nonpareil of this. O vengeance, vengeance!
Me of my lawful pleasure she restrained,
And prayed me oft forbearance; did it with
A pudency so rosy the sweet view on’t
Might well have warmed old Saturn; that I thought
her
As chaste as unsunned snow. O all the devils!
This yellow Giacomo in an hour—was’t not?—
Or less—at first? Perchance he spoke not, but
Like a full-acorned boar, a German one,
Cried ‘O!’ and mounted; found no opposition
But what he looked for should oppose and she
Should from encounter guard. Could I find out
The woman’s part in me—for there’s no motion
That tends to vice in man but I affirm
It is the woman’s part; be it lying, note it,
The woman’s; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;
Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers;
Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,
Nice longing, slanders, mutability,
All faults that man can name, nay, that hell knows,
Why, hers in part or all, but rather all—
For even to vice
They are not constant, but are changing still
One vice but of a minute old for one
Not half so old as that. I’ll write against them,
Detest them, curse them, yet ’tis greater skill
In a true hate to pray they have their will.
The very devils cannot plague them better.
Exit
⌈
Flourish
.⌉
Enter in state Cymbeline, the Queen, Cloten, and lords at one door, and at another, Caius Lucius and attendants
CYMBELINE
Now say, what would Augustus Caesar with us?
LUCIUS
When Julius Caesar—whose remembrance yet
Lives in men’s eyes, and will to ears and tongues
Be theme and hearing ever—was in this Britain
And conquered it, Cassibelan, thine uncle,
Famous in Caesar’s praises no whit less
Than in his feats deserving it, for him
And his succession granted Rome a tribute,
Yearly three thousand pounds, which by thee lately
Is left untendered.
Lives in men’s eyes, and will to ears and tongues
Be theme and hearing ever—was in this Britain
And conquered it, Cassibelan, thine uncle,
Famous in Caesar’s praises no whit less
Than in his feats deserving it, for him
And his succession granted Rome a tribute,
Yearly three thousand pounds, which by thee lately
Is left untendered.
QUEEN
And, to kill the marvel,
Shall be so ever.
CLOTEN
There will be many Caesars
Ere such another Julius. Britain’s a world
By itself, and we will nothing pay
For wearing our own noses.
By itself, and we will nothing pay
For wearing our own noses.
QUEEN
That opportunity
Which then they had to take from ‘s, to resume
We have again. Remember, sir, my liege,
The kings your ancestors, together with
The natural bravery of your isle, which stands
As Neptune’s park, ribbed and paled in
With banks unscalable and roaring waters,
With sands that will not bear your enemies’ boats,
But suck them up to th’ topmast. A kind of conquest
Caesar made here, but made not here his brag
Of ‘came and saw and overcame’. With shame—
The first that ever touched him—he was carried
From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping,
Poor ignorant baubles, on our terrible seas
Like eggshells moved upon their surges, cracked
As easily ’gainst our rocks; for joy whereof
The famed Cassibelan, who was once at point—
O giglot fortune!—to master Caesar’s sword,
Made Lud’s town with rejoicing fires bright,
And Britons strut with courage.
We have again. Remember, sir, my liege,
The kings your ancestors, together with
The natural bravery of your isle, which stands
As Neptune’s park, ribbed and paled in
With banks unscalable and roaring waters,
With sands that will not bear your enemies’ boats,
But suck them up to th’ topmast. A kind of conquest
Caesar made here, but made not here his brag
Of ‘came and saw and overcame’. With shame—
The first that ever touched him—he was carried
From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping,
Poor ignorant baubles, on our terrible seas
Like eggshells moved upon their surges, cracked
As easily ’gainst our rocks; for joy whereof
The famed Cassibelan, who was once at point—
O giglot fortune!—to master Caesar’s sword,
Made Lud’s town with rejoicing fires bright,
And Britons strut with courage.
CLOTEN Come, there’s no more tribute to be paid. Our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time, and, as I said, there is no more such Caesars. Other of them may have crooked noses, but to owe such straight arms, none.
CYMBELINE Son, let your mother end.
CLOTEN We have yet many among us can grip as hard as Cassibelan. I do not say I am one, but I have a hand. Why tribute? Why should we pay tribute? If Caesar can hide the sun from us with a blanket, or put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for light; else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now.
