CYMBELINE

CYMBELINE OUR first reference to Cymbeline is a note by the astrologer Simon Forman that he saw the play, probably not long before his death on 8 September 1611. He refers to the heroine as ‘Innogen’, and this name occurs in the sources; the form ‘Imogen’, found only in the Folio, appears to be a misprint. The play’s courtly tone, and the masque-like quality of, particularly, the episode (5.5.186.1-2) in which Jupiter ‘descends in thunder and lightning, sitting upon an eagle’ and ‘throws a thunderbolt’, suggests that as Shakespeare wrote he may have had in mind the audiences and the stage equipment of the Blackfriars theatre, which his company used from the autumn of 1609; and stylistic evidence places the play in about 1610-11. It was first printed in the 1623 Folio, as the last of the tragedies. In fact it is a tragicomedy, or a romance, telling a complex and implausible tale of events which cause the deaths of certain subsidiary characters (Cloten, and the Queen) and bring major characters (including the heroine, Innogen) close to death, but which are miraculously resolved in the reunions and reconciliations of the closing scene. Shakespeare’s plot reflects a wide range of reading. He took his title and setting from the name and reign of the legendary British king Cymbeline, or Cunobelinus, said to have reigned from 33 BC till shortly after the birth of Christ. Cymbeline is no chronicle history, but Shakespeare derived some ideas, and many of his characters’ names, from accounts of early British history in Holinshed’s Chronicles and elsewhere. Drawing partially, it seems, on an old play, The Rare Triumphs of Love and Fortune (acted 1582, printed 1589), he gives Cymbeline a daughter, Innogen, and a wicked second Queen with a loutish, vicious son, Cloten, whom she wishes to see on the throne in her husband’s place. Cymbeline, disapproving of his daughter’s marriage to ‘a poor but worthy gentleman’, Posthumus Leonatus, banishes him. The strand of plot showing the outcome of a wager that Posthumus, in Rome, lays on his wife’s chastity is indebted, directly or indirectly, to Boccaccio’s Decameron. Another old play, Sir Clyomon and Clamydes (printed in 1599), may have suggested the bizarre scene (4.2) in which Innogen mistakes Cloten’s headless body for that of Posthumus; and IIolinshed’s Ilistory of Scotland supplied the episode in which Cymbeline’s two sons, Guiderius and Arviragus, helped only by the old man (Belarius) who has brought them up in the wilds of Wales, defeat the entire Roman army. The tone of Cymbeline has puzzled commentators. Its prose and verse style is frequently ornate, sometimes grotesque. Its characterization often seems deliberately artificial. Extremes are violently juxtaposed, most daringly when Innogen, supposed dead, is laid beside Cloten’s headless body: the beauty of the verse in which she is mourned, and of the flowers strewn over the bodies, contrasts with the hideous spectacle of the headless corpse; her waking speech is one of Shakespeare’s most thrillingly difficult challenges to his performers. The appearance of Jupiter lifts the action to a new level of even greater implausibility, preparing us for the extraordinary series of revelations by which the play advances to its impossibly happy ending. Cymbeline has been valued mostly for its portrayal of Innogen, ideal of womanhood to, especially, Victorian readers and theatre-goers. The play as a whole is a fantasy, an experimental exercise in virtuosity. THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY CYMBELINE, King of Britain Princess INNOGEN, his daughter, later disguised as a man named Fidele QUEEN, Cymbeline’s wife, Innogen’s stepmother Lord CLOTEN, her son

BELARIUS, a banished lord, calling himself Morgan CORNELIUS, a physician HELEN, a lady attending on Innogen Two LORDS attending on Cloten Two GENTLEMEN Two British CAPTAINS Two JAILERS POSTHUMUS Leonatus, a poor gentleman, Innogen’s husband PISANIO, his servant FILARIO, a friend of Posthumus Caius LUCIUS, ambassador from Rome, later General of the Roman forces Two Roman SENATORS Roman TRIBUNES A Roman CAPTAIN Philharmonus, a SOOTHSAYER JUPITER Ghost of SICILIUS Leonatus, father of Posthumus Ghost of the MOTHER of Posthumus Ghosts of the BROTHERS of Posthumus

Lords attending on Cymbeline, ladies attending on the Queen, musicians attending on Cloten, messengers, soldiers

Cymbeline, King of Britain

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

Atto 1, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Cloten and two Lords
FIRST LORD	Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt. The violence of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice. Where air comes out, air comes in. There’s none abroad so wholesome as that you vent.
CLOTEN	If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Have I hurt him?
SECOND LORD	(aside) No, faith, not so much as his patience.
FIRST LORD	Hurt him? His body’s a passable carcass if he be not hurt. It is a thoroughfare for steel if he be not hurt.
SECOND LORD	(aside) His steel was in debt—it went o’th’ backside the town.
CLOTEN	The villain would not stand me.
SECOND LORD	(aside) No, but he fled forward still, toward your face.
FIRST LORD	Stand you? You have land enough of your own, but he added to your having, gave you some ground.
SECOND LORD	(aside) As many inches as you have oceans. Puppies!
CLOTEN	I would they had not come between us.
SECOND LORD	(aside) So would I, till you had measured how long a fool you were upon the ground.
CLOTEN	And that she should love this fellow and refuse me!
SECOND LORD	(aside) If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damned.
FIRST LORD	Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain go not together. She’s a good sign, but I have seen small reflection of her wit.
SECOND LORD	(aside) She shines not upon fools lest the reflection should hurt her.
CLOTEN	Come, I’ll to my chamber. Would there had been some hurt done.
SECOND LORD	(aside) I wish not so, unless it had been the fall of an ass, which is no great hurt.
CLOTEN	(to Second Lord) You’ll go with us?
FIRST LORD	I’ll attend your lordship.
CLOTEN	Nay, come, let’s go together.
SECOND LORD	Well, my lord.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 1, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Innogen and Pisanio
INNOGEN	I would thou grew‘st unto the shores o’th’ haven And questionedst every sail. If he should write And I not have it, ’twere a paper lost As offered mercy is. What was the last That he spake to thee?
PISANIO	It was his queen, his queen.
INNOGEN	Then waved his handkerchief?
PISANIO	And kissed it, madam.
INNOGEN	Senseless linen, happier therein than I! And that was all?
PISANIO	No, madam. For so long As he could make me with this eye or ear Distinguish him from others he did keep The deck, with glove or hat or handkerchief Still waving, as the fits and stirs of ’s mind Could best express how slow his soul sailed on, How swift his ship.
INNOGEN	Thou shouldst have made him As little as a crow, or less, ere left To after-eye him.
PISANIO	Madam, so I did.
INNOGEN	I would have broke mine eye-strings, cracked them, but To look upon him till the diminution Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle; Nay, followed him till he had melted from The smallness of a gnat to air, and then Have turned mine eye and wept. But, good Pisanio, When shall we hear from him?
PISANIO	Be assured, madam, With his next vantage.
INNOGEN	I did not take my leave of him, but had Most pretty things to say. Ere I could tell him How I would think on him at certain hours, Such thoughts and such, or I could make him swear The shes of Italy should not betray Mine interest and his honour, or have charged him At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight T’encounter me with orisons—for then I am in heaven for him—or ere I could Give him that parting kiss which I had set Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father, And, like the tyrannous breathing of the north, Shakes all our buds from growing.
(didascalia)	Enter
INNOGEN	a Lady
LADY	The Queen, madam, Desires your highness’ company.
INNOGEN	(to Pisanio) Those things I bid you do, get them dispatched. I will attend the Queen.
PISANIO	Madam, I shall.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Innogen and Lady at one door, Pisanio at another
(didascalia)	1.4 A table brought out, with a banquet upon it. Enter Filario, Giacomo, a Frenchman, a Dutchman, and a Spaniard
GIACOMO	Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Britain. He was then of a crescent note, expected to prove so worthy as since he hath been allowed the name of. But I could then have looked on him without the help of admiration, though the catalogue of his endowments had been tabled by his side and I to peruse him by items.
FILARIO	You speak of him when he was less furnished than now he is with that which makes him both without and within.
FRENCHMAN	I have seen him in France. We had very many there could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he.
GIACOMO	This matter of marrying his king’s daughter, wherein he must be weighed rather by her value than his own, words him, I doubt not, a great deal from the matter.
FRENCHMAN	And then his banishment.
GIACOMO	Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this lamentable divorce under her colours are wonderfully to extend him, be it but to fortify her judgement, which else an easy battery might lay flat for taking a beggar without less quality. But how comes it he is to sojourn with you? How creeps acquaintance?
FILARIO	His father and I were soldiers together, to whom I have been often bound for no less than my life.
(didascalia)	Enter Posthumus
FILARIO	Here comes the Briton. Let him be so entertained amongst you as suits with gentlemen of your knowing to a stranger of his quality. I beseech you all, be better known to this gentleman, whom I commend to you as a noble friend of mine. How worthy he is I will leave to appear hereafter rather than story him in his own hearing.
FRENCHMAN	(to Posthumus) Sir, we have known together in Orléans.
POSTHUMUS	Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies which I will be ever to pay, and yet pay still.
FRENCHMAN	Sir, you o’er-rate my poor kindness. I was glad I did atone my countryman and you. It had been pity you should have been put together with so mortal a purpose as then each bore, upon importance of so slight and trivial a nature.
POSTHUMUS	By your pardon, sir, I was then a young traveller, rather shunned to go even with what I heard than in my every action to be guided by others’ experiences; but upon my mended judgement—if I offend not to say it is mended—my quarrel was not altogether slight.
FRENCHMAN	Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords, and by such two that would by all likelihood have confounded one the other, or have fallen both.
GIACOMO	Can we with manners ask what was the difference?
FRENCHMAN	Safely, I think. ’Twas a contention in public, which may without contradiction suffer the report. It was much like an argument that fell out last night, where each of us fell in praise of our country mistresses, this gentleman at that time vouching—and upon warrant of bloody affirmation—his to be more fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constant, qualified, and less attemptable than any the rarest of our ladies in France.
GIACOMO	That lady is not now living, or this gentleman’s opinion by this worn out.
POSTHUMUS	She holds her virtue still, and I my mind.
GIACOMO	You must not so far prefer her fore ours of Italy.
POSTHUMUS	Being so far provoked as I was in France I would abate her nothing, though I profess myself her adorer, not her friend.
GIACOMO	As fair and as good—a kind of hand-in-hand comparison—had been something too fair and too good for any lady in Britain. If she went before others I have seen—as that diamond of yours outlustres many I have beheld—I could not but believe she excelled many; but I have not seen the most precious diamond that is, nor you the lady.
POSTHUMUS	I praised her as I rated her; so do I my stone.
GIACOMO	What do you esteem it at?
POSTHUMUS	More than the world enjoys.
GIACOMO	Either your unparagoned mistress is dead, or she’s outprized by a trifle.
POSTHUMUS	You are mistaken. The one may be sold or given, or if there were wealth enough for the purchase or merit for the gift. The other is not a thing for sale, and only the gift of the gods.
GIACOMO	Which the gods have given you?
POSTHUMUS	Which, by their graces, I will keep.
GIACOMO	You may wear her in title yours; but, you know, strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds. Your ring may be stolen too; so your brace of unprizable estimations, the one is but frail, and the other casual. A cunning thief or a that-way accomplished courtier would hazard the winning both of first and last.
POSTHUMUS	Your Italy contains none so accomplished a courtier to convince the honour of my mistress if in the holding or loss of that you term her frail. I do nothing doubt you have store of thieves; notwithstanding, I fear not my ring.
FILARIO	Let us leave here, gentlemen.
POSTHUMUS	Sir, with all my heart. This worthy signor, I thank him, makes no stranger of me. We are familiar at first.
GIACOMO	With five times so much conversation I should get ground of your fair mistress, make her go back even to the yielding, had I admittance and opportunity to friend.
POSTHUMUS	No, no.
GIACOMO	I dare thereupon pawn the moiety of my estate to your ring, which in my opinion o’ervalues it something. But I make my wager rather against your confidence than her reputation, and, to bar your offence herein too, I durst attempt it against any lady in the world. in
POSTHUMUS	You are a great deal abused in too bold a persuasion, and I doubt not you sustain what you’re worthy of by your attempt.
GIACOMO	What’s that?
POSTHUMUS	A repulse; though your attempt, as you call it, deserve more—a punishment, too.
FILARIO	Gentlemen, enough of this. It came in too suddenly. Let it die as it was born; and, I pray you, be better acquainted.
GIACOMO	Would I had put my estate and my neighbour’s on th’approbation of what I have spoke.
POSTHUMUS	What lady would you choose to assail?
GIACOMO	Yours, whom in constancy you think stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring that, commend me to the court where your lady is, with no more advantage than the opportunity of a second conference, and I will bring from thence that honour of hers which you imagine so reserved.
POSTHUMUS	I will wage against your gold, gold to it; my ring I hold dear as my finger, ’tis part of it.
GIACOMO	You are a friend, and therein the wiser. If you buy ladies’ flesh at a million a dram, you cannot preserve it from tainting. But I see you have some religion in you, that you fear.
POSTHUMUS	This is but a custom in your tongue. You bear a graver purpose, I hope.
GIACOMO	I am the master of my speeches, and would undergo what’s spoken, I swear.
POSTHUMUS	Will you? I shall but lend my diamond till your return. Let there be covenants drawn between ’s. My mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness of your unworthy thinking. I dare you to this match. Here’s my ring.
FILARIO	I will have it no lay.
GIACOMO	By the gods, it is one. If I bring you no sufficient testimony that I have enjoyed the dearest bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats are yours; so is your diamond too. If I come off and leave her in such honour as you have trust in, she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are yours, provided I have your commendation for my more free entertainment.
POSTHUMUS	I embrace these conditions; let us have articles betwixt us. Only thus far you shall answer: if you make your voyage upon her and give me directly to understand you have prevailed, I am no further your enemy; she is not worth our debate. If she remain unseduced, you not making it appear otherwise, for your ill opinion and th’assault you have made to her chastity you shall answer me with your sword.
GIACOMO	Your hand, a covenant. We will things set down by lawful counsel, and straight away for Britain, lest the bargain should catch cold and starve. I will fetch my gold and have our two wagers recorded.
POSTHUMUS	Agreed.
(didascalia)	Exit with Giacomo
FRENCHMAN	Will this hold, think you?
FILARIO	Signor Giacomo will not from it. Pray let us follow ’em.
(didascalia)	Exeunt. Table is removed

Atto 1, Scena 5

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Queen, Ladies, and Cornelius, a doctor
QUEEN	Whiles yet the dew’s on ground, gather those flowers. Make haste. Who has the note of them? A LADY I, madam.
QUEEN	Dispatch.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Ladies
QUEEN	Now, Master Doctor, have you brought those drugs?
CORNELIUS	Pleaseth your highness, ay. Here they are, madam. He gives her a box But I beseech your grace, without offence— My conscience bids me ask—wherefore you have Commanded of me these most poisonous compounds, Which are the movers of a languishing death, But though slow, deadly.
QUEEN	I wonder, doctor, Thou ask‘st me such a question. Have I not been Thy pupil long? Hast thou not learned me how To make perfumes, distil, preserve—yea, so That our great King himself doth woo me oft For my confections? Having thus far proceeded, Unless thou think’st me devilish, is’t not meet That I did amplify my judgement in Other conclusions? I will try the forces Of these thy compounds on such creatures as We count not worth the hanging, but none human, To try the vigour of them, and apply Allayments to their act, and by them gather Their several virtues and effects.
CORNELIUS	Your highness Shall from this practice but make hard your heart. Besides, the seeing these effects will be Both noisome and infectious.
QUEEN	O, content thee.
(didascalia)	Enter Pisanio
QUEEN	(Aside) Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him Will I first work. He’s factor for his master, And enemy to my son. (Aloud) How now, Pisanio?— Doctor, your service for this time is ended. Take your own way.
CORNELIUS	(aside) I do suspect you, madam. But you shall do no harm.
QUEEN	(to Pisanio) Hark thee, a word.
CORNELIUS	(aside) I do not like her. She doth think she has Strange ling’ring poisons. I do know her spirit, And will not trust one of her malice with A drug of such damned nature. Those she has Will stupefy and dull the sense a while, Which first, perchance, she’ll prove on cats and dogs, Then afterward up higher; but there is No danger in what show of death it makes More than the locking up the spirits a time, To be more fresh, reviving. She is fooled With a most false effect, and I the truer So to be false with her.
QUEEN	No further service, doctor, Until I send for thee.
CORNELIUS	I humbly take my leave.
(didascalia)	Exit
QUEEN	(to Pisanio) Weeps she still, sayst thou? Dost thou think in time She will not quench, and let instructions enter Where folly now possesses? Do thou work. When thou shalt bring me word she loves my son I’ll tell thee on the instant thou art then As great as is thy master—greater, for His fortunes all lie speechless, and his name Is at last gasp. Return he cannot, nor Continue where he is. To shift his being Is to exchange one misery with another, And every day that comes comes to decay A day’s work in him. What shalt thou expect To be depender on a thing that leans, Who cannot be new built nor has no friends So much as but to prop him?
(didascalia)	She drops her box. He takes it up
QUEEN	Thou tak’st up Thou know‘st not what; but take it for thy labour. It is a thing I made which hath the King Five times redeemed from death. I do not know What is more cordial. Nay, I prithee take it. It is an earnest of a farther good That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how The case stands with her; do’t as from thyself. Think what a chance thou changest on, but think Thou hast thy mistress still; to boot, my son, Who shall take notice of thee. I’ll move the King To any shape of thy preferment, such As thou’lt desire; and then myself, I chiefly, That set thee on to this desert, am bound To load thy merit richly. Call my women. Think on my words.
(didascalia)	Exit Pisanio
QUEEN	A sly and constant knave, Not to be shaked; the agent for his master, And the remembrancer of her to hold The hand-fast to her lord. I have given him that Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her Of liegers for her sweet, and which she after, Except she bend her humour, shall be assured To taste of too.
(didascalia)	Enter Pisanio and Ladies
QUEEN	So, so; well done, well done. The violets, cowslips, and the primroses Bear to my closet. Fare thee well, Pisanio. Think on my words, Pisanio.
PISANIO	And shall do.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Queen and Ladies
PISANIO	But when to my good lord I prove untrue, I’ll choke mysetf—there’s all I’ll do for you.
(didascalia)	Exit

Atto 1, Scena 6

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Innogen
INNOGEN	A father cruel and a stepdame false, A foolish suitor to a wedded lady That hath her husband banished. O, that husband, My supreme crown of grief, and those repeated Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stol‘n, As my two brothers, happy; but most miserable Is the desire that’s glorious. Blest be those, How mean soe’er, that have their honest wills, Which seasons comfort.
(didascalia)	Enter Pisanio and Giacomo
INNOGEN	Who may this be? Fie!
PISANIO	Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome Comes from my lord with letters.
GIACOMO	Change you, madam? The worthy Leonatus is in safety, And greets your highness dearly. He gives her the letters
INNOGEN	Thanks, good sir. You’re kindly welcome. She reads the letters
GIACOMO	(aside) All of her that is out of door most rich! If she be furnished with a mind so rare She is alone, th’Arabian bird, and I Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend; Arm me audacity from head to foot, Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight; Rather, directly fly.
INNOGEN	(reads aloud) ’He is one of the noblest note, to whose kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon him accordingly, as you value Your truest Leonatus.’ (To Giacomo) So far I read aloud, But even the very middle of my heart Is warmed by th’ rest, and takes it thankfully. You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I Have words to bid you, and shall find it so In all that I can do.
GIACOMO	Thanks, fairest lady. What, are men mad? Hath nature given them eyes To see this vaulted arch and the rich crop Of sea and land, which can distinguish ‘twixt The fiery orbs above and the twinned stones Upon th’unnumbered beach, and can we not Partition make with spectacles so precious ’Twixt fair and foul?
INNOGEN	What makes your admiration?
GIACOMO	It cannot be i‘th’ eye—for apes and monkeys, ’Twixt two such shes, would chatter this way and Contemn with mows the other; nor i‘th’ judgement, For idiots in this case of favour would Be wisely definite; nor i’th’ appetite— Sluttery, to such neat excellence opposed, Should make desire vomit emptiness, Not so allured to feed.
INNOGEN	What is the matter, trow?
GIACOMO	The cloyed will, That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub Both filled and running, ravening first the lamb, Longs after for the garbage.
INNOGEN	What, dear sir, Thus raps you? Are you well?
GIACOMO	Thanks, madam, well. (To Pisanio) Beseech you, sir, Desire my man’s abode where I did leave him. He’s strange and peevish.
PISANIO	I was going, sir, To give him welcome.
(didascalia)	Exit
INNOGEN	Continues well my lord? His health, beseech you?
GIACOMO	Well, madam.
INNOGEN	Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is.
GIACOMO	Exceeding pleasant, none a stranger there So merry and so gamesome. He is called The Briton Reveller.
INNOGEN	When he was here He did incline to sadness, and oft-times Not knowing why.
GIACOMO	I never saw him sad. There is a Frenchman his companion, one An eminent monsieur that, it seems, much loves A Gallian girl at home. He furnaces The thick sighs from him, whiles the jolly Briton— Your lord, I mean—laughs from ’s free lungs, cries ‘O, Can my sides hold, to think that man, who knows By history, report or his own proof What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose But must be, will ’s free hours languish For assured bondage?’
INNOGEN	Will my lord say so?
GIACOMO	Ay, madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter. It is a recreation to be by And hear him mock the Frenchman. But heavens know Some men are much to blame.
INNOGEN	Not he, I hope.
GIACOMO	Not he; but yet heaven’s bounty towards him might Be used more thankfully. In himself ’tis much; In you, which I count his, beyond all talents. Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound To pity too.
INNOGEN	What do you pity, sir?
GIACOMO	Two creatures heartily.
INNOGEN	Am I one, sir? You look on me; what wreck discern you in me Deserves your pity?
GIACOMO	Lamentablel What, To hide me from the radiant sun, and solace I’th’ dungeon by a snuff?
INNOGEN	I pray you, sir, Deliver with more openness your answers To my demands. Why do you pity me?
GIACOMO	That others do— I was about to say enjoy your—but It is an office of the gods to venge it, Not mine to speak on’t.
INNOGEN	You do seem to know Something of me, or what concerns me. Pray you, Since doubting things go ill often hurts more Than to be sure they do—for certainties Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing, The remedy then born—discover to me What both you spur and stop.
GIACOMO	Had I this cheek To bathe my lips upon; this hand whose touch, Whose every touch, would force the feeler’s soul To th’oath of loyalty; this object which Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye, Firing it only here: should I, damned then, Slaver with lips as common as the stairs That mount the Capitol; join grips with hands Made hard with hourly falsehood—faisehood as With labour; then by-peeping in an eye Base and illustrous as the smoky light That’s fed with stinking tallow—it were fit That all the plagues of hell should at one time Encounter such revolt.
INNOGEN	My lord, I fear, Has forgot Britain.
GIACOMO	And himself. Not I Inclined to this intelligence pronounce The beggary of his change, but ’tis your graces That from my mutest conscience to my tongue Charms this report out.
INNOGEN	Let me hear no more.
GIACOMO	O dearest soul, your cause doth strike my heart With pity that doth make me sick. A lady So fair, and fastened to an empery Would make the great’st king double, to be partnered With tomboys hired with that self exhibition Which your own coffers yield; with diseased ventures That play with all infirmities for gold Which rottenness can lend to nature; such boiled stuff As well might poison poison! Be revenged, Or she that bore you was no queen, and you Recoil from your great stock.
INNOGEN	Revenged? How should I be revenged? If this be true— As I have such a heart that both mine ears Must not in haste abuse—if it be true, How should I be revenged?
GIACOMO	Should he make me Live like Diana’s priest betwixt cold sheets Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps, In your despite, upon your purse—revenge it. I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure, More noble than that runagate to your bed, And will continue fast to your affection, Still close as sure.
INNOGEN	What ho, Pisanio!
GIACOMO	Let me my service tender on your lips.
INNOGEN	Away, I do condemn mine ears that have So long attended thee. If thou wert honourable Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, not For such an end thou seek‘st, as base as strange. Thou wrong’st a gentleman who is as far From thy report as thou from honour, and Solicit’st here a lady that disdains Thee and the devil alike. What ho, Pisanio! The King my father shall be made acquainted Of thy assault. If he shall think it fit A saucy stranger in his court to mart As in a Romish stew, and to expound His beastly mind to us, he hath a court He little cares for, and a daughter who He not respects at all. What ho, Pisanio!
GIACOMO	O happy Leonatus! I may say The credit that thy lady hath of thee Deserves thy trust, and thy most perfect goodness Her assured credit. Blessed live you long, A lady to the worthiest sir that ever Country called his; and you his mistress, only For the most worthiest fit. Give me your pardon. I have spoke this to know if your affiance Were deeply rooted, and shall make your lord That which he is new o’er; and he is one The truest mannered, such a holy witch That he enchants societies into him; Half all men’s hearts are his.
INNOGEN	You make amends.
GIACOMO	He sits ’mongst men like a descended god. He hath a kind of honour sets him off More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry, Most mighty princess, that I have adventured To try your taking of a false report, which hath Honoured with confirmation your great judgement In the election of a sir so rare Which you know cannot err. The love I bear him Made me to fan you thus, but the gods made you, Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray, your pardon.
INNOGEN	All’s well, sir. Take my power i’th’ court for yours.
GIACOMO	My humble thanks. I had almost forgot T’entreat your grace but in a small request, And yet of moment too, for it concerns Your lord; myself and other noble friends Are partners in the business.
INNOGEN	Pray what is’t?
GIACOMO	Some dozen Romans of us, and your lord— Best feather of our wing—have mingled sums To buy a present for the Emperor, Which I, the factor for the rest, have done In France. ’Tis plate of rare device, and jewels Of rich and exquisite form; their value’s great, And I am something curious, being strange, To have them in safe stowage. May it please you To take them in protection?
INNOGEN	Willingly, And pawn mine honour for their safety; since My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them In my bedchamber.
GIACOMO	They are in a trunk Attended by my men. I will make bold To send them to you, only for this night. I must aboard tomorrow.
INNOGEN	O, no, no!
GIACOMO	Yes, I beseech, or I shall short my word By length’ning my return. From Gallia I crossed the seas on purpose and on promise To see your grace.
INNOGEN	I thank you for your pains; But not away tomorrow!
GIACOMO	O, I must, madam. Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please To greet your lord with writing, do’t tonight. I have outstood my time, which is material To th’ tender of our present.
INNOGEN	I will write. Send your trunk to me, it shall safe be kept, And truly yielded you. You’re very welcome.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Atto 2, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Cloten and the two Lords
CLOTEN	Was there ever man had such luck? When I kissed the jack upon an upcast, to be hit away! I had a hundred pound on’t, and then a whoreson jackanapes must take me up for swearing, as if I borrowed mine oaths of him, and might not spend them at my pleasure.
FIRST LORD	What got he by that? You have broke his pate with your bowl.
SECOND LORD	(aside) If his wit had been like him that broke it, it would have run all out.
CLOTEN	When a gentleman is disposed to swear it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths, ha?
SECOND LORD	No, my lord (aside)—nor crop the ears of them.
CLOTEN	Whoreson dog! I give him satisfaction? Would he had been one of my rank.
SECOND LORD	(aside) To have smelled like a fool.
CLOTEN	I am not vexed more at anything in th‘earth. A pox on’t, I had rather not be so noble as I am. They dare not fight with me because of the Queen, my mother. Every jack-slave hath his bellyful of fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that nobody can match.
SECOND LORD	(aside) You are cock and capon too an you crow cock with your comb on.
CLOTEN	Sayst thou?
SECOND LORD	It is not fit your lordship should undertake every companion that you give offence to.
CLOTEN	No, I know that, but it is fit I should commit offence to my inferiors.
SECOND LORD	Ay, it is fit for your lordship only.
CLOTEN	Why, so I say.
FIRST LORD	Did you hear of a stranger that’s come to court tonight?
CLOTEN	A stranger, and I not know on’t?
SECOND LORD	(aside) He’s a strange fellow himself and knows it not.
FIRST LORD	There’s an Italian come, and, ’tis thought, one of Leonatus’ friends.
CLOTEN	Leonatus? A banished rascal; and he’s another, whatsoever he be. Who told you of this stranger?
FIRST LORD	One of your lordship’s pages.
CLOTEN	Is it fit I went to look upon him? Is there no derogation in’t?
SECOND LORD	You cannot derogate, my lord.
CLOTEN	Not easily, I think.
SECOND LORD	(aside) You are a fool granted, therefore your issues, being foolish, do not derogate.
CLOTEN	Come, I’ll go see this Italian. What I have lost today at bowls I’ll win tonight of him. Come, go.
SECOND LORD	I’ll attend your lordship.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Cloten and First Lord
SECOND LORD	That such a crafty devil as is his mother Should yield the world this ass!—a woman that Bears all down with her brain, and this her son Cannot take two from twenty, for his heart, And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess, Thou divine Innogen, what thou endur‘st, Betwixt a father by thy stepdame governed, A mother hourly coining plots, a wooer More hateful than the foul expulsion is Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act Of the divorce he’d make! The heavens hold firm The walls of thy dear honour, keep unshaked That temple, thy fair mind, that thou mayst stand T’enjoy thy banished lord and this great land! Exit

