Hath altered that good picture?435 What’s thy interest
In this sad wreck?436 How came’t? Who is’t?
What art thou?
INNOGEN I am nothing; or if not,
Nothing to be were better. This was my master,
A very valiant Briton, and a good,
That here by mountaineers lies slain. Alas,
There is442 no more such masters: I may wander
From east to occident, cry out for service443,
Try many, all good, serve truly, never
Find such another master.
LUCIUS ’Lack446, good youth,
Thou mov’st no less with thy complaining447 than
Thy master in bleeding: say his name, good friend.
Aside
INNOGEN Richard du Champ.— If I do lie and do
No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope
They’ll pardon it.— Say you451, sir?
LUCIUS Thy name?
INNOGEN Fidele, sir.
LUCIUS Thou dost approve thyself the very same454:
Thy name well fits thy faith, thy faith thy name.
Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say
Thou shalt be so well mastered, but be sure
No less beloved. The Roman emperor’s letters,
Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner
Than thine own worth prefer460 thee: go with me.
INNOGEN I’ll follow, sir. But first, an’t461 please the gods,
I’ll hide my master from the flies, as deep
As these poor pickaxes463 can dig: and when
With wildwood leaves and weeds I ha’ strewed his grave,
And on it said a century of465 prayers,
Such as I can466, twice o’er, I’ll weep and sigh,
And leaving so his service, follow you,
So please you entertain me.468
LUCIUS Ay, good youth,
And rather father thee than master thee.
My friends,
The boy hath taught us manly duties: let us
Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can,
And make him with our pikes and partisans474
A grave: come, arm him. Boy, he is preferred475
By thee to us, and he shall be interred
As soldiers can.477 Be cheerful, wipe thine eyes:
Some falls are means the happier to arise.
Exeunt
Act 4 Scene 3
running scene 15
Enter Cymbeline, Lords and Pisanio [with Attendants]
CYMBELINE Again1, and bring me word how ’tis with her.
[Exit an Attendant]
A fever with2 the absence of her son,
A madness of3 which her life’s in danger: heavens,
How deeply you at once do touch4 me! Innogen,
The great part of my comfort, gone: my queen
Upon a desperate bed6, and in a time
When fearful wars point at me: her son gone,
So needful for this present.8 It strikes me, past
The hope of comfort. But for thee, fellow,
Who needs must know of her departure and
Dost seem so ignorant, we’ll enforce it from thee11
By a sharp torture.
PISANIO Sir, my life is yours,
I humbly set it at your will: but for my mistress,
I nothing know15 where she remains, why gone,
Nor when she purposes16 return. Beseech your highness,
Hold17 me your loyal servant.
FIRST LORD Good my liege,
The day that she was missing he was here:
I dare be bound he’s true, and shall perform
All parts of his subjection21 loyally. For Cloten,
There wants22 no diligence in seeking him,
And will23 no doubt be found.
CYMBELINE The time is troublesome.—
To Pisanio
We’ll slip you for a season, but our jealousy25
Does yet depend.26
FIRST LORD So please your majesty,
The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn,
Are landed on your coast with a supply
Of Roman gentlemen30 by the senate sent.
CYMBELINE Now for31 the counsel of my son and queen!
I am amazed with matter.32
FIRST LORD Good my liege,
Than what you hear of. Come more35, for more you’re ready:
The want is but36 to put those powers in motion
That long to move.
CYMBELINE I thank you: let’s withdraw
And meet the time as it seeks us. We fear not
What can from Italy annoy40 us, but
We grieve at chances41 here. Away.
Exeunt [all but Pisanio]
PISANIO I heard no letter42 from my master since
I wrote him Innogen was slain. ’Tis strange:
Nor hear I from my mistress, who did promise
To yield me often tidings. Neither know I
What is betid46 to Cloten, but remain
Perplexed in all. The heavens still must work.
Wherein I am false I am honest: not true, to be true.
These present wars shall find49 I love my country,
Even to the note o’th’king, or I’ll fall50 in them.
All other doubts, by time let them be cleared:
Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered.52
Exit
Act 4 Scene 4
running scene 16
Enter Belarius, Guiderius and Arviragus
GUIDERIUS The noise1 is round about us.
BELARIUS Let us from it.
ARVIRAGUS What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it3
From action and adventure?
GUIDERIUS Nay, what hope
Have we in hiding us? This way6 the Romans
Must or for Britons slay us or receive us7
For barbarous and unnatural revolts
During their use, and slay us after.
