Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus and the Officer

ANTIPHOLUS

Fear me not, man; I will not break away:
I'll give thee, ere I leave thee, so much money,
To warrant thee, as I am 'rested for.
My wife is in a wayward mood to-day,
And will not lightly trust the messenger
That I should be attach'd in Ephesus,
I tell you, 'twill sound harshly in her ears.
Enter DROMIO of Ephesus with a rope's-end
Here comes my man; I think he brings the money.
How now, sir! have you that I sent you for?

Here's that, I warrant you, will pay them all.
ANTIPHOLUS

But where's the money?

Why, sir, I gave the money for the rope.
ANTIPHOLUS

Five hundred ducats, villain, for a rope?

I'll serve you, sir, five hundred at the rate.
ANTIPHOLUS

To what end did I bid thee hie thee home?

To a rope's-end, sir; and to that end am I returned.
ANTIPHOLUS

And to that end, sir, I will welcome you.
Beating him

Good sir, be patient.

Nay, 'tis for me to be patient; I am in adversity.

Good, now, hold thy tongue.

Nay, rather persuade him to hold his hands.
ANTIPHOLUS

Thou whoreson, senseless villain!

I would I were senseless, sir, that I might not feel
your blows.

Thou art sensible in nothing but blows, and so is an
ass.

I am an ass, indeed; you may prove it by my long
ears. I have served him from the hour of my
nativity to this instant, and have nothing at his
hands for my service but blows. When I am cold, he
heats me with beating; when I am warm, he cools me
with beating; I am waked with it when I sleep;
raised with it when I sit; driven out of doors with
it when I go from home; welcomed home with it when
I return; nay, I bear it on my shoulders, as a
beggar wont her brat; and, I think when he hath
lamed me, I shall beg with it from door to door.
ANTIPHOLUS

Come, go along; my wife is coming yonder.
Enter ADRIANA, LUCIANA, the Courtezan, and PINCH

Mistress, 'respice finem,' respect your end; or
rather, the prophecy like the parrot, 'beware the
rope's-end.'
ANTIPHOLUS

Wilt thou still talk?
Beating him

How say you now? is not your husband mad?

His incivility confirms no less.
Good Doctor Pinch, you are a conjurer;
Establish him in his true sense again,
And I will please you what you will demand.

Alas, how fiery and how sharp he looks!

Mark how he trembles in his ecstasy!

Give me your hand and let me feel your pulse.
ANTIPHOLUS

There is my hand, and let it feel your ear.
Striking him

I charge thee, Satan, housed within this man,
To yield possession to my holy prayers
And to thy state of darkness hie thee straight:
I conjure thee by all the saints in heaven!
ANTIPHOLUS

Peace, doting wizard, peace! I am not mad.

O, that thou wert not, poor distressed soul!
ANTIPHOLUS

You minion, you, are these your customers?
Did this companion with the saffron face
Revel and feast it at my house to-day,
Whilst upon me the guilty doors were shut
And I denied to enter in my house?

O husband, God doth know you dined at home;
Where would you had remain'd until this time,
Free from these slanders and this open shame!
ANTIPHOLUS

Dined at home! Thou villain, what sayest thou?

Sir, sooth to say, you did not dine at home.
ANTIPHOLUS

Were not my doors lock'd up and I shut out?

Perdie, your doors were lock'd and you shut out.
ANTIPHOLUS

And did not she herself revile me there?

Sans fable, she herself reviled you there.
ANTIPHOLUS

Did not her kitchen-maid rail, taunt, and scorn me?

Certes, she did; the kitchen-vestal scorn'd you.
ANTIPHOLUS

And did not I in rage depart from thence?

In verity you did; my bones bear witness,
That since have felt the vigour of his rage.

Is't good to soothe him in these contraries?

It is no shame: the fellow finds his vein,
And yielding to him humours well his frenzy.
ANTIPHOLUS

Thou hast suborn'd the goldsmith to arrest me.

Alas, I sent you money to redeem you,
By Dromio here, who came in haste for it.

Money by me! heart and goodwill you might;
But surely master, not a rag of money.
ANTIPHOLUS

Went'st not thou to her for a purse of ducats?

He came to me and I deliver'd it.

And I am witness with her that she did.

God and the rope-maker bear me witness
That I was sent for nothing but a rope!

Mistress, both man and master is possess'd;
I know it by their pale and deadly looks:
They must be bound and laid in some dark room.
ANTIPHOLUS

Say, wherefore didst thou lock me forth to-day?
And why dost thou deny the bag of gold?

I did not, gentle husband, lock thee forth.

And, gentle master, I received no gold;
But I confess, sir, that we were lock'd out.

Dissembling villain, thou speak'st false in both.
ANTIPHOLUS

Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all;
And art confederate with a damned pack
To make a loathsome abject scorn of me:
But with these nails I'll pluck out these false eyes
That would behold in me this shameful sport.
Enter three or four, and offer to bind him. He strives

O, bind him, bind him! let him not come near me.

More company! The fiend is strong within him.

Ay me, poor man, how pale and wan he looks!
ANTIPHOLUS

What, will you murder me? Thou gaoler, thou,
I am thy prisoner: wilt thou suffer them
To make a rescue?

Masters, let him go
He is my prisoner, and you shall not have him.

Go bind this man, for he is frantic too.
They offer to bind Dromio of Ephesus

What wilt thou do, thou peevish officer?
Hast thou delight to see a wretched man
Do outrage and displeasure to himself?

He is my prisoner: if I let him go,
The debt he owes will be required of me.

I will discharge thee ere I go from thee:
Bear me forthwith unto his creditor,
And, knowing how the debt grows, I will pay it.
Good master doctor, see him safe convey'd
Home to my house. O most unhappy day!
ANTIPHOLUS

O most unhappy strumpet!

Master, I am here entered in bond for you.
ANTIPHOLUS

Out on thee, villain! wherefore dost thou mad me?

Will you be bound for nothing? be mad, good master:
cry 'The devil!'

God help, poor souls, how idly do they talk!

Go bear him hence. Sister, go you with me.
Exeunt all but Adriana, Luciana, Officer and Courtezan
Say now, whose suit is he arrested at?

One Angelo, a goldsmith: do you know him?

I know the man. What is the sum he owes?

Two hundred ducats.

Say, how grows it due?

Due for a chain your husband had of him.

He did bespeak a chain for me, but had it not.

When as your husband all in rage to-day
Came to my house and took away my ring--
The ring I saw upon his finger now--
Straight after did I meet him with a chain.

It may be so, but I did never see it.
Come, gaoler, bring me where the goldsmith is:
I long to know the truth hereof at large.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse with his rapier drawn, and DROMIO of Syracuse

God, for thy mercy! they are loose again.

And come with naked swords.
Let's call more help to have them bound again.

Away! they'll kill us.
Exeunt all but Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio of Syracuse
ANTIPHOLUS

I see these witches are afraid of swords.

