The Dramatic Works of Shakespeare

obedience: look!

A little witness
I draw the sword myself! take it, and hit
The innocent mansion of my love, my heart!
Fear not; 'tis empty of all things, but grief!
Thy master is not there; who was, indeed,
The riches of it. Do his bidding; strike!
Thou may'st be valiant in a better cause;
But now thou seem'st a coward.

Pis. Hence, vile instrument!
Thou shalt not damn my hand!
Imo. Why, I must die!

And if I do not by thy hand, thou art

No servant of thy master's! Against self-slaughter There is a prohibition so divine,

That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's my heart!
Something's afore't:-Soft, soft! we'll no defence!
Obedient as the scabbard! What is here?

The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus,
All turn'd to heresy? Away, away,
Corrupters of my faith! you shall no more

I should do so! You shall be miss'd at court,
And that will well confirm it.

Imo. Why, good fellow,

Or s

Wil

And

Dire

What shall I do the while? Where bide? How live?
Or in my life what comfort, when I am
Dead to my husband?

Be stomachers to my heart! Thus may poor fools Believe false teachers. Though those, that are betray'd,

Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor
Stands in worse case of woe.

Pis. If you'll back to the court,—
Imo. No court, no father! nor no more ado
With that harsh, noble, simple, nothing!
That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me
As fearful, as a siege.
Pis. If not at court,

Then not in Britain must yon bide.

Imo. Where then?

Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night,
Are they not but in Britain? I'the world's volume
Our Britain seems as of it, but not in it;
In a great pool, a swan's nest; pr'ythee, think
There's livers out of Britain.

And thou, Posthúmus, thou that didst set up
My disobedience 'gainst the king my father,
And make me put into contempt the suits
Of princely fellows, shalt hereafter find
It is no act of common passage, but
A strain of rareness: and I grieve myself,
To think, when thou shalt be disedg'd by her
That now thou tir'st on, how thy memory
Will then be pang'd by me.-Pr'ythee, dispatch!
The lamb entreats the butcher. Where's thy knife?
Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding,
When I desire it too.

Pis. O gracious lady,

Since I receiv'd command to do this business,
I have not slept one wink!

Imo. Do't, and to bed then.

Pis. I'll make mine eye-balls blind first.
Imo. Wherefore then

Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abus'd
So many miles, with a pretence? this place?
Mine action, and thine own? our horses' labour?
The time inviting thee? the perturb'd court,
For my being absent; whereunto I never
Purpose return? Why hast thou gone so far,
To be unbent, when thou hast ta'en thy stand,
The elected deer before thee?

Pis. I am most glad

You think of other place. The embassador,
Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven
To-morrow. Now, if you could wear a mind
Dark as your fortune is; and but disguise

That, which, to appear itself, must not yet be,
But by self-danger; you should tread a course
Pretty, and full of view: yea, haply, near
The residence of Posthumus: so nigh, at least,
That though his actions were not visible, yet
Report should render him hourly to your ear,
As truly, as he moves.

Imo. O, for such means!
Though peril to my modesty, not death on't,

I would adventure.

Pis. Well, then, here's the point! You must forget to be a woman; change Command into obedience; fear, and niceness, (The handmaids of all women, or, more truly, Woman its pretty self,) to a waggish courage; Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy, and As quarrellous, as the weasel: nay, you must Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek, Exposing it (but, O, the harder heart! Alack, no remedy!) to the greedy touch Of common-kissing Titan; and forget Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein You made great Juno angry.

Imo. Nay, be brief!

I see into thy end, and am almost
A man already.

Pis. First, make yourself but like one.
Fore-thinking this, I have already fit,
('Tis in my cloak-bag,) doublet, hat, hose, all
That answer to them. Would you, in their serving,
And with what imitation you can borrow
From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius
Present yourself, desire his service, tell him
Wherein you are happy, (which you'll make him know,
If that his head have ear in music,) doubtless,
With joy he will embrace you; for he's honourable,
And, doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad
You have me, rich; and I will never fail,
Beginning, nor supplyment.

