The Tragedie of Cymbeline.Imogen awakes.Yes Sir, to Milford‑Hauen, which is the way?I thanke you: by yond bush? pray how farre thether
?
[2530]
'Ods pittikins: can it be sixe mile yet?I haue gone all night: 'Faith, Ile lye downe, and sleepe.But soft; no Bedfellow
? Oh Gods, and Goddesses!
These Flowres are like the pleasures of the World;This bloody man the care on't. I hope I dreame:
[2535]
For so I thought I was a Caue‑keeper,And Cooke to honest Creatures. But 'tis not so:'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot of nothing,Which the Braine makes of Fumes. Our very eyes,Are sometimes like our Iudgements, blinde. Good faith
[2540]
I tremble still with feare: but if there beYet left in Heauen, as small a drop of pittieAs a Wrens eye; fear'd Gods, a part of it.The Dreame's heere still: euen when I wake it isWithout me, as within me: not imagin'd, felt.
[2545]
A headlesse man? The Garments of
Posthumus?
I know the shape of's Legge: this is his Hand:His Foote Mercuriall: his martiall ThighThe brawnes of
Hercules: but his Iouiall face⸺
Murther in heauen
? How? 'tis gone.
Pisanio,
[2550]
All Curses madded
Hecuba gaue the Greekes,
And mine to boot, be darted on thee: thouConspir'd with that Irregulous diuell
Cloten,
Hath heere cut off my Lord. To write, and read,Be henceforth treacherous. Damn'd
Pisanio,
[2555]
Hath with his forged Letters (damn'd
Pisanio)
From this most brauest vessell of the worldStrooke the maine top! Oh
Posthumus, alas,
Where is thy head? where's that? Aye me! where's that?Pisanio might haue kill'd thee at the heart,
[2560]
And left this head on. How should this be,
Pisanio?
'Tis he, and
Cloten: Malice, and Lucre in them
Haue laid this Woe heere. Oh 'tis pregnant, pregnant!The Drugge he gaue me, which hee said was preciousAnd Cordiall to me, haue I not found it
[2565]
Murd'rous to'th'Senses
? That confirmes it home:
This is
Pisanio's deede, and
Cloten: Oh!
Giue colour to my pale cheeke with thy blood,That we the horrider may seeme to thoseWhich chance to finde vs. Oh, my Lord! my Lord!Enter Lucius, Captaines, and a Soothsayer.Cap.
[2570]
To them, the Legions garrison'd in GalliaAfter your will, haue crost the Sea, attendingYou heere at Milford‑Hauen, with your Shippes:They are heere in readinesse.Luc.But what from Rome?Cap,
[2575]
The Senate hath stirr'd vp the Confiners,And Gentlemen of Italy, most willing Spirits,That promise Noble Seruice: and they comeVnder the Conduct of bold
Iachimo,
Syenna's Brother.
Luc.
[2580]
When expect you them?Cap.With the next benefit o'th'winde.Luc.This forwardnesseMakes our hopes faire. Command our present numbersBe muster'd: bid the Captaines looke too't. Now Sir,
[2585]
What haue you dream'd of late of this warres purpose.Sooth.Last night, the very Gods shew'd me a vision(I fast, and pray'd for their Intelligence) thus:I saw Ioues Bird, the Roman Eagle wing'dFrom the spungy South, to this part of the West,
[2590]
There vanish'd in the Sun‑beames, which portends(Vnlesse my sinnes abuse my Diuination)
Successe to th'Roman hoast.Luc.Dreame often so,And neuer false. Soft hoa, what truncke is heere?
[2595]
Without his top? The ruine speakes, that sometimeIt was a worthy building. How? a Page?Or dead, or sleeping on him? But dead rather:For Nature doth abhorre to make his bedWith the defunct, or sleepe vpon the dead.
[2600]
Let's see the Boyes face.Cap.Hee's aliue my Lord.Luc.Hee'l then instruct vs of this body: Young one,Informe vs of thy Fortunes, for it seemesThey craue to be demanded: who is this
[2605]
Thou mak'st thy bloody Pillow? Or who was heThat (otherwise then noble Nature did)Hath alter'd that good Picture? What's thy interestIn this sad wracke
? How came't? Who is't?
What art thou
?Imo.