She that would be your wife now ran from you.
ANTIPHOLUS

Come to the Centaur; fetch our stuff from thence:
I long that we were safe and sound aboard.

Faith, stay here this night; they will surely do us
no harm: you saw they speak us fair, give us gold:
methinks they are such a gentle nation that, but for
the mountain of mad flesh that claims marriage of
me, I could find in my heart to stay here still and
turn witch.
ANTIPHOLUS

I will not stay to-night for all the town;
Therefore away, to get our stuff aboard.
Exeunt

Enter Second Merchant and ANGELO

I am sorry, sir, that I have hinder'd you;
But, I protest, he had the chain of me,
Though most dishonestly he doth deny it.

How is the man esteemed here in the city?

Of very reverend reputation, sir,
Of credit infinite, highly beloved,
Second to none that lives here in the city:
His word might bear my wealth at any time.

Speak softly; yonder, as I think, he walks.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse and DROMIO of Syracuse

'Tis so; and that self chain about his neck
Which he forswore most monstrously to have.
Good sir, draw near to me, I'll speak to him.
Signior Antipholus, I wonder much
That you would put me to this shame and trouble;
And, not without some scandal to yourself,
With circumstance and oaths so to deny
This chain which now you wear so openly:
Beside the charge, the shame, imprisonment,
You have done wrong to this my honest friend,
Who, but for staying on our controversy,
Had hoisted sail and put to sea to-day:
This chain you had of me; can you deny it?
ANTIPHOLUS

I think I had; I never did deny it.

Yes, that you did, sir, and forswore it too.
ANTIPHOLUS

Who heard me to deny it or forswear it?

These ears of mine, thou know'st did hear thee.
Fie on thee, wretch! 'tis pity that thou livest
To walk where any honest man resort.
ANTIPHOLUS

Thou art a villain to impeach me thus:
I'll prove mine honour and mine honesty
Against thee presently, if thou darest stand.

I dare, and do defy thee for a villain.
They draw
Enter ADRIANA, LUCIANA, the Courtezan, and others

Hold, hurt him not, for God's sake! he is mad.
Some get within him, take his sword away:
Bind Dromio too, and bear them to my house.

Run, master, run; for God's sake, take a house!
This is some priory. In, or we are spoil'd!
Exeunt Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio of Syracuse to the Priory
Enter the Lady Abbess, AEMILIA

Be quiet, people. Wherefore throng you hither?

To fetch my poor distracted husband hence.
Let us come in, that we may bind him fast
And bear him home for his recovery.

I knew he was not in his perfect wits.

I am sorry now that I did draw on him.

How long hath this possession held the man?

This week he hath been heavy, sour, sad,
And much different from the man he was;
But till this afternoon his passion
Ne'er brake into extremity of rage.

Hath he not lost much wealth by wreck of sea?
Buried some dear friend? Hath not else his eye
Stray'd his affection in unlawful love?
A sin prevailing much in youthful men,
Who give their eyes the liberty of gazing.
Which of these sorrows is he subject to?

To none of these, except it be the last;
Namely, some love that drew him oft from home.

You should for that have reprehended him.

Why, so I did.

Ay, but not rough enough.

As roughly as my modesty would let me.

Haply, in private.

And in assemblies too.

Ay, but not enough.

It was the copy of our conference:
In bed he slept not for my urging it;
At board he fed not for my urging it;
Alone, it was the subject of my theme;
In company I often glanced it;
Still did I tell him it was vile and bad.

And thereof came it that the man was mad.
The venom clamours of a jealous woman
Poisons more deadly than a mad dog's tooth.
It seems his sleeps were hinder'd by thy railing,
And therefore comes it that his head is light.
Thou say'st his meat was sauced with thy upbraidings:
Unquiet meals make ill digestions;
Thereof the raging fire of fever bred;
And what's a fever but a fit of madness?
Thou say'st his sports were hinderd by thy brawls:
Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue
But moody and dull melancholy,
Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair,
And at her heels a huge infectious troop
Of pale distemperatures and foes to life?
In food, in sport and life-preserving rest
To be disturb'd, would mad or man or beast:
The consequence is then thy jealous fits
Have scared thy husband from the use of wits.

She never reprehended him but mildly,
When he demean'd himself rough, rude and wildly.
Why bear you these rebukes and answer not?

She did betray me to my own reproof.
Good people enter and lay hold on him.

No, not a creature enters in my house.

Then let your servants bring my husband forth.

Neither: he took this place for sanctuary,
And it shall privilege him from your hands
Till I have brought him to his wits again,
Or lose my labour in assaying it.

I will attend my husband, be his nurse,
Diet his sickness, for it is my office,
And will have no attorney but myself;
And therefore let me have him home with me.

Be patient; for I will not let him stir
Till I have used the approved means I have,
With wholesome syrups, drugs and holy prayers,
To make of him a formal man again:
It is a branch and parcel of mine oath,
A charitable duty of my order.
Therefore depart and leave him here with me.

I will not hence and leave my husband here:
And ill it doth beseem your holiness
To separate the husband and the wife.

Be quiet and depart: thou shalt not have him.
Exit

Complain unto the duke of this indignity.

Come, go: I will fall prostrate at his feet
And never rise until my tears and prayers
Have won his grace to come in person hither
And take perforce my husband from the abbess.

By this, I think, the dial points at five:
Anon, I'm sure, the duke himself in person
Comes this way to the melancholy vale,
The place of death and sorry execution,
Behind the ditches of the abbey here.

Upon what cause?

To see a reverend Syracusian merchant,
Who put unluckily into this bay
Against the laws and statutes of this town,
Beheaded publicly for his offence.

See where they come: we will behold his death.

Kneel to the duke before he pass the abbey.
Enter DUKE SOLINUS, attended; AEGEON bareheaded; with the Headsman and other Officers

Yet once again proclaim it publicly,
If any friend will pay the sum for him,
He shall not die; so much we tender him.

Justice, most sacred duke, against the abbess!

She is a virtuous and a reverend lady:
It cannot be that she hath done thee wrong.

May it please your grace, Antipholus, my husband,
Whom I made lord of me and all I had,
At your important letters,--this ill day
A most outrageous fit of madness took him;
That desperately he hurried through the street,
With him his bondman, all as mad as he--
Doing displeasure to the citizens
By rushing in their houses, bearing thence
Rings, jewels, any thing his rage did like.
Once did I get him bound and sent him home,
Whilst to take order for the wrongs I went,
That here and there his fury had committed.
Anon, I wot not by what strong escape,
He broke from those that had the guard of him;
And with his mad attendant and himself,
Each one with ireful passion, with drawn swords,
Met us again and madly bent on us,
Chased us away; till, raising of more aid,
We came again to bind them. Then they fled
Into this abbey, whither we pursued them:
And here the abbess shuts the gates on us
And will not suffer us to fetch him out,
Nor send him forth that we may bear him hence.
Therefore, most gracious duke, with thy command
Let him be brought forth and borne hence for help.

