The Bodleian First Folio

A digital facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Bodleian Arch. G c.7.



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Reference: aaa2v - Tragedies, p. 380

Left Column


The Tragedy of Cymbeline. Or lesse; at first ? Perchance he spoke not, but Like a full Acorn'd Boare, a Iarmen on, Cry'de oh, and mounted; found no opposition
[1315]
But what he look'd for, should oppose, and she Should from encounter guard. Could I finde out The Womans part in me, for there's no motion That tends to vice in man, but I affirme It is the Womans part: be it Lying, note it,
[1320]
The womans: Flattering, hers; Deceiuing, hers: Lust, and ranke thoughts, hers, hers: Reuenges hers: Ambitions, Couetings, change of Prides, Disdaine, Nice‑longing, Slanders, Mutability; All Faults that name, nay, that Hell knowes,
[1325]
Why hers, in part, or all: but rather all. For euen to Vice They are not constant, but are changing still; One Vice, but of a minute old, for one Not halfe so old as that. Ile write against them, Detest them, curse them: yet 'tis greater Skill
[1330]
In a true Hate, to pray they haue their will: The very Diuels cannot plague them better. Exit.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima. [Act 3, Scene 1] Enter in State, Cymbeline, Queene, Clotten, and Lords at one doore, and at another, Caius, Lucius, and Attendants. Cym. Now say, what would Augustus Cæsar with vs? Luc. When Iulius Cæsar (whose remembrance yet Liues in mens eyes, and will to Eares and Tongues
[1335]
Be Theame, and hearing euer) was in this Britain, And Conquer'd it, Cassibulan thine Vnkle (Famous in Cæsars prayses, no whit lesse Then in his Feats deseruing it) for him, And his Succession, granted Rome a Tribute,
[1340]
Yeerely three thousand pounds; which (by thee) lately Is left vntender'd. Qu. And to kill the meruaile, Shall be so euer. Clot. There be many Cæsars,
[1345]
Ere such another Iulius: Britaine's a world By it selfe, and we will nothing pay For wearing our owne Noses. Qu. That opportunity Which then they had to take from's, to resume
[1350]
We haue againe. Remember Sir, my Liege, The Kings your Ancestors, together with The naturall brauery of your Isle, which stands As Neptunes Parke, ribb'd, and pal'd in With Oakes vnskaleable, and roaring Waters,
[1355]
With Sands that will not beare your Enemies Boates, But sucke them vp to'th'Top‑mast. A kinde of Conquest Cæsar made heere, but made not heere his bragge Of Came, and Saw, and Ouer‑came: with shame (The first that euer touch'd him) he was carried
[1360]
From off our Coast, twice beaten: and his Shipping (Poore ignorant Baubles) on our terrible Seas Like Egge‑shels mou'd vpon their Surges, crack'd As easily 'gainst our Rockes. For ioy whereof, The fam'd Cassibulan, who was once at point
[1365]
(Oh giglet Fortune) to master Cæsars Sword, Made Luds‑Towne with reioycing‑Fires bright,

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Right Column


And Britaines strut with Courage. Clot.

Come, there's no more Tribute to be paid: our

Kingdome is stronger then it was at that time: and (as I

[1370]

said) there is no mo such Cæsars, other of them may haue

crook'd Noses, but to owe such straite Armes, none.

 Cym. Son, let your Mother end. Clot.

We haue yet many among vs, can gripe as hard

as Cassibulan, I doe not say I am one: but I haue a hand.

[1375]

Why Tribute ? Why should we pay Tribute ? If Cæsar

can hide the Sun from vs 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.

