William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition (547 page)

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Authors: William Shakespeare

Tags: #Drama, #Literary Criticism, #Shakespeare

BOOK: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition
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PISANIO
Then, madam,
I thought you would not back again.
INNOGEN Most like,
Bringing me here to kill me.
PISANIO
Not so, neither.
But if I were as wise as honest, then
My purpose would prove well. It cannot be
But that my master is abused. Some villain,
Ay, and singular in his art, hath done you both
This cursed injury.
INNOGEN Some Roman courtesan.
PISANIO No, on my life.
I’ll give but notice you are dead, and send him
Some bloody sign of it, for ’tis commanded
I should do so. You shall be missed at court,
And that will well confirm it.
INNOGEN
Why, good fellow,
What shall I do the while, where bide, how live,
Or in my life what comfort when I am
Dead to my husband?
PISANIO
If you’ll back to th’ court—
INNOGEN
No court, no father, nor no more ado
With that harsh, churlish, noble, simple nothing,
That Cloten, whose love suit hath been to me
As fearful as a siege.
PISANIO
If not at court,
Then not in Britain must you bide.
INNOGEN
Where then?
Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night,
Are they not but in Britain? I‘th’ world’s volume
Our Britain seems as of it but not in’t,
In a great pool a swan’s nest. Prithee, think
There’s livers out of Britain.
PISANIO
I am most glad
You think of other place. Th‘ambassador,
Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford Haven
Tomorrow. Now if you could wear a mind
Dark as your fortune is, and but disguise
That which t’appear itself must not yet be
But by self-danger, you should tread a course
Pretty and full of view; yea, haply near
The residence of Posthumus; so nigh, at least,
That though his actions were not visible, yet
Report should render him hourly to your ear
As truly as he moves.
INNOGEN
O, for such means,
Though peril to my modesty, not death on’t,
I would adventure.
PISANIO
Well then, here’s the point:
You must forget to be a woman; change
Command into obedience, fear and niceness—
The handmaids of all women, or more truly
Woman it pretty self—into a waggish courage,
Ready in gibes, quick-answered, saucy and
As quarrelous as the weasel. Nay, you must
Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek,
Exposing it—but O, the harder heart!—
Alack, no remedy—to the greedy touch
Of common-kissing Titan, and forget
Your laboursome and dainty trims wherein
You made great Juno angry.
INNOGEN
Nay, be brief.
I see into thy end, and am almost
A man already.
PISANIO
First, make yourself but like one.
Forethinking this, I have already fit—
’Tis in my cloak-bag—doublet, hat, hose, all
That answer to them. Would you in their serving,
And with what imitation you can borrow
From youth of such a season, fore noble Lucius
Present yourself, desire his service, tell him
Wherein you’re happy—which will make him know
If that his head have ear in music—doubtless
With joy he will embrace you, for he’s honourable,
And, doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad—
You have me, rich, and I will never fail
Beginning nor supplyment.
INNOGEN
Thou art all the comfort
The gods will diet me with. Prithee away.
There’s more to be considered, but we’ll even
All that good time will give us. This attempt
I am soldier to, and will abide it with
A prince’s courage. Away, I prithee.
PISANIO
Well, madam, we must take a short farewell
Lest, being missed, I be suspected of
Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress,
Here is a box. I had it from the Queen.
What’s in’t is precious. If you are sick at sea
Or stomach-qualmed at land, a dram of this
Will drive away distemper. To some shade,
And fit you to your manhood. May the gods
Direct you to the best.
INNOGEN
Amen. I thank thee.
Exeunt severally
3.5

Flourish
.⌉
Enter Cymbeline, the Queen, Cloten, Lucius, and lords
 
CYMBELINE (
to Lucius
)
Thus far, and so farewell.
LUCIUS Thanks, royal sir.
My emperor hath wrote I must from hence;
And am right sorry that I must report ye
My master’s enemy.
CYMBELINE
Our subjects, sir,
Will not endure his yoke, and for ourself
To show less sovereignty than they must needs
Appear unkinglike.
LUCIUS
So, sir, I desire of you
A conduct over land to Milford Haven.
(
To the Queen
) Madam, all joy befall your grace, ⌈
to Cloten
⌉ and you.
CYMBELINE
My lords, you are appointed for that office.
The due of honour in no point omit.
So farewell, noble Lucius.
LUCIUS
Your hand, my lord.
CLOTEN
Receive it friendly, but from this time forth
I wear it as your enemy.
LUCIUS
Sir, the event
Is yet to name the winner. Fare you well.
CYMBELINE
Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords,
Till he have crossed the Severn. Happiness.
Exeunt Lucius and lords
QUEEN
He goes hence frowning, but it honours us
That we have given him cause.
CLOTEN
’Tis all the better.
Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it.
CYMBELINE
Lucius hath wrote already to the Emperor
How it goes here. It fits us therefore ripely
Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness.
The powers that he already hath in Gallia
Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves
His war for Britain.
QUEEN
’Tis not sleepy business,
But must be looked to speedily and strongly.
CYMBELINE
Our expectation that it would be thus
Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen,
Where is our daughter? She hath not appeared
Before the Roman, nor to us hath tendered
The duty of the day. She looks us like
A thing more made of malice than of duty.
We have noted it. Call her before us, for
We have been too slight in sufferance.
Exit one or more
QUEEN Royal Sir,
Since the exile of Posthumus most retired
Hath her life been, the cure ,whereof, my lord,
’Tis time must do. Beseech your majesty
Forbear sharp speeches to her. She’s a lady
So tender of rebukes that words are strokes,
And strokes death to her.
Enter a Messenger
 