Long since thy husband served me in my wars,
And I to thee engaged a prince's word,
When thou didst make him master of thy bed,
To do him all the grace and good I could.
Go, some of you, knock at the abbey-gate
And bid the lady abbess come to me.
I will determine this before I stir.
Enter a Servant

O mistress, mistress, shift and save yourself!
My master and his man are both broke loose,
Beaten the maids a-row and bound the doctor
Whose beard they have singed off with brands of fire;
And ever, as it blazed, they threw on him
Great pails of puddled mire to quench the hair:
My master preaches patience to him and the while
His man with scissors nicks him like a fool,
And sure, unless you send some present help,
Between them they will kill the conjurer.

Peace, fool! thy master and his man are here,
And that is false thou dost report to us.

Mistress, upon my life, I tell you true;
I have not breathed almost since I did see it.
He cries for you, and vows, if he can take you,
To scorch your face and to disfigure you.
Cry within
Hark, hark! I hear him, mistress. fly, be gone!

Come, stand by me; fear nothing. Guard with halberds!

Ay me, it is my husband! Witness you,
That he is borne about invisible:
Even now we housed him in the abbey here;
And now he's there, past thought of human reason.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus and DROMIO of Ephesus
ANTIPHOLUS

Justice, most gracious duke, O, grant me justice!
Even for the service that long since I did thee,
When I bestrid thee in the wars and took
Deep scars to save thy life; even for the blood
That then I lost for thee, now grant me justice.

Unless the fear of death doth make me dote,
I see my son Antipholus and Dromio.
ANTIPHOLUS

Justice, sweet prince, against that woman there!
She whom thou gavest to me to be my wife,
That hath abused and dishonour'd me
Even in the strength and height of injury!
Beyond imagination is the wrong
That she this day hath shameless thrown on me.

Discover how, and thou shalt find me just.
ANTIPHOLUS

This day, great duke, she shut the doors upon me,
While she with harlots feasted in my house.

A grievous fault! Say, woman, didst thou so?

No, my good lord: myself, he and my sister
To-day did dine together. So befall my soul
As this is false he burdens me withal!

Ne'er may I look on day, nor sleep on night,
But she tells to your highness simple truth!

O perjured woman! They are both forsworn:
In this the madman justly chargeth them.
ANTIPHOLUS

My liege, I am advised what I say,
Neither disturbed with the effect of wine,
Nor heady-rash, provoked with raging ire,
Albeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad.
This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner:
That goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with her,
Could witness it, for he was with me then;
Who parted with me to go fetch a chain,
Promising to bring it to the Porpentine,
Where Balthazar and I did dine together.
Our dinner done, and he not coming thither,
I went to seek him: in the street I met him
And in his company that gentleman.
There did this perjured goldsmith swear me down
That I this day of him received the chain,
Which, God he knows, I saw not: for the which
He did arrest me with an officer.
I did obey, and sent my peasant home
For certain ducats: he with none return'd
Then fairly I bespoke the officer
To go in person with me to my house.
By the way we met
My wife, her sister, and a rabble more
Of vile confederates. Along with them
They brought one Pinch, a hungry lean-faced villain,
A mere anatomy, a mountebank,
A threadbare juggler and a fortune-teller,
A needy, hollow-eyed, sharp-looking wretch,
A dead-looking man: this pernicious slave,
Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer,
And, gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse,
And with no face, as 'twere, outfacing me,
Cries out, I was possess'd. Then all together
They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence
And in a dark and dankish vault at home
There left me and my man, both bound together;
Till, gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder,
I gain'd my freedom, and immediately
Ran hither to your grace; whom I beseech
To give me ample satisfaction
For these deep shames and great indignities.

My lord, in truth, thus far I witness with him,
That he dined not at home, but was lock'd out.

But had he such a chain of thee or no?

He had, my lord: and when he ran in here,
These people saw the chain about his neck.

Besides, I will be sworn these ears of mine
Heard you confess you had the chain of him
After you first forswore it on the mart:
And thereupon I drew my sword on you;
And then you fled into this abbey here,
From whence, I think, you are come by miracle.
ANTIPHOLUS

I never came within these abbey-walls,
Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me:
I never saw the chain, so help me Heaven!
And this is false you burden me withal.

Why, what an intricate impeach is this!
I think you all have drunk of Circe's cup.
If here you housed him, here he would have been;
If he were mad, he would not plead so coldly:
You say he dined at home; the goldsmith here
Denies that saying. Sirrah, what say you?

Sir, he dined with her there, at the Porpentine.

He did, and from my finger snatch'd that ring.
ANTIPHOLUS

'Tis true, my liege; this ring I had of her.

Saw'st thou him enter at the abbey here?

As sure, my liege, as I do see your grace.

Why, this is strange. Go call the abbess hither.
I think you are all mated or stark mad.
Exit one to Abbess

Most mighty duke, vouchsafe me speak a word:
Haply I see a friend will save my life
And pay the sum that may deliver me.

Speak freely, Syracusian, what thou wilt.

Is not your name, sir, call'd Antipholus?
And is not that your bondman, Dromio?

Within this hour I was his bondman sir,
But he, I thank him, gnaw'd in two my cords:
Now am I Dromio and his man unbound.

I am sure you both of you remember me.

Ourselves we do remember, sir, by you;
For lately we were bound, as you are now
You are not Pinch's patient, are you, sir?

Why look you strange on me? you know me well.

I never saw you in my life till now.

O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last,
And careful hours with time's deformed hand
Have written strange defeatures in my face:
But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?
ANTIPHOLUS

Neither.

Dromio, nor thou?

No, trust me, sir, nor I.

I am sure thou dost.

Ay, sir, but I am sure I do not; and whatsoever a
man denies, you are now bound to believe him.

Not know my voice! O time's extremity,
Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poor tongue
In seven short years, that here my only son
Knows not my feeble key of untuned cares?
Though now this grained face of mine be hid
In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow,
And all the conduits of my blood froze up,
Yet hath my night of life some memory,
My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left,
My dull deaf ears a little use to hear:
All these old witnesses--I cannot err--
Tell me thou art my son Antipholus.
ANTIPHOLUS

I never saw my father in my life.

But seven years since, in Syracusa, boy,
Thou know'st we parted: but perhaps, my son,
Thou shamest to acknowledge me in misery.
ANTIPHOLUS

The duke and all that know me in the city
Can witness with me that it is not so
I ne'er saw Syracusa in my life.

I tell thee, Syracusian, twenty years
Have I been patron to Antipholus,
During which time he ne'er saw Syracusa:
I see thy age and dangers make thee dote.
Re-enter AEMILIA, with ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse and DROMIO of Syracuse

Most mighty duke, behold a man much wrong'd.
All gather to see them

I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive me.