Imo. Thou art all the comfort The gods will diet me with. Pr'ythee away! There's more to be considered; but we'll even All that good time will give us. This attempt I'm soldier to, and will abide it with A prince's courage. Away, I pr'ythee! Pis. Well, madam, we must take a short farewell Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress, Here is a box: I had it from the queen;

Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it.
Cym. Lucius hath wrote already to the emperor
How it goes here. It fits us therefore, ripely,
Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness:
The powers, that he already hath in Gallia,
Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves
His war for Britain.

Queen. 'Tis not sleepy business;

But must be look'd to speedily, and strongly.
Cym. Our expectation, that it would be thus,
Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen,
Where is our daughter? She hath not appear'd
Before the Roman, nor to us hath tender'd
The duty of the day. She looks us like
A thing more made of malice, than of duty:
We have noted it.- - Call her before us; for
We have been too slight in sufferance.

Queen. Royal sir,

[Exit an Attendant.

Since the exile of Posthumus, most retir'd
Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord,
'Tis time must do. 'Beseech your majesty,
Forbear sharp speeches to her she's a lady
So tender of rebukes, that words are strokes,
And strokes death to her.

Re-enter an Attendant.
Cym. Where is she, sir? How
Can her contempt be answer'd?
Atten. Please you, sir,

Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer,
That will be given to the loud'st of noise we make.
Queen. My lord, when last I went to visit her,
She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close;
Whereto constrain'd by her infirmity,
She should that duty leave unpaid to you,
Which daily she was bound to proffer: this

She wish'd me to make known; but our great court
Made me to blame in memory.

Cym, Her doors lock'd?

Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that, which I fear, Prove false! [Exit.

Queen. Son, I say, follow the king!

Clo. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant,
I have not seen these two days.
Queen. Go, look after! -
[Exit Cloten.
Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthúmus! -
He hath a drug of mine: I pray, his absence
Proceed by swallowing that; for he believes
It is a thing most precious. But for her,
Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seiz'd her;
Or, wing'd with fervour of her love, she's flown
To her desir'd Posthúmus: gone she is

To death, or to dishonour; and my end
Can make good use of either. She being down,
I have the placing of the British crown.

Re-enter CLOTEN.

How now, my son?

Clo. 'Tis certain, she is fled:

Go in, and cheer the king; he rages; none
Dare come about him.

Queen. All the better! May

This night forestall him of the coming day! [Exit Queen.

Clo. I love, and hate her; for she's fair and royal;
And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite
Than lady, ladies, woman; from every one
The best she hath, and she, of all compounded,
Outsells them all: I love her therefore: but,
Disdaining me, and throwing favours on
The low Posthúmus, slanders so her judgment,
That what's else rare, is chok'd; and, in that point,
I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed,
To be reveng'd upon her. For, when fools
Enter PISANIO.

Shall-Who is here? What! are you packing, sirrah?
Come hither! Ah, you precious pandar! Villain,
Where is thy lady? In a word; or else
Thou art straightway with the fiends.
Pis. O, good my lord!

Clo. Where is thy lady? or, by Jupiter,
I will not ask again. Close villain,

I'll have this secret from thy heart, or rip
Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthúmus?
From whose so many weights of baseness cannot
A dram of worth be drawn.

Pis. Alas, my lord,

How can she be with him? When was she miss'd? He is in Rome.

Clo. Where is she, sir? Come nearer;

No further halting: satisfy me home,
What is become of her?

Pis. O, my all-worthy lord!

Clo. All-worthy villain!

Discover where thy mistress is, at once,

At the next word. No more of worthy lord, -
Speak, or thy silence on the instant is
Thy condemnation and thy death.

Pis. Then, sir,

This paper is the history of my knowledge Touching her flight.

Presenting a letter.

Clo. Let's see't! I will pursue her
Even to Augustus' throne.
Pis. Or this, or perish!

She's far enough; and what he learns Aside.
by this

May prove his travel, not her danger.,
Clo. Humph!

Pis. I'll write to my lord she's dead. O Imogen,
Safe may'st thou wander, safe return again! [Aside.
Clo. Sirrah, is this letter true?
Pis. Sir, as I think.

Clo. Wilt thou serve me? For, since patiently and constantly thou hast stuck to the bare fortune of that beggar Posthumus, thou canst not, in the course of gratitude, but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou serve me?