 Cym. You must know,
[1380]
Till the iniurious Romans, did extort This Tribute from vs, we were free. Cæsars Ambition, Which swell'd so much, that it did almost stretch The sides o'th'World, against all colour heere, Did put the yoake vpon's; which to shake off
[1385]
Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon Our selues to be, we do. Say then to Cæsar, Our Ancestor was that Mulmutius, which Ordain'd our Lawes, whose vse the Sword of Cæsar Hath too much mangled; whose repayre, and franchise,
[1390]
Shall (by the power we hold) be our good deed, Tho Rome be therfore angry. Mulmutius made our lawes Who was the first of Britaine, which did put His browes within a golden Crowne, and call'd Himselfe a King. Luc.
[1395]
I am sorry Cymbeline, That I am to pronounce Augustus Cæsar ( Cæsar, that hath moe Kings his Seruants, then Thy selfe Domesticke Officers) thine Enemy: Receyue it from me then. Warre, and Confusion
[1400]
In Cæsars name pronounce I 'gainst thee: Looke For fury, not to be resisted. Thus defide, I thanke thee for my selfe. Cym. Thou art welcome Caius, Thy Cæsar Knighted me; my youth I spent
[1405]
Much vnder him; of him, I gather'd Honour, Which he, to seeke of me againe, perforce, Behooues me keepe at vtterance. I am perfect, That the Pannonians and Dalmatians, for Their Liberties are now in Armes: a President
[1410]
Which not to reade, would shew the Britaines cold: So Cæsar shall not finde them. Luc. Let proofe speake. Clot. His Maiesty biddes you welcome. Make pa­ stime with vs, a day, or two, or longer: if you seek vs af­ terwards in other tearmes, you shall finde vs in our Salt­ water Girdle: if you beate vs out of it, it is yours: if you fall in the aduenture, our Crowes shall fare the better for you: and there's an end. Luc. So sir. Cym.
[1415]
I know your Masters pleasure, and he mine: All the Remaine, is welcome. Exeunt.
Scena Secunda. [Act 3, Scene 1] Enter Pisanio reading of a Letter. Pis. How? of Adultery? Wherefore write you not What Monsters her accuse? Leonatus: Oh Master, what a strange infection Is

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Scena Secunda. [Act 3, Scene 1] Enter Pisanio reading of a Letter. Pis. How? of Adultery? Wherefore write you not What Monsters her accuse? Leonatus: Oh Master, what a strange infection
[1420]
Is falne into thy eare? What false Italian, (As poysonous tongu'd, as handed) hath preuail'd On thy too ready hearing? Disloyall? No. She's punish'd for her Truth; and vndergoes More Goddesse‑like, then Wife‑like; such Assaults
[1425]
As would take in some Vertue. Oh my Master, Thy mind to her, is now as lowe, as were Thy Fortunes. How? That I should murther her, Vpon the Loue, and Truth, and Vowes; which I Haue made to thy command? I her? Her blood?
[1430]
If it be so, to do good seruice, neuer Let me be counted seruiceable. How looke I, That I should seeme to lacke humanity, So much as this Fact comes to? Doo't: The Letter. That I haue sent her, by her owne command,
[1435]
Shall giue thee opportunitie. Oh damn'd paper, Blacke as the Inke that's on thee: senselesse bauble, Art thou a Fœdarie for this Act; and look'st So Virgin‑like without? Loe here she comes. Enter Imogen. I am ignorant in what I am commanded. Imo.
[1440]
How now Pisanio? Pis. Madam, heere is a Letter from my Lord. Imo. Who, thy Lord? That is my Lord Leonatus? Oh, learn'd indeed were that Astronomer That knew the Starres, as I his Characters,
[1445]
Heel'd lay the Future open. You good Gods, Let what is heere contain'd, rellish of Loue, Of my Lords health, of his content: yet not That we two are asunder, let that grieue him; Some griefes are medcinable, that is one of them,
[1450]
For it doth physicke Loue, of his content, All but in that. Good Wax, thy leaue: blest be You Bees that make these Lockes of counsaile. Louers, And men in dangerous Bondes pray not alike, Though Forfeytours you cast in prison, yet
[1455]
You claspe young Cupids Tables: good Newes Gods.

IVstice and your Fathers wrath (should he take me in his

Dominion) could not be so cruell to me, as you: (oh the dee­

rest of Creatures) would euen renew me with your eyes. Take

notice that I am in Cambria at Milford‑Hauen: what your

[1460]

owne Loue, will out of this aduise you, follow. So he wishes you

all happinesse, that remaines loyall to his Vow, and your encrea­

sing in Loue.

Leonatus Posthumus.