One of these men is Genius to the other;
And so of these. Which is the natural man,
And which the spirit? who deciphers them?

I, sir, am Dromio; command him away.

I, sir, am Dromio; pray, let me stay.
ANTIPHOLUS

AEgeon art thou not? or else his ghost?

O, my old master! who hath bound him here?

Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds
And gain a husband by his liberty.
Speak, old AEgeon, if thou be'st the man
That hadst a wife once call'd AEmilia
That bore thee at a burden two fair sons:
O, if thou be'st the same AEgeon, speak,
And speak unto the same AEmilia!

If I dream not, thou art AEmilia:
If thou art she, tell me where is that son
That floated with thee on the fatal raft?

By men of Epidamnum he and I
And the twin Dromio all were taken up;
But by and by rude fishermen of Corinth
By force took Dromio and my son from them
And me they left with those of Epidamnum.
What then became of them I cannot tell
I to this fortune that you see me in.

Why, here begins his morning story right;
These two Antipholuses, these two so like,
And these two Dromios, one in semblance,--
Besides her urging of her wreck at sea,--
These are the parents to these children,
Which accidentally are met together.
Antipholus, thou camest from Corinth first?
ANTIPHOLUS

No, sir, not I; I came from Syracuse.

Stay, stand apart; I know not which is which.
ANTIPHOLUS

I came from Corinth, my most gracious lord,--

And I with him.
ANTIPHOLUS

Brought to this town by that most famous warrior,
Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle.

Which of you two did dine with me to-day?
ANTIPHOLUS

I, gentle mistress.

And are not you my husband?
ANTIPHOLUS

No; I say nay to that.
ANTIPHOLUS

And so do I; yet did she call me so:
And this fair gentlewoman, her sister here,
Did call me brother.
To Luciana
What I told you then,
I hope I shall have leisure to make good;
If this be not a dream I see and hear.

That is the chain, sir, which you had of me.
ANTIPHOLUS

I think it be, sir; I deny it not.
ANTIPHOLUS

And you, sir, for this chain arrested me.

I think I did, sir; I deny it not.

I sent you money, sir, to be your bail,
By Dromio; but I think he brought it not.

No, none by me.
ANTIPHOLUS

This purse of ducats I received from you,
And Dromio, my man, did bring them me.
I see we still did meet each other's man,
And I was ta'en for him, and he for me,
And thereupon these errors are arose.
ANTIPHOLUS

These ducats pawn I for my father here.

It shall not need; thy father hath his life.

Sir, I must have that diamond from you.
ANTIPHOLUS

There, take it; and much thanks for my good cheer.

Renowned duke, vouchsafe to take the pains
To go with us into the abbey here
And hear at large discoursed all our fortunes:
And all that are assembled in this place,
That by this sympathized one day's error
Have suffer'd wrong, go keep us company,
And we shall make full satisfaction.
Thirty-three years have I but gone in travail
Of you, my sons; and till this present hour
My heavy burden ne'er delivered.
The duke, my husband and my children both,
And you the calendars of their nativity,
Go to a gossips' feast and go with me;
After so long grief, such festivity!

With all my heart, I'll gossip at this feast.
Exeunt all but Antipholus of Syracuse, Antipholus of Ephesus, Dromio of Syracuse and Dromio of Ephesus

Master, shall I fetch your stuff from shipboard?
ANTIPHOLUS

Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou embark'd?

Your goods that lay at host, sir, in the Centaur.
ANTIPHOLUS

He speaks to me. I am your master, Dromio:
Come, go with us; we'll look to that anon:
Embrace thy brother there; rejoice with him.
Exeunt Antipholus of Syracuse and Antipholus of Ephesus

There is a fat friend at your master's house,
That kitchen'd me for you to-day at dinner:
She now shall be my sister, not my wife.

Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother:
I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth.
Will you walk in to see their gossiping?

Not I, sir; you are my elder.

That's a question: how shall we try it?

We'll draw cuts for the senior: till then lead thou first.

Nay, then, thus:
We came into the world like brother and brother;
And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another.
Exeunt

Enter two Gentlemen

You do not meet a man but frowns: our bloods
No more obey the heavens than our courtiers
Still seem as does the king.

But what's the matter?

His daughter, and the heir of's kingdom, whom
He purposed to his wife's sole son--a widow
That late he married--hath referr'd herself
Unto a poor but worthy gentleman: she's wedded;
Her husband banish'd; she imprison'd: all
Is outward sorrow; though I think the king
Be touch'd at very heart.

None but the king?

He that hath lost her too; so is the queen,
That most desired the match; but not a courtier,
Although they wear their faces to the bent
Of the king's look's, hath a heart that is not
Glad at the thing they scowl at.

And why so?

He that hath miss'd the princess is a thing
Too bad for bad report: and he that hath her--
I mean, that married her, alack, good man!
And therefore banish'd--is a creature such
As, to seek through the regions of the earth
For one his like, there would be something failing
In him that should compare. I do not think
So fair an outward and such stuff within
Endows a man but he.

You speak him far.

I do extend him, sir, within himself,
Crush him together rather than unfold
His measure duly.

What's his name and birth?

I cannot delve him to the root: his father
Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour
Against the Romans with Cassibelan,
But had his titles by Tenantius whom
He served with glory and admired success,
So gain'd the sur-addition Leonatus;
And had, besides this gentleman in question,
Two other sons, who in the wars o' the time
Died with their swords in hand; for which
their father,
Then old and fond of issue, took such sorrow
That he quit being, and his gentle lady,
Big of this gentleman our theme, deceased
As he was born. The king he takes the babe
To his protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus,
Breeds him and makes him of his bed-chamber,
Puts to him all the learnings that his time
Could make him the receiver of; which he took,
As we do air, fast as 'twas minister'd,
And in's spring became a harvest, lived in court--
Which rare it is to do--most praised, most loved,
A sample to the youngest, to the more mature
A glass that feated them, and to the graver
A child that guided dotards; to his mistress,
For whom he now is banish'd, her own price
Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue;
By her election may be truly read
What kind of man he is.

I honour him
Even out of your report. But, pray you, tell me,
Is she sole child to the king?

His only child.
He had two sons: if this be worth your hearing,
Mark it: the eldest of them at three years old,
I' the swathing-clothes the other, from their nursery
Were stol'n, and to this hour no guess in knowledge
Which way they went.

How long is this ago?

Some twenty years.

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

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

I do well believe you.

We must forbear: here comes the gentleman,
The queen, and princess.
Exeunt
Enter the QUEEN, POSTHUMUS LEONATUS, and IMOGEN

No, be assured you shall not find me, daughter,
After the slander of most stepmothers,
Evil-eyed 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 the 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.

Please your highness,
I will from hence to-day.