Atto 2, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	A trunk and arras. A bed is thrust forth with Innogen in it, reading a book. Enter to her Helen, a lady
INNOGEN	Who’s there? My woman Helen?
HELEN	Please you, madam.
INNOGEN	What hour is it?
HELEN	Almost midnight, madam.
INNOGEN	I have read three hours then. Mine eyes are weak. Fold down the leaf where I have left. To bed. Take not away the taper; leave it burning, And if thou canst awake by four o’th’ clock, I prithee call me. Sleep hath seized me wholly.
(didascalia)	Exit Helen
INNOGEN	To your protection I commend me, gods. From fairies and the tempters of the night Guard me, beseech ye. She sleeps. Giacomo comes from the trunk
GIACOMO	The crickets sing, and man’s o‘er-laboured sense Repairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus Did softly press the rushes ere he wakened The chastity he wounded. Cytherea, How bravely thou becom’st thy bed! Fresh lily, And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch, But kiss, one kiss! Rubies unparagoned, How dearly they do‘t! ’Tis her breathing that Perfumes the chamber thus. The flame o‘th’ taper Bows toward her, and would underpeep her lids, To see th’enclosed lights, now canopied Under these windows, white and azure-laced With blue of heaven’s own tinct. But my design- To note the chamber. I will write all down. He writes in his tables Such and such pictures, there the window, such Th‘adornment of her bed, the arras, figures, Why, such and such; and the contents o’th’ story. Ah, but some natural notes about her body Above ten thousand meaner movables Would testify t’enrich mine inventory. O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her, And be her sense but as a monument Thus in a chapel lying. Come off, come off; As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard. He takes the bracelet from her arm ‘Tis mine, and this will witness outwardly, As strongly as the conscience does within, To th’ madding of her lord. On her left breast A mole, cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops I’th’ bottom of a cowslip. Here’s a voucher Stronger than ever law could make. This secret Will force him think I have picked the lock and ta’en The treasure of her honour. No more. To what end? Why should I write this down that’s riveted, Screwed to my memory? She hath been reading late, The tale of Tereus. Here the leaf’s turned down Where Philomel gave up. I have enough. To th’ trunk again, and shut the spring of it. Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning May bare the raven’s eye! I lodge in fear. Though this’ a heavenly angel, hell is here. Clock strikes One, two, three. Time, time!
(didascalia)	Exit into the trunk. The bed and trunk are removed

Atto 2, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Cloten and the two Lords
FIRST LORD	Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the most coldest that ever turned up ace.
CLOTEN	It would make any man cold to lose.
FIRST LORD	But not every man patient after the noble temper of your lordship. You are most hot and furious when you win.
CLOTEN	Winning will put any man into courage. If I could get this foolish Innogen I should have gold enough. It’s almost morning, is’t not?
FIRST LORD	Day, my lord.
CLOTEN	I would this music would come. I am advised to give her music o’ mornings; they say it will penetrate.
(didascalia)	Enter Musicians
CLOTEN	Come on, tune. If you can penetrate her with your fingering, so; we’ll try with tongue too. If none will do, let her remain; but I’ll never give o’er. First, a very excellent good-conceited thing; after, a wonderful sweet air with admirable rich words to it; and then let her consider.
(didascalia)	Music
(didascalia)	MUSICIAN (sings)
CLOTEN	Hark, hark, the lark at heaven gate sings, And Phoebus gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaticed flowers that lies, And winking Mary-buds begin to ope their golden eyes; With everything that pretty is, my lady sweet, arise, Arise, arise!
CLOTEN	So, get you gone. If this penetrate I will consider your music the better; if it do not, it is a vice in her ears which horse hairs and calves’ guts nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to boot can never amend.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Musicians
(didascalia)	Enter Cymbeline and the Queen
SECOND LORD	Here comes the King.
CLOTEN	I am glad I was up so late, for that’s the reason I was up so early. He cannot choose but take this service I have done fatherly. Good morrow to your majesty, and to my gracious mother.
CYMBELINE	Attend you here the door of our stern daughter? Will she not forth?
CLOTEN	I have assailed her with musics, but she vouchsafes no notice.
CYMBELINE	The exile of her minion is too new. She hath not yet forgot him. Some more time Must wear the print of his remembrance out, And then she’s yours.
QUEEN	(to Cloten) You are most bound to th’ King, Who lets go by no vantages that may Prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself To orderly solicits, and be friended With aptness of the season. Make denials Increase your services; so seem as if You were inspired to do those duties which You tender to her; that you in all obey her, Save when command to your dismission tends, And therein you are senseless.
CLOTEN	Senseless? Not so.
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger
MESSENGER	(to Cymbeline) So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome; The one is Caius Lucius.
CYMBELINE	A worthy fellow, Albeit he comes on angry purpose now: But that’s no fault of his. We must receive him According to the honour of his sender, And towards himself, his goodness forespent on us, We must extend our notice. Our dear son, When you have given good morning to your mistress, Attend the Queen and us. We shall have need T’employ you towards this Roman. Come, our queen.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but
CYMBELINE	Cloten
CLOTEN	If she be up, I’ll speak with her; if not, Let her lie still and dream.
(didascalia)	He knocks
CLOTEN	By your leave, ho!— I know her women are about her; what If I do line one of their hands? ‘Tis gold Which buys admittance—oft it doth—yea, and makes Diana’s rangers false themselves, yield up Their deer to th’ stand o’th’ stealer; and ’tis gold Which makes the true man killed and saves the thief, Nay, sometime hangs both thief and true man. What Can it not do and undo? I will make One of her women lawyer to me, for I yet not understand the case myself.— By your leave. Knocks. Enter a Lady
LADY	Who’s there that knocks?
CLOTEN	A gentleman.
LADY	No more?
CLOTEN	Yes, and a gentlewoman’s son.
LADY	That’s more
(didascalia)	Aside Than some whose tailors are as dear as
LADY	yours Can justly boast of. (To him) What’s your lordship’s pleasure?
CLOTEN	Your lady’s person. Is she ready?
LADY	Ay.
(didascalia)	Aside To keep her chamber.
CLOTEN	There is gold for you. Sell me your good report.
LADY	How, my good name?—or to report of you What I shall think is good?
(didascalia)	Enter
LADY	Innogen The Princess.
(didascalia)	Exit
CLOTEN	Good morrow, fairest. Sister, your sweet hand.
INNOGEN	Good morrow, sir. You lay out too much pains For purchasing but trouble. The thanks I give Is telling you that I am poor of thanks, And scarce can spare them.
CLOTEN	Still I swear I love you.
INNOGEN	If you but said so, ’twere as deep with me. If you swear still, your recompense is still That I regard it not.
CLOTEN	This is no answer.
INNOGEN	But that you shall not say I yield being silent, I would not speak. I pray you, spare me. Faith, I shall unfold equal discourtesy To your best kindness. One of your great knowing Should learn, being taught, forbearance.
CLOTEN	To leave you in your madness, ’twere my sin. I will not.
INNOGEN	Fools cure not mad folks.
CLOTEN	Do you call me fool?
INNOGEN	As I am mad, I do. If you’ll be patient, I’ll no more be mad; That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir, You put me to forget a lady’s manners By being so verbal; and learn now for all That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce By th’ very truth of it: I care not for you, And am so near the lack of charity To accuse myself I hate you, which I had rather You felt than make’t my boast.
CLOTEN	You sin against Obedience which you owe your father. For The contract you pretend with that base wretch, One bred of alms and fostered with cold dishes, With scraps o‘th’ court, it is no contract, none. And though it be allowed in meaner parties— Yet who than he more mean?—to knit their souls, On whom there is no more dependency But brats and beggary, in self-figured knot, Yet you are curbed from that enlargement by The consequence o’th’ crown, and must not foil The precious note of it with a base slave, A hilding for a livery, a squire’s cloth, A pantler—not so eminent.
INNOGEN	Profane fellow, Wert thou the son of Jupiter, and no more But what thou art besides, thou wert too base To be his groom; thou wert dignified enough, Even to the point of envy, if ’twere made Comparative for your virtues to be styled The under-hangman of his kingdom, and hated For being preferred so well.
CLOTEN	The south-fog rot him!
INNOGEN	He never can meet more mischance than come To be but named of thee. His meanest garment That ever hath but clipped his body is dearer In my respect than all the hairs above thee, Were they all made such men. How now, Pisanio!
(didascalia)	Enter Pisanio
CLOTEN	His garment? Now the devil—
INNOGEN	(to Pisanio) To Dorothy, my woman, hie thee presently.
CLOTEN	His garment?
INNOGEN	(to Pisanio) I am sprited with a fool, Frighted, and angered worse. Go bid my woman Search for a jewel that too casually Hath left mine arm. It was thy master’s. ‘Shrew me If I would lose it for a revenue Of any king’s in Europe! I do think I saw’t this morning; confident I am Last night ’twas on mine arm; I kissed it. I hope it be not gone to tell my lord That I kiss aught but he.
PISANIO	’Twill not be lost.
INNOGEN	I hope so. Go and search.
(didascalia)	Exit Pisanio
CLOTEN	You have abused me. ‘His meanest garment’?
INNOGEN	Ay, I said so, sir. If you will make’t an action, call witness to’t.
CLOTEN	I will inform your father.
INNOGEN	Your mother too. She’s my good lady, and will conceive, I hope, But the worst of me. So I leave you, sir, To th’ worst of discontent.
(didascalia)	Exit
CLOTEN	I’ll be revenged. ‘His meanest garment’? Well! Exit

Atto 2, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Posthumus and Filario
POSTHUMUS	Fear it not, sir. I would I were so sure To win the King as I am bold her honour Will remain hers.
FILARIO	What means do you make to him?
POSTHUMUS	Not any; but abide the change of time, Quake in the present winter’s state, and wish That warmer days would come. In these seared hopes I barely gratify your love; they failing, I must die much your debtor.
FILARIO	Your very goodness and your company O‘erpays all I can do. By this, your king Hath heard of great Augustus. Caius Lucius Will do ’s commission throughly. And I think He’ll grant the tribute, send th’arrearages, Ere look upon our Romans, whose remembrance Is yet fresh in their grief.
POSTHUMUS	I do believe, Statist though I am none, nor like to be, That this will prove a war, and you shall hear The legions now in Gallia sooner landed In our not-fearing Britain than have tidings Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen Are men more ordered than when Julius Caesar Smiled at their lack of skill but found their courage Worthy his frowning at. Their discipline, Now wing-led with their courage, will make known To their approvers they are people such That mend upon the world.
(didascalia)	Enter Giacomo
FILARIO	See, Giacomo.
POSTHUMUS	(to Giacomo) The swiftest harts have posted you by land, And winds of all the corners kissed your sails To make your vessel nimble.
FILARIO	(to Giacomo) Welcome, sir.
POSTHUMUS	(to Giacomo) I hope the briefness of your answer made The speediness of your return.
GIACOMO	Your lady is One of the fair’st that I have looked upon—
POSTHUMUS	And therewithal the best, or let her beauty Look through a casement to allure false hearts, And be false with them.
GIACOMO	Here are letters for you.
POSTHUMUS	Their tenor good, I trust.
GIACOMO	’Tis very like. Posthumus reads the letters
(didascalia)	FILARIO
GIACOMO	Was Caius Lucius in the Briton court When you were there?
GIACOMO	He was expected then, But not approached.
POSTHUMUS	All is well yet. Sparkles this stone as it was wont, or is’t not Too dull for your good wearing?
GIACOMO	If I had lost it I should have lost the worth of it in gold. I’ll make a journey twice as far t’enjoy A second night of such sweet shortness which Was mine in Britain; for the ring is won.
POSTHUMOUS	The stone’s too hard to come by.
GIACOMO	Not a whit, Your lady being so easy.
POSTHUMUS	Make not, sir, Your loss your sport. I hope you know that we Must not continue friends.
GIACOMO	Good sir, we must, If you keep covenant. Had I not brought The knowledge of your mistress home I grant We were to question farther, but I now Profess myself the winner of her honour, Together with your ring, and not the wronger Of her or you, having proceeded but By both your wills.
POSTHUMUS	If you can make’t apparent That you have tasted her in bed, my hand And ring is yours. If not, the foul opinion You had of her pure honour gains or loses Your sword or mine, or masterless leaves both To who shall find them.
GIACOMO	Sir, my circumstances, Being so near the truth as I will make them, Must first induce you to believe; whose strength I will confirm with oath, which I doubt not You’ll give me leave to spare when you shall find You need it not.
POSTHUMUS	Proceed.
GIACOMO	First, her bedchamber— Where I confess I slept not, but profess Had that was well worth watching—it was hanged With tapestry of silk and silver; the story Proud Cleopatra when she met her Roman, And Cydnus swelled above the banks, or for The press of boats or pride: a piece of work So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive In workmanship and value; which I wondered Could be so rarely and exactly wrought, Such the true life on’t was.
POSTHUMUS	This is true, And this you might have heard of here, by me Or by some other.
GIACOMO	More particulars Must justify my knowledge.
POSTHUMUS	So they must, Or do your honour injury.
GIACOMO	The chimney Is south the chamber, and the chimney-piece Chaste Dian bathing. Never saw I figures So likely to report themselves; the cutter Was as another nature; dumb, outwent her, Motion and breath left out.
POSTHUMUS	This is a thing Which you might from relation likewise reap, Being, as it is, much spoke of.
GIACOMO	The roof o’th’ chamber With golden cherubins is fretted. Her andirons— I had forgot them—were two winking Cupids Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely Depending on their brands.
POSTHUMUS	This is her honour! Let it be granted you have seen all this—and praise Be given to your remembrance—the description Of what is in her chamber nothing saves The wager you have laid.
GIACOMO	Then, if you can Be pale, I beg but leave to air this jewel. See! He shows the bracelet And now ’tis up again; it must be married To that your diamond. I’ll keep them.
POSTHUMUS	Jove! Once more let me behold it. Is it that Which I left with her?
GIACOMO	Sir, I thank her, that. She stripped it from her arm. I see her yet. Her pretty action did outsell her gift, And yet enriched it too. She gave it me, And said she prized it once.
POSTHUMUS	Maybe she plucked it off To send it me.
GIACOMO	She writes so to you, doth she?
POSTHUMUS	O, no, no, no—’tis true! Here, take this too. He gives Giacomo his ring It is a basilisk unto mine eye, Kills me to look on’t. Let there be no honour Where there is beauty, truth where semblance, love Where there’s another man. The vows of women Of no more bondage be to where they are made Than they are to their virtues, which is nothing! O, above measure false!
PILASIO	Have patience, sir, And take your ring again; ’tis not yet won. It may be probable she lost it, or Who knows if one her woman, being corrupted, Hath stol’n it from her?
POSTHUMUS	Very true, And so I hope he came by’t. Back my ring. He takes his ring again Render to me some corporal sign about her More evident than this; for this was stol’n.
GIACOMO	By Jupiter, I had it from her arm.
POSTHUMUS	Hark you, he swears, by Jupiter he swears. ‘Tis true, nay, keep the ring, ’tis true. I am sure She would not lose it. Her attendants are All sworn and honourable. They induced to steal it? And by a stranger? No, he hath enjoyed her. The cognizance of her incontinency Is this. She hath bought the name of whore thus dearly. He gives Giacomo his ring There, take thy hire, and all the fiends of hell Divide themselves between you!
FILARIO	Sir, be patient. This is not strong enough to be believed Of one persuaded well of.
POSTHUMUS	Never talk on’t. She hath been colted by him.
GIACOMO	If you seek For further satisfying, under her breast— Worthy the pressing—lies a mole, right proud Of that most delicate lodging. By my life, I kissed it, and it gave me present hunger To feed again, though full. You do remember This stain upon her?
POSTHUMUS	Ay, and it doth confirm Another stain as big as hell can hold, Were there no more but it.
GIACOMO	Will you hear more?
POSTHUMUS	Spare your arithmetic, never count the turns. Once, and a million!
GIACOMO	I’ll be sworn.
POSTHUMUS	No swearing. If you will swear you have not done‘t, you lie, And I will kill thee if thou dost deny Thou’st made me cuckold. GlACOMO I’ll deny nothing.
POSTHUMUS	O that I had her here to tear her limb-meal! I will go there and do’t i’th’ court, before Her father. I’ll do something.
(didascalia)	Exit
FILARIO	Quite besides The government of patience! You have won. Let’s follow and pervert the present wrath He hath against himself.
GIACOMO	With all my heart.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 2, Scena 5

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Posthumus
POSTHUMUS	Is there no way for men to be, but women Must be half-workers? We are bastards all, And that most venerable man which I Did call my father was I know not where When I was stamped. Some coiner with his tools Made me a counterfeit; yet my mother seemed The Dian of that time: so doth my wife The nonpareil of this. O vengeance, vengeance! Me of my lawful pleasure she restrained, And prayed me oft forbearance; did it with A pudency so rosy the sweet view on’t Might well have warmed old Saturn; that I thought her As chaste as unsunned snow. O all the devils! This yellow Giacomo in an hour—was’t not?— Or less—at first? Perchance he spoke not, but Like a full-acorned boar, a German one, Cried ‘O!’ and mounted; found no opposition But what he looked for should oppose and she Should from encounter guard. Could I find out The woman’s part in me—for there’s no motion That tends to vice in man but I affirm It is the woman’s part; be it lying, note it, The woman’s; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers; Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers; Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain, Nice longing, slanders, mutability, All faults that man can name, nay, that hell knows, Why, hers in part or all, but rather all— For even to vice They are not constant, but are changing still One vice but of a minute old for one Not half so old as that. I’ll write against them, Detest them, curse them, yet ’tis greater skill In a true hate to pray they have their will. The very devils cannot plague them better.
(didascalia)	Exit
(didascalia)	3.1 Flourish. Enter in state Cymbeline, the Queen, Cloten, and lords at one door, and at another, Caius Lucius and attendants
CYMBELINE	Now say, what would Augustus Caesar with us?
LUCIUS	When Julius Caesar—whose remembrance yet Lives in men’s eyes, and will to ears and tongues Be theme and hearing ever—was in this Britain And conquered it, Cassibelan, thine uncle, Famous in Caesar’s praises no whit less Than in his feats deserving it, for him And his succession granted Rome a tribute, Yearly three thousand pounds, which by thee lately Is left untendered.
QUEEN	And, to kill the marvel, Shall be so ever.
CLOTEN	There will be many Caesars Ere such another Julius. Britain’s a world By itself, and we will nothing pay For wearing our own noses.
QUEEN	That opportunity Which then they had to take from ‘s, to resume We have again. Remember, sir, my liege, The kings your ancestors, together with The natural bravery of your isle, which stands As Neptune’s park, ribbed and paled in With banks unscalable and roaring waters, With sands that will not bear your enemies’ boats, But suck them up to th’ topmast. A kind of conquest Caesar made here, but made not here his brag Of ‘came and saw and overcame’. With shame— The first that ever touched him—he was carried From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping, Poor ignorant baubles, on our terrible seas Like eggshells moved upon their surges, cracked As easily ’gainst our rocks; for joy whereof The famed Cassibelan, who was once at point— O giglot fortune!—to master Caesar’s sword, Made Lud’s town with rejoicing fires bright, And Britons strut with courage.
CLOTEN	Come, there’s no more tribute to be paid. Our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time, and, as I said, there is no more such Caesars. Other of them may have crooked noses, but to owe such straight arms, none.
CYMBELINE	Son, let your mother end.
CLOTEN	We have yet many among us can grip as hard as Cassibelan. I do not say I am one, but I have a hand. Why tribute? Why should we pay tribute? If Caesar can hide the sun from us with a blanket, or put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for light; else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now.
CYMBELINE	(to Lucius) You must know, Till the injurious Romans did extort This tribute from us we were free. Caesar’s ambition, Which swelled so much that it did almost stretch The sides o‘th’ world, against all colour here Did put the yoke upon ’s, which to shake off Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon Ourselves to be. We do say then to Caesar, Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which Ordained our laws, whose use the sword of Caesar Hath too much mangled, whose repair and franchise Shall by the power we hold be our good deed, Though Rome be therefore angry. Mulmutius made our laws, Who was the first of Britain which did put His brows within a golden crown and called Himself a king.
LUCIUS	I am sorry, Cymbeline, That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar— Caesar, that hath more kings his servants than Thyself domestic officers—thine enemy. Receive it from me, then: war and confusion In Caesar’s name pronounce I ’gainst thee. Look For fury not to be resisted. Thus defied, I thank thee for myself.
CYMBELINE	Thou art welcome, Caius. Thy Caesar knighted me; my youth I spent Much under him; of him I gathered honour, Which he to seek of me again perforce Behoves me keep at utterance. I am perfect That the Pannonians and Dalmatians for Their liberties are now in arms, a precedent Which not to read would show the Britons cold; So Caesar shall not find them.
LUCIUS	Let proof speak.
CLOTEN	His majesty bids you welcome. Make pastime with us a day or two or longer. If you seek us afterwards in other terms, you shall find us in our salt-water girdle. If you beat us out of it, it is yours; if you fall in the adventure, our crows shall fare the better for you; and there’s an end.
LUCIUS	So, sir.
CYMBELINE	I know your master’s pleasure, and he mine. All the remain is ‘Welcome’.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt

