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: bbb2v - Tragedies, p. 392

Left Column


The Tragedy of Cymbeline.
[2770]
For wrying but a little? Oh Pisanio, Euery good Seruant do's not all Commands: No Bond, but to do iust ones. Gods, if you Should haue 'tane vengeance on my faults, I neuer Had liu'd to put on this: so had you saued
[2775]
The noble Imogen, to repent, and strooke Me (wretch) more worth your Vengeance. But alacke, You snatch some hence for little faults; that's loue To haue them fall no more: you some permit To second illes with illes, each elder worse,
[2780]
And make them dread it, to the dooers thrift. But Imogen is your owne, do your best willes, And make me blest to obey. I am brought hither Among th'Italian Gentry, and to fight Against my Ladies Kingdome: 'Tis enough
[2785]
That (Britaine) I haue kill'd thy Mistris: Peace, Ile giue no wound to thee: therefore good Heauens, Heare patiently my purpose. Ile disrobe me Of these Italian weedes, and suite my selfe As do's a Britaine Pezant: so Ile fight
[2790]
Against the part I come with: so Ile dye For thee (O Imogen) euen for whom my life Is euery breath, a death: and thus, vnknowne, Pittied, nor hated, to the face of peril My selfe Ile dedicate. Let me make men know
[2795]
More valour in me, then my habits show. Gods, put the strength o'th' Leonati in me: To shame the guize o'th'world, I will begin, The fashion lesse without, and more within. Exit.
Scena Secunda. [Act 5, Scene 2] Enter Lucius, Iachimo, and the Romane Army at one doore: and the Britaine Army at another: Leonatus Posthumus following like a poore Souldier. They march ouer, and goe out. Then enter againe in Skirmish Iachimo and Posthu­ mus: he vanquisheth and disarmeth Iachimo, and then leaues him. Iac. The heauinesse and guilt within my bosome,
[2800]
Takes off my manhood: I haue belyed a Lady, The Princesse of this Country; and the ayre on't Reuengingly enfeebles me, or could this Carle, A very drudge of Natures, haue subdu'de me In my profession? Knighthoods, and Honors borne
[2805]
As I weare mine) are titles but of scorne. If that thy Gentry (Britaine) go before This Lowt, as he exceeds our Lords, the oddes Is, that we scarse are men, and you are Goddes. Exit. The Battaile continues, the Britaines fly, Cymbeline is taken: Then enter to his rescue, Bellarius, Guiderius, and Aruiragus. Bel. Stand, stand, we haue th'aduantage of the ground,
[2810]
The Lane is guarded: Nothing rowts vs, but The villany of our feares. Gui. Arui. Stand, stand, and fight. Enter Posthumus, and seconds the Britaines. They Rescue Cymbeline, and Exeunt. Then enter Lucius, Iachimo, and Imogen. Luc. Away boy from the Troopes, and saue thy selfe: For This word is partially obscured by a tear in the page. friends kil friends, and the disorder's such

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Right Column


[2815]
As warre were hood‑wink'd. Iac. 'Tis their fresh supplies. Luc. It is a day turn'd strangely: or betimes Let's re‑inforce, or fly. Exeunt
Scena Tertia. [Act 5, Scene 3] Enter Posthumus, and a Britaine Lord. Lor. Cam'st thou from where they made the stand? Post.
[2820]
I did, Though you it seemes come from the Fliers? Lo. I did. Post. No blame be to you Sir, for all was lost, But that the Heauens fought: the King himselfe
[2825]
Of his wings destitute, the Army broken, And but the backes of Britaines seene; all flying Through a strait Lane, the Enemy full‑heart'd, Lolling the Tongue with slaught'ring: hauing worke More plentifull, then Tooles to doo't: strooke downe
[2830]
Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling Meerely through feare, that the strait passe was damm'd With deadmen, hurt behinde, and Cowards liuing To dye with length'ned shame. Lo. Where was this Lane? Post.
[2835]
Close by the battell, ditch'd, & wall'd with turph, Which gaue aduantage to an ancient Soldiour (An honest one I warrant) who deseru'd So long a breeding, as his white beard came to, In doing this for's Country. Athwart the Lane,
[2840]
He, with two striplings (Lads more like to run The Country base, then to commit such slaughter, With faces fit for Maskes, or rather fayrer Then those for preseruation cas'd, or shame) Made good the passage, cryed to those that fled.
[2845]
Our Britaines hearts dye flying, not our men, To darknesse fleete soules that flye backwards; stand, Or we are Romanes, and will giue you that Like beasts, which you shun beastly, and may saue But to looke backe in frowne: Stand, stand. These three,
[2850]
Three thousand confident, in acte as many: For three performers are the File, when all The rest do nothing. With this word stand, stand, Accomodated by the Place; more Charming With their owne Noblenesse, which could haue turn'd
[2855]
A Distaffe, to a Lance, guilded pale lookes; Part shame, part spirit renew'd, that some turn'd coward But by example (Oh a sinne in Warre, Damn'd in the first beginners) gan to looke The way that they did, and to grin like Lyons
[2860]
Vpon the Pikes o'th'Hunters. Then beganne A stop i'th'Chaser; a Retyre: Anon A Rowt, confusion thicke: forthwith they flye Chickens, the way which they stopt Eagles: Slaues The strides the Victors made: and now our Cowards
[2865]
Like Fragments in hard Voyages became The life o'th'need: hauing found the backe doore open Of the vnguarded hearts: heauens, how they wound, Some slaine before some dying; some their Friends Ore‑borne i'th'former waue, ten chac'd by one,
[2870]
Are now each one the slaughter‑man of twenty: Those that would dye, or ere resist, are growne The mortall bugs o'th'Field. Lor.