[ACT III. Clo. It is Posthumus' hand; I know't. - Sirrah, if, When rich ones scarce tell true: to lapse in fulness thou would'st not be a villain, but do me true ser- Is sorer, than to lie for need; and falsehood vice; undergo those employments, wherein I should Is worse in kings, than beggars. - My dear lord! have cause to use thee, with a serious industry, Thou art one o'the false ones: now I think on thee, that is, what villainy soe'er I bid thee do, to per- My hunger's gone; but even before, I was form it, directly and truly, I would think thee an At point to sink for food. But what is this? honest man: thou should'st neither want my means Here is a path to it: 'tis some savage hold: for thy relief, nor my voice for thy preferment. I were best not call; -I dare not call; yet famine, Pis. Well, my good lord! Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant. Plenty, and peace, breeds cowards; hardness ever Of hardiness is mother.-Ho! who's here? If any thing that's civil, speak! if savage, Take, or lend!-Ho!-No answer? then I'll enter! Best draw my sword, and if mine enemy But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look on't. Such a foe, good heavens! [She goes into the case. Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS. Bel. You, Polydore, have prov'd best woodman, and Are master of the feast: Cadwal, and I, Will play the cook and servant; 'tis our match: The sweat of industry would dry, and die, But for the end it works to. Come! our stomachs Will make what's homely, savoury. Weariness Can snore upon the flint, when restive sloth Findst the down pillow hard. Now, peace be here, Poor house, that keep'st thyself! Gui. I am thoroughly weary.

Pis. Sir, I will.

Clo. Give me thy hand, here's my purse. Hast any
of thy late master's garments in thy possession?
Pis. I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same suit
he wore, when he took leave of my lady and mistress.
Clo. The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit
hither! let it be thy first service; go!
Pis. I shall, my lord!
[Exit.
Clo. Meet thee at Milford-Haven: -I forgot to ask
him one thing; I'll remember't anon. Even there,
thou villain Posthumus, will I kill thee. I would,
these garments were come. She said upon a time,
(the bitterness of it I now belch from my heart,)
that she held the very garment of Posthumus in
more respect, than my noble and natural person, to-
gether with the adornment of my qualities. With
that suit upon my back, will I ravish her. First kill
him, and in her eyes; there shall she see my valour,
which will then be a torment to her contempt. He
on the ground, my speech of insultment ended on
his dead body, and when my lust hath dined,
(which, as I say, to vex her, I will execute in the
clothes that she so praised,) to the court I'll knock
her back, foot her home again. She hath despised
me rejoicingly, and I'll be merry in my revenge.
Re-enter PISANIO, with the clothes.

Be those the garments?

Pis. Ay, my noble lord!

Arv. I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite.
Gui. There is cold meat i'the cave; we'll browze
on that,

Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd.
Bel. Stay! come not in!
[Looking in
But that it eats our victuals, I should think
Here were a fairy.

Gui. What's the matter, sir?
Bel. By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not,
An earthly paragon!. Behold divineness
No elder than a boy!

Enter IMOGEN.
Imo. Good masters, harm me not!
Before I enter'd here, I call'd; and thought

Clo. How long is't since she went to Milford-To have begg'd, or bought, what I have took: good

is, that thou shalt be a voluntary mute to my design. meat:

Be but duteous, and true preferment shall tender I would have left it on the board, so soon
itself to thee. My revenge is now at Milford. As I had made my meal; and parted
'Would, I had wings to follow it! Come, and be With prayers for the provider.
true!
[Exit. Gui. Money, youth?
Pis. Thou bidd'st me to my loss: for, true to thee,
Were to prove false, which I will never be,
To him that is most true. To Milford go,
And find not her, whom thou pursu'st. Flow, flow,
You heavenly blessings, on her! This fool's speed
Be cross'd with slowness; labour be his meed!

[Exit.

SCENE VI. Before the cave of BELARIUS.
Enter IMOGEN, in Boys' clothes.

Imo. I see, a man's life is a tedious one:
I have tir'd myself; and for two nights together
Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick,
But that my resolution helps me. Milford,
When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd thee,
Thou wast within a ken: O Jove! I think,
Foundations fly the wretched; such, I mean,
Where they should be reliev'd. Two beggars told me,
I could not miss my way. Will poor folks lie,
That have afflictions on them; knowing 'tis
A punishment, or trial? Yes; no wonder,

Arv. All gold and silver rather turn to dirt!
As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those
Who worship dirty gods.
Imo. I see, you are angry:
Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should
Have died, had I not made it.
Bel. Whither bound?