Atto 3, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Pisanio, reading of a letter
PISANIO	How? Of adultery? Wherefore write you not What monster’s her accuser? Leonatus, O master, what a strange infection Is fall’n into thy ear! What false Italian, As poisonous tongued as handed, hath prevailed On thy too ready hearing? Disloyal? No. She’s punished for her truth, and undergoes, More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults As would take in some virtue. O my master, Thy mind to hers is now as low as were Thy fortunes. How? That I should murder her, Upon the love and truth and vows which I Have made to thy command? I her? Her blood? If it be so to do good service, never Let me be counted serviceable. How look I, That I should seem to lack humanity So much as this fact comes to? (Reads) ‘Do’t. The letter That I have sent her, by her own command Shall give thee opportunity.’ O damned paper, Black as the ink that’s on thee! Senseless bauble, Art thou a fedary for this act, and look’st So virgin-like without?
(didascalia)	Enter Innogen
PISANIO	Lo, here she comes. I am ignorant in what I am commanded.
INNOGEN	How now, Pisanio?
PISANIO	Madam, here is a letter from my lord.
INNOGEN	Who, thy lord that is my lord, Leonatus? O learned indeed were that astronomer That knew the stars as I his characters— He’d lay the future open. You good gods, Let what is here contained relish of love, Of my lord’s health, of his content—yet not That we two are asunder; let that grieve him. Some griefs are med’cinable; that is one of them, For it doth physic love—of his content All but in that. Good wax, thy leave. Blest be You bees that make these locks of counsel! Lovers And men in dangerous bonds pray not alike; Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet You clasp young Cupid’s tables. Good news, gods! She opens and reads the letter ’Justice and your father’s wrath, should he take me in his dominion, could not be so cruel to me as you, O the dearest of creatures, would even renew me with your eyes. Take notice that I am in Cambria, at Milford Haven. What your own love will out of this advise you, follow. So he wishes you all happiness, that remains loyal to his vow, and your increasing in love, Leonatus Posthumus.’ O for a horse with wings! Hear‘st thou, Pisanio? He is at Milford Haven. Read, and tell me How far ’tis thither. If one of mean affairs May plod it in a week, why may not I Glide thither in a day? Then, true Pisanio, Who long‘st like me to see thy lord, who long’st— O let me bate—but not like me—yet long‘st But in a fainter kind—O, not like me, For mine’s beyond beyond; say, and speak thick— Love’s counsellor should fill the bores of hearing, To th’ smothering of the sense—how far it is To this same blessèd Milford. And by th’ way Tell me how Wales was made so happy as T’inherit such a haven. But first of all, How we may steal from hence; and for the gap That we shall make in time from our hence-going Till our return, to excuse; but first, how get hence. Why should excuse be born or ere begot? We’ll talk of that hereafter. Prithee speak, How many score of miles may we well ride ’Twixt hour and hour?
PISANIO	One score ’twixt sun and sun, Madam, ’s enough for you, and too much too.
INNOGEN	Why, one that rode to ’s execution, man, Could never go so slow. I have heard of riding wagers Where horses have been nimbler than the sands That run i‘th’ clock’s behalf. But this is fool’ry. Go bid my woman feign a sickness, say She’ll home to her father; and provide me presently A riding-suit no costlier than would fit A franklin’s housewife.
PISANIO	Madam, you’re best consider.
INNOGEN	I see before me, man. Nor here, nor here, Nor what ensues, but have a fog in them That I cannot look through. Away, I prithee, Do as I bid thee. There’s no more to say: Accessible is none but Milford way.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 3, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Belarius, followed by Guiderius and Arviragus, from a cave in the woods
BELARIUS	A goodly day not to keep house with such Whose roof’s as low as ours. Stoop, boys; this gate Instructs you how t‘adore the heavens, and bows you To a morning’s holy office. The gates of monarchs Are arched so high that giants may jet through And keep their impious turbans on without Good morrow to the sun. Hail, thou fair heaven! We house i’th’ rock, yet use thee not so hardly As prouder livers do.
GUIDERIUS	Hail, heaven!
ARVIRAGUS	Hail, heaven!
BELARIUS	Now for our mountain sport. Up to yon hill, Your legs are young; I’ll tread these flats. Consider, When you above perceive me like a crow, That it is place which lessens and sets off, And you may then revolve what tales I have told you Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war; That service is not service, so being done, But being so allowed. To apprehend thus Draws us a profit from all things we see, And often to our comfort shall we find The sharded beetle in a safer hold Than is the full-winged eagle. O, this life Is nobler than attending for a check, Richer than doing nothing for a bauble, Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk; Such gain the cap of him that makes ’em fine, Yet keeps his book uncrossed. No life to ours.
GUIDERIUS	Out of your proof you speak. We, poor unfledged, Have never winged from view o’th’ nest, nor know not What air’s from home. Haply this life is best, If quiet life be best; sweeter to you That have a sharper known; well corresponding With your stiff age, but unto us it is A cell of ignorance, travelling abed, A prison for a debtor, that not dares To stride a limit.
ARVIRAGUS	(to Belarius) What should we speak of When we are old as you? When we shall hear The rain and wind beat dark December, how, In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing. We are beastly: subtle as the fox for prey, Like warlike as the wolf for what we eat. Our valour is to chase what flies; our cage We make a choir, as doth the prisoned bird, And sing our bondage freely.
BELARIUS	How you speak! Did you but know the city’s usuries, And felt them knowingly; the art o‘th’ court, As hard to leave as keep, whose top to climb Is certain falling, or so slipp’ry that The fear’s as bad as falling; the toil o‘th’ war, A pain that only seems to seek out danger I’th’ name of fame and honour, which dies i‘th’ search And hath as oft a sland’rous epitaph As record of fair act; nay, many times Doth ill deserve by doing well; what’s worse, Must curtsy at the censure. O boys, this story The world may read in me. My body’s marked With Roman swords, and my report was once First with the best of note. Cymbeline loved me, And when a soldier was the theme my name Was not far off. Then was I as a tree Whose boughs did bend with fruit; but in one night A storm or robbery, call it what you will, Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, And left me bare to weather.
GUIDERIUS	Uncertain favour!
BELARIUS	My fault being nothing, as I have told you oft, But that two villains, whose false oaths prevailed Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline I was confederate with the Romans. So Followed my banishment, and this twenty years This rock and these demesnes have been my world, Where I have lived at honest freedom, paid More pious debts to heaven than in all The fore-end of my time. But up to th’ mountains! This is not hunter’s language. He that strikes The venison first shall be the lord o’th’ feast, To him the other two shall minister, And we will fear no poison which attends In place of greater state. I’ll meet you in the valleys.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Guiderius and Arviragus
BELARIUS	How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature! These boys know little they are sons to th’ King, Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive. They think they are mine, and though trained up thus meanly I‘th’ cave wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit The roofs of palaces, and nature prompts them In simple and low things to prince it much Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore, The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, who The King his father called Guiderius—Jove, When on my three-foot stool I sit and tell The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out Into my story: say ‘Thus mine enemy fell, And thus I set my foot on ’s neck’, even then The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats, Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in posture That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal, Once Arviragus, in as like a figure Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more His own conceiving.
(didascalia)	A hunting-horn sounds
BELARIUS	Hark, the game is roused! O Cymbeline, heaven and my conscience knows Thou didst unjustly banish me, whereon At three and two years old I stole these babes, Thinking to bar thee of succession as Thou reft’st me of my lands. Euriphile, Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for their mother, And every day do honour to her grave. Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan called, They take for natural father.
(didascalia)	A hunting-horn sounds
BELARIUS	The game is up.
(didascalia)	Exit

Atto 3, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Pisanio, and Innogen in a riding-suit
INNOGEN	Thou told‘st me when we came from horse the place Was near at hand. Ne’er longed my mother so To see me first as I have now. Pisanio, man, Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh From th’inward of thee? One but painted thus Would be interpreted a thing perplexed Beyond self-explication. Put thyself Into a haviour of less fear, ere wildness Vanquish my staider senses. What’s the matter? Pisanio gives her a letter Why tender‘st thou that paper to me with A look untender? If’t be summer news, Smile to’t before; if winterly, thou need’st But keep that count’nance still. My husband’s hand? That drug-damned Italy hath out-craftied him, And he’s at some hard point. Speak, man. Thy tongue May take off some extremity which to read Would be even mortal to me.
PISANIO	Please you read, And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing The most disdained of fortune.
INNOGEN	(reads) ‘Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the strumpet in my bed, the testimonies whereof lies bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak surmises but from proof as strong as my grief and as certain as I expect my revenge. That part thou, Pisanio, must act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers. Let thine own hands take away her life. I shall give thee opportunity at Milford Haven. She hath my letter for the purpose, where if thou fear to strike and to make me certain it is done, thou art the pander to her dishonour and equally to me disloyal.’
PISANIO	(aside) What shall I need to draw my sword? The paper Hath cut her throat already. No, ’tis slander, Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose breath Rides on the posting winds and doth belie All corners of the world. Kings, queens, and states, Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave This viperous slander enters. (To Innogen) What cheer, madam?
INNOGEN	False to his bed? What is it to be false? To lie in watch there and to think on him? To weep ’twixt clock and clock? If sleep charge nature, To break it with a fearful dream of him And cry myself awake? That’s false to ’s bed, is it?
PISANIO	Alas, good lady.
INNOGEN	I false? Thy conscience witness, Giacomo, Thou didst accuse him of incontinency. Thou then lookedst like a villain; now, methinks, Thy favour’s good enough. Some jay of Italy, Whose mother was her painting, hath betrayed him. Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion, And for I am richer than to hang by th’ walls I must be ripped. To pieces with me! O, Men’s vows are women’s traitors. All good seeming, By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought Put on for villainy; not born where’t grows, But worn a bait for ladies.
PISANIO	Good madam, hear me.
INNOGEN	True honest men being heard like false Aeneas Were in his time thought false, and Sinon’s weeping Did scandal many a holy tear, took pity From most true wretchedness. So thou, Posthumus, Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men. Goodly and gallant shall be false and perjured From thy great fail. (To Pisanio) Come, fellow, be thou honest, Do thou thy master’s bidding. When thou seest him, A little witness my obedience. Look, 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 mayst be valiant in a better cause, But now thou seem’st a coward.
PISANIO	Hence, vile instrument, Thou shalt not damn my hand!
INNOGEN	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? She takes letters from her bosom The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus, All turned to heresy? Away, away, Corrupters of my faith, you shall no more Be stomachers to my heart. Thus may poor fools Believe false teachers. Though those that are betrayed Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor Stands in worse case of woe. And thou, Posthumus, 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 disedged by her That now thou tirest on, how thy memory Will then be panged by me. (To Pisanio) Prithee, 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.
PISANIO	O gracious lady, Since I received command to do this business I have not slept one wink.
INNOGEN	Do’t, and to bed, then.
PISANIO	I’ll wake mine eyeballs out first.
INNOGEN	Wherefore then Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abused So many miles with a pretence?—this place, Mine action, and thine own? Our horses’ labour, The time inviting thee? The perturbed 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, Th’elected deer before thee?
PISANIO	But to win time To lose so bad employment, in the which I have considered of a course. Good lady, Hear me with patience.
INNOGEN	Talk thy tongue weary. Speak. I have heard I am a strumpet, and mine ear, Therein false struck, can take no greater wound, Nor tent to bottom that. But speak.
PISANIO	Then, madam, I thought you would not back again.
INNOGEN	Most like, Bringing me here to kill me.
PISANIO	Not so, neither. But if I were as wise as honest, then My purpose would prove well. It cannot be But that my master is abused. Some villain, Ay, and singular in his art, hath done you both This cursed injury.
INNOGEN	Some Roman courtesan.
PISANIO	No, on my life. I’ll give but notice you are dead, and send him Some bloody sign of it, for ’tis commanded I should do so. You shall be missed at court, And that will well confirm it.
INNOGEN	Why, good fellow, What shall I do the while, where bide, how live, Or in my life what comfort when I am Dead to my husband?
PISANIO	If you’ll back to th’ court—
INNOGEN	No court, no father, nor no more ado With that harsh, churlish, noble, simple nothing, That Cloten, whose love suit hath been to me As fearful as a siege.
PISANIO	If not at court, Then not in Britain must you bide.
INNOGEN	Where then? Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night, Are they not but in Britain? I‘th’ world’s volume Our Britain seems as of it but not in’t, In a great pool a swan’s nest. Prithee, think There’s livers out of Britain.
PISANIO	I am most glad You think of other place. Th‘ambassador, Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford Haven Tomorrow. Now if you could wear a mind Dark as your fortune is, and but disguise That which t’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.
INNOGEN	O, for such means, Though peril to my modesty, not death on’t, I would adventure.
PISANIO	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 it pretty self—into a waggish courage, Ready in gibes, quick-answered, saucy and As quarrelous 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.
INNOGEN	Nay, be brief. I see into thy end, and am almost A man already.
PISANIO	First, make yourself but like one. Forethinking 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’re happy—which will 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.
INNOGEN	Thou art all the comfort The gods will diet me with. Prithee away. There’s more to be considered, but we’ll even All that good time will give us. This attempt I am soldier to, and will abide it with A prince’s courage. Away, I prithee.
PISANIO	Well, madam, we must take a short farewell Lest, being missed, I be suspected of Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress, Here is a box. I had it from the Queen. What’s in’t is precious. If you are sick at sea Or stomach-qualmed at land, a dram of this Will drive away distemper. To some shade, And fit you to your manhood. May the gods Direct you to the best.
INNOGEN	Amen. I thank thee.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally
(didascalia)	3.5 Flourish. Enter Cymbeline, the Queen, Cloten, Lucius, and lords
CYMBELINE	(to Lucius) Thus far, and so farewell.
LUCIUS	Thanks, royal sir. My emperor hath wrote I must from hence; And am right sorry that I must report ye My master’s enemy.
CYMBELINE	Our subjects, sir, Will not endure his yoke, and for ourself To show less sovereignty than they must needs Appear unkinglike.
LUCIUS	So, sir, I desire of you A conduct over land to Milford Haven.
(didascalia)	(To the Queen) Madam, all joy befall your grace, to Cloten and you.
CYMBELINE	My lords, you are appointed for that office. The due of honour in no point omit. So farewell, noble Lucius.
LUCIUS	Your hand, my lord.
CLOTEN	Receive it friendly, but from this time forth I wear it as your enemy.
LUCIUS	Sir, the event Is yet to name the winner. Fare you well.
CYMBELINE	Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords, Till he have crossed the Severn. Happiness.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Lucius and lords
QUEEN	He goes hence frowning, but it honours us That we have given him cause.
CLOTEN	’Tis all the better. Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it.
CYMBELINE	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 looked to speedily and strongly.
CYMBELINE	Our expectation that it would be thus Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen, Where is our daughter? She hath not appeared Before the Roman, nor to us hath tendered 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.
(didascalia)	Exit one or more
QUEEN	Royal Sir, Since the exile of Posthumus most retired 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.
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger
CYMBELINE	Where is she, sir? How Can her contempt be answered?
MESSENGER	Please you, sir, Her chambers are all locked, and there’s no answer That will be given to th’ loud’st of noise we make.
QUEEN	My lord, when last I went to visit her She prayed me to excuse her keeping close, Whereto constrained by her infirmity, She should that duty leave unpaid to you Which daily she was bound to proffer. This She wished me to make known, but our great court Made me to blame in memory.
CYMBELINE	Her doors locked? Not seen of late? Grant heavens that which I Fear prove false.
(didascalia)	Exit
QUEEN	on, I say, follow the King.
CLOTEN	That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant, I have not seen these two days.
QUEEN	Go, look after.
(didascalia)	Exit Cloten
QUEEN	Pisanio, thou that stand’st so for Posthumus! 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 seized her, Or, winged with fervour of her love, she’s flown To her desired Posthumus. 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Cloten
QUEEN	How now, my son?
CLOTEN	’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
CLOTEN	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 Posthumus, slanders so her judgement That what’s else rare is choked; and in that point I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed, To be revenged upon her. For when fools Shall—
(didascalia)	Enter Pisanio
CLOTEN	Who is here? What, are you packing, sirrah? Come hither. Ah, you precious pander! Villain, Where is thy lady? In a word, or else Thou art straightway with the fiends.
PISANIO	O good my lord!
CLOTEN	Where is thy lady?—or, by Jupiter, I will not ask again. Close villain, I’ll have this secret from thy tongue or rip Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus, From whose so many weights of baseness cannot A dram of worth be drawn?
PISANIO	Alas, my lord, How can she be with him? When was she missed? He is in Rome.
CLOTEN	Where is she, sir? Come nearer. No farther halting. Satisfy me home What is become of her.
PISANIO	O my all-worthy lord!
CLOTEN	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.
PISANIO	Then, sir, This paper is the history of my knowledge Touching her flight. He gives Cloten a letter
CLOTEN	Let’s see’t. I will pursue her Even to Augustus’ throne.
(didascalia)	PISANIO aside
CLOTEN	Or this or perish. She’s far enough, and what he learns by this May prove his travel, not her danger.
CLOTEN	Hum!
PISANIO	(aside) I’ll write to my lord she’s dead. O Innogen, Safe mayst thou wander, safe return again!
CLOTEN	Sirrah, is this letter true?
PISANIO	Sir, as I think.
CLOTEN	It is Posthumus’ hand; I know’t. Sirrah, if thou wouldst not be a villain but do me true service, undergo those employments wherein I should have cause to use thee with a serious industry—that is, what villainy soe’er I bid thee do, to perform it directly and truly—I would think thee an honest man. Thou shouldst neither want my means for thy relief nor my voice for thy preferment.
PISANIO	Well, my good lord.
CLOTEN	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? 121
PISANIO	Sir, I will.
CLOTEN	Give me thy hand. Here’s my purse. Hast any of thy late master’s garments in thy possession?
PISANIO	I have, my lord, at my lodging the same suit he wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress.
CLOTEN	The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit hither. Let it be thy first service. Go.
PISANIO	I shall, my lord. Exit
CLOTEN	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, together 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Pisanio with Posthumus’ suit
CLOTEN	Be those the garments?
PISANIO	Ay, my noble lord.
CLOTEN	How long is’t since she went to Milford Haven?
PISANIO	She can scarce be there yet.
CLOTEN	Bring this apparel to my chamber. That is the second thing that I have commanded thee. The third is that thou wilt be a voluntary mute to my design. Be but duteous, and true preferment shall tender itself to thee. My revenge is now at Milford. Would I had wings to follow it. Come, and be true. Exit
PISANIO	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 pursuest. Flow, flow, You heavenly blessings, on her. This fool’s speed Be crossed with slowness; labour be his meed. Exit

Atto 3, Scena 6

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Innogen, dressed as a man, before the cave
INNOGEN	I see a man’s life is a tedious one. I have tired 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 showed thee, Thou wast within a ken. O Jove, I think Foundations fly the wretched—such, I mean, Where they should be relieved. 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, When rich ones scarce tell true. To lapse in fullness Is sorer than to lie for need, and falsehood Is worse in kings than beggars. My dear lord, Thou art one o’th’ false ones. Now I think on thee My hunger’s gone, but even before I was At point to sink for food. But what is this? Here is a path to’t. ‘Tis some savage hold. I were best not call; I dare not call; yet famine, 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 anything 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!
(didascalia)	Exit into the cave
(didascalia)	Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus
BELARIUS	You, Polydore, have proved 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 resty sloth Finds the down pillow hard. Now peace be here, Poor house, that keep’st thyself.
GUIDERIUS	I am throughly weary.
ARVIRAGUS	I am weak with toil yet strong in appetite.
GUIDERIUS	There is cold meat i’th’ cave. We’ll browse on that Whilst what we have killed be cooked.
BELARIUS	(looking into the cave) Stay, come not in. But that it eats our victuals I should think Here were a fairy.
GUIDERIUS	What’s the matter, sir?
BELARIUS	By Jupiter, an angel—or, if not, An earthly paragon. Behold divineness No elder than a boy.
(didascalia)	Enter Innogen from the cave, dressed as a man
INNOGEN	Good masters, harm me not. Before I entered here I called, and thought To have begged or bought what I have took. Good truth, I have stol’n naught, nor would not, though I had found Gold strewed i’th’ floor. Here’s money for my meat. I would have left it on the board so soon As I had made my meal, and parted With prayers for the provider.
GUIDERIUS	Money, youth?
ARVIRAGUS	All gold and silver rather turn to dirt, As ’tis no better reckoned but of those Who worship dirty gods.
INNOGEN	I see you’re angry. Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should Have died had I not made it.
BELARIUS	Whither bound?
INNOGEN	To Milford Haven.
BELARIUS	What’s your name?
INNOGEN	Fidele, sir. I have a kinsman who Is bound for Italy. He embarked at Milford, To whom being going, almost spent with hunger, I am fall’n in this offence.
BELARIUS	Prithee, fair youth, Think us no churls, nor measure our good minds By this rude place we live in. Well encountered. ’Tis almost night. You shall have better cheer Ere you depart, and thanks to stay and eat it. Boys, bid him welcome.
GUIDERIUS	Were you a woman, youth, I should woo hard but be your groom in honesty, Ay, bid for you as I’d buy.
ARVIRAGUS	I’ll make’t my comfort He is a man, I’ll love him as my brother. (To Innogen) And such a welcome as I’d give to him After long absence, such is yours. Most welcome. Be sprightly, for you fall ’mongst friends.
INNOGEN	’Mongst friends If brothers. (Aside) Would it had been so that they Had been my father’s sons. Then had my price Been less, and so more equal ballasting To thee, Posthumus. The three men speak apart
BELARIUS	He wrings at some distress.
GUIDERIUS	Would I could free’t.
ARVIRAGUS	Or I, whate’er it be, What pain it cost, what danger. Gods!
BELARIUS	Hark, boys. They whisper
INNOGEN	(aside) Great men That had a court no bigger than this cave, That did attend themselves and had the virtue Which their own conscience sealed them, laying by That nothing-gift of differing multitudes, Could not outpeer these twain. Pardon me, gods, I’d change my sex to be companion with them, Since Leonatus’ false.
BELARIUS	It shall be so. Boys, we’ll go dress our hunt. Fair youth, come in. Discourse is heavy, fasting. When we have supped We’ll mannerly demand thee of thy story, So far as thou wilt speak it.
GUIDERIUS	Pray draw near.
ARVIRAGUS	The night to th’ owl and morn to th’ lark less welcome.
INNOGEN	Thanks, sir.
ARVIRAGUS	I pray draw near.
(didascalia)	Exeunt into the cave

Atto 3, Scena 7

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter two Roman Senators, and Tribunes
FIRST SENATOR	This is the tenor 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 commends His absolute commission. Long live Caesar! A TRIBUNE Is Lucius general of the forces?
SECOND SENATOR	Ay. A TRIBUNE Remaining now in Gallia?
FIRST SENATOR	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. A TRIBUNE We will discharge our duty.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Cloten, in Posthumus’ suit
CLOTEN	I am near to th’ place where they should meet, if Pisanio have mapped it truly. How fit his garments serve me! Why should his mistress, who was made by him that made the tailor, not be fit too?—the rather—saving reverence of the word—for ’tis said a woman’s fitness comes by fits. Therein I must play the workman. I dare speak it to myself, for it is not vainglory for a man and his glass to confer in his own chamber. I mean the lines of 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 remarkable in single oppositions. Yet this imperceiverant 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.
(didascalia)	Exit