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Scena Tertia. [Act 5, Scene 3] Enter Posthumus, and a Britaine Lord. Lor. Cam'st thou from where they made the stand? Post.
[2820]
I did, Though you it seemes come from the Fliers? Lo. I did. Post. No blame be to you Sir, for all was lost, But that the Heauens fought: the King himselfe
[2825]
Of his wings destitute, the Army broken, And but the backes of Britaines seene; all flying Through a strait Lane, the Enemy full‑heart'd, Lolling the Tongue with slaught'ring: hauing worke More plentifull, then Tooles to doo't: strooke downe
[2830]
Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling Meerely through feare, that the strait passe was damm'd With deadmen, hurt behinde, and Cowards liuing To dye with length'ned shame. Lo. Where was this Lane? Post.
[2835]
Close by the battell, ditch'd, & wall'd with turph, Which gaue aduantage to an ancient Soldiour (An honest one I warrant) who deseru'd So long a breeding, as his white beard came to, In doing this for's Country. Athwart the Lane,
[2840]
He, with two striplings (Lads more like to run The Country base, then to commit such slaughter, With faces fit for Maskes, or rather fayrer Then those for preseruation cas'd, or shame) Made good the passage, cryed to those that fled.
[2845]
Our Britaines hearts dye flying, not our men, To darknesse fleete soules that flye backwards; stand, Or we are Romanes, and will giue you that Like beasts, which you shun beastly, and may saue But to looke backe in frowne: Stand, stand. These three,
[2850]
Three thousand confident, in acte as many: For three performers are the File, when all The rest do nothing. With this word stand, stand, Accomodated by the Place; more Charming With their owne Noblenesse, which could haue turn'd
[2855]
A Distaffe, to a Lance, guilded pale lookes; Part shame, part spirit renew'd, that some turn'd coward But by example (Oh a sinne in Warre, Damn'd in the first beginners) gan to looke The way that they did, and to grin like Lyons
[2860]
Vpon the Pikes o'th'Hunters. Then beganne A stop i'th'Chaser; a Retyre: Anon A Rowt, confusion thicke: forthwith they flye Chickens, the way which they stopt Eagles: Slaues The strides the Victors made: and now our Cowards
[2865]
Like Fragments in hard Voyages became The life o'th'need: hauing found the backe doore open Of the vnguarded hearts: heauens, how they wound, Some slaine before some dying; some their Friends Ore‑borne i'th'former waue, ten chac'd by one,
[2870]
Are now each one the slaughter‑man of twenty: Those that would dye, or ere resist, are growne The mortall bugs o'th'Field. Lord. This was strange chance: A narrow Lane, an old man, and two Boyes. Post.
[2875]
Nay, do not wonder at it: you are made Rather to wonder at the things you heare, Then to worke any. Will you Rime vpon't, And vent it for a Mock'rie? Heere is one: “Two Boyes, an Oldman (twice a Boy) a Lane,
[2880]
“Preseru'd the Britaines, was the Romanes bane. Lord. Nay, be not angry Sir. Post. Lacke, to what end? Who dares not stand his Foe, Ile be his Friend: For if hee'l do, as he is made to doo,
[2885]
I know hee'l quickly flye my friendship too. You haue put me into Rime. Lord. Farewell, you're angry. Exit. Post. Still going? This is a Lord: Oh Noble misery To be i'th'Field, and aske what newes of me:
[2890]
To day, how many would haue giuen their Honours To haue sau'd their Carkasses? Tooke heele to doo't, And yet dyed too. I, in mine owne woe charm'd Could not finde death, where I did heare him groane, Nor feele him where he strooke. Being an vgly Monster,
[2895]
'Tis strange he hides him in fresh Cups, soft Beds, Sweet words; or hath moe ministers then we That draw his kniues i'th'War. Well I will finde him: For being now a Fauourer to the Britaine, No more a Britaine, I haue resum'd againe
[2900]
The part I came in. Fight I will no more, But yeeld me to the veriest Hinde, that shall Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is Heere made by'th'Romane; great the Answer be Britaines must take. For me, my Ransome's death,
[2905]
On eyther side I come to spend my breath; Which neyther heere Ile keepe, nor beare agen, But end it by some meanes for Imogen. Enter two Captaines, and Soldiers. 1 Great Iupiter be prais'd, Lucius is taken, 'Tis thought the old man, and his sonnes, were Angels. 2
[2910]
There was a fourth man, in a silly habit, That gaue th'Affront with them. 1 So 'tis reported: But none of 'em can be found. Stand, who's there? Post. A Roman,
[2915]
Who had not now beene drooping heere, if Seconds Had answer'd him. 2 Lay hands on him: a Dogge, A legge of Rome shall not returne to tell What Crows haue peckt them here: he brags his seruice
[2920]
As if he were of note: bring him to'th'King. Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, Aruiragus, Pisanio, and Romane Captiues. The Captaines present Posthumus to Cymbeline, who deliuers him ouer to a Gaoler.
 