Imo. To Milford-Haven, sir!
Bel. What is your name?

Imo. Fidele, sir! I have a kinsman, who
Is bound for Italy; he embark'd at Milford,
To whom being going, almost spent with hunger,
I am fall'n in this offence.

Bel. Pr’ythee, fair youth,

Think us no churls; nor measure our good minds
By this rude place we live in. Well encounter'd!
'Tis almost night: you shall have better cheer,
Ere you depart; and thanks to stay and eat it.-
Boys, bid him welcome!

Gui. Were you a woman, youth,
I should woo hard, but be your groom.-In honesty,

Boys, we'll go dress our hunt.-Fair youth, come in!
Discourse is heavy, fasting; when we have supp'd,
We'll mannerly demand thee of thy story,

So far as thou wilt speak it.

Cui. Pray, draw near!

my body are as well drawn, as his; no less young,
more strong, not beneath, him in fortunes, beyond
him in the advantage of the time, above him in birth,
alike conversant in general services, and more re-
markable in single oppositions: yet this imperseve-
rant thing loves him in my despite. What mortality
is! Posthumus, thy head, which now is growing upon
thy shoulders, shall within this hour be off; thy
mistress enforced; thy garments cut to pieces before
thy face; and all this done, spurn her home to her
father: who may, haply, be a little angry for my so
rough usage: but my mother, having power of his
testiness, shall turn all into my commendations.
My horse is tied up safe. Out, sword, and to a sore
purpose! Fortune put them into my hand! This is
the very description of their meeting-place; and
the fellow dares not deceive me.
[Exit.

Arv. The night to the owl, and morn to the lark, To seem to die, ere sick. So please you, leave me!

less welcome!

Imo. Thanks, sir!

Arv. I pray, draw near!

Stick to your journal course: the breach of custom
Is breach of all. I am ill; but your being by me

[Exeunt. Cannot amend me. Society is no comfort
To one not sociable; I'm not very sick,
Since I can reason of it. Pray you, trust me here;
I'll rob none but myself; and let me die,
Stealing so poorly.

1 Sen. This is the tenour of the emperor's writ:
That since the common men are now in action
'Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians;
And that the legions now in Gallia are
Full weak to undertake our wars against
The fall'n-off Britons; that we do incite
The gentry to this business. He creates
Lucius pro-consul; and to you the tribunes,
For this immediate levy, he commands
His absolute commision. Long live Caesar!
Tri. Is Lucius general of the forces?
2 Sen. Ay.

Tri. Remaining now in Gallia?

1 Sen. With those legions

Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy

Must be supplyant. The words of your commission
Will tie you to the numbers, and the time
Of their dispatch.

Tri. We will discharge our duty.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.

The forest, near the cave.
Enter CLOTEN.

Gui. I love thee; I have spoke it:
How much the quantity, the weight as much,
As I do love

father.

Bel. What? how? how?

Arv. If it be sin to say so, sir, I yoke me
In my good brother's fault: I know not why
I love this youth; and I have heard you say,
Love's reason's without reason; the bier at door,
And a demand who is't shall die, I'd say,
My father, not this youth.

Bel. O noble strain!

[Aside.

O worthiness of nature! breed of greatness!
Cowards father cowards, and base things sire base:
Nature hath meal, and bran; contempt, and grace.
Doth miracle itself, lov'd before me.-
I am not their father; yet who this should be,

'Tis the ninth hour o'the morn.

Arv. Brother, farewell!

Imo. I wish you sport!

Arv. You, health!-So please you, sir!

Imo. [Aside.] These are kind creatures. Gods, what lies I have heard!