BELARIUS Sons,
We’ll higher to the mountains, there secure us.11
To the king’s party there’s no going: newness
Of Cloten’s death — we being not known, not mustered13
Among the bands — may drive us to a render14
Where we have lived, and so extort from’s15 that
Which we have done, whose answer16 would be death
Drawn on with17 torture.
GUIDERIUS This is, sir, a doubt
In such a time nothing becoming you,
Nor satisfying us.
ARVIRAGUS It is not likely
That when they hear the Roman horses neigh,
Behold their quartered fires23, have both their eyes
And ears so cloyed importantly24 as now,
That they will waste their time upon our note25,
To know from whence we are.
BELARIUS O, I am known
Of28 many in the army: many years,
Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore29 him
From my remembrance.30 And besides, the king
Hath not deserved my service nor your loves,
Who find in my exile the want of breeding32,
The certainty of this hard life, aye hopeless33
To have the courtesy your cradle34 promised,
But to be still hot summer’s tanlings35 and
The shrinking slaves of winter.36
GUIDERIUS Than be so,
Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to th’army:
I and my brother are not known; yourself
So out of thought, and thereto so o’ergrown40,
Cannot be questioned.41
ARVIRAGUS By this sun that shines,
I’ll thither: what thing is’t43 that I never
Did see man die, scarce ever looked on blood
But that of coward hares, hot goats and venison!45
Never bestrid a horse, save one that had
A rider like myself, who ne’er wore rowel47
Nor iron48 on his heel! I am ashamed
To look upon the holy sun, to have
The benefit of his blest beams, remaining
So long a poor unknown.
GUIDERIUS By heavens, I’ll go:
If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave,
I’ll take the better care54: but if you will not,
The hazard therefore due55 fall on me by
The hands of Romans.
ARVIRAGUS So say I, amen.
BELARIUS No reason I, since of your lives you set
So slight a valuation, should reserve
If in your country61 wars you chance to die,
That is my bed too, lads, and there I’ll lie.
Aside
Lead, lead.— The time seems long, their blood thinks63
scorn
Till it fly out and show them princes born.
Exeunt
Act 5 Scene 1
running scene 17
Enter Posthumus alone
With a bloody handkerchief
POSTHUMUS Yea, bloody cloth1, I’ll keep thee: for I wished
Thou shouldst be coloured thus. You married ones,
If each of you should take this course3, how many
Must murder wives much better than themselves
For wrying5 but a little? O Pisanio,
Every good servant does not6 all commands:
No bond but7 to do just ones. Gods, if you
Should have8 ta’en vengeance on my faults, I never
Had lived to put on this9: so had you saved
The noble Innogen to repent10, and struck
Me, wretch, more worth11 your vengeance. But alack,
You snatch some hence for little faults; that’s love,
To have them fall13 no more: you some permit
To second ills with ills, each elder14 worse,
And make them dread it, to the doer’s thrift.15
But Innogen is your own: do your best wills,
And make me blest to obey. I am brought hither
Among th’Italian gentry, and to fight
Against my lady’s kingdom: ’tis enough
That, Britain, I have killed thy mistress: peace,
I’ll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heavens,
Hear patiently my purpose: I’ll disrobe me
Of these Italian weeds and suit23 myself
As does a Briton peasant: so I’ll fight
Against the part25 I come with: so I’ll die
For thee, O Innogen, even for whom my life
Is every breath a death: and thus, unknown,
Pitied28 nor hated, to the face of peril
Myself I’ll dedicate. Let me make men know
More valour in me than my habits30 show.
Gods, put the strength o’th’Leonati in me!
To shame the guise32 o’th’world, I will begin
The fashion, less without and more within.33
Exit
Act 5 Scene 2
running scene 18
Enter Lucius, Iachimo and the Roman army at one door: and the Briton army at another: Leonatus Posthumus following like a poor soldier. They march over and go out. Then enter again, in skirmish, Iachimo and Posthumus: he vanquisheth and disarmeth Iachimo, and then leaves him
IACHIMO The heaviness and guilt within my bosom1
Takes off my manhood: I have belied2 a lady,
The princess of this country, and the air on’t3
Revengingly enfeebles me; or could this carl4,
A very drudge of nature’s5, have subdued me
In my profession?6 Knighthoods and honours, borne
As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn.7
If that thy gentry, Britain, go before8
This lout as he exceeds our lords, the odds9
Is that we scarce are men and you are gods.
Exit
The battle continues, the Britons fly, Cymbeline is taken: then enter, to his rescue, Belarius, Guiderius and Arviragus
BELARIUS Stand, stand, we have th’advantage of the ground.
