Cymbeline by William Shakespeare
Act 1 - Scene 1
Britain. The garden of Cymbeline’s palace.
First Gentleman : You do not meet a man but frowns: our bloods
[p]No more obey the
heavens than our courtiers
[p]Still seem as does the king.
Second Gentleman : But what's the matter?
First Gentleman : His daughter, and the heir of's kingdom, whom
[p]He purposed to his
wife's sole son--a widow
[p]That late he married--hath referr'd
herself
[p]Unto a poor but worthy gentleman: she's wedded;
[p]Her
husband banish'd; she imprison'd: all
[p]Is outward sorrow; though I
think the king
[p]Be touch'd at very heart.
Second Gentleman : None but the king?
First Gentleman : He that hath lost her too; so is the queen,
[p]That most desired the
match; but not a courtier,
[p]Although they wear their faces to the
bent
[p]Of the king's look's, hath a heart that is not
[p]Glad at the
thing they scowl at.
Second Gentleman : And why so?
First Gentleman : He that hath miss'd the princess is a thing
[p]Too bad for bad report:
and he that hath her--
[p]I mean, that married her, alack, good
man!
[p]And therefore banish'd--is a creature such
[p]As, to seek
through the regions of the earth
[p]For one his like, there would be
something failing
[p]In him that should compare. I do not think
[p]So
fair an outward and such stuff within
[p]Endows a man but he.
Second Gentleman : You speak him far.
First Gentleman : I do extend him, sir, within himself,
[p]Crush him together rather
than unfold
[p]His measure duly.
Second Gentleman : What's his name and birth?
First Gentleman : I cannot delve him to the root: his father
[p]Was call'd Sicilius, who
did join his honour
[p]Against the Romans with Cassibelan,
[p]But had
his titles by Tenantius whom
[p]He served with glory and admired
success,
[p]So gain'd the sur-addition Leonatus;
[p]And had, besides
this gentleman in question,
[p]Two other sons, who in the wars o' the
time
[p]Died with their swords in hand; for which
[p]their
father,
[p]Then old and fond of issue, took such sorrow
[p]That he
quit being, and his gentle lady,
[p]Big of this gentleman our theme,
deceased
[p]As he was born. The king he takes the babe
[p]To his
protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus,
[p]Breeds him and makes him
of his bed-chamber,
[p]Puts to him all the learnings that his
time
[p]Could make him the receiver of; which he took,
[p]As we do
air, fast as 'twas minister'd,
[p]And in's spring became a harvest,
lived in court--
[p]Which rare it is to do--most praised, most
loved,
[p]A sample to the youngest, to the more mature
[p]A glass that
feated them, and to the graver
[p]A child that guided dotards; to his
mistress,
[p]For whom he now is banish'd, her own price
[p]Proclaims
how she esteem'd him and his virtue;
[p]By her election may be truly
read
[p]What kind of man he is.
Second Gentleman : I honour him
[p]Even out of your report. But, pray you, tell me,
[p]Is
she sole child to the king?
First Gentleman : His only child.
[p]He had two sons: if this be worth your
hearing,
[p]Mark it: the eldest of them at three years old,
[p]I' the
swathing-clothes the other, from their nursery
[p]Were stol'n, and to
this hour no guess in knowledge
[p]Which way they went.
Second Gentleman : How long is this ago?
First Gentleman : Some twenty years.
Second Gentleman : That a king's children should be so convey'd,
[p]So slackly guarded,
and the search so slow,
[p]That could not trace them!
First Gentleman : Howsoe'er 'tis strange,
[p]Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd
at,
[p]Yet is it true, sir.
Second Gentleman : I do well believe you.
First Gentleman : We must forbear: here comes the gentleman,
[p]The queen, and
princess.
Queen : No, be assured you shall not find me, daughter,
[p]After the slander
of most stepmothers,
[p]Evil-eyed unto you: you're my prisoner,
but
[p]Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys
[p]That lock up your
restraint. For you, Posthumus,
[p]So soon as I can win the offended
king,
[p]I will be known your advocate: marry, yet
[p]The fire of rage
is in him, and 'twere good
[p]You lean'd unto his sentence with what
patience
[p]Your wisdom may inform you.
Posthumus Leonatus : Please your highness,
[p]I will from hence to-day.
Queen : You know the peril.
[p]I'll fetch a turn about the garden,
pitying
[p]The pangs of barr'd affections, though the king
[p]Hath
charged you should not speak together.
Imogen : O
[p]Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant
[p]Can tickle where
she wounds! My dearest husband,
[p]I something fear my father's wrath;
but nothing--
[p]Always reserved my holy duty--what
[p]His rage can do
on me: you must be gone;
[p]And I shall here abide the hourly
shot
[p]Of angry eyes, not comforted to live,
[p]But that there is
this jewel in the world
[p]That I may see again.