Atto 4, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, and Innogen dressed as a man, from the cave
BELARIUS	(to Innogen) You are not well. Remain here in the cave. We’ll come to you from hunting.
ARVIRAGUS	(to Innogen) Brother, stay here. Are we not brothers?
INNOGEN	So man and man should be, But clay and clay differs in dignity, Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick.
GUIDERIUS	(to Belarius and Arviragus) Go you to hunting. I’ll abide with him.
INNOGEN	So sick I am not, yet I am not well; But not so citizen a wanton as To seem to die ere sick. So please you, leave me. Stick to your journal course. The breach of custom Is breach of all. I am ill, but your being by me Cannot amend me. Society is no comfort To one not sociable. I am 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.
GUIDERIUS	I love thee: I have spoke it; How much the quantity, the weight as much, As I do love my father.
BELARIUS	What, how, how?
ARVIRAGUS	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’.
BELARIUS	(aside) O noble strain! O worthiness of nature, breed of greatness! Cowards father cowards, and base things sire base. Nature hath meal and bran, contempt and grace. I’m not their father, yet who this should be Doth miracle itself, loved before me. (Aloud) ‘Tis the ninth hour o’th’ morn.
ARVIRAGUS	(to Innogen) Brother, farewell.
INNOGEN	I wish ye sport.
ARVIRAGUS	You health.—So please you, sir.
INNOGEN	(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! Th’imperious seas breeds monsters; for the dish Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish. I am sick still, heart-sick. Pisanio, I’ll now taste of thy drug.
(didascalia)	She swallows the drug. The men speak apart
GUIDERIUS	I could not stir him. He said he was gentle but unfortunate, Dishonestly afflicted but yet honest.
ARVIRAGUS	Thus did he answer me, yet said hereafter I might know more.
BELARIUS	To th’ field, to th’ field! (To Innogen) We’ll leave you for this time. Go in and rest.
ARVIRAGUS	(to Innogen) We’ll not be long away.
BELARIUS	(to Innogen) Pray be not sick, For you must be our housewife.
INNOGEN	Well or ill, I am bound to you.
(didascalia)	Exit
BELARIUS	And shalt be ever. This youth, howe’er distressed, appears hath had Good ancestors.
ARVIRAGUS	How angel-like he sings!
GUIDERIUS	But his neat cookery!
(didascalia)	BELARIUS
GUIDERIUS	He cut our roots in characters, And sauced our broths as Juno had been sick And he her dieter.
ARVIRAGUS	Nobly he yokes A smiling with a sigh, as if the sigh Was that it was for not being such a smile; The smile mocking the sigh that it would fly From so divine a temple to commix With winds that sailors rail at.
GUIDERIUS	I do note That grief and patience, rooted in him both, Mingle their spurs together.
ARVIRAGUS	Grow patience, And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine His perishing root with the increasing vine.
RELARIUS	It is great morning. Come away. Who’s there?
(didascalia)	Enter Cloten in Posthumus’ suit
CLOTEN	I cannot find those runagates. That villain Hath mocked me. I am faint.
BELARIUS	(aside to Arviragus and Guiderius) ‘Those runagates’? Means he not us? I partly know him; ‘tis Cloten, the son o’th’ Queen. I fear some ambush. I saw him not these many years, and yet I know ’tis he. We are held as outlaws. Hence!
GUIDERIUS	(aside to Arviragus and Belarius) He is but one. You and my brother search What companies are near. Pray you, away. Let me alone with him.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Arviragus and Belarius
CLOTEN	Soft, what are you That fly me thus? Some villain mountaineers? I have heard of such. What slave art thou?
GUIDERIUS	A thing More slavish did I ne’er than answering A slave without a knock.
CLOTEN	Thou art a robber, A law-breaker, a villain. Yield thee, thief.
GUIDERIUS	To who? To thee? What art thou? Have 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.
CLOTEN	Thou villain base, Know’st me not by my clothes?
GUIDERIUS	No, nor thy tailor, rascal, Who is thy grandfather. He made those clothes, Which, as it seems, make thee.
CLOTEN	Thou precious varlet, My tailor made them not.
GUIDERIUS	Hence, then, and thank The man that gave them thee. Thou art some fool. I am loath to beat thee.
CLOTEN	Thou injurious thief, Hear but my name and tremble. GUlDERIUS What’s thy name?
CLOTEN	Cloten, thou villain.
GUIDERIUS	Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name, I cannot tremble at it. Were it toad or adder, spider, ’Twould move me sooner.
CLOTEN	To thy further fear, Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know I am son to th’ Queen.
GUIDERIUS	I am sorry for’t, not seeming So worthy as thy birth.
CLOTEN	Art not afeard?
GUIDERIUS	Those that I reverence, those I fear, the wise. At fools I laugh, not fear them.
CLOTEN	Die the death. 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. Yield, rustic mountaineer. Fight and exeunt
(didascalia)	Enter Belarius and Arviragus
BELARIUS	No company’s abroad?
ARVIRAGUS	None in the world. You did mistake him, sure.
BELARIUS	I cannot tell. Long is it since I saw him, But time hath nothing blurred those lines of favour Which then he wore. The snatches in his voice And burst of speaking were as his. I am absolute ’Twas very Cloten.
ARVIRAGUS	In this place we left them. I wish my brother make good time with him, You say he is so fell.
BELARIUS	Being scarce made up, I mean to man, he had not apprehension Of roaring terrors; for defect of judgement Is oft the cause of fear.
(didascalia)	Enter Guiderius with Cloten’s head
BELARIUS	But see, thy brother.
GUIDERIUS	This Cloten was a fool, an empty purse, There was no money in’t. Not Hercules Could have knocked out his brains, for he had none. Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne My head as I do his.
BELARIUS	What hast thou done?
GUIDERIUS	I am perfect what: cut off one Cloten’s head, Son to the Queen after his own report, Who called me traitor, mountaineer, and swore With his own single hand he’d take us in, Displace our heads where—thanks, ye gods—they grow, And set them on Lud’s town.
BELARIUS	We are all undone.
GUIDERIUS	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?
BELARIUS	No single soul 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 raved 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 If we do fear this body hath a tail More perilous than the head.
ARVIRAGUS	Let ord’nance Come as the gods foresay it; howsoe’er, My brother hath done well.
BELARIUS	I had no mind To hunt this day. The boy Fidele’s sickness Did make my way long forth. GUIDERlUS With his own sword, Which he did wave against my throat, I have ta’en His head from him. I’ll throw’t into the creek Behind our rock, and let it to the sea And tell the fishes he’s the Queen’s son, Cloten. That’s all I reck.
(didascalia)	Exit with Cloten’s head
BELARIUS	I fear ’twill be revenged. Would, Polydore, thou hadst not done’t, though valour Becomes thee well enough.
ARVIRAGUS	Would I had done’t, So the revenge alone pursued me. Polydore, I love thee brotherly, but envy much Thou hast robbed me of this deed. I would revenges That possible strength might meet would seek us through And put us to our answer.
BELARIUS	Well, ’tis done. We’ll hunt no more today, nor seek for danger Where there’s no profit. I prithee, to our rock. You and Fidele play the cooks. I’ll stay Till hasty Polydore return, and bring him To dinner presently.
ARVIRAGUS	Poor sick Fidele! I’ll willingly to him. To gain his colour I’d let a parish of such Clotens blood, And praise myself for charity.
(didascalia)	Exit into the cave
BELARIUS	O thou goddess, Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon‘st In these two princely boys! They are as gentle As zephyrs blowing below the violet, Not wagging his sweet head; and yet as rough, Their royal blood enchafed, as the rud’st wind That by the top doth take the mountain pine And make him stoop to th’ vale. ’Tis wonder That an invisible instinct should frame them To royalty unlearned, honour untaught, Civility not seen from other, valour That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop As if it had been sowed. Yet still it’s strange What Cloten’s being here to us portends, Or what his death will bring us.
(didascalia)	Enter Guiderius
GUIDERIUS	Where’s my brother? I have sent Cloten’s clotpoll down the stream In embassy to his mother. His body’s hostage For his return. Solemn music
BELARIUS	My ingenious instrument!— Hark, Polydore, it sounds. But what occasion Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark!
GUIDERIUS	Is he at home?
BELARIUS	He went hence even now.
GUIDERIUS	What does he mean? Since death of my dear’st mother It did not speak before. All solemn things Should answer solemn accidents. The matter? Triumphs for nothing and lamenting toys Is jollity for apes and grief for boys. Is Cadwal mad?
(didascalia)	Enter from the cave Arviragus with Innogen, dead, bearing her in his arms
BELARIUS	Look, here he comes, And brings the dire occasion in his arms Of what we blame him for.
ARVIRAGUS	The bird is dead That we have made so much on. I had rather Have skipped from sixteen years of age to sixty, To have turned my leaping time into a crutch, Than have seen this.
GUIDERIUS	(to Innogen) O sweetest, fairest lily! My brother wears thee not one half so well As when thou grew’st thyself.
BELARIUS	O melancholy, Who ever yet could sound thy bottom, find The ooze to show what coast thy sluggish crare Might easiliest harbour in? Thou blessèd thing, Jove knows what man thou mightst have made; but I, Thou diedst a most rare boy, of melancholy. (To Arviragus) How found you him?
ARVIRAGUS	Stark, as you see, Thus smiling as some fly had tickled slumber, Not as death’s dart being laughed at; his right cheek Reposing on a cushion.
GUIDERIUS	Where?
ARVIRAGUS	O’th’ floor, His arms thus leagued. I thought he slept, and put My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness Answered my steps too loud.
GUIDERIUS	Why, he but sleeps. If he be gone he’ll make his grave a bed. With female fairies will his tomb be haunted, (To Innogen) And worms will not come to thee.
ARVIRAGUS	(to Innogen) With fairest flowers Whilst summer lasts and I live here, Fidele, I’ll sweeten thy sad grave. Thou shalt not lack The flower that’s like thy face, pale primrose, nor The azured harebell, like thy veins; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander Outsweetened not thy breath. The ruddock would With charitable bill—O bill sore shaming Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie Without a monument!—bring thee all this, Yea, and furred moss besides, when flowers are none, To winter-gown thy corpse.
GUIDERIUS	Prithee, have done, And do not play in wench-like words with that Which is so serious. Let us bury him, And not protract with admiration what Is now due debt. To th’ grave.
ARVIRAGUS	Say, where shall ’s lay him?
GUIDERIUS	By good Euriphile, our mother.
ARVIRAGUS	Be’t SO, And let us, Polydore, though now our voices Have got the mannish crack, sing him to th’ ground As once our mother; use like note and words, Save that ‘Euriphile’ must be ‘Fidele’.
GUIDERIUS	Cadwal, I cannot sing. I’ll weep, and word it with thee, For notes of sorrow out of tune are worse Than priests and fanes that lie.
ARVIRAGUS	We’ll speak it then.
BELARIUS	Great griefs, I see, medicine the less, for Cloten Is quite forgot. He was a queen’s son, boys, And though he came our enemy, remember He was paid for that. Though mean and mighty rotting Together have one dust, yet reverence, That angel of the world, doth make distinction Of place ’tween high and low. Our foe was princely, And though you took his life as being our foe, Yet bury him as a prince.
GUIDERIUS	Pray you, fetch him hither. Thersites’ body is as good as Ajax’ When neither are alive.
ARVIRAGUS	(to Belarius) If you’ll go fetch him, We’ll say our song the whilst.
(didascalia)	Exit Belarius
ARVIRAGUS	Brother, begin.
GUIDERIUS	Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to th’east. My father hath a reason for’t.
ARVIRAGUS	’Tis true.
GUIDERIUS	Come on, then, and remove him.
ARVIRAGUS	So, begin.
GUIDERIUS	Fear no more the heat o‘th’ sun, Nor the furious winter’s rages. Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone and ta’en thy wages. Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
ARVIRAGUS	Fear no more the frown o’th’ great, Thou art past the tyrant’s stroke. Care no more to clothe and eat, To thee the reed is as the oak. The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this and come to dust.
GUIDERIUS	Fear no more the lightning flash,
ARVIRAGUS	Nor th’all-dreaded thunder-stone.
GUIDERIUS	Fear not slander, censure rash.
ARVIRAGUS	Thou hast finished joy and moan.
GUIDERIUS	and ARVIRAGUS All lovers young, all lovers must Consign to thee and come to dust.
GUIDERIUS	No exorcisor harm thee,
ARVIRAGUS	Nor no witchcraft charm thee.
GUIDERIUS	Ghost unlaid forbear thee.
ARVIRAGUS	Nothing ill come near thee.
GUIDERIUS	and ARVIRAGUS Quiet consummation have, And renowned be thy grave.
(didascalia)	Enter Belarius with the body of Cloten in Posthumus’ suit
GUIDERIUS	We have done our obsequies. Come, lay him down.
BELARIUS	Here’s a few flowers, but ‘bout midnight more; The herbs that have on them cold dew o’th’ night Are strewings fitt‘st for graves upon th’earth’s face. You were as flowers, now withered; even so These herblets shall, which we upon you strow. Come on, away; apart upon our knees
(didascalia)
BELARIUS	The ground that gave them first has them again. Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Belarius, Arviragus, and Guiderius
INNOGEN	(awakes) Yes, sir, to Milford Haven. Which is the way? I thank you. By yon bush? Pray, how far thither? ‘Od’s pitykins, can it be six mile yet? I have gone all night. ’Faith, I’ll lie down and sleep. She sees Cloten But soft, no bedfellow! O gods and goddesses! These flowers are like the pleasures of the world, This bloody man the care on’t. I hope I dream, For so I thought I was a cavekeeper, And cook to honest creatures. But ‘tis not so. ’Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot of nothing, Which the brain makes of fumes. Our very eyes Are sometimes like our judgements, blind. Good faith, I tremble still with fear; but if there be Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity As a wren’s eye, feared gods, a part of it! The dream’s here still. Even when I wake it is Without me as within me; not imagined, felt. A headless man? The garments of Posthumus? I know the shape of ’s leg; this is his hand, His foot Mercurial, his Martial thigh, The brawns of Hercules; but his Jovial face- Murder in heaven! How? ‘Tis gone. Pisanio, All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks, And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou, Conspired with that irregulous devil Cloten, Hath here cut off my lord. To write and read Be henceforth treacherous! Damned Pisanio Hath with his forged letters-damned Pisanio- From this most bravest vessel of the world Struck the main-top) O Posthumus, alas, Where is thy head? Where’s that? Ay me, where’s that? Pisanio might have killed thee at the heart And left thy head on. How should this be? Pisanio? ’Tis he and Cloten. Malice and lucre in them Have laid this woe here. O, ‘tis pregnant, pregnant! The drug he gave me, which he said was precious And cordial to me, have I not found it Murd’rous to th’ senses? That confirms it home. This is Pisanio’s deed, and Cloten-O, Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood, That we the horrider may seem to those Which chance to find usl
(didascalia)	She smears her face with blood
INNOGEN	O my lord, my lord!
(didascalia)	She faints.
(didascalia)	Enter Lucius, Roman Captains, and a Soothsayer
INNOGEN	A ROMAN CAPTAIN (to Lucius) To them the legions garrisoned in Gallia After your will have crossed the sea, attending You here at Milford Haven with your ships. They are hence in readiness.
LUCIUS	But what from Rome? A ROMAN CAPTAIN The senate hath stirred up the confiners And gentlemen of Italy, most willing spirits That promise noble service, and they come Under the conduct of bold Giacomo, Siena’s brother.
LUCIUS	When expect you them? A ROMAN CAPTAIN With the next benefit o’th’ wind.
LUCIUS	This forwardness Makes our hopes fair. Command our present numbers Be mustered; bid the captains look to’t.
(didascalia)	Exit one or more
LUCIUS	(To Soothsayer) Now, sir, What have you dreamed of late of this war’s purpose?
SOOTHSAYER	Last night the very gods showed me a vision— I fast, and prayed for their intelligence-thus: I saw Jove’s bird, the Roman eagle, winged From the spongy south to this part of the west, There vanished in the sunbeams; which portends, Unless my sins abuse my divination, Success to th’ Roman host.
LUCIUS	Dream often so, And never false. He sees Cloten’s body Soft, ho, what trunk is here Without his top? The ruin speaks that sometime It was a worthy building. How, a page? Or dead or sleeping on him? But dead rather, For nature doth abhor to make his bed With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead. Let’s see the boy’s face. A ROMAN CAPTAIN He’s alive, my lord.
LUCIUS	He’ll then instruct us of this body. Young one, Inform us of thy fortunes, for it seems They crave to be demanded. Who is this Thou mak’st thy bloody pillow? Or who was he That, otherwise than noble nature did, Hath altered that good picture? What’s thy interest In this sad wreck? 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 is no more such masters. I may wander From east to occident, cry out for service, Try many, all good; serve truly, never Find such another master.
LUCIUS	’Lack, good youth, Thou mov’st no less with thy complaining than Thy master in bleeding. Say his name, good friend.
INNOGEN	Richard du Champ. (Aside) If I do lie and do No harm by it, though the gods hear I hope They’ll pardon it. (Aloud) Say you, sir?
LUCIUS	Thy name?
INNOGEN	Fidele, sir.
LUCIUS	Thou dost approve thyself the very same. 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 prefer thee. Go with me.
INNOGEN	I’ll follow, sir. But first, an’t please the gods, I’ll hide my master from the flies as deep As these poor pickaxes can dig; and when With wild-wood leaves and weeds I ha’ strewed his grave And on it said a century of prayers, Such as I can, twice o’er I’ll weep and sigh, And leaving so his service, follow you, So please you entertain me.
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 partisans A grave. Come, arm him. Boy, he is preferred By thee to us, and he shall be interred As soldiers can. Be cheerful. Wipe thine eyes. Some falls are means the happier to arise.
(didascalia)	Exeunt with Cloten’s body

Atto 4, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Cymbeline, Lords, and Pisanio
CYMBELINE	Again, and bring me word how ’tis with her.
(didascalia)	Exit one or more
CYMBELINE	A fever with the absence of her son, A madness of which her life’s in danger-heavens, How deeply you at once do touch me! Innogen, The great part of my comfort, gone; my queen Upon a desperate bed, and in a time When fearful wars point at me; her son gone, So needful for this present! It strikes me past The hope of comfort. (To Pisanio) But for thee, fellow, Who needs must know of her departure and Dost seem so ignorant, we’ll enforce it from thee By a sharp torture.
PISANIO	Sir, my life is yours. I humbly set it at your will. But for my mistress, I nothing know where she remains, why gone, Nor when she purposes return. Beseech your highness, Hold me your loyal servant. A 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 subjection loyally. For Cloten, There wants no diligence in seeking him, And will no doubt be found.
CYMBELINE	The time is troublesome. (To Pisanio) We’ll slip you for a season, but our jealousy Does yet depend. A LORD So please your majesty, The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn, Are landed on your coast with a supply Of Roman gentlemen by the senate sent.
CYMBELINE	Now for the counsel of my son and queen! I am amazed with matter. A LORD Good my liege, Your preparation can affront no less Than what you hear of. Come more, for more you’re ready. The want is but 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 annoy us, but We grieve at chances here. Away.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Cymbeline and Lords
PISANIO	I heard no letter 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 betid 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 find I love my country Even to the note o’th’ King, or I’ll fall in them. All other doubts, by time let them be cleared: Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered.
(didascalia)	Exit

Atto 4, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus
GUIDERIUS	The noise is round about us.
BELARIUS	Let us from it.
ARVIRAGUS	What pleasure, sir, find we in life to lock it From action and adventure?
GUIDERIUS	Nay, what hope Have we in hiding us? This way the Romans Must or for Britains slay us, or receive us For barbarous and unnatural revolts During their use, and slay us after.
BELARIUS	Sons, We’ll higher to the mountains; there secure us. To the King’s party there’s no going. Newness Of Cloten’s death-we being not known, not mustered Among the bands—may drive us to a render Where we have lived, and so extort from ’s that Which we have done, whose answer would be death Drawn on with 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 files, have both their eyes And ears so cloyed importantly as now, That they will waste their time upon our note, To know from whence we are.
BELARIUS	O, I am known Of many in the army. Many years, Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore him From my remembrance. And besides, the King Hath not deserved my service nor your loves, Who find in my exile the want of breeding, The certainty of this hard life; aye hopeless To have the courtesy your cradle promised, But to be still hot summer’s tanlings, and The shrinking slaves of winter.
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’ergrown, Cannot be questioned.
ARVIRAGUS	By this sun that shines, I’ll thither. What thing is’t that I never Did see man die, scarce ever looked on blood But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison, Never bestrid a horse save one that had A rider like myself, who ne’er wore rowel Nor iron 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 care; but if you will not, The hazard therefore due 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 My cracked one to more care. Have with you, boys! If in your country wars you chance to die, That is my bed, too, lads, and there I’ll lie. Lead, lead. (Aside) The time seems long. Their blood thinks scorn Till it fly out and show them princes born.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 5, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Posthumus, dressed as an Italian gentleman, carrying a bloody cloth
POSTHUMUS	Yea, bloody cloth, I’ll keep thee, for I once wished Thou shouldst be coloured thus. You married ones, If each of you should take this course, how many Must murder wives much better than themselves For wrying but a little! O Pisanio, Every good servant does not all commands, No bond but to do just ones. Gods, if you Should have ta‘en vengeance on my faults, I never Had lived to put on this; so had you saved The noble Innogen to repent, and struck Me, wretch, more worth your vengeance. But alack, You snatch some hence for little faults; that’s love, To have them fall no more. You some permit To second ills with ills, each elder worse, And make them dread ill, to the doer’s thrift. But Innogen is your own. Do your blest 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-piece; I’ll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heavens, Hear patiently my purpose. I’ll disrobe me Of these Italian weeds, and suit myself As does a Briton peasant.
(didascalia)	He disrobes himself
POSTHUMUS	So I’ll fight Against the part I come with; so I’ll die For thee, O Innogen, even for whom my life Is every breath a death; and, thus unknown, Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril Myself I’ll dedicate. Let me make men know More valour in me than my habits show. Gods, put the strength o‘th’ Leonati in me. To shame the guise o’th’ world, I will begin The fashion-less without and more within. Exit
(didascalia)	5.2 A march. Enter Lucius, Giacomo, 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. Alarums. Then enter again in skirmish Giacomo and Posthumus: he vanquisheth and disarmeth Giacomo, and then leaves him
GIACOMO	The heaviness and guilt within my bosom Takes off my manhood. I have belied a lady, The princess of this country, and the air on’t Revengingly enfeebles me; or could this carl, A very drudge of nature’s, have subdued me In my profession? Knighthoods and honours borne As I wear mine are titles but of scorn. If that thy gentry, Britain, go before This lout as he exceeds our lords, the odds Is that we scarce are men and you are gods.
(didascalia)	Exit

Atto 5, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	The battle continues. Alarums. Excursions. The trumpets sound a retreat. 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 routs us but The villainy of our fears.
GUIDERIUS	and ARVIRAGUS Stand, stand, and fight.
(didascalia)	Enter Posthumus like a poor soldier, and seconds the Britons. They rescue Cymbeline and exeunt
(didascalia)	5.4 The trumpets sound a retreat, then enter Lucius, Giacomo, and Innogen
LUCIUS	(to Innogen) Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself; For friends kill friends, and the disorder’s such As war were hoodwinked.
GIACOMO	’Tis their fresh supplies.
LUCIUS	It is a day turned strangely. Or betimes Let’s reinforce, or fly.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 5, Scena 5