[2610]
I am nothing; or if not,Nothing to be were better: This was my Master,A very valiant Britaine, and a good,That heere by Mountaineers lyes slaine: Alas,There is no more such Masters: I may wander
[2615]
From East to Occident, cry out for Seruice,Try many, all good: serue truly: neuerFinde such another Master.Luc.'Lacke, good youth:Thou mou'st no lesse with thy complaining, then
[2620]
Thy Maister in bleeding: say his name, good Friend.Imo.Richard du Champ: If I do lye, and do
No harme by it, though the Gods heare, I hopeThey'l pardon it. Say you Sir
?Luc.Thy name?Imo.
[2625]
Fidele Sir.
Luc.Thou doo'st approue thy selfe the very same:Thy Name well fits thy Faith; thy Faith, thy Name:Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not sayThou shalt be so well master'd, but be sure
[2630]
No lesse belou'd. The Romane Emperors LettersSent by a Consull to me, should not soonerThen thine owne worth preferre thee: Go with me.Imo.Ile follow Sir. But first, and't please the Gods,Ile hide my Master from the Flies, as deepe
[2635]
As these poore Pickaxes can digge: and whenWith wild wood‑leaues & weeds, I ha' strew'd his graueAnd on it said a Century of prayers(Such as I can) twice o're, Ile weepe, and sighe,And leauing so his seruice, follow you,
[2640]
So please you entertaine mee.Luc.I good youth,And rather Father thee, then Master thee: My Friends,The Boy hath taught vs manly duties: Let vsFinde out the prettiest Dazied‑Plot we can,
[2645]
And make him with our Pikes and PartizansA Graue: Come, Arme him: Boy hee's preferr'dBy thee, to vs, and he shall be interr'dAs Souldiers can. Be cheerefull; wipe thine eyes,Some Falles are meanes the happier to arise.Exeunt
Scena Tertia.
[Act 4, Scene 3]
Enter Cymbeline, Lords, and Pisanio.Cym.
[2650]
Againe: and bring me word how 'tis with her,A Feauour with the absence of her Sonne;A
Scena Tertia.
[Act 4, Scene 3]
Enter Cymbeline, Lords, and Pisanio.Cym.
[2650]
Againe: and bring me word how 'tis with her,A Feauour with the absence of her Sonne;A madnesse, of which her life's in danger: Heauens,How deeply you at once do touch me.
Imogen,
The great part of my comfort, gone: My Queene
[2655]
Vpon a despera
e bed, and in a time
When fearefull Warres point at me: Her Sonne gone,So needfull for this present? It strikes me, pastThe hope of comfort. But for thee, Fellow,Who needs must know of her departure, and
[2660]
Dost seeme so ignorant, wee'l enforce it from theeBy a sharpe Torture.Pis.Sir, my life is yours,I humbly set it at your will: But for my Mistris,I nothing know where she remaines: why gone,
[2665]
Nor when she purposes returne. Beseech your Highnes,Hold me your loyall Seruant.Lord.Good my Liege,The day that she was missing, he was heere;I dare be bound hee's true, and shall performe
[2670]
All parts of his subiection loyally. For
Cloten,
There wants no diligence in seeking him,And will no doubt be found.Cym.The time is troublesome:Wee'l slip you for a season, but our iealousie
[2675]
Do's yet depend.Lord.So please your Maiesty,The Romaine Legions, all from Gallia drawne,Are landed on your Coast, with a supplyOf Romaine Gentlemen, by the Senate sent.Cym.
[2680]
Now for the Counsaile of my Son and Queen,I am amaz'd with matter.Lord.Good my Liege,Your preparation can affront no lesseThen what you heare of. Come more, for more you're
(ready:
[2685]
The want is, but to put those Powres in motion,That long to moue.Cym.I thanke you: let's withdrawAnd meete the Time, as it seekes vs. We feare notWhat can from Italy annoy vs, but
[2690]
We greeue at chances heere. Away.ExeuntPisa.I heard no Letter from my Master, sinceI wrote him
Imogen was slaine. 'Tis strange:
Nor heare I from my Mistris, who did promiseTo yeeld me often tydings. Neither know I
[2695]
What is betide to
Cloten, but remaine
Perplext in all. The Heauens still must worke:Wherein I am false, I am honest: not true, to be true.These present warres shall finde I loue my Country,Euen to the note o'th'King, or Ile fall in them:
[2700]
All other doubts, by time let them be cleer'd,Fortune brings in some Boats, that are not steer'd.Exit.