Oh for a Horse with wings: Hear'st thou Pisanio?
[1465]
He is at Milford‑Hauen: Read, and tell me How farre 'tis thither. If one of meane affaires May plod it in a weeke, why may not I Glide thither in a day? Then true Pisanio, Who long'st like me, to see thy Lord; who long'st
[1470]
(Oh let me bate) but not like me: yet long'st But in a fainter kinde. Oh not like me: For mine's beyond, beyond: say, and speake thicke (Loues Counsailor should fill the bores of hearing, To'th'smothering of the Sense) how farre it is
[1475]
To this same blessed Milford. And by'th'way Tell me how Wales was made so happy, as An ink mark follows the end of this line. T'inherite such a Hauen. But first of all, How we may steale from hence: and for the gap That we shall make in Time, from our hence‑going,
[1480]
And our returne, to excuse: but first, how get hence. Why should excuse be borne or ere begot? Weele talke of that heereafter. Prythee speake, How many store of Miles may we well rid Twixt houre, and houre? Pis.
[1485]
One score 'twixt Sun, and Sun, Madam's enough for you: and too much too. Imo. Why, one that rode to's Excution Man, Could neuer go so slow: I haue heard of Riding wagers, Where Horses haue bin nimbler then the Sands
[1490]
That run i'th'Clocks behalfe. But this is Foolrie, Go, bid my Woman faigne a Sicknesse, say She'le home to her Father; and prouide me presently A Riding Suit: No costlier then would fit A Franklins Huswife. Pisa.
[1495]
Madam, you're best consider. Imo. I see before me (Man) nor heere, nor heere; Nor what ensues but haue a Fog in them That I cannot looke through. Away, I prythee, Do as I bid thee: There's no more to say:
[1500]
Accessible is none but Milford way. Exeunt.
 