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Posthumus like a poor soldier, 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.
LORD	Ay.
POSTHUMUS	No blame be to you, sir, for all was lost, But that the heavens fought. The King himself Of his wings destitute, the army broken, And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying Through a strait lane; the enemy full-hearted, Lolling the tongue with slaught‘ring, having work More plentiful than tools to do’t, struck down Some mortally, some slightly touched, some falling Merely through fear, that the strait pass was dammed With dead men hurt behind, and cowards living To die with lengthened shame.
LORD	Where was this lane?
POSTHUMUS	Close by the battle, ditched, and walled with turf; Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier, An honest one, I warrant, who deserved 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 run The country base than to commit such slaughter; With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer Than those for preservation cased, or shame- Made good the passage, cried to those that fled ‘Our Britain’s harts die flying, not her men. To darkness fleet souls that fly backwards. Stand, Or we are Romans, and will give you that Like beasts which you shun beastly, and may save But to look back in frown. Stand, stand.’ These three, Three thousand confident, in act as many- For three performers are the file when all The rest do nothing-with this word ‘Stand, stand’, Accommodated by the place, more charming With their own nobleness, which could have turned A distaff to a lance, gilded pale looks; Part shame, part spirit renewed, that some, turned coward But by example,-O, a sin in war, Damned in the first beginnersl-gan to look The way that they did and to grin like lions Upon the pikes o‘th’ hunters. Then began A stop i’th’ chaser, a retire. Anon A rout, confusion thick; forthwith they fly Chickens the way which they stooped eagles; slaves, The strides they victors made; and now our cowards, Like fragments in hard voyages, became The life o‘th’ need. Having found the back door open Of the unguarded hearts, heavens, how they wound! Some slain before, some dying, some their friends O’erborne i‘th’ former wave, ten chased by one, Are now each one the slaughterman of twenty. Those that would die or ere resist are grown The mortal bugs o’th’ field.
LORD	This was strange chance: A narrow lane, an old man, and two boys.
POSTHUMUS	Nay, do not wonder at it. Yet you are made Rather to wonder at the things you hear Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon‘t, And vent it for a mock’ry? Here is one: ‘Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane, Preserved the Britons, was the Romans’ bane.’
LORD	Nay, be not angry, sir.
POSTHUMUS	’Lack, to what end? Who dares not stand his foe, I’ll be his friend, For if he’ll do as he is made to do, I know he’ll quickly fly my friendship too. You have put me into rhyme.
LORD	Farewell; you’re angry.
(didascalia)	Exit
POSTHUMUS	Still going? This a lord? O noble misery, To be i‘th’ field and ask ‘What news?’ of me! Today how many would have given their honours To have saved their carcasses-took heel to do’t, And yet died too! I, in mine own woe charmed, 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 ministers than we That draw his knives i’th’ war. Well, I will find him; For being now a favourer to the Briton, No more a Briton, I have resumed again The part I came in. Fight I will no more, But yield me to the veriest hind that shall Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is Here made by th’ Roman; great the answer be Britons must take. For me, my ransom’s death, On either side I come to spend my breath, Which neither here I’ll keep nor bear again, But end it by some means for Innogen.
(didascalia)	Enter two Briton Captains, and soldiers
FIRST CAPTAIN	Great Jupiter be praised, Lucius is taken. ’Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels.
SECOND CAPTAIN	There was a fourth man, in a seely habit, That gave th’affront with them.
FIRST CAPTAIN	So ’tis reported, But none of ’em can be found. Stand, who’s there?
POSTHUMUS	A Roman, Who had not now been drooping here if seconds Had answered him.
SECOND CAPTAIN	(to soldiers) Lay hands on him, a dog! A leg of Rome shall not return to tell What crows have pecked them here. He brags his service As if he were of note. Bring him to th’ King.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter Cymbeline and his train, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, Pisanio, and Roman captives. The Captains present Posthumus to Cymbeline, who delivers him over to a Jailer. Exeunt all but Posthumus and two Jailers, who lock gyves on his legs
FIRST JAILER	You shall not now be stol’n. You have locks upon you, So graze as you find pasture.
SECOND JAILER	Ay, or a stomach.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Jailers
POSTHUMUS	Most welcome, bondage, for thou art a way, I think, to liberty. Yet am I better Than one that’s sick o‘th’ gout, since he had rather Groan so in perpetuity than be cured By th’ sure physician, death, who is the key T’unbar these locks. My conscience, thou art fettered More than my shanks and wrists. You good gods give me The penitent instrument to pick that bolt, Then free for ever. Is’t enough I am sorry? So children temporal fathers do appease; Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent, I cannot do it better than in gyves Desired more than constrained. To satisfy, If of my freedom ‘tis the main part, take no No stricter render of me than my all. I know you are more clement than vile men Who of their broken debtors take a third, A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again On their abatement. That’s not my desire. For Innogen’s dear life take mine, and though ’Tis not so dear, yet ‘tis a life; you coined it. ’Tween man and man they weigh not every stamp; Though light, take pieces for the figure’s sake; You rather mine, being yours. And so, great powers, If you will make this audit, take this life, And cancel these cold bonds. O Innogen, I’ll speak to thee in silence! He sleeps. Solemn music. Enter, as in an apparition, Sicilius Leonatus (father to Posthumus, an old man), attired like a warrior, leading in his hand an ancient matron, his wife, and mother to Posthumus, with music before them. Then, after other music, follows the two young Leonati, brothers to Posthumus, with wounds as they died in the wars. They circle Posthumus round as he lies sleeping
SICILIUS	No more, thou thunder-master, show Thy spite on mortal flies. With Mars fall out, with Juno chide, That thy adulteries Rates and revenges. Hath my poor boy done aught but well, Whose face I never saw? I died whilst in the womb he stayed, Attending nature’s law, Whose father then-as men report Thou orphans’ father art- Thou shouldst have been, and shielded him From this earth-vexing smart.
MOTHER	Lucina lent not me her aid, But took me in my throes, That from me was Posthumus ripped, Came crying ’mongst his foes, A thing of pity.
SICILIUS	Great nature like his ancestry Moulded the stuff so fair That he deserved the praise o’th’ world As great Sicilius’ heir.
FIRST BROTHER	When once he was mature for man, In Britain where was he That could stand up his parallel, Or fruitful object be In eye of Innogen, that best Could deem his dignity?
MOTHER	With marriage wherefore was he mocked, To be exiled, and thrown From Leonati seat and cast From her his dearest one, Sweet Innogen?
SICILIUS	Why did you suffer Giacomo, Slight thing of Italy, To taint his nobler heart and brain With needless jealousy, And to become the geck and scorn O’th’ other’s villainy?
SECOND BROTHER	For this from stiller seats we come, Our parents and us twain, That striking in our country’s cause Fell bravely and were slain, Our fealty and Tenantius’ right With honour to maintain.
FIRST BROTHER	Like hardiment Posthumus hath To Cymbeline Performed. Then, Jupiter, thou king of gods, Why hast thou thus adjourned The graces for his merits due, Being all to dolours turned?
SICILIUS	Thy crystal window ope; look out; No longer exercise Upon a valiant race thy harsh And potent injuries.
MOTHER	Since, Jupiter, our son is good, Take off his miseries.
SICILIUS	Peep through thy marble mansion. Help, Or we poor ghosts will cry To th’ shining synod of the rest Against thy deity.
BROTHERS	Help, Jupiter, or we appeal, And from thy justice fly. Jupiter descends in thunder and lightning, sitting upon an eagle. He throws a thunderbolt. The ghosts fall on their knees
JUPITER	No more, you petty spirits of region low, Offend our hearing. Hush! How dare you ghosts Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt, you know, Sky-planted, batters all rebelling coasts? Poor shadows of Elysium, hence, and rest Upon your never-withering banks of flowers. Be not with mortal accidents oppressed; No care of yours it is; you know ’tis ours. Whom best I love, I cross, to make my gift, The more delayed, delighted. Be content. Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift. His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent. Our Jovial star reigned at his birth, and in Our temple was he married. Rise, and fade. He shall be lord of Lady Innogen, And happier much by his affliction made. This tablet lay upon his breast, wherein Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine. He gives the ghosts a tablet which they lay upon Posthumus’ breast And so away. No farther with your din Express impatience, lest you stir up mine. Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline. He ascends into the heavens
SICILIUS	He came in thunder. His celestial breath Was sulphurous to smell. The holy eagle Stooped, as to foot us. His ascension is More sweet than our blest fields. His royal bird Preens the immortal wing and claws his beak As when his god is pleased.
ALL THE GHOSTS	Thanks, Jupiter.
SICILIUS	The marble pavement closes, he is entered His radiant roof. Away, and, to be blest, Let us with care perform his great behest. The ghosts vanish Posthumus awakes
POSTHUMUS	Sleep, thou hast been a grandsire, and begot A father to me; and thou hast created A mother and two brothers. But, O scorn, Gone! They went hence so soon as they were born, And so I am awake. Poor wretches that depend On greatness’ favour dream as I have done, Wake and find nothing. But, alas, I swerve. Many dream not to find, neither deserve, And yet are steeped in favours; so am I, That have this golden chance and know not why. What fairies haunt this ground? A book? O rare one, Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment Nobler than that it covers. Let thy effects So follow to be most unlike our courtiers, As good as promise. He reads ‘Whenas a lion’s whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty.’ ’Tis still a dream, or else such stuff as madmen Tongue, and brain not; either both, or nothing, Or senseless speaking, or a speaking such As sense cannot untie. Be what it is, The action of my life is like it, which I’ll keep, If but for sympathy.
(didascalia)	Enter Jailer
JAILER	Come, sir, are you ready for death?
POSTHUMUS	Over-roasted rather; ready long ago.
JAILER	Hanging is the word, sir. If you be ready for that, you are well cooked.
POSTHUMUS	So, if I prove a good repast to the spectators, the dish pays the shot.
JAILER	A heavy reckoning for you, sir. But the comfort is, you shall be called to no more payments, fear no more tavern bills, which are as often the sadness of parting as the procuring of mirth. You come in faint for want of meat, depart reeling with too much drink, sorry that you have paid too much and sorry that you are paid too much; purse and brain both empty: the brain the heavier for being too light, the purse too light, being drawn of heaviness. Of this contradiction you shall now be quit. O, the charity of a penny cord! It sums up thousands in a trice. You have no true debitor and creditor but it: of what’s past, is, and to come the discharge. Your neck, sir, is pen, book, and counters; so the acquittance follows.
POSTHUMUS	I am merrier to die than thou art to live.
JAILER	Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the toothache; but a man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he would change places with his officer; for look you, sir, you know not which way you shall go.
POSTHUMUS	Yes, indeed do I, fellow.
JAILER	Your death has eyes in ’s head, then. I have not seen him so pictured. You must either be directed by some that take upon them to know, or take upon yourself that which I am sure you do not know, or jump the after-enquiry on your own peril; and how you shall speed in your journey’s end I think you’ll never return to tell on.
POSTHUMUS	I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to direct them the way I am going but such as wink and will not use them.
JAILER	What an infinite mock is this, that a man should have the best use of eyes to see the way of blindness! I am sure hanging’s the way of winking.
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger
MESSENGER	Knock off his manacles, bring your prisoner to the King.
POSTHUMUS	Thou bring’st good news, I am called to be made free.
JAILER	I’ll be hanged then.
POSTHUMUS	Thou shalt be then freer than a jailer; no bolts for the dead.
JAILER	(aside) Unless a man would marry a gallows and beget young gibbets, I never saw one so prone. Yet, on my conscience, there are verier knaves desire to live, for all he be a Roman; and there be some of them, too, that die against their wills; so should I if I were one. I would we were all of one mind, and one mind good. O, there were desolation of jailers and gallowses! I speak against my present profit, but my wish hath a preferment in’t. Exeunt
(didascalia)	5.6 Flourish. Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, Pisanio, and lords
CYMBELINE	(to Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus) Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart That the poor soldier that so richly fought, Whose rags shamed gilded arms, whose naked breast Stepped before targs of proof, cannot be found. He shall be happy that can find him, if Our grace can make him so.
BELARIUS	I never saw Such noble fury in so poor a thing, Such precious deeds in one that promised naught But beggary and poor looks.
CYMBELINE	No tidings of him?
PISANIO	He hath been searched among the dead and living, But no trace of him.
CYMBELINE	To my grief I am The heir of his reward, which I will add (To Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus) To you, the liver, heart, and brain of Britain, By whom I grant she lives. ’Tis now the time To ask of whence you are. Report it.
BELARIUS	Sir, In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen. Further to boast were neither true nor modest, Unless I add we are honest.
CYMBELINE	Bow your knees. They kneel. He knights them Arise, my knights o’th’ battle. I create you Companions to our person, and will fit you With dignities becoming your estates. Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus rise.
(didascalia)	Enter Cornelius and Ladies
CYMBELINE	There’s business in these faces. Why so sadly Greet you our victory? You look like Romans, And not o’th’ court of Britain.
CORNELIUS	Hail, great King! To sour your happiness I must report The Queen is dead.
CYMBELINE	Who worse than a physician Would this report become? But I consider By medicine life may be prolonged, yet death Will seize the doctor too. How ended she?
CORNELIUS	With horror, madly dying, like her life, Which being cruel to the world, concluded Most cruel to herself. What she confessed I will report, so please you. These her women Can trip me if I err, who with wet cheeks Were present when she finished.
CYMBELINE	Prithee, say.
CORNELIUS	First, she confessed she never loved you, only Affected greatness got by you, not you; Married your royalty, was wife to your place, Abhorred your person.
CYMBELINE	She alone knew this, And but she spoke it dying, I would not Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.
CORNELIUS	Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to love With such integrity, she did confess Was as a scorpion to her sight, whose life, But that her flight prevented it, she had Ta’en off by poison.
CYMBELINE	O most delicate fiend! Who is’t can read a woman? Is there more?
CORNELIUS	More, sir, and worse. She did confess she had For you a mortal mineral which, being took, Should by the minute feed on life, and, ling‘ring, By inches waste you. In which time she purposed By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to O’ercome you with her show; and in fine, When she had fit you with her craft, to work Her son into th’adoption of the crown; But failing of her end by his strange absence, Grew shameless-desperate, opened in despite Of heaven and men her purposes, repented The evils she hatched were not effected; so Despairing died.
CYMBELINE	Heard you all this, her women?
(didascalia)	LADIES
CYMBELINE	We did, so please your highness.
CYMBELINE	Mine eyes Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; Mine ears that heard her flattery, nor my heart That thought her like her seeming. It had been vicious To have mistrusted her. Yet, O my daughter, That it was folly in me thou mayst say, And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all!
(didascalia)	Enter Lucius, Giacomo, Soothsayer, and other Roman prisoners, Posthumus behind, and Innogen dressed as a man, all guarded by Briton soldiers
CYMBELINE	Thou com’st not, Caius, now for tribute. That The Britons have razed out, though with the loss Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have made suit That their good souls may be appeased with slaughter Of you, their captives, which ourself have granted. So think of your estate.
LUCIUS	Consider, sir, the chance of war. The day Was yours by accident. Had it gone with us, We should not, when the blood was cool, have threatened Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives May be called ransom, let it come. Sufficeth A Roman with a Roman’s heart can suffer. Augustus lives to think on’t; and so much For my peculiar care. This one thing only I will entreat: He presents Innogen to Cymbeline my boy, a Briton born, Let him be ransomed. Never master had A page so kind, so duteous, diligent, So tender over his occasions, true, So feat, so nurse-like; let his virtue join With my request, which I’ll make bold your highness Cannot deny. He hath done no Briton harm, Though he have served a Roman. Save him, sir, And spare no blood beside.
CYMBELINE	I have surely seen him. His favour is familiar to me. Boy, Thou hast looked thyself into my grace, And art mine own. I know not why, wherefore, To say ‘Live, boy’. Ne‘er thank thy master. Live, And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt Fitting my bounty and thy state, I’ll give it, Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner The noblest ta’en.
INNOGEN	I humbly thank your highness.
LUCIUS	I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad, And yet I know thou wilt.
INNOGEN	No, no. Alack, There’s other work in hand. I see a thing Bitter to me as death. Your life, good master, Must shuffle for itself.
LUCIUS	The boy disdains me. He leaves me, scorns me. Briefly die their joys That place them on the truth of girls and boys. Why stands he so perplexed?
CYMBELINE	(to Innogen) What wouldst thou, boy? I love thee more and more; think more and more What’s best to ask. Know‘st him thou look’st on? Speak, no Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin, thy friend?
INNOGEN	He is a Roman, no more kin to me Than I to your highness, who, being born your vassal, Am something nearer.
CYMBELINE	Wherefore ey’st him so?
INNOGEN	I’ll tell you, sir, in private, if you please To give me hearing.
CYMBELINE	Ay, with all my heart, And lend my best attention. What’s thy name?
INNOGEN	Fidele, sir.
CYMBELINE	Thou’rt my good youth, my page. I’ll be thy master. Walk with me, speak freely. Cymbeline and Innogen speak apart
BELARIUS	(aside to Guiderius and Arviragus) Is not this boy revived from death?
ARVIRAGUS	One sand another Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad Who died, and was Fidele. What think you?
GUIDERIUS	The same dead thing alive.
BELARIUS	Peace, peace, see further. He eyes us not. Forbear. Creatures may be alike. Were’t he, I am sure He would have spoke to us.
GUIDERIUS	But we see him dead.
BELARIUS	Be silent; let’s see further.
PISANIO	(aside) It is my mistress. Since she is living, let the time run on To good or bad.
CYMBELINE	(to Innogen) Come, stand thou by our side, Make thy demand aloud. (To Giacomo) Sir, step you forth. Give answer to this boy, and do it freely, Or, by our greatness and the grace of it, Which is our honour, bitter torture shall Winnow the truth from falsehood. (To Innogen) On, speak to him.
INNOGEN	My boon is that this gentleman may render Of whom he had this ring.
POSTHUMUS	(aside) What’s that to him?
CYMBELINE	(to Giacomo) That diamond upon your finger, say, How came it yours?
GIACOMO	Thou’lt torture me to leave unspoken that Which to be spoke would torture thee.
CYMBELINE	How, me?
GIACOMO	I am glad to be constrained to utter that Torments me to conceal. By villainy I got this ring; ‘twas Leonatus’ jewel, Whom thou didst banish; and, which more may grieve thee, As it doth me, a nobler sir ne’er lived ’Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord?
CYMBELINE	All that belongs to this.
GIACOMO	That paragon thy daughter, For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits Quail to remember-give me leave, I faint.
CYMBELINE	My daughter? What of her? Renew thy strength. I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will Than die ere I hear more. Strive, man, and speak.
GIACOMO	Upon a time-unhappy was the clock That struck the hour-it was in Rome-accursed The mansion where-‘twas at a feast-O, would Our viands had been poisoned, or at least Those which I heaved to head!—the good Posthumus— What should I say?—he was too good to be Where ill men were, and was the best of all Amongst the rar’st of good ones-sitting sadly, Hearing us praise our loves of Italy For beauty that made barren the swelled boast Of him that best could speak; for feature laming The shrine of Venus or straight-pitched Minerva, Postures beyond brief nature; for condition, A shop of all the qualities that man Loves woman for; besides that hook of wiving, Fairness which strikes the eye—
CYMBELINE	I stand on fire. Come to the matter.
GIACOMO	All too soon I shall, Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This Posthumus, Most like a noble lord in love and one That had a royal lover, took his hint, And not dispraising whom we praised—therein He was as calm as virtue-he began His mistress’ picture, which by his tongue being made, And then a mind put in’t, either our brags Were cracked of kitchen-trulls, or his description Proved us unspeaking sots.
CYMBELINE	Nay, nay, to th’ purpose.
GIACOMO	Your daughter’s chastity-there it begins. He spake of her as Dian had hot dreams And she alone were cold, whereat I, wretch, Made scruple of his praise, and wagered with him Pieces of gold ‘gainst this which then he wore Upon his honoured finger, to attain In suit the place of ’s bed and win this ring By hers and mine adultery. He, true knight, No lesser of her honour confident Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring— And would so had it been a carbuncle Of Phoebus’ wheel, and might so safely had it Been all the worth of ’s car. Away to Britain Post I in this design. Well may you, sir, Remember me at court, where I was taught Of your chaste daughter the wide difference ’Twixt amorous and villainous. Being thus quenched Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain Gan in your duller Britain operate Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent. And, to be brief, my practice so prevailed That I returned with simular proof enough To make the noble Leonatus mad By wounding his belief in her renown With tokens thus and thus; averring notes Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet— O cunning, how I got it!—nay, some marks Of secret on her person, that he could not But think her bond of chastity quite cracked, I having ta’en the forfeit. Whereupon— Methinks I see him now—
POSTHUMUS	(coming forward) Ay, so thou dost, Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool, Egregious murderer, thief, anything That’s due to all the villains past, in being, To come! O, give me cord, or knife, or poison, Some upright justicer! Thou, King, send out For torturers ingenious. It is I That all th‘abhorrèd things o’th’ earth amend By being worse than they. I am Posthumus, That killed thy daughter—villain-like, I lie: That caused a lesser villain than myself, A sacrilegious thief, to do’t. The temple Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself. Spit and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set The dogs o‘th’ street to bay me. Every villain Be called Posthumus Leonatus, and Be ‘villain’ less than ’twas! O Innogen! My queen, my life, my wife, O Innogen, Innogen, Innogen!
INNOGEN	(approaching him) Peace, my lord. Hear, hear.
POSTHUMUS	Shall ’s have a play of this? Thou scornful page, There lie thy part. He strikes her down
PISANIO	(coming forward) O gentlemen, help! Mine and your mistress! O my lord Posthumus, You ne’er killed Innogen till now. Help, help! (To Innogen) Mine honoured lady.
CYMBELINE	Does the world go round?
POSTHUMUS	How comes these staggers on me?
PISANIO	(to Innogen) Wake, my mistress.
CYMBELINE	If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me To death with mortal joy.
PISANIO	(to Innogen) How fares my mistress?
INNOGEN	O, get thee from my sight! Thou gav’st me poison. Dangerous fellow, hence. Breathe not where princes are.
CYMBELINE	The tune of Innogen.
PISANIO	Lady, the gods throw stones of sulphur on me if That box I gave you was not thought by me A precious thing. I had it from the Queen.
CYMBELINE	New matter still.
INNOGEN	It poisoned me.
CORNELIUS	O gods! I left out one thing which the Queen confessed (To Pisanio) Which must approve thee honest. ’If Pisanio Have‘, said she, ‘given his mistress that confection Which I gave him for cordial, she is served As I would serve a rat.’
CYMBELINE	What’s this, Cornelius?
CORNELIUS	The Queen, sir, very oft importuned me To temper poisons for her, still pretending The satisfaction of her knowledge only In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs Of no esteem. I, dreading that her purpose Was of more danger, did compound for her A certain stuff which, being ta‘en, would cease The present power of life, but in short time All offices of nature should again Do their due functions. (To Innogen) Have you ta’en of it?
INNOGEN	Most like I did, for I was dead.
BELARIUS	(aside to Guiderius and Arviragus) My boys, There was our error.
GUIDERIUS	This is sure Fidele.
INNOGEN	(to Posthumus) Why did you throw your wedded lady from you? Think that you are upon a lock, and now Throw me again. She throws her arms about his neck
POSTHUMUS	Hang there like fruit, my soul, Till the tree die.
CYMBELINE	(to Innogen) How now, my flesh, my child? What, mak’st thou me a dullard in this act? Wilt thou not speak to me?
INNOGEN	(kneeling) Your blessing, sir.
BELARIUS	(aside to Guiderius and Arviragus) Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not. You had a motive for’t.
CYMBELINE	My tears that fall Prove holy water on thee!
(didascalia)	He raises her
CYMBELINE	Innogen, Thy mother’s dead.
INNOGEN	I am sorry for’t, my lord.
CYMBELINE	O, she was naught, and ’long of her it was That we meet here so strangely. But her son Is gone, we know not how nor where.
PISANIO	My lord, Now fear is from me I’ll speak truth. Lord Cloten, Upon my lady’s missing, came to me With his sword drawn, foamed at the mouth, and swore If I discovered not which way she was gone It was my instant death. By accident I had a feigned letter of my master’s Then in my pocket, which directed him To seek her on the mountains near to Milford, Where in a frenzy, in my master’s garments, Which he enforced from me, away he posts With unchaste purpose, and with oath to violate My lady’s honour. What became of him I further know not.
GUIDERIUS	Let me end the story. I slew him there.
CYMBELINE	Marry, the gods forfend! I would not thy good deeds should from my lips Pluck a hard sentence. Prithee, valiant youth, Deny’t again.
GUIDERIUS	I have spoke it, and I did it.
CYMBELINE	He was a prince.
GUIDERIUS	A most incivil one. The wrongs he did me Were nothing prince-like, for he did provoke me With language that would make me spurn the sea If it could so roar to me. I cut off ’s head, And am right glad he is not standing here To tell this tale of mine.
CYMBELINE	I am sorrow for thee. By thine own tongue thou art condemned, and must Endure our law. Thou’rt dead.
INNOGEN	That headless man I thought had been my lord.
CYMBELINE	(to soldiers) Bind the offender, And take him from our presence.
BELARIUS	Stay, sir King. This boy is better than the man he slew, As well descended as thyself, and hath More of thee merited than a band of Clotens Had ever scar for. Let his arms alone; They were not born for bondage.
CYMBELINE	Why, old soldier, Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for By tasting of our wrath? How of descent As good as we?
ARVIRAGUS	In that he spake too far.
(didascalia)	CYMBELINE to Belarius
ARVIRAGUS	And thou shalt die for’t.
BELARIUS	We will die all three But I will prove that two on ’s are as good As I have given out him. My sons, I must For mine own part unfold a dangerous speech, Though haply well for you.
ARVIRAGUS	Your danger’s ours.
GUIDERIUS	And our good his.
BELARIUS	Have at it then. By leave, Thou hadst, great King, a subject who Was called Belarius.
CYMBELINE	What of him? He is A banished traitor.
BELARIUS	He it is that hath Assumed this age. Indeed, a banished man; I know not how a traitor.
CYMBELINE	(to soldiers) Take him hence. The whole world shall not save him.
BELARIUS	Not too hot. First pay me for the nursing of thy sons, And let it be confiscate all so soon As I have received it.
CYMBELINE	Nursing of my sons?
BELARIUS	I am too blunt and saucy. (Kneeling) Here’s my knee. Ere I arise I will prefer my sons, Then spare not the old father. Mighty sir, These two young gentlemen that call me father And think they are my sons are none of mine. They are the issue of your loins, my liege, And blood of your begetting.
CYMBELINE	How, my issue?
BELARIUS	So sure as you your father’s. I, old Morgan, Am that Belarius whom you sometime banished. Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment Itself, and all my treason. That I suffered Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes— For such and so they are-these twenty years Have I trained up. Those arts they have as I Could put into them. My breeding was, sir, As your highness knows. Their nurse Euriphile, Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children Upon my banishment. I moved her to‘t, Having received the punishment before For that which I did then. Beaten for loyalty Excited me to treason. Their dear loss, The more of you ‘twas felt, the more it shaped Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir, Here are your sons again, and I must lose Two of the sweet’st companions in the world. The benediction of these covering heavens Fall on their heads like dew, for they are worthy To inlay heaven with stars.
CYMBELINE	Thou weep‘st, and speak’st. The service that you three have done is more Unlike than this thou tell’st. I lost my children. If these be they, I know not how to wish A pair of worthier sons.
(didascalia)	BELARIUS rising
CYMBELINE	Be pleased a while. This gentleman, whom I call Polydore, Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius.
(didascalia)	Guiderius kneels
CYMBELINE	This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus, Your younger princely son.
(didascalia)	Arviragus kneels
CYMBELINE	He, sir, was lapped In a most curious mantle wrought by th’ hand Of his queen mother, which for more probation I can with ease produce.
CYMBELINE	Guiderius had Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star. It was a mark of wonder.
BELARIUS	This is he, Who hath upon him still that natural stamp. It was wise nature’s end in the donation To be his evidence now.
CYMBELINE	O, what am I? A mother to the birth of three? Ne’er mother Rejoiced deliverance more. Blest pray you be, That, after this strange starting from your orbs, You may reign in them now!
(didascalia)	Guiderius and Arviragus rise
CYMBELINE	O Innogen, Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.
INNOGEN	No, my lord, I have got two worlds by’t. O my gentle brothers, Have we thus met? O, never say hereafter But I am truest speaker. You called me brother When I was but your sister; I you brothers When ye were so indeed.
CYMBELINE	Did you e’er meet?
ARVIRAGUS	Ay, my good lord.
GUIDERIUS	And at first meeting loved, Continued so until we thought he died.
CORNELIUS	By the Queen’s dram she swallowed.
CYMBELINE	O rare instinct! When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridgement Hath to it circumstantial branches which Distinction should be rich in. Where? How lived you? And when came you to serve our Roman captive? How parted with your brothers? How first met them? Why fled you from the court? And whither? These, And your three motives to the battle, with I know not how much more, should be demanded, And all the other by-dependences, From chance to chance. But nor the time nor place Will serve our long inter’gatories. See, Posthumus anchors upon Innogen, And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye On him, her brothers, me, her master, hitting Each object with a joy. The counterchange Is severally in all. Let’s quit this ground, And smoke the temple with our sacrifices. (To Belarius) Thou art my brother; so we’ll hold thee ever.
INNOGEN	(to Belarius) You are my father too, and did relieve me To see this gracious season.
CYMBELINE	All o’erjoyed, Save these in bonds. Let them be joyful too, For they shall taste our comfort.
INNOGEN	(to Lucius) My good master, I will yet do you service.
LUCIUS	Happy be you!
CYMBELINE	The forlorn soldier that so nobly fought, He would have well becomed this place, and graced The thankings of a king.
POSTHUMUS	I am, sir, The soldier that did company these three In poor beseeming. ’Twas a fitment for The purpose I then followed. That I was he, Speak, Giacomo; I had you down, and might Have made you finish.
GIACOMO	(kneeling) I am down again, But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee As then your force did. Take that life, beseech you, Which I so often owe; but your ring first, And here the bracelet of the truest princess That ever swore her faith.
POSTHUMUS	(raising him) Kneel not to me. The power that I have on you is to spare you, The malice towards you to forgive you. Live, And deal with others better.
CYMBELINE	Nobly doomed! We’ll learn our freeness of a son-in-law. Pardon’s the word to all.
ARVIRAGUS	(to Posthumus) You holp us, sir, As you did mean indeed to be our brother. Joyed are we that you are.
POSTHUMUS	Your servant, princes. (To Lucius) Good my lord of Rome, Call forth your soothsayer. As I slept, methought Great Jupiter, upon his eagle backed, Appeared to me with other spritely shows Of mine own kindred. When I waked I found This label on my bosom, whose containing Is so from sense in hardness that I can Make no collection of it. Let him show His skill in the construction.
LUCIUS	Philharmonus.
SOOTHSAYER	Here, my good lord.
LUCIUS	Read, and declare the meaning.
SOOTHSAYER	(reads the tablet) ‘Whenas a lion’s whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow: then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty.’ Thou, Leonatus, art the lion’s whelp. The fit and apt construction of thy name, Being leo-natus, doth import so much. (To Cymbeline) The piece of tender air thy virtuous daughter, Which we call ‘mollis aer’; and ‘mollis aer’ We term it ‘mulier’, (to Posthumus) which ‘mulier’ I divine Is this most constant wife, who even now, Answering the letter of the oracle, Unknown to you, unsought, were clipped about With this most tender air.
CYMBELINE	This hath some seeming.
SOOTHSAYER	The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, Personates thee, and thy lopped branches point Thy two sons forth, who, by Belarius stol’n, For many years thought dead, are now revived, To the majestic cedar joined, whose issue Promises Britain peace and plenty.
CYMBELINE	Well, My peace we will begin; and, Caius Lucius, Although the victor, we submit to Caesar And to the Roman empire, promising To pay our wonted tribute, from the which We were dissuaded by our wicked queen, Whom heavens in justice both on her and hers Have laid most heavy hand.
SOOTHSAYER	The fingers of the powers above do tune The harmony of this peace. The vision, Which I made known to Lucius ere the stroke Of this yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant Is full accomplished. For the Roman eagle, From south to west on wing soaring aloft, Lessened herself, and in the beams o‘th’ sun So vanished; which foreshowed our princely eagle Th’imperial Caesar should again unite His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, Which shines here in the west.
CYMBELINE	Laud we the gods, And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils From our blest altars. Publish we this peace To all our subjects. Set we forward, let A Roman and a British ensign wave Friendly together. So through Lud’s town march, And in the temple of great Jupiter Our peace we’ll ratify, seal it with feasts. Set on there. Never was a war did cease, Ere bloody hands were washed, with such a peace.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt in triumph
THE	King’s Men acted The Tempest before their patron, James I, at Whitehall on I November 1611. (It was also chosen for performance during the festivities for the marriage of James’s daughter, Princess Elizabeth, to the Elector Palatine during the winter of 1612- 13.) Shakespeare’s play takes place on a desert island somewhere between Tunis and Naples; he derived some details of it from his reading of travel literature, including accounts of an expedition of nine ships taking five hundred colonists from Plymouth to Virginia, which set sail in May 1609. On 29 July the flagship, the Sea-Adventure, was wrecked by a storm on the coast of the Bermudas. She was presumed lost, but on 23 May 1610 those aboard her arrived safely in Jamestown, Virginia, having found shelter on the island of Bermuda, where they were able to build the pinnaces in which they completed their journey. Accounts of the voyage soon reached England; the last-written that Shakespeare seems to have known is a letter by William Strachey, who was on the Sea-Adventure, dated 15 July 1610; though it was not published until 1625, it circulated in manuscript. So it seems clear that Shakespeare wrote The Tempest during the later part of 1610or in 1611. It was first printed in the 1623 Folio, where it is the opening play. Though other items of Shakespeare’s reading—including both Arthur Golding’s translation and Ovid’s original Metamorphoses (closely echoed in Prospero’s farewell to his magic), John Florio’s translation of essays by Michel de Montaigne, and (less locally but no less pervasively) Virgil’s Aeneid—certainly fed Shakespeare’s imagination as he wrote The Tempest, he appears to have devised the main plot himself. Many of its elements are based on the familiar stuff of romance literature: the long-past shipwreck after a perilous voyage of Prospero and his daughter Miranda; the shipwreck, depicted in the opening scene, of Prospero’s brother, Antonio, with Alonso, King of Naples, and others; the separation and estrangement of relatives—Antonio usurped Prospero’s dukedom, and Alonso believes his son, Ferdinand, is drowned; the chaste love, subjected to trials, of the handsome Ferdinand and the beautiful Miranda; the influence of the supernatural exercised through Prospero’s magic powers; and the final reunions and reconciliations along with the happy conclusion of the love affair. Shakespeare had employed such conventions from the beginning of his career in his comedies, and with especial concentration, shortly before he wrote The Tempest, in Pericles, The Winter’s Tale, and Cymbeline. But whereas those plays unfold the events as they happen, taking us on a journey through time and space, in The Tempest (as elsewhere only in The Comedy of Errors) Shakespeare gives us only the end of the story, concentrating the action into a few hours and locating it in a single place, but informing us about the past, as in the long, romance-type narrative (1.2) in which Prospero tells Miranda of her childhood. The supernatural, a strong presence in all Shakespeare’s late plays, is particularly pervasive in The Tempest; Prospero is a ‘white’ magician—a beneficent one—attended by the spirit Ariel and the sub-human Caliban, two of Shakespeare’s most obviously symbolic characters; and a climax of the play is the supernaturally induced wedding masque that Prospero conjures up for the entertainment and edification of the young lovers, and which vanishes as he remembers Caliban’s plot against his life.
THE PERSONS OF THE	PLAY PROSPERO, the rightful Duke of Milan MIRANDA, his daughter ANTONIO, his brother, the usurping Duke of Milan ALONSO, King of Naples SEBASTIAN, his brother FERDINAND, Alonso’s son GONZALO, an honest old counsellor of Naples ARIEL, an airy spirit attendant upon Prospero CALIBAN, a savage and deformed native of the island, Prospero’s slave TRINCULO, Alonso’s jester STEFANO, Alonso’s drunken butler The MASTER of a ship
SPIRITS	The Masque Spirits appearing as:
JUNO	Nymphs, reapers