You know the peril.
I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying
The pangs of barr'd affections, though the king
Hath charged you should not speak together.
Exit

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 reserved 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.

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

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

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

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.

How, how! another?
You gentle gods, give me but this I have,
And sear up my embracements from a next
With bonds of death!
Putting on the ring
Remain, remain thou here
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.
Putting a bracelet upon her arm

O the gods!
When shall we see again?
Enter CYMBELINE and Lords

Alack, the king!

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.

The gods protect you!
And bless the good remainders of the court! I am gone.
Exit

There cannot be a pinch in death
More sharp than this is.

O disloyal thing,
That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap'st
A year's age on me.

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.

Past grace? obedience?

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

That mightst have had the sole son of my queen!

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

Thou took'st a beggar; wouldst have made my throne
A seat for baseness.

No; I rather added
A lustre to it.

O thou vile one!

Sir,
It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus:
You bred him as my playfellow, and he is
A man worth any woman, overbuys me
Almost the sum he pays.

What, art thou mad?

Almost, sir: heaven restore me! Would I were
A neat-herd's daughter, and my Leonatus
Our neighbour shepherd's son!

Thou foolish thing!
Re-enter QUEEN
They were again together: you have done
Not after our command. Away with her,
And pen her up.

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

Nay, let her languish
A drop of blood a day; and, being aged,
Die of this folly!
Exeunt CYMBELINE and Lords

Fie! you must give way.
Enter PISANIO
Here is your servant. How now, sir! What news?

My lord your son drew on my master.

Ha!
No harm, I trust, is done?

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.

I am very glad on't.

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?

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 pleased you to employ me.

This hath been
Your faithful servant: I dare lay mine honour
He will remain so.

I humbly thank your highness.

Pray, walk awhile.

About some half-hour hence,
I pray you, speak with me: you shall at least
Go see my lord aboard: for this time leave me.
Exeunt

Enter CLOTEN and two Lords

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.

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

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

Hurt him! his body's a passable carcass, if he be
not hurt: it is a thoroughfare for steel, if it be not hurt.

[Aside] His steel was in debt; it went o' the
backside the town.

The villain would not stand me.

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

Stand you! You have land enough of your own: but
he added to your having; gave you some ground.

[Aside] As many inches as you have oceans. Puppies!

I would they had not come between us.

[Aside] So would I, till you had measured how long
a fool you were upon the ground.

And that she should love this fellow and refuse me!

[Aside] If it be a sin to make a true election, she
is damned.

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.

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

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

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

You'll go with us?

I'll attend your lordship.

Nay, come, let's go together.

Well, my lord.
Exeunt

Enter IMOGEN and PISANIO

I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' the haven,
And question'dst every sail: if he should write
And not have it, 'twere a paper lost,
As offer'd mercy is. What was the last
That he spake to thee?

It was his queen, his queen!

Then waved his handkerchief?

And kiss'd it, madam.

Senseless Linen! happier therein than I!
And that was all?

No, madam; for so long
As he could make me with this eye or ear
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.

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

Madam, so I did.

I would have broke mine eye-strings; crack'd them, but
To look upon him, till the diminution
Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle,
Nay, follow'd 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?

Be assured, madam,
With his next vantage.

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 charged him,
At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight,
To 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

The queen, madam,
Desires your highness' company.

Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch'd.
I will attend the queen.

Madam, I shall.
Exeunt

Enter PHILARIO, IACHIMO, a Frenchman, a Dutchman, and a Spaniard

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 looked 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.

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

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

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.

And then his banishment.

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?

His father and I were soldiers together; to whom I
have been often bound for no less than my life.
Here comes the Briton: let him be so entertained
amongst you as suits, with gentlemen of your
knowing, to a stranger of his quality.
Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS
I beseech you all, be better known to this
gentleman; whom I commend to you as a noble friend
of mine: how worthy he is I will leave to appear
hereafter, rather than story him in his own hearing.

Sir, we have known together in Orleans.

Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies,
which I will be ever to pay and yet pay still.

Sir, you o'er-rate my poor kindness: I was glad I
did atone my countryman and you; it had been pity
you should have been put together with so mortal a
purpose as then each bore, upon importance of so
slight and trivial a nature.

By your pardon, sir, I was then a young traveller;
rather shunned to go even with what I heard than in
my every action to be guided by others' experiences:
but upon my mended judgment--if I offend not to say
it is mended--my quarrel was not altogether slight.

'Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords,
and by such two that would by all likelihood have
confounded one the other, or have fallen both.

Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference?

Safely, I think: 'twas a *******ion in public,
which may, without contradiction, suffer the report.
It was much like an argument that fell out last
night, where each of us fell in praise of our
country mistresses; this gentleman at that time
vouching--and upon warrant of bloody
affirmation--his to be more fair, virtuous, wise,
chaste, constant-qualified and less attemptable
than any the rarest of our ladies in France.

That lady is not now living, or this gentleman's
opinion by this worn out.

She holds her virtue still and I my mind.

You must not so far prefer her 'fore ours of Italy.

Being so far provoked as I was in France, I would
abate her nothing, though I profess myself her
adorer, not her friend.

As fair and as good--a kind of hand-in-hand
comparison--had been something too fair and too good
for any lady in Britain. If she went before others
I have seen, as that diamond of yours outlustres
many I have beheld. I could not but believe she
excelled many: but I have not seen the most
precious diamond that is, nor you the lady.

I praised her as I rated her: so do I my stone.

What do you esteem it at?

More than the world enjoys.

Either your unparagoned mistress is dead, or she's
outprized by a trifle.

You are mistaken: the one may be sold, or given, if
there were wealth enough for the purchase, or merit
for the gift: the other is not a thing for sale,
and only the gift of the gods.

Which the gods have given you?

Which, by their graces, I will keep.

You may wear her in title yours: but, you know,
strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds. Your
ring may be stolen too: so your brace of unprizable
estimations; the one is but frail and the other
casual; a cunning thief, or a that way accomplished
courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and last.

Your Italy contains none so accomplished a courtier
to convince the honour of my mistress, if, in the
holding or loss of that, you term her frail. I do
nothing doubt you have store of thieves;
notwithstanding, I fear not my ring.

Let us leave here, gentlemen.

Sir, with all my heart. This worthy signior, I
thank him, makes no stranger of me; we are familiar at first.

With five times so much conversation, I should get
ground of your fair mistress, make her go back, even
to the yielding, had I admittance and opportunity to friend.

No, no.

I dare thereupon pawn the moiety of my estate to
your ring; which, in my opinion, o'ervalues it
something: but I make my wager rather against your
confidence than her reputation: and, to bar your
offence herein too, I durst attempt it against any
lady in the world.

You are a great deal abused in too bold a
persuasion; and I doubt not you sustain what you're
worthy of by your attempt.

What's that?

A repulse: though your attempt, as you call it,
deserve more; a punishment too.