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<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<div type="scene" n="3">
   <head rend="italic center">Scena Tertia.</head>
   <head type="supplied">[Act 5, Scene 3]</head>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Posthumus, and a Britaine Lord.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-cym-lor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Lor.</speaker>
      <l n="2819">Cam'st thou from where they made the stand?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="2820">I did,</l>
      <l n="2821">Though you it seemes come from the Fliers?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-lor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Lo.</speaker>
      <l n="2822">I did.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="2823">No blame be to you Sir, for all was lost,</l>
      <l n="2824">But that the Heauens fought: the King himselfe</l>
      <l n="2825">Of his wings destitute, the Army broken,</l>
      <l n="2826">And but the backes of Britaines seene; all flying</l>
      <l n="2827">Through a strait Lane, the Enemy full‑heart'd,</l>
      <l n="2828">Lolling the Tongue with slaught'ring: hauing worke</l>
      <l n="2829">More plentifull, then Tooles to doo't: strooke downe</l>
      <l n="2830">Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling</l>
      <l n="2831">Meerely through feare, that the strait passe was damm'd</l>
      <l n="2832">With deadmen, hurt behinde, and Cowards liuing</l>
      <l n="2833">To dye with length'ned shame.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-lor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Lo.</speaker>
      <l n="2834">Where was this Lane?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="2835">Close by the battell, ditch'd, &amp; wall'd with turph,</l>
      <l n="2836">Which gaue aduantage to an ancient Soldiour</l>
      <l n="2837">(An honest one I warrant) who deseru'd</l>
      <l n="2838">So long a breeding, as his white beard came to,</l>
      <l n="2839">In doing this for's Country. Athwart the Lane,</l>
      <l n="2840">He, with two striplings (Lads more like to run</l>
      <l n="2841">The Country base, then to commit such slaughter,</l>
      <l n="2842">With faces fit for Maskes, or rather fayrer</l>
      <l n="2843">Then those for preseruation cas'd, or shame)</l>
      <l n="2844">Made good the passage, cryed to those that fled.</l>
      <l n="2845">Our<hi rend="italic">Britaines</hi>hearts dye flying, not our men,</l>
      <l n="2846">To darknesse fleete soules that flye backwards; stand,</l>
      <l n="2847">Or we are Romanes, and will giue you that</l>
      <l n="2848">Like beasts, which you shun beastly, and may saue</l>
      <l n="2849">But to looke backe in frowne: Stand, stand. These three,</l>
      <l n="2850">Three thousand confident, in acte as many:</l>
      <l n="2851">For three performers are the File, when all</l>
      <l n="2852">The rest do nothing. With this word stand, stand,</l>
      <l n="2853">Accomodated by the Place; more Charming</l>
      <l n="2854">With their owne Noblenesse, which could haue turn'd</l>
      <l n="2855">A Distaffe, to a Lance, guilded pale lookes;</l>
      <l n="2856">Part shame, part spirit renew'd, that some turn'd coward</l>
      <l n="2857">But by example (Oh a sinne in Warre,</l>
      <l n="2858">Damn'd in the first beginners) gan to looke</l>
      <l n="2859">The way that they did, and to grin like Lyons</l>
      <l n="2860">Vpon the Pikes o'th'Hunters. Then beganne</l>
      <l n="2861">A stop i'th'Chaser; a Retyre: Anon</l>
      <l n="2862">A Rowt, confusion thicke: forthwith they flye</l>
      <l n="2863">Chickens, the way which they stopt Eagles: Slaues</l>
      <l n="2864">The strides the Victors made: and now our Cowards</l>
      <l n="2865">Like Fragments in hard Voyages became</l>
      <l n="2866">The life o'th'need: hauing found the backe doore open</l>
      <l n="2867">Of the vnguarded hearts: heauens, how they wound,</l>
      <l n="2868">Some slaine before some dying; some their Friends</l>
      <l n="2869">Ore‑borne i'th'former waue, ten chac'd by one,</l>
      <l n="2870">Are now each one the slaughter‑man of twenty:</l>
      <l n="2871">Those that would dye, or ere resist, are growne</l>
      <l n="2872">The mortall bugs o'th'Field.</l>