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

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano due Gentiluomini
PRIMO GENTILUOMO	Non incontrate uomo che non aggrotti la fronte. I nostri sangui non obbediscono ai cieli più di quanto i nostri cortigiani non appaiano sempre come appare il Re.
SECONDO GENTILUOMO	Ma che cosa è accaduto?
PRIMO GENTILUOMO	Sua figlia, ed erede del suo regno, ch’egli destinava all’unico figlio della moglie—una vedova che di recente ha sposato—si è data a un gentiluomo povero ma degno. Ella è sposata, il marito bandito, ella imprigionata. Tutto è dolore esteriore, benché io creda che il Re sia toccato nel più profondo del cuore.
SECONDO GENTILUOMO	Nessuno tranne il Re?
PRIMO GENTILUOMO	Anche colui che l’ha perduta. E così la Regina, che più d’ogni altro bramava quelle nozze. Ma non v’è cortigiano— per quanto pieghino i loro volti alla piega degli sguardi del Re—che abbia un cuore che non gioisca della cosa a cui fanno il viso arcigno.
SECONDO GENTILUOMO	E perché mai?
PRIMO GENTILUOMO	Colui che ha mancato la Principessa è cosa troppo trista perché la mala fama ne parli, e colui che l’ha— voglio dire, che l’ha sposata—ahimè, brav’uomo, e perciò bandito!—è creatura tale che, a cercare per tutte le regioni della terra uno suo pari, qualcosa mancherebbe in chi volesse stargli a paragone. Non credo che sì bella scorza e tale sostanza dentro adornino altr’uomo che lui.
SECONDO GENTILUOMO	Assai in alto lo ponete.
PRIMO GENTILUOMO	Io lo distendo, signore, entro i suoi propri confini; lo comprimo piuttosto che spiegarne la misura come si dovrebbe.
SECONDO GENTILUOMO	Qual è il suo nome e la sua nascita?
PRIMO GENTILUOMO	Non posso scavarlo fino alla radice. Suo padre si chiamava Sicilio, che congiunse il suo onore contro i Romani con Cassibelano, ma ebbe i suoi titoli da Tenanzio, cui servì con gloria e ammirato successo, e così guadagnò il soprannome di ‘Leonato’; ed ebbe, oltre al gentiluomo di cui si parla, altri due figli che nelle guerre di quel tempo morirono con la spada in pugno; onde il padre loro, già vecchio e amante della prole, ne prese tal dolore che lasciò la vita, e la sua gentile signora, gravida di questo gentiluomo, nostro tema, trapassò mentre egli nasceva. Il Re prende il fanciullo sotto la sua protezione, lo chiama Postumo Leonato, lo alleva, e lo fa uomo della sua camera; gli somministra tutte le dottrine di cui il suo tempo poteva farlo ricevitore, ed egli le prese come noi l’aria, rapide quanto gli eran porte, e nella sua primavera divenne messe; visse a corte— cosa rara a farsi—assai lodato, assai amato; esempio ai più giovani, ai più maturi uno specchio che li adornava, e ai più gravi un fanciullo che guidava i rimbambiti. Quanto alla sua signora, per cui ora è bandito, il prezzo ch’ella stessa pagò proclama quanto stimasse lui e la sua virtù. Dalla sua scelta si può leggere in verità che sorta d’uomo egli sia.
SECONDO GENTILUOMO	Io lo onoro già per la vostra sola relazione. Ma ditemi, di grazia, è ella unica figlia del Re?
PRIMO GENTILUOMO	La sua unica figlia. Ebbe due figli—se ciò merita il vostro ascolto, notatelo: il maggiore di tre anni, l’altro ancora in fasce, dalla loro stanza furono rapiti, e fino a quest’ora nessuna congettura sa per quale via andarono.
SECONDO GENTILUOMO	Quanto tempo è di ciò?
PRIMO GENTILUOMO	Circa vent’anni.
SECONDO GENTILUOMO	Che i figli d’un re fossero così trafugati, così fiaccamente custoditi, e la ricerca sì lenta da non poterne trovar traccia!
PRIMO GENTILUOMO	Per quanto sia strano, e per quanto della negligenza si possa ben ridere, pure è vero, signore.
SECONDO GENTILUOMO	Ben vi credo.
(didascalia)	Entrano la Regina, Postumo e Innogene
PRIMO GENTILUOMO	Dobbiamo tacere. Ecco venire il gentiluomo, la Regina e la Principessa.
(didascalia)	Escono i due Gentiluomini
REGINA	No, siate certa che non mi troverete, figlia, secondo la calunnia che grava su quasi tutte le matrigne, malevola verso di voi. Siete mia prigioniera, ma il vostro carceriere vi consegnerà le chiavi che serrano la vostra prigionia. Quanto a voi, Postumo, non appena potrò guadagnare l’offeso Re mi farò conoscere vostra avvocata. Eppure, in verità, il fuoco dell’ira è in lui, e sarebbe bene che vi piegaste alla sua sentenza con quanta pazienza la vostra saggezza saprà suggerirvi.
POSTUMO	Piaccia a vostra altezza, partirò di qui oggi stesso.
REGINA	Conoscete il pericolo. Farò un giro per il giardino, compiangendo gli spasimi degli affetti impediti, benché il Re abbia ordinato che non parliate insieme. Esce
INNOGENE	Oh cortesia simulatrice! Che finezza ha questa tiranna nel solleticare dove ferisce! Carissimo sposo, alquanto temo l’ira di mio padre, ma nulla— salvo sempre il mio santo dovere—di ciò che il suo furore può fare su di me. Tu devi partire, e io resterò qui a sostenere il colpo d’ogni ora di occhi adirati, senza conforto di vivere se non che esiste questo gioiello al mondo ch’io possa rivedere.
POSTUMO	Mia regina, mia signora! Oh dama, non piangere più, ch’io non dia motivo d’esser sospettato di maggior tenerezza di quanta ne convenga a un uomo. Rimarrò il più leale marito che mai desse fede; la mia dimora sarà in Roma, presso un tal Filario, che di mio padre fu amico, e a me noto solo per lettera; là scrivi, mia regina, e con gli occhi berrò le parole che manderai quand’anche l’inchiostro fosse fatto di fiele.
(didascalia)	Entra la Regina
REGINA	Siate brevi, ve ne prego. Se viene il Re, incorrerò non so in quanta parte del suo sdegno. (A parte) Eppure lo spingerò a venire da questa parte. Non gli faccio mai torto senza ch’egli compri le mie offese, per farsi amico, e paghi caro i miei oltraggi. Esce
POSTUMO	Se prendessimo congedo per tutto il tempo che ancora ci resta da vivere, la ripugnanza a partire crescerebbe. Addio.
INNOGENE	No, resta un poco. Se solo cavalcassi fuori a prender aria un tal congedo sarebbe troppo meschino. Guarda qui, amore: questo diamante era di mia madre. Prendilo, cuore; Gli dà un anello ma serbalo finché non corteggerai un’altra sposa, quando Innogene sarà morta.
POSTUMO	Come, come? Un’altra? Voi, dèi benigni, datemi solo questa ch’io ho, e sigillate i miei amplessi da una seconda con i vincoli della morte! Rimani, rimani tu qui Si mette l’anello finché il senso può tenerti; e, dolcissima, bellissima, come io scambiai il mio povero essere con te a tua perdita sì infinita, così nei nostri pegni io vinco sempre su di te. Per amor mio porta questo. Le dà un braccialetto È una manetta d’amore. La porrò su questa bellissima prigioniera.
INNOGENE	Oh dèi! Quando ci rivedremo?
(didascalia)	Entrano Cimbelino e i signori
POSTUMO	Ahimè, il Re!
CIMBELINO	Tu, cosa vilissima, sgombra di qui, dalla mia vista! Se dopo questo comando tu carichi la corte della tua indegnità, morrai. Via. Tu sei veleno per il mio sangue.
POSTUMO	Gli dèi vi proteggano, e benedicano i buoni che restano alla corte! Io me ne vado.
(didascalia)	Esce
INNOGENE	Non può esservi nella morte una stretta più acuta di questa.
CIMBELINO	Oh cosa sleale, che dovresti riparare la mia giovinezza, tu accumuli un anno d’età su di me.
INNOGENE	Vi supplico, signore, non fatevi male col vostro cruccio. Io son priva di senso alla vostra ira. Un tocco più raro soggioga ogni spasimo, ogni timore.
CIMBELINO	Fuor di grazia, d’obbedienza-
INNOGENE	Fuor di speranza e nella disperazione: per quella via, fuor di grazia.
CIMBELINO	Tu che potevi avere l’unico figlio della mia regina!
INNOGENE	Oh, benedetta ch’io non lo potei! Scelsi un’aquila ed evitai un nibbio.
CIMBELINO	Prendesti un mendico, avresti fatto del mio trono un seggio per la bassezza.
INNOGENE	No, gli aggiunsi piuttosto un lustro.
CIMBELINO	Oh tu, vile!
INNOGENE	Signore, è colpa vostra s’io ho amato Postumo. Voi l’allevaste come compagno dei miei giochi, ed egli è uomo degno d’ogni donna, e mi compra oltre il valore di quasi tutta la somma che paga.
CIMBELINO	Che? Sei tu impazzita?
INNOGENE	Quasi, signore. Il cielo mi risani! Fossi io figlia d’un bifolco, e il mio Leonato figlio del pastore nostro vicino.
(didascalia)	Entra la Regina
CIMBELINO	Tu, cosa insensata. (Alla Regina) Erano di nuovo insieme; non avete fatto secondo il nostro comando. (Ai signori) Portatela via, e rinchiudetela.
REGINA	Imploro la vostra pazienza, pace, cara signora figlia, pace. Dolce sovrano, lasciateci a noi stesse, e traete qualche conforto dal vostro miglior consiglio.
CIMBELINO	No, ch’ella languisca d’una goccia di sangue al giorno, e, invecchiata, muoia di questa follia.
(didascalia)	Esce con i signori
REGINA	Suvvia, dovete cedere.
(didascalia)	Entra Pisanio
REGINA	Ecco il vostro servo. Ebbene, signore? Che nuove?
PISANIO	Il mio signore vostro figlio ha tratto la spada contro il mio padrone.
REGINA	Ah! Nessun male, spero, è stato fatto?
PISANIO	Ve ne poteva essere, se non che il mio padrone più giocava che combattesse, e non ebbe soccorso dall’ira. Furono separati da gentiluomini lì presso.
REGINA	Ne son molto lieta.
INNOGENE	Vostro figlio è amico di mio padre; ne prende le parti sguainando contro un esule—oh, valoroso signore! Vorrei che fossero entrambi insieme in Africa, e io lì presso con un ago, per pungere chi indietreggiasse. (A Pisanio) Perché siete venuto via dal vostro padrone?
PISANIO	Per suo comando. Non volle permettermi di accompagnarlo al porto, e lasciò questi appunti degli ordini a cui dovrei sottostare quando vi piacesse impiegarmi.
REGINA	Costui è stato il vostro fedele servitore. Oso scommettere il mio onore che tale rimarrà.
PISANIO	Umilmente ringrazio vostra altezza.
REGINA	Andate a passeggiare un poco, vi prego.
(didascalia)	Esce
INNOGENE	Fra circa mezz’ora, vi prego, parlate con me. Andrete almeno a vedere imbarcare il mio signore. Per questa volta lasciatemi.
(didascalia)	Escono separatamente