Gentlemen, enough of this: it came in too suddenly;
let it die as it was born, and, I pray you, be
better acquainted.

Would I had put my estate and my neighbour's on the
approbation of what I have spoke!

What lady would you choose to assail?

Yours; whom in constancy you think stands so safe.
I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring,
that, commend me to the court where your lady is,
with no more advantage than the opportunity of a
second conference, and I will bring from thence
that honour of hers which you imagine so reserved.

I will wage against your gold, gold to it: my ring
I hold dear as my finger; 'tis part of it.

You are afraid, and therein the wiser. If you buy
ladies' flesh at a million a dram, you cannot
preserve it from tainting: but I see you have some
religion in you, that you fear.

This is but a custom in your tongue; you bear a
graver purpose, I hope.

I am the master of my speeches, and would undergo
what's spoken, I swear.

Will you? I shall but lend my diamond till your
return: let there be covenants drawn between's: my
mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness of your
unworthy thinking: I dare you to this match: here's my ring.

I will have it no lay.

By the gods, it is one. If I bring you no
sufficient testimony that I have enjoyed the dearest
bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats
are yours; so is your diamond too: if I come off,
and leave her in such honour as you have trust in,
she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are
yours: provided I have your commendation for my more
free entertainment.

I embrace these conditions; let us have articles
betwixt us. Only, thus far you shall answer: if
you make your voyage upon her and give me directly
to understand you have prevailed, I am no further
your enemy; she is not worth our debate: if she
remain unseduced, you not making it appear
otherwise, for your ill opinion and the assault you
have made to her chastity you shall answer me with
your sword.

Your hand; a covenant: we will have these things set
down by lawful counsel, and straight away for
Britain, lest the bargain should catch cold and
starve: I will fetch my gold and have our two
wagers recorded.

Agreed.
Exeunt POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and IACHIMO

Will this hold, think you?

Signior Iachimo will not from it.
Pray, let us follow 'em.
Exeunt

Enter QUEEN, Ladies, and CORNELIUS

Whiles yet the dew's on ground, gather those flowers;
Make haste: who has the note of them?

I, madam.

Dispatch.
Exeunt Ladies
Now, master doctor, have you brought those drugs?

Pleaseth your highness, ay: here they are, madam:
Presenting a small box
But I beseech your grace, without offence,--
My conscience bids me ask--wherefore you have
Commanded of me those most poisonous compounds,
Which are the movers of a languishing death;
But though slow, deadly?

I wonder, doctor,
Thou ask'st me such a question. Have I not been
Thy pupil long? Hast thou not learn'd me how
To make perfumes? distil? preserve? yea, so
That our great king himself doth woo me oft
For my confections? Having thus far proceeded,--
Unless thou think'st me devilish--is't not meet
That I did amplify my judgment in
Other conclusions? I will try the forces
Of these thy compounds on such creatures as
We count not worth the hanging, but none human,
To try the vigour of them and apply
Allayments to their act, and by them gather
Their several virtues and effects.

Your highness
Shall from this practise but make hard your heart:
Besides, the seeing these effects will be
Both noisome and infectious.

O, ******* thee.
Enter PISANIO
Aside
Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him
Will I first work: he's for his master,
An enemy to my son. How now, Pisanio!
Doctor, your service for this time is ended;
Take your own way.

[Aside] I do suspect you, madam;
But you shall do no harm.

[To PISANIO] Hark thee, a word.

[Aside] I do not like her. She doth think she has
Strange lingering poisons: I do know her spirit,
And will not trust one of her malice with
A drug of such damn'd nature. Those she has
Will stupefy and dull the sense awhile;
Which first, perchance, she'll prove on
cats and dogs,
Then afterward up higher: but there is
No danger in what show of death it makes,
More than the locking-up the spirits a time,
To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool'd
With a most false effect; and I the truer,
So to be false with her.

No further service, doctor,
Until I send for thee.

I humbly take my leave.
Exit

Weeps she still, say'st thou? Dost thou think in time
She will not quench and let instructions enter
Where folly now possesses? Do thou work:
When thou shalt bring me word she loves my son,
I'll tell thee on the instant thou art then
As great as is thy master, greater, for
His fortunes all lie speechless and his name
Is at last gasp: return he cannot, nor
Continue where he is: to shift his being
Is to exchange one misery with another,
And every day that comes comes to decay
A day's work in him. What shalt thou expect,
To be depender on a thing that leans,
Who cannot be new built, nor has no friends,
So much as but to prop him?
The QUEEN drops the box: PISANIO takes it up
Thou takest up
Thou know'st not what; but take it for thy labour:
It is a thing I made, which hath the king
Five times redeem'd from death: I do not know
What is more cordial. Nay, I prethee, take it;
It is an earnest of a further good
That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how
The case stands with her; do't as from thyself.
Think what a chance thou changest on, but think
Thou hast thy mistress still, to boot, my son,
Who shall take notice of thee: I'll move the king
To any shape of thy preferment such
As thou'lt desire; and then myself, I chiefly,
That set thee on to this desert, am bound
To load thy merit richly. Call my women:
Think on my words.
Exit PISANIO
A sly and constant knave,
Not to be shaked; the agent for his master
And the remembrancer of her to hold
The hand-fast to her lord. I have given him that
Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her
Of liegers for her sweet, and which she after,
Except she bend her humour, shall be assured
To taste of too.
Re-enter PISANIO and Ladies
So, so: well done, well done:
The violets, cowslips, and the primroses,
Bear to my closet. Fare thee well, Pisanio;
Think on my words.
Exeunt QUEEN and Ladies

And shall do:
But when to my good lord I prove untrue,
I'll choke myself: there's all I'll do for you.
Exit

Enter IMOGEN

A father cruel, and a step-dame false;
A foolish suitor to a wedded lady,
That hath her husband banish'd;--O, that husband!
My supreme crown of grief! and those repeated
Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stol'n,
As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable
Is the desire that's glorious: blest be those,
How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills,
Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fie!
Enter PISANIO and IACHIMO

Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome,
Comes from my lord with letters.

Change you, madam?
The worthy Leonatus is in safety
And greets your highness dearly.
Presents a letter

Thanks, good sir:
You're kindly welcome.

[Aside] All of her that is out of door most rich!
If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare,
She is alone the Arabian bird, and I
Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend!
Arm me, audacity, from head to foot!
Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight;
Rather directly fly.

[Reads] 'He is one of the noblest note, to whose
kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon
him accordingly, as you value your trust--
LEONATUS.'
So far I read aloud:
But even the very middle of my heart
Is warm'd by the rest, and takes it thankfully.
You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I
Have words to bid you, and shall find it so
In all that I can do.

Thanks, fairest lady.
What, are men mad? Hath nature given them eyes
To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop
Of sea and land, which can distinguish 'twixt
The fiery orbs above and the twinn'd stones
Upon the number'd beach? and can we not
Partition make with spectacles so precious
'Twixt fair and foul?