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<div type="scene" n="3">
<head rend="italic center">Scena Tertia.</head>
<head type="supplied">[Act 4, Scene 3]</head>
<stage rend="center" type="entrance">Enter Cymbeline, Lords, and Pisanio.</stage>
<sp who="#F-cym-cym">
<speaker rend="italic">Cym.</speaker>
<l n="2650">Againe: and bring me word how 'tis with her,</l>
<l n="2651">A Feauour with the absence of her Sonne;</l>
<pb facs="FFimg:axc0901-0.jpg" n="391"/>
<cb n="1"/>
<l n="2652">A madnesse, of which her life's in danger: Heauens,</l>
<l n="2653">How deeply you at once do touch me.<hi rend="italic">Imogen</hi>,</l>
<l n="2654">The great part of my comfort, gone: My Queene</l>
<l n="2655">Vpon a despera<gap extent="1"
unit="chars"
reason="illegible"
agent="uninkedType"
resp="#ES"/>e bed, and in a time</l>
<l n="2656">When fearefull Warres point at me: Her Sonne gone,</l>
<l n="2657">So needfull for this present? It strikes me, past</l>
<l n="2658">The hope of comfort. But for thee, Fellow,</l>
<l n="2659">Who needs must know of her departure, and</l>
<l n="2660">Dost seeme so ignorant, wee'l enforce it from thee</l>
<l n="2661">By a sharpe Torture.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-cym-pis">
<speaker rend="italic">Pis.</speaker>
<l n="2662">Sir, my life is yours,</l>
<l n="2663">I humbly set it at your will: But for my Mistris,</l>
<l n="2664">I nothing know where she remaines: why gone,</l>
<l n="2665">Nor when she purposes returne. Beseech your Highnes,</l>
<l n="2666">Hold me your loyall Seruant.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-cym-lor">
<speaker rend="italic">Lord.</speaker>
<l n="2667">Good my Liege,</l>
<l n="2668">The day that she was missing, he was heere;</l>
<l n="2669">I dare be bound hee's true, and shall performe</l>
<l n="2670">All parts of his subiection loyally. For<hi rend="italic">Cloten</hi>,</l>
<l n="2671">There wants no diligence in seeking him,</l>
<l n="2672">And will no doubt be found.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-cym-cym">
<speaker rend="italic">Cym.</speaker>
<l n="2673">The time is troublesome:</l>
<l n="2674">Wee'l slip you for a season, but our iealousie</l>
<l n="2675">Do's yet depend.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-cym-lor">
<speaker rend="italic">Lord.</speaker>
<l n="2676">So please your Maiesty,</l>
<l n="2677">The Romaine Legions, all from Gallia drawne,</l>
<l n="2678">Are landed on your Coast, with a supply</l>
<l n="2679">Of Romaine Gentlemen, by the Senate sent.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-cym-cym">
<speaker rend="italic">Cym.</speaker>
<l n="2680">Now for the Counsaile of my Son and Queen,</l>
<l n="2681">I am amaz'd with matter.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-cym-lor">
<speaker rend="italic">Lord.</speaker>
<l n="2682">Good my Liege,</l>
<l n="2683">Your preparation can affront no lesse</l>
<l n="2684">Then what you heare of. Come more, for more you're
<lb rend="turnover"/>
<pc rend="turnover">(</pc>ready:</l>
<l n="2685">The want is, but to put those Powres in motion,</l>
<l n="2686">That long to moue.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-cym-cym">
<speaker rend="italic">Cym.</speaker>
<l n="2687">I thanke you: let's withdraw</l>
<l n="2688">And meete the Time, as it seekes vs. We feare not</l>
<l n="2689">What can from Italy annoy vs, but</l>
<l n="2690">We greeue at chances heere. Away.</l>
</sp>
<stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exeunt</stage>
<sp who="#F-cym-pis">
<speaker rend="italic">Pisa.</speaker>
<l n="2691">I heard no Letter from my Master, since</l>
<l n="2692">I wrote him<hi rend="italic">Imogen</hi>was slaine. 'Tis strange:</l>
<l n="2693">Nor heare I from my Mistris, who did promise</l>
<l n="2694">To yeeld me often tydings. Neither know I</l>
<l n="2695">What is betide to<hi rend="italic">Cloten</hi>, but remaine</l>
<l n="2696">Perplext in all. The Heauens still must worke:</l>
<l n="2697">Wherein I am false, I am honest: not true, to be true.</l>
<l n="2698">These present warres shall finde I loue my Country,</l>
<l n="2699">Euen to the note o'th'King, or Ile fall in them:</l>
<l n="2700">All other doubts, by time let them be cleer'd,</l>
<l n="2701">Fortune brings in some Boats, that are not steer'd.</l>
</sp>
<stage rend="italic center" type="exit">Exit.</stage>
</div>