Our courtiers say, all's savage, but at court: Experience, O, thou disprov'st report! Clo. I am near to the place where they should meet, The imperious seas breed monsters; for the dish if Pisanio have mapped it truly. How fit his gar- Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish. ments serve me! Why should his mistress, who was I am sick still; heart-sick. - Pisanio, made by him that made the tailor, not be fit too? I'll now taste of thy drug. the rather (saving reverence of the word) for 'tis Gui. I could not stir him: said, a woman's fitness comes by fits. Therein I He said, he was gentle, but unfortunate; must play the workman. I dare speak it to myself, Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest. (for it is not vain-glory, for a man and his glass to Arv. Thus did he answer me: yet said, herafter confer; in his own chamber, I mean,) the lines of I might know more.

[Exit Imogen.

This youth, howe'er distress'd, appears he hath had
Good ancestors.

Arv. How angel-like he sings!

When I have slain thee with my proper hand,
I'll follow those that even now fled hence,
And on the gates of Lud's town set your heads:
[Exeunt fighting.

Gui. But his neat cookery! He cut our roots in Yield, rustic mountaineer!
characters;

And sauc'd our broths, as Juno had been sick,
And he her dieter.

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Hence!

[Exeunt Belarius and Arviragus.

Clo. Soft! what are you
That fly me thus? some villain mountaineers?
I have heard of such. What slave art thou?
Gui. A thing

More slavish did I ne'er, than answering d slave without a knock.

Clo. Thou art a robber,

A law-breaker, a villain! Yield thee, thief!

Enter BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS.
Bel. No company's abroad.
Arv. None in the world: you did mistake him, sure!
Bel. I cannot tell. Long is it since I saw him,
But time hath nothing blurr'd those lines of favour,
Which then he wore; the snatches in his voice,
And burst oft speaking, were as his : I am absolute
'Twas very Cloten.

Arv. In this place we left them:

I wish my brother make good time with him,
You say
he is so fell.

Bel. Being scarce made up,

I mean, to man, he had not apprehension
Of roaring terrors; for the effect of judgment
Is oft the cause of fear. But see, thy brother!

Re-enter GUIDERIUS, with CLOTEN's head.
Gui. This Cloten was a fool; an empty purse,
There was no money in't: not Hercules
Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had none:
Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne
My head, as I do his.

Bel. What hast thou done?

Gui. I am perfect, what: cut off one Cloten's head,
Son to the queen, after his own report;
Who call'd me traitor, mountaineer; and swore,
With his own single hand he'd take us in,
Displace our heads, where (thank the gods!) they
grow

And set them on Lud's town.

Bel. We are all undone.

Gui. Why, worthy father, what have we to lose,
But, that he swore to take, our lives? The law
Protects not us. Then why should we be tender,
To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us;
Play judge, and executioner, all himself;
For we do fear the law? What company
Discover you abroad?

Gui. To who? to thee? What art thou? Have Bel. No single soul not I

An arm as big as thine? a heart as big?

Thy words, I grant, are bigger; for I wear not
My dagger in my mouth. Say, what thou art;
Why I should yield to thee?

Clo. Thou villain base,

Know'st me not by my clothes?

Gui. No, nor thy tailor, rascal!

Who is thy grandfather: he made those clothes,
Which, as it seems, make thee.

Clo. Thou precious varlet,

My tailor made them not.

Gui. Hence then, and thank

Can we set eye on; but, in all safe reason,
He must have some attendants. Though his humour
Was nothing but mutation; ay, and that
From one bad thing to worse; not frenzy, not
Absolute madness could so far have rav'd,
To bring him here alone! Although, perhaps,
It may be heard at court, that such as we
Cave here, hunt here, are outlaws, and in time
May make some stronger head: the which he hearing,
(As it is like him,) might break out, and swear
He'd fetch us in; yet is't not probable
To come alone, either he so undertaking,
Or they so suffering: then on good ground we fear,

The man that gave them thee! Thou art some fool; If we do fear this body hath a tail

I am loath to beat thee.

Clo. Thou injurious thief,

Hear but my name, and tremble!

Gui. What's thy name?

Clo. Cloten, thou villain!

Gui. Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name,

I cannot tremble at it; were't toad, or adder, spider,

'Twould move me sooner.

Clo. To thy further fear,

More perilous than the head.

Arv. Let ordinance

Come as the gods foresay it: howsoe'er,

My brother had done well.

Bel. I had no mind

To hunt this day: the boy Fidele's sickness
Did make my way long forth

Gui. With his own sword,

Which he did wave against my throat, I have talen

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