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<div type="scene" n="2">
   <head rend="italic center">Scena Secunda.</head>
   <head type="supplied">[Act 3, Scene 1]</head>
   <stage rend="center" type="entrance">Enter Pisanio reading of a Letter.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-cym-pis">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pis.</speaker>
      <l n="1417">How? of Adultery? Wherefore write you not</l>
      <l n="1418">What Monsters her accuse?<hi rend="italic">Leonatus:</hi>
      </l>
      <l n="1419">Oh Master, what a strange infection</l>
      <pb facs="FFimg:axc0891-0.jpg" n="381"/>
      <cb n="1"/>
      <l n="1420">Is falne into thy eare? What false Italian,</l>
      <l n="1421">(As poysonous tongu'd, as handed) hath preuail'd</l>
      <l n="1422">On thy too ready hearing? Disloyall? No.</l>
      <l n="1423">She's punish'd for her Truth; and vndergoes</l>
      <l n="1424">More Goddesse‑like, then Wife‑like; such Assaults</l>
      <l n="1425">As would take in some Vertue. Oh my Master,</l>
      <l n="1426">Thy mind to her, is now as lowe, as were</l>
      <l n="1427">Thy Fortunes. How? That I should murther her,</l>
      <l n="1428">Vpon the Loue, and Truth, and Vowes; which I</l>
      <l n="1429">Haue made to thy command? I her? Her blood?</l>
      <l n="1430">If it be so, to do good seruice, neuer</l>
      <l n="1431">Let me be counted seruiceable. How looke I,</l>
      <l n="1432">That I should seeme to lacke humanity,</l>
      <l n="1433">So much as this Fact comes to? Doo't: The Letter.</l>
      <l rend="italic" n="1434">That I haue sent her, by her owne command,</l>
      <l n="1435">
         <hi rend="italic">Shall giue thee opportunitie.</hi>Oh damn'd paper,</l>
      <l n="1436">Blacke as the Inke that's on thee: senselesse bauble,</l>
      <l n="1437">Art thou a Fœdarie for this Act; and look'st</l>
      <l n="1438">So Virgin‑like without? Loe here she comes.</l>
      <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Imogen.</stage>
      <l n="1439">I am ignorant in what I am commanded.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-imo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Imo.</speaker>
      <l n="1440">How now<hi rend="italic">Pisanio</hi>?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-pis">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pis.</speaker>
      <l n="1441">Madam, heere is a Letter from my Lord.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-imo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Imo.</speaker>
      <l n="1442">Who, thy Lord? That is my Lord<hi rend="italic">Leonatus</hi>?</l>
      <l n="1443">Oh, learn'd indeed were that Astronomer</l>
      <l n="1444">That knew the Starres, as I his Characters,</l>
      <l n="1445">Heel'd lay the Future open. You good Gods,</l>
      <l n="1446">Let what is heere contain'd, rellish of Loue,</l>
      <l n="1447">Of my Lords health, of his content: yet not</l>
      <l n="1448">That we two are asunder, let that grieue him;</l>
      <l n="1449">Some griefes are medcinable, that is one of them,</l>
      <l n="1450">For it doth physicke Loue, of his content,</l>
      <l n="1451">All but in that. Good Wax, thy leaue: blest be</l>
      <l n="1452">You Bees that make these Lockes of counsaile. Louers,</l>
      <l n="1453">And men in dangerous Bondes pray not alike,</l>
      <l n="1454">Though Forfeytours you cast in prison, yet</l>
      <l n="1455">You claspe young<hi rend="italic">Cupids</hi>Tables: good Newes Gods.</l>
      <p rend="italic" n="1456">
         <c rend="droppedCapital">I</c>Vstice and your Fathers wrath (should he take me in his
      <lb n="1457"/>Dominion) could not be so cruell to me, as you: (oh the dee­
      <lb n="1458"/>rest of Creatures) would euen renew me with your eyes. Take
      <lb n="1459"/>notice that I am in<hi rend="roman">Cambria</hi>at<hi rend="roman">Milford‑Hauen:</hi>what your
      <lb n="1460"/>owne Loue, will out of this aduise you, follow. So he wishes you
      <lb n="1461"/>all happinesse, that remaines loyall to his Vow, and your encrea­
      <lb n="1462"/>sing in Loue.</p>
      <p rend="rightJustified" n="1463">Leonatus Posthumus.</p>
      <l n="1464">Oh for a Horse with wings: Hear'st thou<hi rend="italic">Pisanio</hi>?</l>
      <l n="1465">He is at Milford‑Hauen: Read, and tell me</l>
      <l n="1466">How farre 'tis thither. If one of meane affaires</l>
      <l n="1467">May plod it in a weeke, why may not I</l>
      <l n="1468">Glide thither in a day? Then true<hi rend="italic">Pisanio</hi>,</l>
      <l n="1469">Who long'st like me, to see thy Lord; who long'st</l>
      <l n="1470">(Oh let me bate) but not like me: yet long'st</l>
      <l n="1471">But in a fainter kinde. Oh not like me:</l>
      <l n="1472">For mine's beyond, beyond: say, and speake thicke</l>
      <l n="1473">(Loues Counsailor should fill the bores of hearing,</l>
      <l n="1474">To'th'smothering of the Sense) how farre it is</l>
      <l n="1475">To this same blessed Milford. And by'th'way</l>
      <l n="1476">Tell me how Wales was made so happy, as</l>
      <note type="physical" resp="#ES">An ink mark follows the end of this line.</note>
      <l n="1477">T'inherite such a Hauen. But first of all,</l>
      <l n="1478">How we may steale from hence: and for the gap</l>
      <l n="1479">That we shall make in Time, from our hence‑going,</l>
      <l n="1480">And our returne, to excuse: but first, how get hence.</l>
      <l n="1481">Why should excuse be borne or ere begot?</l>
      <l n="1482">Weele talke of that heereafter. Prythee speake,</l>
      <l n="1483">How many store of Miles may we well rid</l>
      <cb n="2"/>
      <l n="1484">Twixt houre, and houre?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-pis">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pis.</speaker>
      <l n="1485">One score 'twixt Sun, and Sun,</l>
      <l n="1486">Madam's enough for you: and too much too.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-imo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Imo.</speaker>
      <l n="1487">Why, one that rode to's Excution Man,</l>
      <l n="1488">Could neuer go so slow: I haue heard of Riding wagers,</l>
      <l n="1489">Where Horses haue bin nimbler then the Sands</l>
      <l n="1490">That run i'th'Clocks behalfe. But this is Foolrie,</l>
      <l n="1491">Go, bid my Woman faigne a Sicknesse, say</l>
      <l n="1492">She'le home to her Father; and prouide me presently</l>
      <l n="1493">A Riding Suit: No costlier then would fit</l>
      <l n="1494">A Franklins Huswife.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-pis">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pisa.</speaker>
      <l n="1495">Madam, you're best consider.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-imo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Imo.</speaker>
      <l n="1496">I see before me (Man) nor heere, nor heere;</l>
      <l n="1497">Nor what ensues but haue a Fog in them</l>
      <l n="1498">That I cannot looke through. Away, I prythee,</l>
      <l n="1499">Do as I bid thee: There's no more to say:</l>
      <l n="1500">Accessible is none but Milford way.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exeunt.</stage>
</div>

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