The lane is guarded: nothing routs12 us but
The villainy of our fears.
GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS Stand, stand and fight.
Enter Posthumus and seconds the Britons. They rescue Cymbeline, and exeunt. Then enter Lucius, Iachimo and Innogen
LUCIUS Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself:
For friends kill friends, and the disorder’s such
As war were hoodwinked.17
IACHIMO ’Tis their fresh supplies.
LUCIUS It is a day turned strangely: or betimes19
Let’s reinforce, or fly.
Exeunt
Act 5 Scene 3
running scene 18 continues
Enter Posthumus and a Briton Lord
LORD Cam’st thou from where they made the stand?
POSTHUMUS I did.
Though you, it seems, come from the fliers.3
LORD I did.
POSTHUMUS No blame be to you, sir, for all was lost,
But6 that the heavens fought: the king himself
Of his wings7 destitute, the army broken,
And but8 the backs of Britons seen, all flying
Through a strait lane: the enemy full-hearted9,
Lolling the tongue10 with slaught’ring, having work
More plentiful than tools to do’t, struck down
Some mortally, some slightly touched12, some falling
Merely through fear, that the strait pass was dammed13
With dead men hurt behind, and cowards living
To die with lengthened15 shame.
LORD Where was this lane?
POSTHUMUS Close by the battle, ditched and walled with turf,
Which gave advantage to an ancient18 soldier,
An honest one, I warrant, who deserved19
So long a breeding as his white beard came to
In doing this for’s country. Athwart the lane,
He, with two striplings — lads more like to run22
The country base than to commit such slaughter,
With faces fit for masks24, or rather fairer
Than those for preservation cased, or shame —
Made good26 the passage, cried to those that fled,
‘Our Britain’s harts27 die flying, not our men:
To darkness fleet souls that fly backwards.28 Stand,
Or we are Romans, and will give you that29
Like beasts which you shun beastly30, and may save
But to look back in frown31: stand, stand.’ These three,
Three thousand confident, in act as many32 —
For three performers are the file33 when all
The rest do nothing — with this word ‘Stand, stand’,
Accommodated by the place, more charming35
With their own nobleness, which could have turned
A distaff to a lance, gilded pale looks37;
Part38 shame, part spirit renewed, that some, turned coward
But by example39 — O, a sin in war,
Damned in the first beginners! — ’gan to look40
The way that they did, and to grin like lions41
Upon the pikes o’th’hunters. Then began
A stop i’th’chaser; a retire: anon43
A rout, confusion thick: forthwith they fly
Chickens the way which they stooped eagle
s: slaves45,
The strides they victors made: and now our cowards,
Like fragments in hard voyages, became47
The life o’th’need: having found the back door open48
Of the unguarded hearts, heavens, how they wound!
Some slain before, some dying, some their friends50
O’erborne i’th’former wave, ten chased by one,
Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty:
Those that would die or ere resist are grown53
The mortal bugs o’th’field.54
LORD This was strange chance:
A narrow lane, an old man, and two boys.
POSTHUMUS Nay, do not wonder at it57: you are made
Rather to wonder at the things you hear
Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon’t59,
And vent it for a mock’ry?60 Here is one:
‘Two boys, an old man — twice a boy61 — a lane,
Preserved the Britons, was the Romans’ bane.62’
LORD Nay, be not angry, sir.
POSTHUMUS ’Lack, to what end?64
Who dares not stand65 his foe, I’ll be his friend:
For if he’ll do as he is made66 to do,
I know he’ll quickly fly my friendship67 too.
You have put me into rhyme.
LORD Farewell, you’re angry.
Exit
POSTHUMUS Still going? This is a lord! O noble misery70,
To be i’th’field and ask ‘What news?’ of me.
Today how many would have given their honours72
To have saved their carcasses? Took heel to do’t73,
And yet died too. I, in mine own woe charmed74,
Could not find death where I did hear him groan,
Nor feel him where he struck. Being an ugly monster,
’Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds,
Sweet words, or hath more ministers78 than we
That draw his knives i’th’war. Well, I will find him:
For being now a favourer to the Briton80,
No more a Briton, I have resumed again
The part82 I came in. Fight I will no more,
But yield me to the veriest hind83 that shall
Once touch my shoulder.84 Great the slaughter is
Here made by th’Roman; great the answer be85
Britons must take. For me, my ransom’s death,
On either side I come to spend87 my breath,
Which neither here I’ll keep nor bear again88,