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Cloten and two Lords
FIRST LORD	Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt. The violence of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice. Where air comes out, air comes in. There’s none abroad so wholesome as that you vent.
CLOTEN	If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Have I hurt him?
SECOND LORD	(aside) No, faith, not so much as his patience.
FIRST LORD	Hurt him? His body’s a passable carcass if he be not hurt. It is a thoroughfare for steel if he be not hurt.
SECOND LORD	(aside) His steel was in debt—it went o’th’ backside the town.
CLOTEN	The villain would not stand me.
SECOND LORD	(aside) No, but he fled forward still, toward your face.
FIRST LORD	Stand you? You have land enough of your own, but he added to your having, gave you some ground.
SECOND LORD	(aside) As many inches as you have oceans. Puppies!
CLOTEN	I would they had not come between us.
SECOND LORD	(aside) So would I, till you had measured how long a fool you were upon the ground.
CLOTEN	And that she should love this fellow and refuse me!
SECOND LORD	(aside) If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damned.
FIRST LORD	Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain go not together. She’s a good sign, but I have seen small reflection of her wit.
SECOND LORD	(aside) She shines not upon fools lest the reflection should hurt her.
CLOTEN	Come, I’ll to my chamber. Would there had been some hurt done.
SECOND LORD	(aside) I wish not so, unless it had been the fall of an ass, which is no great hurt.
CLOTEN	(to Second Lord) You’ll go with us?
FIRST LORD	I’ll attend your lordship.
CLOTEN	Nay, come, let’s go together.
SECOND LORD	Well, my lord.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Cloten e due Signori
PRIMO SIGNORE	Signore, vi consiglierei di cambiarvi la camicia. La violenza dell’azione vi ha fatto fumare come una vittima sacrificale. Dove esce aria, entra aria. E non ce n’è in giro di così salubre come quella che voi emettete.
CLOTEN	Se la mia camicia fosse insanguinata, allora sì che la cambierei. L’ho ferito?
SECONDO SIGNORE	(a parte) No, in fede mia, nemmeno la sua pazienza.
PRIMO SIGNORE	Ferirlo? Il suo corpo è una carcassa da passarci attraverso, se non è ferito. È una strada maestra per l’acciaio, se non è ferito.
SECONDO SIGNORE	(a parte) Il suo acciaio era indebitato: se n’è andato per i vicoli di dietro della città.
CLOTEN	Il manigoldo non ha voluto tenermi testa.
SECONDO SIGNORE	(a parte) No, ma fuggiva sempre in avanti, verso la vostra faccia.
PRIMO SIGNORE	Tenervi testa? Avete terra a sufficienza di vostro, ma egli ha aggiunto ai vostri averi, vi ha dato un po’ di terreno.
SECONDO SIGNORE	(a parte) Tanti pollici quanti oceani avete voi. Cuccioli!
CLOTEN	Vorrei che non si fossero messi in mezzo fra noi.
SECONDO SIGNORE	(a parte) Lo vorrei anch’io, finché non aveste misurato quanto eravate lungo, da sciocco, disteso per terra.
CLOTEN	E che ella debba amare costui e rifiutare me!
SECONDO SIGNORE	(a parte) Se è peccato fare una scelta giusta, ella è dannata.
PRIMO SIGNORE	Signore, come vi ho sempre detto, la sua bellezza e il suo cervello non vanno insieme. È una bella insegna, ma ho visto poco riflesso del suo ingegno.
SECONDO SIGNORE	(a parte) Ella non risplende sugli sciocchi, per timore che il riflesso le faccia male.
CLOTEN	Su, me ne vado in camera mia. Avrei voluto che si fosse fatto qualche danno.
SECONDO SIGNORE	(a parte) Io non lo desidero, a meno che non fosse stata la caduta di un asino, che non è gran danno.
CLOTEN	(al Secondo Signore) Verrete con noi?
PRIMO SIGNORE	Sarò al seguito di vostra signoria.
CLOTEN	Ma no, venite, andiamo insieme.
SECONDO SIGNORE	Bene, mio signore.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Innogen and Pisanio
INNOGEN	I would thou grew‘st unto the shores o’th’ haven And questionedst every sail. If he should write And I not have it, ’twere a paper lost As offered mercy is. What was the last That he spake to thee?
PISANIO	It was his queen, his queen.
INNOGEN	Then waved his handkerchief?
PISANIO	And kissed it, madam.
INNOGEN	Senseless linen, happier therein than I! And that was all?
PISANIO	No, madam. For so long As he could make me with this eye or ear Distinguish him from others he did keep The deck, with glove or hat or handkerchief Still waving, as the fits and stirs of ’s mind Could best express how slow his soul sailed on, How swift his ship.
INNOGEN	Thou shouldst have made him As little as a crow, or less, ere left To after-eye him.
PISANIO	Madam, so I did.
INNOGEN	I would have broke mine eye-strings, cracked them, but To look upon him till the diminution Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle; Nay, followed him till he had melted from The smallness of a gnat to air, and then Have turned mine eye and wept. But, good Pisanio, When shall we hear from him?
PISANIO	Be assured, madam, With his next vantage.
INNOGEN	I did not take my leave of him, but had Most pretty things to say. Ere I could tell him How I would think on him at certain hours, Such thoughts and such, or I could make him swear The shes of Italy should not betray Mine interest and his honour, or have charged him At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight T’encounter me with orisons—for then I am in heaven for him—or ere I could Give him that parting kiss which I had set Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father, And, like the tyrannous breathing of the north, Shakes all our buds from growing.
(didascalia)	Enter
INNOGEN	a Lady
LADY	The Queen, madam, Desires your highness’ company.
INNOGEN	(to Pisanio) Those things I bid you do, get them dispatched. I will attend the Queen.
PISANIO	Madam, I shall.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Innogen and Lady at one door, Pisanio at another
(didascalia)	1.4 A table brought out, with a banquet upon it. Enter Filario, Giacomo, a Frenchman, a Dutchman, and a Spaniard
GIACOMO	Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Britain. He was then of a crescent note, expected to prove so worthy as since he hath been allowed the name of. But I could then have looked on him without the help of admiration, though the catalogue of his endowments had been tabled by his side and I to peruse him by items.
FILARIO	You speak of him when he was less furnished than now he is with that which makes him both without and within.
FRENCHMAN	I have seen him in France. We had very many there could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he.
GIACOMO	This matter of marrying his king’s daughter, wherein he must be weighed rather by her value than his own, words him, I doubt not, a great deal from the matter.
FRENCHMAN	And then his banishment.
GIACOMO	Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this lamentable divorce under her colours are wonderfully to extend him, be it but to fortify her judgement, which else an easy battery might lay flat for taking a beggar without less quality. But how comes it he is to sojourn with you? How creeps acquaintance?
FILARIO	His father and I were soldiers together, to whom I have been often bound for no less than my life.
(didascalia)	Enter Posthumus
FILARIO	Here comes the Briton. Let him be so entertained amongst you as suits with gentlemen of your knowing to a stranger of his quality. I beseech you all, be better known to this gentleman, whom I commend to you as a noble friend of mine. How worthy he is I will leave to appear hereafter rather than story him in his own hearing.
FRENCHMAN	(to Posthumus) Sir, we have known together in Orléans.
POSTHUMUS	Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies which I will be ever to pay, and yet pay still.
FRENCHMAN	Sir, you o’er-rate my poor kindness. I was glad I did atone my countryman and you. It had been pity you should have been put together with so mortal a purpose as then each bore, upon importance of so slight and trivial a nature.
POSTHUMUS	By your pardon, sir, I was then a young traveller, rather shunned to go even with what I heard than in my every action to be guided by others’ experiences; but upon my mended judgement—if I offend not to say it is mended—my quarrel was not altogether slight.
FRENCHMAN	Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords, and by such two that would by all likelihood have confounded one the other, or have fallen both.
GIACOMO	Can we with manners ask what was the difference?
FRENCHMAN	Safely, I think. ’Twas a contention in public, which may without contradiction suffer the report. It was much like an argument that fell out last night, where each of us fell in praise of our country mistresses, this gentleman at that time vouching—and upon warrant of bloody affirmation—his to be more fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constant, qualified, and less attemptable than any the rarest of our ladies in France.
GIACOMO	That lady is not now living, or this gentleman’s opinion by this worn out.
POSTHUMUS	She holds her virtue still, and I my mind.
GIACOMO	You must not so far prefer her fore ours of Italy.
POSTHUMUS	Being so far provoked as I was in France I would abate her nothing, though I profess myself her adorer, not her friend.
GIACOMO	As fair and as good—a kind of hand-in-hand comparison—had been something too fair and too good for any lady in Britain. If she went before others I have seen—as that diamond of yours outlustres many I have beheld—I could not but believe she excelled many; but I have not seen the most precious diamond that is, nor you the lady.
POSTHUMUS	I praised her as I rated her; so do I my stone.
GIACOMO	What do you esteem it at?
POSTHUMUS	More than the world enjoys.
GIACOMO	Either your unparagoned mistress is dead, or she’s outprized by a trifle.
POSTHUMUS	You are mistaken. The one may be sold or given, or if there were wealth enough for the purchase or merit for the gift. The other is not a thing for sale, and only the gift of the gods.
GIACOMO	Which the gods have given you?
POSTHUMUS	Which, by their graces, I will keep.
GIACOMO	You may wear her in title yours; but, you know, strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds. Your ring may be stolen too; so your brace of unprizable estimations, the one is but frail, and the other casual. A cunning thief or a that-way accomplished courtier would hazard the winning both of first and last.
POSTHUMUS	Your Italy contains none so accomplished a courtier to convince the honour of my mistress if in the holding or loss of that you term her frail. I do nothing doubt you have store of thieves; notwithstanding, I fear not my ring.
FILARIO	Let us leave here, gentlemen.
POSTHUMUS	Sir, with all my heart. This worthy signor, I thank him, makes no stranger of me. We are familiar at first.
GIACOMO	With five times so much conversation I should get ground of your fair mistress, make her go back even to the yielding, had I admittance and opportunity to friend.
POSTHUMUS	No, no.
GIACOMO	I dare thereupon pawn the moiety of my estate to your ring, which in my opinion o’ervalues it something. But I make my wager rather against your confidence than her reputation, and, to bar your offence herein too, I durst attempt it against any lady in the world. in
POSTHUMUS	You are a great deal abused in too bold a persuasion, and I doubt not you sustain what you’re worthy of by your attempt.
GIACOMO	What’s that?
POSTHUMUS	A repulse; though your attempt, as you call it, deserve more—a punishment, too.
FILARIO	Gentlemen, enough of this. It came in too suddenly. Let it die as it was born; and, I pray you, be better acquainted.
GIACOMO	Would I had put my estate and my neighbour’s on th’approbation of what I have spoke.
POSTHUMUS	What lady would you choose to assail?
GIACOMO	Yours, whom in constancy you think stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring that, commend me to the court where your lady is, with no more advantage than the opportunity of a second conference, and I will bring from thence that honour of hers which you imagine so reserved.
POSTHUMUS	I will wage against your gold, gold to it; my ring I hold dear as my finger, ’tis part of it.
GIACOMO	You are a friend, and therein the wiser. If you buy ladies’ flesh at a million a dram, you cannot preserve it from tainting. But I see you have some religion in you, that you fear.
POSTHUMUS	This is but a custom in your tongue. You bear a graver purpose, I hope.
GIACOMO	I am the master of my speeches, and would undergo what’s spoken, I swear.
POSTHUMUS	Will you? I shall but lend my diamond till your return. Let there be covenants drawn between ’s. My mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness of your unworthy thinking. I dare you to this match. Here’s my ring.
FILARIO	I will have it no lay.
GIACOMO	By the gods, it is one. If I bring you no sufficient testimony that I have enjoyed the dearest bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats are yours; so is your diamond too. If I come off and leave her in such honour as you have trust in, she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are yours, provided I have your commendation for my more free entertainment.
POSTHUMUS	I embrace these conditions; let us have articles betwixt us. Only thus far you shall answer: if you make your voyage upon her and give me directly to understand you have prevailed, I am no further your enemy; she is not worth our debate. If she remain unseduced, you not making it appear otherwise, for your ill opinion and th’assault you have made to her chastity you shall answer me with your sword.
GIACOMO	Your hand, a covenant. We will things set down by lawful counsel, and straight away for Britain, lest the bargain should catch cold and starve. I will fetch my gold and have our two wagers recorded.
POSTHUMUS	Agreed.
(didascalia)	Exit with Giacomo
FRENCHMAN	Will this hold, think you?
FILARIO	Signor Giacomo will not from it. Pray let us follow ’em.
(didascalia)	Exeunt. Table is removed

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Innogene e Pisanio
INNOGENE	Vorrei che tu fossi cresciuto sulle rive del porto e interrogassi ogni vela. Se egli scrivesse e io non l’avessi, sarebbe un foglio perduto come lo è la grazia offerta. Quale fu l’ultima parola ch’egli ti disse?
PISANIO	Era: la sua regina, la sua regina.
INNOGENE	E poi agitò il fazzoletto?
PISANIO	E lo baciò, signora.
INNOGENE	Tela insensata, più felice in ciò di me! E fu tutto?
PISANIO	No, signora. Poiché per tutto il tempo ch’egli poté farsi da quest’occhio o quest’orecchio distinguere dagli altri, tenne il ponte, con guanto o cappello o fazzoletto sempre agitato, come gli scatti e i moti del suo animo meglio potevano esprimere quanto lenta navigasse la sua anima, quanto rapida la sua nave.
INNOGENE	Avresti dovuto farlo piccolo come una cornacchia, o meno, prima di cessare di seguirlo con l’occhio.
PISANIO	Signora, così feci.
INNOGENE	Avrei spezzato i nervi dei miei occhi, li avrei rotti, pur di guardarlo finché il diminuire dello spazio non l’avesse aguzzato sottile come il mio ago; anzi, l’avrei seguito finché non si fosse dileguato dalla piccolezza d’un moscerino nell’aria, e allora avrei volto l’occhio e pianto. Ma, buon Pisanio, quando avremo sue nuove?
PISANIO	Siate certa, signora, alla prima occasione propizia.
INNOGENE	Non presi congedo da lui, eppure avevo tante graziose cose da dirgli. Prima ch’io potessi dirgli come avrei pensato a lui a certe ore, questi e quei pensieri, o potessi fargli giurare che le donne d’Italia non avrebbero tradito il mio diritto e il suo onore, o l’avessi incaricato alla sesta ora del mattino, a mezzogiorno, a mezzanotte d’incontrarmi con le preghiere—ché allora io sono in cielo per lui—o prima ch’io potessi dargli quel bacio d’addio che avevo posto fra due parole d’incanto, entra mio padre, e, come il soffio tirannico della tramontana, scuote tutti i nostri germogli e ne impedisce il crescere.
(didascalia)	Entra
INNOGENE	una Dama
DAMA	La Regina, signora, desidera la compagnia di vostra altezza.
INNOGENE	(a Pisanio) Quelle cose che vi ho ordinato, fatele sbrigare. Io andrò dalla Regina.
PISANIO	Signora, così farò.
(didascalia)	Escono Innogene e la Dama da una porta, Pisanio da un’altra

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	A table brought out, with a banquet upon it. Enter Filario, Giacomo, a Frenchman, a Dutchman, and a Spaniard
GIACOMO	Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Britain. He was then of a crescent note, expected to prove so worthy as since he hath been allowed the name of. But I could then have looked on him without the help of admiration, though the catalogue of his endowments had been tabled by his side and I to peruse him by items.
FILARIO	You speak of him when he was less furnished than now he is with that which makes him both without and within.
FRENCHMAN	I have seen him in France. We had very many there could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he.
GIACOMO	This matter of marrying his king’s daughter, wherein he must be weighed rather by her value than his own, words him, I doubt not, a great deal from the matter.
FRENCHMAN	And then his banishment.
GIACOMO	Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this lamentable divorce under her colours are wonderfully to extend him, be it but to fortify her judgement, which else an easy battery might lay flat for taking a beggar without less quality. But how comes it he is to sojourn with you? How creeps acquaintance?
FILARIO	His father and I were soldiers together, to whom I have been often bound for no less than my life.
(didascalia)	Enter Posthumus
FILARIO	Here comes the Briton. Let him be so entertained amongst you as suits with gentlemen of your knowing to a stranger of his quality. I beseech you all, be better known to this gentleman, whom I commend to you as a noble friend of mine. How worthy he is I will leave to appear hereafter rather than story him in his own hearing.
FRENCHMAN	(to Posthumus) Sir, we have known together in Orléans.
POSTHUMUS	Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies which I will be ever to pay, and yet pay still.
FRENCHMAN	Sir, you o’er-rate my poor kindness. I was glad I did atone my countryman and you. It had been pity you should have been put together with so mortal a purpose as then each bore, upon importance of so slight and trivial a nature.
POSTHUMUS	By your pardon, sir, I was then a young traveller, rather shunned to go even with what I heard than in my every action to be guided by others’ experiences; but upon my mended judgement—if I offend not to say it is mended—my quarrel was not altogether slight.
FRENCHMAN	Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords, and by such two that would by all likelihood have confounded one the other, or have fallen both.
GIACOMO	Can we with manners ask what was the difference?
FRENCHMAN	Safely, I think. ’Twas a contention in public, which may without contradiction suffer the report. It was much like an argument that fell out last night, where each of us fell in praise of our country mistresses, this gentleman at that time vouching—and upon warrant of bloody affirmation—his to be more fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constant, qualified, and less attemptable than any the rarest of our ladies in France.
GIACOMO	That lady is not now living, or this gentleman’s opinion by this worn out.
POSTHUMUS	She holds her virtue still, and I my mind.
GIACOMO	You must not so far prefer her fore ours of Italy.
POSTHUMUS	Being so far provoked as I was in France I would abate her nothing, though I profess myself her adorer, not her friend.
GIACOMO	As fair and as good—a kind of hand-in-hand comparison—had been something too fair and too good for any lady in Britain. If she went before others I have seen—as that diamond of yours outlustres many I have beheld—I could not but believe she excelled many; but I have not seen the most precious diamond that is, nor you the lady.
POSTHUMUS	I praised her as I rated her; so do I my stone.
GIACOMO	What do you esteem it at?
POSTHUMUS	More than the world enjoys.
GIACOMO	Either your unparagoned mistress is dead, or she’s outprized by a trifle.
POSTHUMUS	You are mistaken. The one may be sold or given, or if there were wealth enough for the purchase or merit for the gift. The other is not a thing for sale, and only the gift of the gods.
GIACOMO	Which the gods have given you?
POSTHUMUS	Which, by their graces, I will keep.
GIACOMO	You may wear her in title yours; but, you know, strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds. Your ring may be stolen too; so your brace of unprizable estimations, the one is but frail, and the other casual. A cunning thief or a that-way accomplished courtier would hazard the winning both of first and last.
POSTHUMUS	Your Italy contains none so accomplished a courtier to convince the honour of my mistress if in the holding or loss of that you term her frail. I do nothing doubt you have store of thieves; notwithstanding, I fear not my ring.
FILARIO	Let us leave here, gentlemen.
POSTHUMUS	Sir, with all my heart. This worthy signor, I thank him, makes no stranger of me. We are familiar at first.
GIACOMO	With five times so much conversation I should get ground of your fair mistress, make her go back even to the yielding, had I admittance and opportunity to friend.
POSTHUMUS	No, no.
GIACOMO	I dare thereupon pawn the moiety of my estate to your ring, which in my opinion o’ervalues it something. But I make my wager rather against your confidence than her reputation, and, to bar your offence herein too, I durst attempt it against any lady in the world. in
POSTHUMUS	You are a great deal abused in too bold a persuasion, and I doubt not you sustain what you’re worthy of by your attempt.
GIACOMO	What’s that?
POSTHUMUS	A repulse; though your attempt, as you call it, deserve more—a punishment, too.
FILARIO	Gentlemen, enough of this. It came in too suddenly. Let it die as it was born; and, I pray you, be better acquainted.
GIACOMO	Would I had put my estate and my neighbour’s on th’approbation of what I have spoke.
POSTHUMUS	What lady would you choose to assail?
GIACOMO	Yours, whom in constancy you think stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring that, commend me to the court where your lady is, with no more advantage than the opportunity of a second conference, and I will bring from thence that honour of hers which you imagine so reserved.
POSTHUMUS	I will wage against your gold, gold to it; my ring I hold dear as my finger, ’tis part of it.
GIACOMO	You are a friend, and therein the wiser. If you buy ladies’ flesh at a million a dram, you cannot preserve it from tainting. But I see you have some religion in you, that you fear.
POSTHUMUS	This is but a custom in your tongue. You bear a graver purpose, I hope.
GIACOMO	I am the master of my speeches, and would undergo what’s spoken, I swear.
POSTHUMUS	Will you? I shall but lend my diamond till your return. Let there be covenants drawn between ’s. My mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness of your unworthy thinking. I dare you to this match. Here’s my ring.
FILARIO	I will have it no lay.
GIACOMO	By the gods, it is one. If I bring you no sufficient testimony that I have enjoyed the dearest bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats are yours; so is your diamond too. If I come off and leave her in such honour as you have trust in, she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are yours, provided I have your commendation for my more free entertainment.
POSTHUMUS	I embrace these conditions; let us have articles betwixt us. Only thus far you shall answer: if you make your voyage upon her and give me directly to understand you have prevailed, I am no further your enemy; she is not worth our debate. If she remain unseduced, you not making it appear otherwise, for your ill opinion and th’assault you have made to her chastity you shall answer me with your sword.
GIACOMO	Your hand, a covenant. We will things set down by lawful counsel, and straight away for Britain, lest the bargain should catch cold and starve. I will fetch my gold and have our two wagers recorded.
POSTHUMUS	Agreed.
(didascalia)	Exit with Giacomo
FRENCHMAN	Will this hold, think you?
FILARIO	Signor Giacomo will not from it. Pray let us follow ’em.
(didascalia)	Exeunt. Table is removed

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Viene portata fuori una tavola, con sopra un banchetto. Entrano Filario, Giacomo, un Francese, un Olandese e uno Spagnolo
GIACOMO	Credetelo, signore, l’ho veduto in Britannia. Era allora di fama crescente, e ci si aspettava che riuscisse degno di quel nome che da allora gli è stato concesso. Ma io avrei potuto allora guardarlo senza l’aiuto dell’ammirazione, quand’anche il catalogo delle sue doti fosse stato disteso al suo fianco e io l’avessi esaminato voce per voce.
FILARIO	Parlate di lui quand’era meno fornito di quanto ora sia di ciò che lo fa quale è di fuori e di dentro.
FRANCESE	L’ho veduto in Francia. Ne avevamo là moltissimi che potevano fissare il sole con occhio altrettanto fermo del suo.
GIACOMO	Questa faccenda d’aver sposato la figlia del suo re, nella quale egli dev’essere pesato più sul valore di lei che sul proprio, lo fa parlare, non ne dubito, assai al di là del vero.
FRANCESE	E poi il suo bando.
GIACOMO	Sì, e l’approvazione di quelli che piangono questo lamentevole divorzio sotto i colori di lei serve mirabilmente ad accrescerlo, non fosse che per fortificare il giudizio di lei, che altrimenti una facile batteria potrebbe abbattere, per aver preso un mendico senza altre qualità. Ma come mai egli deve soggiornare presso di voi? Come nasce la conoscenza?
FILARIO	Suo padre e io fummo soldati insieme, e a lui sono stato spesso debitore di niente meno che la vita.
(didascalia)	Entra Postumo
FILARIO	Ecco venire il Britanno. Sia accolto fra voi come si conviene a gentiluomini del vostro sapere verso uno straniero della sua qualità. Vi supplico tutti, fate meglio conoscenza con questo gentiluomo, che vi raccomando come nobile amico mio. Quanto egli valga lascerò che appaia in seguito, piuttosto che narrarlo mentre egli stesso mi ode.
FRANCESE	(a Postumo) Signore, ci siamo conosciuti a Orléans.
POSTUMO	E da allora vi sono debitore di cortesie che sarò sempre in atto di pagare, e pur sempre pagherò.
FRANCESE	Signore, sopravvalutate la mia povera gentilezza. Fui lieto di riconciliare voi e il mio compatriota. Sarebbe stato un peccato che foste stati messi l’uno contro l’altro con proposito così mortale come allora ciascuno portava, per una questione di natura tanto lieve e triviale.
POSTUMO	Col vostro perdono, signore, io ero allora un giovane viaggiatore, più incline a schivare d’andar d’accordo con quanto udivo che a lasciarmi guidare in ogni mio atto dall’esperienza altrui; ma secondo il mio giudizio emendato—se non offendo a dire ch’è emendato—la mia contesa non era del tutto lieve.
FRANCESE	In fede, sì, per essere rimessa all’arbitrio delle spade, e da due tali che con ogni verisimiglianza si sarebbero rovinati l’un l’altro, o sarebbero caduti entrambi.
GIACOMO	Possiamo, senza mancare di garbo, chiedere quale fu la differenza?
FRANCESE	Senza pericolo, credo. Fu una contesa in pubblico, che senza contraddizione può sopportare d’esser riferita. Somigliava molto a una disputa scoppiata la scorsa notte, quando ciascuno di noi si mise a lodare le dame del proprio paese, e questo gentiluomo in quel tempo sosteneva—e sotto garanzia di sanguinosa affermazione—che la sua era più bella, virtuosa, saggia, casta, costante, dotata e meno tentabile di qualsiasi, anche la più rara, delle nostre dame di Francia.
GIACOMO	Quella dama ormai non è più viva, oppure l’opinione di questo gentiluomo è a quest’ora consumata.
POSTUMO	Ella tiene ancora la sua virtù, e io il mio parere.
GIACOMO	Non dovete anteporla così di gran lunga alle nostre d’Italia.
POSTUMO	Provocato tanto quanto lo fui in Francia, non le toglierei nulla, benché io mi professi suo adoratore, non suo amico.
GIACOMO	Bella e buona altrettanto—una sorta di paragone a mano a mano—sarebbe stato alquanto troppo bello e troppo buono per qualsiasi dama di Britannia. Se ella superasse altre ch’io ho veduto—come quel vostro diamante vince di lustro molti che ho contemplati—non potrei non credere ch’ella ne eccella molte; ma io non ho veduto il più prezioso diamante che esista, né voi la dama.
POSTUMO	Io la lodai come la stimavo; e così faccio della mia pietra.
GIACOMO	A quanto la valutate?
POSTUMO	Più di quanto il mondo possiede.
GIACOMO	O la vostra impareggiabile signora è morta, o la vince di prezzo un’inezia.
POSTUMO	V’ingannate. L’una può essere venduta o donata, se ci fosse ricchezza bastante per l’acquisto o merito per il dono. L’altra non è cosa da vendere, ed è solo dono degli dèi.
GIACOMO	Che gli dèi vi hanno dato?
POSTUMO	E che, per loro grazia, io serberò.
GIACOMO	Potete portarla vostra di titolo; ma, sapete, uccelli forestieri si posano su stagni vicini. Anche il vostro anello può essere rubato; sicché delle vostre due stime inestimabili l’una è fragile, l’altra è affidata al caso. Un ladro astuto o un cortigiano compiuto in quell’arte rischierebbe di guadagnare l’una e l’altra.
POSTUMO	La vostra Italia non contiene cortigiano tanto compiuto da vincere l’onore della mia signora, se nel conservarlo o nel perderlo voi la chiamate fragile. Non dubito affatto che abbiate dovizia di ladri; ciò nonostante, non temo per il mio anello.
FILARIO	Lasciamo qui, signori.
POSTUMO	Signore, con tutto il cuore. Questo degno signore, lo ringrazio, non mi tratta da straniero. Siamo familiari fin dal primo momento.
GIACOMO	Con cinque volte tanto discorso io guadagnerei terreno sulla vostra bella signora, la farei retrocedere fino alla resa, se avessi accesso e occasione a mio favore.
POSTUMO	No, no.
GIACOMO	Oso su ciò impegnare la metà del mio patrimonio contro il vostro anello, che a mio parere lo supera alquanto di valore. Ma faccio la mia scommessa piuttosto contro la vostra sicurezza che contro la reputazione di lei; e, per togliere anche qui ogni vostra offesa, oserei tentarlo contro qualsiasi dama del mondo. in
POSTUMO	Siete assai ingannato da una troppo ardita persuasione, e non dubito che riceverete ciò che meritate col vostro tentativo.
GIACOMO	E che sarebbe?
POSTUMO	Un rifiuto; benché il vostro tentativo, come lo chiamate, meriti di più—anche un castigo.
FILARIO	Signori, basta con questo. È venuto troppo all’improvviso. Muoia com’è nato; e, vi prego, fate miglior conoscenza.
GIACOMO	Vorrei aver messo il mio patrimonio e quello del mio vicino a prova di quanto ho detto.
POSTUMO	Quale dama scegliereste d’assalire?
GIACOMO	La vostra, che in costanza credete stia così sicura. Vi metto diecimila ducati contro il vostro anello che, raccomandandomi voi alla corte dove sta la vostra dama, con non altro vantaggio che l’occasione d’un secondo colloquio, io porterò via di là quell’onore di lei che voi immaginate tanto custodito.
POSTUMO	Scommetterò contro il vostro oro, oro contro oro; il mio anello lo tengo caro quanto il mio dito, ne è parte.
GIACOMO	Siete un amico, e in ciò il più saggio. Se comprate carne di dame a un milione la dramma, non potete preservarla dal guastarsi. Ma vedo che avete in voi qualche religione, poiché temete.
POSTUMO	Questa non è che un’abitudine della vostra lingua. Nutrite un proposito più grave, lo spero.
GIACOMO	Sono padrone dei miei discorsi, e sosterrei quanto ho detto, lo giuro.
POSTUMO	Davvero? Io non farò che prestare il mio diamante fino al vostro ritorno. Si stendano patti fra noi. La mia signora eccede in bontà l’enormità del vostro indegno pensare. Vi sfido a questa contesa. Ecco il mio anello.
FILARIO	Non voglio che sia scommessa.
GIACOMO	Per gli dèi, lo è. Se non vi porto testimonianza sufficiente d’aver goduto la più cara parte del corpo della vostra signora, i miei diecimila ducati sono vostri; e così pure il vostro diamante. Se me ne vengo via e la lascio in quell’onore in cui riponete fiducia, ella vostro gioiello, questo vostro gioiello e il mio oro son vostri, purché io abbia la vostra raccomandazione per essere accolto più liberamente.
POSTUMO	Accetto queste condizioni; si stendano articoli fra noi. Solo di questo dovrete rispondere: se compite il vostro viaggio contro di lei e mi date direttamente a intendere d’aver prevalso, non vi sono più nemico; ella non vale la nostra contesa. Se rimane non sedotta, e voi non provate il contrario, per la vostra mala opinione e per l’assalto che avrete portato alla sua castità mi risponderete con la vostra spada.
GIACOMO	La vostra mano, un patto. Faremo mettere le cose per iscritto da legale consiglio, e subito via per la Britannia, ché il contratto non prenda freddo e non muoia. Andrò a prendere il mio oro e a far registrare le nostre due scommesse.
POSTUMO	D’accordo.
(didascalia)	Esce con Giacomo
FRANCESE	Reggerà questa cosa, credete?
FILARIO	Il signor Giacomo non se ne ritrarrà. Vi prego, seguiamoli.
(didascalia)	Escono. La tavola viene tolta