CYMBELINE (
to Lucius
) You must know,
to Lucius
) You must know,
Till the injurious Romans did extort
This tribute from us we were free. Caesar’s ambition,
Which swelled so much that it did almost stretch
The sides o‘th’ world, against all colour here
Did put the yoke upon ’s, which to shake off
Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon
Ourselves to be. We do say then to Caesar,
Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which
Ordained our laws, whose use the sword of Caesar
Hath too much mangled, whose repair and franchise
Shall by the power we hold be our good deed,
Though Rome be therefore angry. Mulmutius made
our laws,
Who was the first of Britain which did put
His brows within a golden crown and called
Himself a king.
This tribute from us we were free. Caesar’s ambition,
Which swelled so much that it did almost stretch
The sides o‘th’ world, against all colour here
Did put the yoke upon ’s, which to shake off
Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon
Ourselves to be. We do say then to Caesar,
Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which
Ordained our laws, whose use the sword of Caesar
Hath too much mangled, whose repair and franchise
Shall by the power we hold be our good deed,
Though Rome be therefore angry. Mulmutius made
our laws,
Who was the first of Britain which did put
His brows within a golden crown and called
Himself a king.
LUCIUS
I am sorry, Cymbeline,
That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar—
Caesar, that hath more kings his servants than
Thyself domestic officers—thine enemy.
Receive it from me, then: war and confusion
In Caesar’s name pronounce I ’gainst thee. Look
For fury not to be resisted. Thus defied,
I thank thee for myself.
Caesar, that hath more kings his servants than
Thyself domestic officers—thine enemy.
Receive it from me, then: war and confusion
In Caesar’s name pronounce I ’gainst thee. Look
For fury not to be resisted. Thus defied,
I thank thee for myself.
CYMBELINE
Thou art welcome, Caius.
Thy Caesar knighted me; my youth I spent
Much under him; of him I gathered honour,
Which he to seek of me again perforce
Behoves me keep at utterance. I am perfect
That the Pannonians and Dalmatians for
Their liberties are now in arms, a precedent
Which not to read would show the Britons cold;
So Caesar shall not find them.
Much under him; of him I gathered honour,
Which he to seek of me again perforce
Behoves me keep at utterance. I am perfect
That the Pannonians and Dalmatians for
Their liberties are now in arms, a precedent
Which not to read would show the Britons cold;
So Caesar shall not find them.
LUCIUS
Let proof speak.
CLOTEN His majesty bids you welcome. Make pastime with us a day or two or longer. If you seek us afterwards in other terms, you shall find us in our salt-water girdle. If you beat us out of it, it is yours; if you fall in the adventure, our crows shall fare the better for you; and there’s an end.
LUCIUS So, sir.
CYMBELINE
I know your master’s pleasure, and he mine.
All the remain is ‘Welcome’.
All the remain is ‘Welcome’.
⌈
Flourish
.⌉
Exeunt
3.2Flourish
.⌉
Exeunt
Enter Pisanio, reading of a letter
PISANIO
How? Of adultery? Wherefore write you not
What monster’s her accuser? Leonatus,
O master, what a strange infection
Is fall’n into thy ear! What false Italian,
As poisonous tongued as handed, hath prevailed
On thy too ready hearing? Disloyal? No.
She’s punished for her truth, and undergoes,
More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults
As would take in some virtue. O my master,
Thy mind to hers is now as low as were
Thy fortunes. How? That I should murder her,
Upon the love and truth and vows which I
Have made to thy command? I her? Her blood?
If it be so to do good service, never
Let me be counted serviceable. How look I,
That I should seem to lack humanity
So much as this fact comes to? (
Reads
) ‘Do’t. The letter
That I have sent her, by her own command
Shall give thee opportunity.’ O damned paper,
Black as the ink that’s on thee! Senseless bauble,
Art thou a fedary for this act, and look’st
So virgin-like without?
What monster’s her accuser? Leonatus,
O master, what a strange infection
Is fall’n into thy ear! What false Italian,
As poisonous tongued as handed, hath prevailed
On thy too ready hearing? Disloyal? No.