Posthumus Leonatus : My queen! my mistress!
[p]O lady, weep no more, lest I give
cause
[p]To be suspected of more tenderness
[p]Than doth become a man.
I will remain
[p]The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight
troth:
[p]My residence in Rome at one Philario's,
[p]Who to my father
was a friend, to me
[p]Known but by letter: thither write, my
queen,
[p]And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send,
[p]Though
ink be made of gall.
Queen : Be brief, I pray you:
[p]If the king come, I shall incur I know
not
[p]How much of his displeasure.
[p][Aside]
[p]Yet I'll move
him
[p]To walk this way: I never do him wrong,
[p]But he does buy my
injuries, to be friends;
[p]Pays dear for my offences.
Posthumus Leonatus : Should we be taking leave
[p]As long a term as yet we have to
live,
[p]The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu!
Imogen : Nay, stay a little:
[p]Were you but riding forth to air
yourself,
[p]Such parting were too petty. Look here, love;
[p]This
diamond was my mother's: take it, heart;
[p]But keep it till you woo
another wife,
[p]When Imogen is dead.
Posthumus Leonatus : How, how! another?
[p]You gentle gods, give me but this I have,
[p]And
sear up my embracements from a next
[p]With bonds of
death!
[p][Putting on the ring]
[p]Remain, remain thou here
[p]While
sense can keep it on. And, sweetest, fairest,
[p]As I my poor self did
exchange for you,
[p]To your so infinite loss, so in our trifles
[p]I
still win of you: for my sake wear this;
[p]It is a manacle of love;
I'll place it
[p]Upon this fairest prisoner.
Imogen : O the gods!
[p]When shall we see again?
Posthumus Leonatus : Alack, the king!
Cymbeline : Thou basest thing, avoid! hence, from my sight!
[p]If after this
command thou fraught the court
[p]With thy unworthiness, thou diest:
away!
[p]Thou'rt poison to my blood.
Posthumus Leonatus : The gods protect you!
[p]And bless the good remainders of the court! I
am gone.
Imogen : There cannot be a pinch in death
[p]More sharp than this is.
Cymbeline : O disloyal thing,
[p]That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap'st
[p]A
year's age on me.
Imogen : I beseech you, sir,
[p]Harm not yourself with your vexation
[p]I am
senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare
[p]Subdues all pangs, all
fears.
Cymbeline : Past grace? obedience?
Imogen : Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace.
Cymbeline : That mightst have had the sole son of my queen!
Imogen : O blest, that I might not! I chose an eagle,
[p]And did avoid a
puttock.
Cymbeline : Thou took'st a beggar; wouldst have made my throne
[p]A seat for
baseness.
Imogen : No; I rather added
[p]A lustre to it.
Cymbeline : O thou vile one!
Imogen : Sir,
[p]It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus:
[p]You bred him
as my playfellow, and he is
[p]A man worth any woman, overbuys
me
[p]Almost the sum he pays.
Cymbeline : What, art thou mad?
Imogen : Almost, sir: heaven restore me! Would I were
[p]A neat-herd's
daughter, and my Leonatus
[p]Our neighbour shepherd's son!
Cymbeline : Thou foolish thing!
[p][Re-enter QUEEN]
[p]They were again together:
you have done
[p]Not after our command. Away with her,
[p]And pen her
up.
Queen : Beseech your patience. Peace,
[p]Dear lady daughter, peace! Sweet
sovereign,
[p]Leave us to ourselves; and make yourself some
comfort
[p]Out of your best advice.
Cymbeline : Nay, let her languish
[p]A drop of blood a day; and, being
aged,
[p]Die of this folly!
Queen : Fie! you must give way.
[p][Enter PISANIO]
[p]Here is your servant.
How now, sir! What news?
Pisanio : My lord your son drew on my master.
Queen : Ha!
[p]No harm, I trust, is done?
Pisanio : There might have been,
[p]But that my master rather play'd than
fought
[p]And had no help of anger: they were parted
[p]By gentlemen
at hand.
Queen : I am very glad on't.
Imogen : Your son's my father's friend; he takes his part.
[p]To draw upon an
exile! O brave sir!
[p]I would they were in Afric both
together;
[p]Myself by with a needle, that I might prick
[p]The
goer-back. Why came you from your master?
Pisanio : On his command: he would not suffer me
[p]To bring him to the haven;
left these notes
[p]Of what commands I should be subject to,
[p]When
't pleased you to employ me.
Queen : This hath been
[p]Your faithful servant: I dare lay mine honour
[p]He
will remain so.
Pisanio : I humbly thank your highness.
Queen : Pray, walk awhile.
Imogen : About some half-hour hence,
[p]I pray you, speak with me: you shall at
least
[p]Go see my lord aboard: for this time leave me.
Next: Act 1 - Scene 2