What makes your admiration?

It cannot be i' the eye, for apes and monkeys
'Twixt two such shes would chatter this way and
Contemn with mows the other; nor i' the judgment,
For idiots in this case of favour would
Be wisely definite; nor i' the appetite;
Sluttery to such neat excellence opposed
Should make desire vomit emptiness,
Not so allured to feed.

What is the matter, trow?

The cloyed will,
That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub
Both fill'd and running, ravening first the lamb
Longs after for the garbage.

What, dear sir,
Thus raps you? Are you well?

Thanks, madam; well.
To PISANIO
Beseech you, sir, desire
My man's abode where I did leave him: he
Is strange and peevish.

I was going, sir,
To give him welcome.
Exit

Continues well my lord? His health, beseech you?

Well, madam.

Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is.

Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there
So merry and so gamesome: he is call'd
The Briton reveller.

When he was here,
He did incline to sadness, and oft-times
Not knowing why.

I never saw him sad.
There is a Frenchman his companion, one
An eminent monsieur, that, it seems, much loves
A Gallian girl at home; he furnaces
The thick sighs from him, whiles the jolly Briton--
Your lord, I mean--laughs from's free lungs, cries 'O,
Can my sides hold, to think that man, who knows
By history, report, or his own proof,
What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose
But must be, will his free hours languish for
Assured bondage?'

Will my lord say so?

Ay, madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter:
It is a recreation to be by
And hear him mock the Frenchman. But, heavens know,
Some men are much to blame.

Not he, I hope.

Not he: but yet heaven's bounty towards him might
Be used more thankfully. In himself, 'tis much;
In you, which I account his beyond all talents,
Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound
To pity too.

What do you pity, sir?

Two creatures heartily.

Am I one, sir?
You look on me: what wreck discern you in me
Deserves your pity?

Lamentable! What,
To hide me from the radiant sun and solace
I' the dungeon by a snuff?

I pray you, sir,
Deliver with more openness your answers
To my demands. Why do you pity me?

That others do--
I was about to say--enjoy your--But
It is an office of the gods to venge it,
Not mine to speak on 't.

You do seem to know
Something of me, or what concerns me: pray you,--
Since doubling things go ill often hurts more
Than to be sure they do; for certainties
Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing,
The remedy then born--discover to me
What both you spur and stop.

Had I this cheek
To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch,
Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul
To the oath of loyalty; this object, which
Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,
Fixing it only here; should I, damn'd then,
Slaver with lips as common as the stairs
That mount the Capitol; join gripes with hands
Made hard with hourly falsehood--falsehood, as
With labour; then by-peeping in an eye
Base and unlustrous as the smoky light
That's fed with stinking tallow; it were fit
That all the plagues of hell should at one time
Encounter such revolt.

My lord, I fear,
Has forgot Britain.

And himself. Not I,
Inclined to this intelligence, pronounce
The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces
That from pay mutest conscience to my tongue
Charms this report out.

Let me hear no more.

O dearest soul! your cause doth strike my heart
With pity, that doth make me sick. A lady
So fair, and fasten'd to an empery,
Would make the great'st king double,--to be partner'd
With tomboys hired with that self-exhibition
Which your own coffers yield! with diseased ventures
That play with all infirmities for gold
Which rottenness can lend nature! such boil'd stuff
As well might poison poison! Be revenged;
Or she that bore you was no queen, and you
Recoil from your great stock.

Revenged!
How should I be revenged? If this be true,--
As I have such a heart that both mine ears
Must not in haste abuse--if it be true,
How should I be revenged?

Should he make me
Live, like Diana's priest, betwixt cold sheets,
Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps,
In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge it.
I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure,
More noble than that runagate to your bed,
And will continue fast to your affection,
Still close as sure.

What, ho, Pisanio!

Let me my service tender on your lips.

Away! I do condemn mine ears that have
So long attended thee. If thou wert honourable,
Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, not
For such an end thou seek'st,--as base as strange.
Thou wrong'st a gentleman, who is as far
From thy report as thou from honour, and
Solicit'st here a lady that disdains
Thee and the devil alike. What ho, Pisanio!
The king my father shall be made acquainted
Of thy assault: if he shall think it fit,
A saucy stranger in his court to mart
As in a Romish stew and to expound
His beastly mind to us, he hath a court
He little cares for and a daughter who
He not respects at all. What, ho, Pisanio!

O happy Leonatus! I may say
The credit that thy lady hath of thee
Deserves thy trust, and thy most perfect goodness
Her assured credit. Blessed live you long!
A lady to the worthiest sir that ever
Country call'd his! and you his mistress, only
For the most worthiest fit! Give me your pardon.
I have spoke this, to know if your affiance
Were deeply rooted; and shall make your lord,
That which he is, new o'er: and he is one
The truest manner'd; such a holy witch
That he enchants societies into him;
Half all men's hearts are his.

You make amends.

He sits 'mongst men like a descended god:
He hath a kind of honour sets him off,
More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry,
Most mighty princess, that I have adventured
To try your taking a false report; which hath
Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment
In the election of a sir so rare,
Which you know cannot err: the love I bear him
Made me to fan you thus, but the gods made you,
Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray, your pardon.

All's well, sir: take my power i' the court
for yours.

My humble thanks. I had almost forgot
To entreat your grace but in a small request,
And yet of moment to, for it concerns
Your lord; myself and other noble friends,
Are partners in the business.

Pray, what is't?

Some dozen Romans of us and your lord--
The best feather of our wing--have mingled sums
To buy a present for the emperor
Which I, the factor for the rest, have done
In France: 'tis plate of rare device, and jewels
Of rich and exquisite form; their values great;
And I am something curious, being strange,
To have them in safe stowage: may it please you
To take them in protection?

Willingly;
And pawn mine honour for their safety: since
My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them
In my bedchamber.

They are in a trunk,
Attended by my men: I will make bold
To send them to you, only for this night;
I must aboard to-morrow.

O, no, no.

Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my word
By lengthening my return. From Gallia
I cross'd the seas on purpose and on promise
To see your grace.

I thank you for your pains:
But not away to-morrow!

O, I must, madam:
Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please
To greet your lord with writing, do't to-night:
I have outstood my time; which is material
To the tender of our present.

I will write.
Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept,
And truly yielded you. You're very welcome.
Exeunt

Enter CLOTEN and two Lords

Was there ever man had such luck! when I kissed the
jack, upon an up-cast to be hit away! I had a
hundred pound on't: and then a whoreson jackanapes
must take me up for swearing; as if I borrowed mine
oaths of him and might not spend them at my pleasure.

What got he by that? You have broke his pate with
your bowl.

[Aside] If his wit had been like him that broke it,
it would have run all out.