She’s punished for her truth, and undergoes,
More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults
As would take in some virtue. O my master,
Thy mind to hers is now as low as were
Thy fortunes. How? That I should murder her,
Upon the love and truth and vows which I
Have made to thy command? I her? Her blood?
If it be so to do good service, never
Let me be counted serviceable. How look I,
That I should seem to lack humanity
So much as this fact comes to? (
Reads
) ‘Do’t. The letter
That I have sent her, by her own command
Shall give thee opportunity.’ O damned paper,
Black as the ink that’s on thee! Senseless bauble,
Art thou a fedary for this act, and look’st
So virgin-like without?
Enter Innogen
Lo, here she comes.
I am ignorant in what I am commanded.
INNOGEN How now, Pisanio?
PISANIO
Madam, here is a letter from my lord.
INNOGEN
Who, thy lord that is my lord, Leonatus?
O learned indeed were that astronomer
That knew the stars as I his characters—
He’d lay the future open. You good gods,
Let what is here contained relish of love,
Of my lord’s health, of his content—yet not
That we two are asunder; let that grieve him.
Some griefs are med’cinable; that is one of them,
For it doth physic love—of his content
All but in that. Good wax, thy leave. Blest be
You bees that make these locks of counsel! Lovers
And men in dangerous bonds pray not alike;
Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet
You clasp young Cupid’s tables. Good news, gods!
O learned indeed were that astronomer
That knew the stars as I his characters—
He’d lay the future open. You good gods,
Let what is here contained relish of love,
Of my lord’s health, of his content—yet not
That we two are asunder; let that grieve him.
Some griefs are med’cinable; that is one of them,
For it doth physic love—of his content
All but in that. Good wax, thy leave. Blest be
You bees that make these locks of counsel! Lovers
And men in dangerous bonds pray not alike;
Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet
You clasp young Cupid’s tables. Good news, gods!
She opens and reads the letter
’Justice and your father’s wrath, should he take me in
his dominion, could not be so cruel to me as you, O
the dearest of creatures, would even renew me with
your eyes. Take notice that I am in Cambria, at Milford
Haven. What your own love will out of this advise you,
follow. So he wishes you all happiness, that remains
loyal to his vow, and your increasing in love,
his dominion, could not be so cruel to me as you, O
the dearest of creatures, would even renew me with
your eyes. Take notice that I am in Cambria, at Milford
Haven. What your own love will out of this advise you,
follow. So he wishes you all happiness, that remains
loyal to his vow, and your increasing in love,
Leonatus Posthumus.’
O for a horse with wings! Hear‘st thou, Pisanio?
He is at Milford Haven. Read, and tell me
How far ’tis thither. If one of mean affairs
May plod it in a week, why may not I
Glide thither in a day? Then, true Pisanio,
Who long‘st like me to see thy lord, who long’st—
O let me bate—but not like me—yet long‘st
But in a fainter kind—O, not like me,
For mine’s beyond beyond; say, and speak thick—
Love’s counsellor should fill the bores of hearing,
To th’ smothering of the sense—how far it is
To this same blessèd Milford. And by th’ way
Tell me how Wales was made so happy as
T’inherit such a haven. But first of all,
How we may steal from hence; and for the gap
That we shall make in time from our hence-going
Till our return, to excuse; but first, how get hence.
Why should excuse be born or ere begot?
We’ll talk of that hereafter. Prithee speak,
How many score of miles may we well ride
’Twixt hour and hour?
He is at Milford Haven. Read, and tell me
How far ’tis thither. If one of mean affairs
May plod it in a week, why may not I
Glide thither in a day? Then, true Pisanio,
Who long‘st like me to see thy lord, who long’st—
O let me bate—but not like me—yet long‘st
But in a fainter kind—O, not like me,
For mine’s beyond beyond; say, and speak thick—
Love’s counsellor should fill the bores of hearing,
To th’ smothering of the sense—how far it is
To this same blessèd Milford. And by th’ way
Tell me how Wales was made so happy as
T’inherit such a haven. But first of all,
How we may steal from hence; and for the gap
That we shall make in time from our hence-going
Till our return, to excuse; but first, how get hence.
Why should excuse be born or ere begot?
We’ll talk of that hereafter. Prithee speak,
How many score of miles may we well ride
’Twixt hour and hour?
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