CYMBELINE
Where is she, sir? How
Can her contempt be answered?
MESSENGER
Please you, sir,
Her chambers are all locked, and there’s no answer
That will be given to th’ loud’st of noise we make.
QUEEN
My lord, when last I went to visit her
She prayed me to excuse her keeping close,
Whereto constrained by her infirmity,
She should that duty leave unpaid to you
Which daily she was bound to proffer. This
She wished me to make known, but our great
court
Made me to blame in memory.
CYMBELINE
Her doors locked?
Not seen of late? Grant heavens that which I
Fear prove false.
Exit
QUEEN
on, I say, follow the King.
CLOTEN
That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant,
I have not seen these two days.
QUEEN
Go, look after.
Exit Cloten
Pisanio, thou that stand’st so for Posthumus!
He hath a drug of mine. I pray his absence
Proceed by swallowing that, for he believes
It is a thing most precious. But for her,
Where is she gone? Haply despair hath seized her,
Or, winged with fervour of her love, she’s flown
To her desired Posthumus. Gone she is
To death or to dishonour, and my end
Can make good use of either. She being down,
I have the placing of the British crown.
Enter Cloten
 
How now, my son?
CLOTEN
’Tis certain she is fled.
Go in and cheer the King. He rages, none
Dare come about him.
QUEEN
All the better. May
This night forestall him of the coming day.
Exit
CLOTEN
I love and hate her. For she’s fair and royal,
And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite
Than lady, ladies, woman—from every one
The best she hath, and she, of all compounded,
Outsells them all—I love her therefore; but
Disdaining me, and throwing favours on
The low Posthumus, slanders so her judgement
That what’s else rare is choked; and in that point
I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed,
To be revenged upon her. For when fools
Shall—
Enter Pisanio
 
Who is here? What, are you packing, sirrah?
Come hither. Ah, you precious pander! Villain,
Where is thy lady? In a word, or else
Thou art straightway with the fiends.
PISANIO
O good my lord!
CLOTEN
Where is thy lady?—or, by Jupiter,
I will not ask again. Close villain,
I’ll have this secret from thy tongue or rip
Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus,
From whose so many weights of baseness cannot
A dram of worth be drawn?
PISANIO
Alas, my lord,
How can she be with him? When was she missed?
He is in Rome.
CLOTEN
Where is she, sir? Come nearer.
No farther halting. Satisfy me home
What is become of her.
PISANIO O my all-worthy lord!
CLOTEN All-worthy villain,
Discover where thy mistress is at once,
At the next word. No more of ‘worthy lord’.
Speak, or thy silence on the instant is
Thy condemnation and thy death.
PISANIO
Then, sir,
This paper is the history of my knowledge
Touching her flight.
He gives Cloten a letter
 
CLOTEN
Let’s see’t. I will pursue her
Even to Augustus’ throne.
PISANIO ⌈
aside

Or this or perish.
She’s far enough, and what he learns by this
May prove his travel, not her danger.
CLOTEN Hum!
PISANIO (
aside
)
I’ll write to my lord she’s dead. O Innogen,
Safe mayst thou wander, safe return again!
CLOTEN
Sirrah, is this letter true?
PISANIO
Sir, as I think.
CLOTEN It is Posthumus’ hand; I know’t. Sirrah, if thou wouldst not be a villain but do me true service, undergo those employments wherein I should have cause to use thee with a serious industry—that is, what villainy soe’er I bid thee do, to perform it directly and truly—I would think thee an honest man. Thou shouldst neither want my means for thy relief nor my voice for thy preferment.
PISANIO Well, my good lord.
CLOTEN Wilt thou serve me? For since patiently and constantly thou hast stuck to the bare fortune of that beggar Posthumus, thou canst not in the course of gratitude but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou serve me? 121
PISANIO Sir, I will.
CLOTEN Give me thy hand. Here’s my purse. Hast any of thy late master’s garments in thy possession?
PISANIO I have, my lord, at my lodging the same suit he wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress.

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