   </sp>
   <pb facs="FFimg:axc0903-0.jpg" n="393"/>
   <cb n="1"/>
   <sp who="#F-cym-lor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Lord.</speaker>
      <l n="2873">This was strange chance:</l>
      <l n="2874">A narrow Lane, an old man, and two Boyes.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="2875">Nay, do not wonder at it: you are made</l>
      <l n="2876">Rather to wonder at the things you heare,</l>
      <l n="2877">Then to worke any. Will you Rime vpon't,</l>
      <l n="2878">And vent it for a Mock'rie? Heere is one:</l>
      <l rend="italic" n="2879">“Two Boyes, an Oldman (twice a Boy) a Lane,</l>
      <l rend="italic" n="2880">“Preseru'd the Britaines, was the Romanes bane.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-lor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Lord.</speaker>
      <l n="2881">Nay, be not angry Sir.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="2882">Lacke, to what end?</l>
      <l n="2883">Who dares not stand his Foe, Ile be his Friend:</l>
      <l n="2884">For if hee'l do, as he is made to doo,</l>
      <l n="2885">I know hee'l quickly flye my friendship too.</l>
      <l n="2886">You haue put me into Rime.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-lor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Lord.</speaker>
      <l n="2887">Farewell, you're angry.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="2888">Still going? This is a Lord: Oh Noble misery</l>
      <l n="2889">To be i'th'Field, and aske what newes of me:</l>
      <l n="2890">To day, how many would haue giuen their Honours</l>
      <l n="2891">To haue sau'd their Carkasses? Tooke heele to doo't,</l>
      <l n="2892">And yet dyed too. I, in mine owne woe charm'd</l>
      <l n="2893">Could not finde death, where I did heare him groane,</l>
      <l n="2894">Nor feele him where he strooke. Being an vgly Monster,</l>
      <l n="2895">'Tis strange he hides him in fresh Cups, soft Beds,</l>
      <l n="2896">Sweet words; or hath moe ministers then we</l>
      <l n="2897">That draw his kniues i'th'War. Well I will finde him:</l>
      <l n="2898">For being now a Fauourer to the Britaine,</l>
      <l n="2899">No more a Britaine, I haue resum'd againe</l>
      <l n="2900">The part I came in. Fight I will no more,</l>
      <l n="2901">But yeeld me to the veriest Hinde, that shall</l>
      <l n="2902">Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is</l>
      <l n="2903">Heere made by'th'Romane; great the Answer be</l>
      <l n="2904">Britaines must take. For me, my Ransome's death,</l>
      <l n="2905">On eyther side I come to spend my breath;</l>
      <l n="2906">Which neyther heere Ile keepe, nor beare agen,</l>
      <l n="2907">But end it by some meanes for<hi rend="italic">Imogen</hi>.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter two Captaines, and Soldiers.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-cym-brc.1">
      <speaker>1</speaker>
      <l n="2908">Great Iupiter be prais'd,<hi rend="italic">Lucius</hi>is taken,</l>
      <l n="2909">'Tis thought the old man, and his sonnes, were Angels.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-brc.2">
      <speaker>2</speaker>
      <l n="2910">There was a fourth man, in a silly habit,</l>
      <l n="2911">That gaue th'Affront with them.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-brc.1">
      <speaker>1</speaker>
      <l n="2912">So 'tis reported:</l>
      <l n="2913">But none of 'em can be found. Stand, who's there?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="2914">A Roman,</l>
      <l n="2915">Who had not now beene drooping heere, if Seconds</l>
      <l n="2916">Had answer'd him.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-brc.2">
      <speaker>2</speaker>
      <l n="2917">Lay hands on him: a Dogge,</l>
      <l n="2918">A legge of Rome shall not returne to tell</l>
      <l n="2919">What Crows haue peckt them here: he brags his seruice</l>
      <l n="2920">As if he were of note: bring him to'th'King.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="mixed">Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, Aruiragus, Pisanio, and
      <lb/>Romane Captiues. The Captaines present Posthumus to
      <lb/>Cymbeline, who deliuers him ouer to a Gaoler.</stage>
</div>

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