When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is not for
any standers-by to curtail his oaths, ha?

No my lord;
Aside
nor crop the ears of them.

Whoreson dog! I give him satisfaction?
Would he had been one of my rank!

[Aside] To have smelt like a fool.

I am not vexed more at any thing in the earth: a
pox on't! I had rather not be so noble as I am;
they dare not fight with me, because of the queen my
mother: every Jack-slave hath his bellyful of
fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that
nobody can match.

[Aside] You are cock and capon too; and you crow,
cock, with your comb on.

Sayest thou?

It is not fit your lordship should undertake every
companion that you give offence to.

No, I know that: but it is fit I should commit
offence to my inferiors.

Ay, it is fit for your lordship only.

Why, so I say.

Did you hear of a stranger that's come to court to-night?

A stranger, and I not know on't!

[Aside] He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it
not.

There's an Italian come; and, 'tis thought, one of
Leonatus' friends.

Leonatus! a banished rascal; and he's another,
whatsoever he be. Who told you of this stranger?

One of your lordship's pages.

Is it fit I went to look upon him? is there no
derogation in't?

You cannot derogate, my lord.

Not easily, I think.

[Aside] You are a fool granted; therefore your
issues, being foolish, do not derogate.

Come, I'll go see this Italian: what I have lost
to-day at bowls I'll win to-night of him. Come, go.

I'll attend your lordship.
Exeunt CLOTEN and First Lord
That such a crafty devil as is his mother
Should yield the world this ass! a woman that
Bears all down with her brain; and this her son
Cannot take two from twenty, for his heart,
And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess,
Thou divine Imogen, what thou endurest,
Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern'd,
A mother hourly coining plots, a wooer
More hateful than the foul expulsion is
Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act
Of the divorce he'ld make! The heavens hold firm
The walls of thy dear honour, keep unshaked
That temple, thy fair mind, that thou mayst stand,
To enjoy thy banish'd lord and this great land!
Exit

a trunk in one corner of it.
IMOGEN in bed, reading; a Lady attending

Who's there? my woman Helen?

Please you, madam

What hour is it?

Almost midnight, madam.

I have read three hours then: mine eyes are weak:
Fold down the leaf where I have left: to bed:
Take not away the taper, leave it burning;
And if thou canst awake by four o' the clock,
I prithee, call me. Sleep hath seized me wholly
Exit Lady
To your protection I commend me, gods.
From fairies and the tempters of the night
Guard me, beseech ye.
Sleeps. IACHIMO comes from the trunk

The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd sense
Repairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus
Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken'd
The chastity he wounded. Cytherea,
How bravely thou becomest thy bed, fresh lily,
And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch!
But kiss; one kiss! Rubies unparagon'd,
How dearly they do't! 'Tis her breathing that
Perfumes the chamber thus: the flame o' the taper
Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids,
To see the enclosed lights, now canopied
Under these windows, white and azure laced
With blue of heaven's own tinct. But my design,
To note the chamber: I will write all down:
Such and such pictures; there the window; such
The adornment of her bed; the arras; figures,
Why, such and such; and the *******s o' the story.
Ah, but some natural notes about her body,
Above ten thousand meaner moveables
Would testify, to enrich mine inventory.
O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her!
And be her sense but as a monument,
Thus in a chapel lying! Come off, come off:
Taking off her bracelet
As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard!
'Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly,
As strongly as the conscience does within,
To the madding of her lord. On her left breast
A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops
I' the bottom of a cowslip: here's a voucher,
Stronger than ever law could make: this secret
Will force him think I have pick'd the lock and ta'en
The treasure of her honour. No more. To what end?
Why should I write this down, that's riveted,
Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late
The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's turn'd down
Where Philomel gave up. I have enough:
To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it.
Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning
May bare the raven's eye! I lodge in fear;
Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here.
Clock strikes
One, two, three: time, time!
Goes into the trunk. The scene closes

An ante-chamber adjoining Imogen's apartments.
Enter CLOTEN and Lords

Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the
most coldest that ever turned up ace.

It would make any man cold to lose.

But not every man patient after the noble temper of
your lordship. You are most hot and furious when you win.

Winning will put any man into courage. If I could
get this foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough.
It's almost morning, is't not?

Day, my lord.

I would this music would come: I am advised to give
her music o' mornings; they say it will penetrate.
Enter Musicians
Come on; tune: if you can penetrate her with your
fingering, so; we'll try with tongue too: if none
will do, let her remain; but I'll never give o'er.
First, a very excellent good-conceited thing;
after, a wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich
words to it: and then let her consider.
SONG
Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus 'gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chaliced flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes:
With every thing that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise:
Arise, arise.

So, get you gone. If this penetrate, I will
consider your music the better: if it do not, it is
a vice in her ears, which horse-hairs and
calves'-guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to
boot, can never amend.
Exeunt Musicians

Here comes the king.

I am glad I was up so late; for that's the reason I
was up so early: he cannot choose but take this
service I have done fatherly.
Enter CYMBELINE and QUEEN
Good morrow to your majesty and to my gracious mother.

Attend you here the door of our stern daughter?
Will she not forth?

I have assailed her with music, but she vouchsafes no notice.

The exile of her minion is too new;
She hath not yet forgot him: some more time
Must wear the print of his remembrance out,
And then she's yours.

You are most bound to the king,
Who lets go by no vantages that may
Prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself
To orderly soliciting, and be friended
With aptness of the season; make denials
Increase your services; so seem as if
You were inspired to do those duties which
You tender to her; that you in all obey her,
Save when command to your dismission tends,
And therein you are senseless.

Senseless! not so.
Enter a Messenger

So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome;
The one is Caius Lucius.

A worthy fellow,
Albeit he comes on angry purpose now;
But that's no fault of his: we must receive him
According to the honour of his sender;
And towards himself, his goodness forespent on us,
We must extend our notice. Our dear son,
When you have given good morning to your mistress,
Attend the queen and us; we shall have need
To employ you towards this Roman. Come, our queen.
Exeunt all but CLOTEN

If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not,
Let her lie still and dream.
Knocks
By your leave, ho!
I Know her women are about her: what
If I do line one of their hands? 'Tis gold
Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and makes
Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up
Their deer to the stand o' the stealer; and 'tis gold
Which makes the true man kill'd and saves the thief;
Nay, sometime hangs both thief and true man: what
Can it not do and undo? I will make
One of her women lawyer to me, for
I yet not understand the case myself.
Knocks
By your leave.
Enter a Lady

Who's there that knocks?

A gentleman.

No more?

Yes, and a gentlewoman's son.

That's more
Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours,
Can justly boast of. What's your lordship's pleasure?

Your lady's person: is she ready?

Ay,
To keep her chamber.

There is gold for you;
Sell me your good report.

How! my good name? or to report of you
What I shall think is good?--The princess!
Enter IMOGEN