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Queen, Ladies, and Cornelius, a doctor
QUEEN	Whiles yet the dew’s on ground, gather those flowers. Make haste. Who has the note of them? A LADY I, madam.
QUEEN	Dispatch.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Ladies
QUEEN	Now, Master Doctor, have you brought those drugs?
CORNELIUS	Pleaseth your highness, ay. Here they are, madam. He gives her a box But I beseech your grace, without offence— My conscience bids me ask—wherefore you have Commanded of me these most poisonous compounds, Which are the movers of a languishing death, But though slow, deadly.
QUEEN	I wonder, doctor, Thou ask‘st me such a question. Have I not been Thy pupil long? Hast thou not learned me how To make perfumes, distil, preserve—yea, so That our great King himself doth woo me oft For my confections? Having thus far proceeded, Unless thou think’st me devilish, is’t not meet That I did amplify my judgement in Other conclusions? I will try the forces Of these thy compounds on such creatures as We count not worth the hanging, but none human, To try the vigour of them, and apply Allayments to their act, and by them gather Their several virtues and effects.
CORNELIUS	Your highness Shall from this practice but make hard your heart. Besides, the seeing these effects will be Both noisome and infectious.
QUEEN	O, content thee.
(didascalia)	Enter Pisanio
QUEEN	(Aside) Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him Will I first work. He’s factor for his master, And enemy to my son. (Aloud) How now, Pisanio?— Doctor, your service for this time is ended. Take your own way.
CORNELIUS	(aside) I do suspect you, madam. But you shall do no harm.
QUEEN	(to Pisanio) Hark thee, a word.
CORNELIUS	(aside) I do not like her. She doth think she has Strange ling’ring poisons. I do know her spirit, And will not trust one of her malice with A drug of such damned nature. Those she has Will stupefy and dull the sense a while, Which first, perchance, she’ll prove on cats and dogs, Then afterward up higher; but there is No danger in what show of death it makes More than the locking up the spirits a time, To be more fresh, reviving. She is fooled With a most false effect, and I the truer So to be false with her.
QUEEN	No further service, doctor, Until I send for thee.
CORNELIUS	I humbly take my leave.
(didascalia)	Exit
QUEEN	(to Pisanio) Weeps she still, sayst thou? Dost thou think in time She will not quench, and let instructions enter Where folly now possesses? Do thou work. When thou shalt bring me word she loves my son I’ll tell thee on the instant thou art then As great as is thy master—greater, for His fortunes all lie speechless, and his name Is at last gasp. Return he cannot, nor Continue where he is. To shift his being Is to exchange one misery with another, And every day that comes comes to decay A day’s work in him. What shalt thou expect To be depender on a thing that leans, Who cannot be new built nor has no friends So much as but to prop him?
(didascalia)	She drops her box. He takes it up
QUEEN	Thou tak’st up Thou know‘st not what; but take it for thy labour. It is a thing I made which hath the King Five times redeemed from death. I do not know What is more cordial. Nay, I prithee take it. It is an earnest of a farther good That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how The case stands with her; do’t as from thyself. Think what a chance thou changest on, but think Thou hast thy mistress still; to boot, my son, Who shall take notice of thee. I’ll move the King To any shape of thy preferment, such As thou’lt desire; and then myself, I chiefly, That set thee on to this desert, am bound To load thy merit richly. Call my women. Think on my words.
(didascalia)	Exit Pisanio
QUEEN	A sly and constant knave, Not to be shaked; the agent for his master, And the remembrancer of her to hold The hand-fast to her lord. I have given him that Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her Of liegers for her sweet, and which she after, Except she bend her humour, shall be assured To taste of too.
(didascalia)	Enter Pisanio and Ladies
QUEEN	So, so; well done, well done. The violets, cowslips, and the primroses Bear to my closet. Fare thee well, Pisanio. Think on my words, Pisanio.
PISANIO	And shall do.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Queen and Ladies
PISANIO	But when to my good lord I prove untrue, I’ll choke mysetf—there’s all I’ll do for you.
(didascalia)	Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano la Regina, le Dame e Cornelio, un medico
REGINA	Finché la rugiada è ancora sul suolo, cogliete quei fiori. Fate presto. Chi ne ha la nota? UNA DAMA Io, signora.
REGINA	Spicciatevi.
(didascalia)	Escono le Dame
REGINA	Or dunque, signor Medico, avete portato quelle droghe?
CORNELIO	Piaccia a vostra altezza, sì. Eccole, signora. Le dà una scatola Ma supplico vostra grazia, senza offesa— la mia coscienza mi comanda di chiedere—perché mi avete ordinato questi composti tanto velenosi, che son promotori d’una morte lenta, ma, per lenta che sia, mortale.
REGINA	Mi meraviglio, dottore, che tu mi faccia tale domanda. Non sono stata a lungo tua discepola? Non m’hai insegnato come fare profumi, distillare, conservare—sì, tanto che il nostro gran Re stesso spesso mi corteggia per le mie confezioni? Giunta fin qui, a meno che tu non mi creda diabolica, non è forse giusto ch’io ampliassi il mio giudizio in altre conclusioni? Proverò le forze di questi tuoi composti su creature tali che non stimiamo degne d’essere impiccate, ma nessuna umana, per saggiarne il vigore, e applicare rimedi alla loro azione, e da esse raccogliere le loro diverse virtù ed effetti.
CORNELIO	Vostra altezza da questa pratica non trarrà che l’indurimento del cuore. Inoltre, il vedere tali effetti sarà cosa insieme nauseante e contagiosa.
REGINA	Oh, contèntati.
(didascalia)	Entra Pisanio
REGINA	(A parte) Ecco venire un briccone adulatore; su di lui lavorerò per primo. È il fattore del suo padrone, e nemico di mio figlio. (Ad alta voce) Ebbene, Pisanio?— Dottore, il vostro servizio per questa volta è finito. Andate per la vostra via.
CORNELIO	(a parte) Vi sospetto, signora. Ma non farete alcun male.
REGINA	(a Pisanio) Odimi, una parola.
CORNELIO	(a parte) Ella non mi piace. Crede d’avere strani veleni indugianti. Conosco il suo spirito, e non affiderò a una della sua malizia una droga di natura tanto dannata. Quelle ch’ella ha stupefaranno e ottunderanno i sensi per un poco, e forse prima le proverà su gatti e cani, poi più in alto; ma non v’è pericolo alcuno in quella parvenza di morte che producono più che nel serrare gli spiriti per un tempo, perché siano poi più freschi e rinvigoriti. Ella è gabbata da un effetto affatto falso, e io son tanto più verace quanto più son falso con lei.
REGINA	Nessun altro servizio, dottore, finché non mandi a chiamarti.
CORNELIO	Umilmente prendo congedo.
(didascalia)	Esce
REGINA	(a Pisanio) Piange ancora, dici tu? Credi che col tempo ella non si spenga, e non lasci entrare gli ammaestramenti là dove ora regna la follia? Tu lavora. Quando mi porterai parola ch’ella ama mio figlio, ti dirò all’istante che tu sarai allora grande quanto il tuo padrone—più grande, ché le sue fortune giacciono tutte senza voce, e il suo nome è all’ultimo respiro. Tornare non può, né può restare dov’è. Mutare la sua dimora è scambiare una miseria con un’altra, e ogni giorno che viene, viene a far decadere d’un giorno l’opera in lui. Che puoi aspettarti a dipendere da una cosa che pende, che non può essere riedificata né ha amici tanti da poterlo anche solo puntellare?
(didascalia)	Ella lascia cadere la scatola. Egli la raccoglie
REGINA	Tu raccogli tu non sai che cosa; ma prendila per la tua fatica. È cosa fatta da me, che ha il Re cinque volte riscattato dalla morte. Non conosco nulla di più cordiale. Su, ti prego, prendila. È caparra d’un bene maggiore ch’io intendo per te. Di’ alla tua padrona come stia il caso suo; fallo come da te stesso. Pensa a quale sorte tu passi, e pensa che hai ancora la tua padrona; e per giunta mio figlio, che avrà cura di te. Muoverò il Re a qualsiasi forma della tua promozione, tale quale tu la desidererai; e poi io stessa, io soprattutto, che t’ho spinto a questo merito, son tenuta a caricare riccamente il tuo valore. Chiama le mie donne. Pensa alle mie parole.
(didascalia)	Esce Pisanio
REGINA	Un furfante scaltro e costante, che non si può scuotere; l’agente del suo padrone, e colui che a lei rammenta di tener saldo il patto col suo signore. Gli ho dato ciò che, s’egli lo prende, la spoglierà del tutto d’ambasciatori per il suo diletto; e che poi anch’ella, se non piega il suo umore, gusterà di certo.
(didascalia)	Entrano Pisanio e le Dame
REGINA	Così, così; ben fatto, ben fatto. Le violette, le primule odorose e le primavere portatele nel mio gabinetto. Sta’ bene, Pisanio. Pensa alle mie parole, Pisanio.
PISANIO	Così farò.
(didascalia)	Escono la Regina e le Dame
PISANIO	Ma quando io sarò infedele al mio buon signore, mi strozzerò da me—ecco tutto quel che farò per voi.
(didascalia)	Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Innogen
INNOGEN	A father cruel and a stepdame false, A foolish suitor to a wedded lady That hath her husband banished. O, that husband, My supreme crown of grief, and those repeated Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stol‘n, As my two brothers, happy; but most miserable Is the desire that’s glorious. Blest be those, How mean soe’er, that have their honest wills, Which seasons comfort.
(didascalia)	Enter Pisanio and Giacomo
INNOGEN	Who may this be? Fie!
PISANIO	Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome Comes from my lord with letters.
GIACOMO	Change you, madam? The worthy Leonatus is in safety, And greets your highness dearly. He gives her the letters
INNOGEN	Thanks, good sir. You’re kindly welcome. She reads the letters
GIACOMO	(aside) All of her that is out of door most rich! If she be furnished with a mind so rare She is alone, th’Arabian bird, and I Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend; Arm me audacity from head to foot, Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight; Rather, directly fly.
INNOGEN	(reads aloud) ’He is one of the noblest note, to whose kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon him accordingly, as you value Your truest Leonatus.’ (To Giacomo) So far I read aloud, But even the very middle of my heart Is warmed by th’ rest, and takes it thankfully. You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I Have words to bid you, and shall find it so In all that I can do.
GIACOMO	Thanks, fairest lady. What, are men mad? Hath nature given them eyes To see this vaulted arch and the rich crop Of sea and land, which can distinguish ‘twixt The fiery orbs above and the twinned stones Upon th’unnumbered beach, and can we not Partition make with spectacles so precious ’Twixt fair and foul?
INNOGEN	What makes your admiration?
GIACOMO	It cannot be i‘th’ eye—for apes and monkeys, ’Twixt two such shes, would chatter this way and Contemn with mows the other; nor i‘th’ judgement, For idiots in this case of favour would Be wisely definite; nor i’th’ appetite— Sluttery, to such neat excellence opposed, Should make desire vomit emptiness, Not so allured to feed.
INNOGEN	What is the matter, trow?
GIACOMO	The cloyed will, That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub Both filled and running, ravening first the lamb, Longs after for the garbage.
INNOGEN	What, dear sir, Thus raps you? Are you well?
GIACOMO	Thanks, madam, well. (To Pisanio) Beseech you, sir, Desire my man’s abode where I did leave him. He’s strange and peevish.
PISANIO	I was going, sir, To give him welcome.
(didascalia)	Exit
INNOGEN	Continues well my lord? His health, beseech you?
GIACOMO	Well, madam.
INNOGEN	Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is.
GIACOMO	Exceeding pleasant, none a stranger there So merry and so gamesome. He is called The Briton Reveller.
INNOGEN	When he was here He did incline to sadness, and oft-times Not knowing why.
GIACOMO	I never saw him sad. There is a Frenchman his companion, one An eminent monsieur that, it seems, much loves A Gallian girl at home. He furnaces The thick sighs from him, whiles the jolly Briton— Your lord, I mean—laughs from ’s free lungs, cries ‘O, Can my sides hold, to think that man, who knows By history, report or his own proof What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose But must be, will ’s free hours languish For assured bondage?’
INNOGEN	Will my lord say so?
GIACOMO	Ay, madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter. It is a recreation to be by And hear him mock the Frenchman. But heavens know Some men are much to blame.
INNOGEN	Not he, I hope.
GIACOMO	Not he; but yet heaven’s bounty towards him might Be used more thankfully. In himself ’tis much; In you, which I count his, beyond all talents. Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound To pity too.
INNOGEN	What do you pity, sir?
GIACOMO	Two creatures heartily.
INNOGEN	Am I one, sir? You look on me; what wreck discern you in me Deserves your pity?
GIACOMO	Lamentablel What, To hide me from the radiant sun, and solace I’th’ dungeon by a snuff?
INNOGEN	I pray you, sir, Deliver with more openness your answers To my demands. Why do you pity me?
GIACOMO	That others do— I was about to say enjoy your—but It is an office of the gods to venge it, Not mine to speak on’t.
INNOGEN	You do seem to know Something of me, or what concerns me. Pray you, Since doubting things go ill often hurts more Than to be sure they do—for certainties Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing, The remedy then born—discover to me What both you spur and stop.
GIACOMO	Had I this cheek To bathe my lips upon; this hand whose touch, Whose every touch, would force the feeler’s soul To th’oath of loyalty; this object which Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye, Firing it only here: should I, damned then, Slaver with lips as common as the stairs That mount the Capitol; join grips with hands Made hard with hourly falsehood—faisehood as With labour; then by-peeping in an eye Base and illustrous as the smoky light That’s fed with stinking tallow—it were fit That all the plagues of hell should at one time Encounter such revolt.
INNOGEN	My lord, I fear, Has forgot Britain.
GIACOMO	And himself. Not I Inclined to this intelligence pronounce The beggary of his change, but ’tis your graces That from my mutest conscience to my tongue Charms this report out.
INNOGEN	Let me hear no more.
GIACOMO	O dearest soul, your cause doth strike my heart With pity that doth make me sick. A lady So fair, and fastened to an empery Would make the great’st king double, to be partnered With tomboys hired with that self exhibition Which your own coffers yield; with diseased ventures That play with all infirmities for gold Which rottenness can lend to nature; such boiled stuff As well might poison poison! Be revenged, Or she that bore you was no queen, and you Recoil from your great stock.
INNOGEN	Revenged? How should I be revenged? If this be true— As I have such a heart that both mine ears Must not in haste abuse—if it be true, How should I be revenged?
GIACOMO	Should he make me Live like Diana’s priest betwixt cold sheets Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps, In your despite, upon your purse—revenge it. I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure, More noble than that runagate to your bed, And will continue fast to your affection, Still close as sure.
INNOGEN	What ho, Pisanio!
GIACOMO	Let me my service tender on your lips.
INNOGEN	Away, I do condemn mine ears that have So long attended thee. If thou wert honourable Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, not For such an end thou seek‘st, as base as strange. Thou wrong’st a gentleman who is as far From thy report as thou from honour, and Solicit’st here a lady that disdains Thee and the devil alike. What ho, Pisanio! The King my father shall be made acquainted Of thy assault. If he shall think it fit A saucy stranger in his court to mart As in a Romish stew, and to expound His beastly mind to us, he hath a court He little cares for, and a daughter who He not respects at all. What ho, Pisanio!
GIACOMO	O happy Leonatus! I may say The credit that thy lady hath of thee Deserves thy trust, and thy most perfect goodness Her assured credit. Blessed live you long, A lady to the worthiest sir that ever Country called his; and you his mistress, only For the most worthiest fit. Give me your pardon. I have spoke this to know if your affiance Were deeply rooted, and shall make your lord That which he is new o’er; and he is one The truest mannered, such a holy witch That he enchants societies into him; Half all men’s hearts are his.
INNOGEN	You make amends.
GIACOMO	He sits ’mongst men like a descended god. He hath a kind of honour sets him off More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry, Most mighty princess, that I have adventured To try your taking of a false report, which hath Honoured with confirmation your great judgement In the election of a sir so rare Which you know cannot err. The love I bear him Made me to fan you thus, but the gods made you, Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray, your pardon.
INNOGEN	All’s well, sir. Take my power i’th’ court for yours.
GIACOMO	My humble thanks. I had almost forgot T’entreat your grace but in a small request, And yet of moment too, for it concerns Your lord; myself and other noble friends Are partners in the business.
INNOGEN	Pray what is’t?
GIACOMO	Some dozen Romans of us, and your lord— Best feather of our wing—have mingled sums To buy a present for the Emperor, Which I, the factor for the rest, have done In France. ’Tis plate of rare device, and jewels Of rich and exquisite form; their value’s great, And I am something curious, being strange, To have them in safe stowage. May it please you To take them in protection?
INNOGEN	Willingly, And pawn mine honour for their safety; since My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them In my bedchamber.
GIACOMO	They are in a trunk Attended by my men. I will make bold To send them to you, only for this night. I must aboard tomorrow.
INNOGEN	O, no, no!
GIACOMO	Yes, I beseech, or I shall short my word By length’ning my return. From Gallia I crossed the seas on purpose and on promise To see your grace.
INNOGEN	I thank you for your pains; But not away tomorrow!
GIACOMO	O, I must, madam. Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please To greet your lord with writing, do’t tonight. I have outstood my time, which is material To th’ tender of our present.
INNOGEN	I will write. Send your trunk to me, it shall safe be kept, And truly yielded you. You’re very welcome.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Innogene
INNOGENE	Un padre crudele e una matrigna falsa, uno sciocco pretendente a una dama sposata che ha il marito bandito. Oh, quel marito, suprema corona del mio dolore, e quelle ripetute angustie che ne vengono! Fossi stata rapita dai ladri, come i miei due fratelli, sarei felice; ma il più misero è il desiderio che è glorioso. Benedetti coloro, per umili che siano, che compiono i loro onesti voleri, ai quali il tempo dà stagione di conforto.
(didascalia)	Entrano Pisanio e Giacomo
INNOGENE	Chi mai può essere costui? Ohibò!
PISANIO	Signora, un nobile gentiluomo di Roma viene dal mio signore con lettere.
GIACOMO	Mutate colore, signora? Il degno Leonato è al sicuro, e saluta caramente vostra altezza. Le dà le lettere
INNOGENE	Grazie, buon signore. Siete gentilmente il benvenuto. Legge le lettere
GIACOMO	(a parte) Tutto ciò che di lei è al di fuori è ricchissimo! Se è fornita d’una mente altrettanto rara, ella è sola, l’araba fenice, e io ho perduto la scommessa. L’ardire mi sia amico; l’audacia m’armi dal capo ai piedi, o, come il Parto, dovrò combattere fuggendo; anzi, fuggire senz’altro.
INNOGENE	(legge ad alta voce) ’Egli è dei più nobili di fama, alle cui gentilezze sono infinitamente legato. Trattatelo di conseguenza, se avete cara la stima del Vostro fedelissimo Leonato.’ (A Giacomo) Fin qui ho letto ad alta voce, ma il mezzo stesso del mio cuore è riscaldato dal resto, e lo accoglie con gratitudine. Siete il benvenuto, degno signore, quanto io ho parole per dirvelo, e tale mi troverete in tutto ciò che posso fare.
GIACOMO	Grazie, bellissima dama. Che? Sono impazziti gli uomini? La natura ha dato loro occhi per vedere questa volta arcuata e la ricca messe del mare e della terra, occhi che sanno distinguere fra gli orbi di fuoco lassù e i ciottoli gemelli sulla spiaggia innumerabile; e non sappiamo noi far distinzione con occhiali sì preziosi fra il bello e il turpe?
INNOGENE	Che cosa vi fa stupire?
GIACOMO	Non può essere nell’occhio—ché scimmie e bertucce, fra due tali femmine, cinguetterebbero da questa parte e sprezzerebbero l’altra con smorfie; né nel giudizio, ché in questo caso di grazia perfino gli idioti sarebbero saggiamente risoluti; né nell’appetito— la sozzura, opposta a sì netta eccellenza, farebbe vomitare al desiderio il suo vuoto, non allettato a pascersene.
INNOGENE	Di che si tratta, dunque?
GIACOMO	La volontà nauseata, quel desiderio sazio e pur mai satollo, quel tino insieme colmo e traboccante, che prima divora l’agnello e poi agogna la carogna.
INNOGENE	Che cosa, caro signore, così vi rapisce? State bene?
GIACOMO	Grazie, signora, bene. (A Pisanio) Vi supplico, signore, chiedete che il mio servo resti dove l’ho lasciato. È forestiero e ombroso.
PISANIO	Andavo appunto, signore, a dargli il benvenuto.
(didascalia)	Esce
INNOGENE	Continua a star bene il mio signore? La sua salute, di grazia?
GIACOMO	Bene, signora.
INNOGENE	È disposto all’allegria? Lo spero.
GIACOMO	Straordinariamente lieto; nessuno straniero là è tanto gaio e tanto giocondo. Lo chiamano il Gaudente Britanno.
INNOGENE	Quando era qui inclinava alla tristezza, e spesso senza saperne il perché.
GIACOMO	Non l’ho mai visto triste. V’è un Francese suo compagno, un eminente monsieur che, a quel che pare, molto ama una fanciulla gallica in patria. Costui manda fuori come da fornace i suoi densi sospiri, mentre il giocondo Britanno— il vostro signore, intendo—ride a polmoni liberi, e grida: ‘Oh, reggeranno i miei fianchi, a pensare che un uomo il quale sa per storia, per fama o per propria prova che cosa sia la donna, sì, che cosa non possa non essere, voglia languire nelle sue ore libere per una schiavitù sicura?’
INNOGENE	Direbbe così il mio signore?
GIACOMO	Sì, signora, con gli occhi inondati dal riso. È uno spasso starvi accanto e udirlo beffare il Francese. Ma il cielo sa che certi uomini sono assai da biasimare.
INNOGENE	Non lui, lo spero.
GIACOMO	Non lui; eppure la munificenza del cielo verso di lui potrebbe essere usata con più gratitudine. In sé è molto; in voi, che io conto sua, oltre ogni talento. Mentre son costretto a meravigliarmi, son costretto anche a compiangere.
INNOGENE	Che cosa compiangete, signore?
GIACOMO	Due creature, di cuore.
INNOGENE	Sono io una, signore? Voi mi guardate; qual rovina scorgete in me che meriti la vostra pietà?
GIACOMO	Lamentevole! Che, nascondermi dal sole radioso, e cercar conforto in un sotterraneo presso un moccolo?
INNOGENE	Vi prego, signore, date con maggior chiarezza le vostre risposte alle mie domande. Perché mi compiangete?
GIACOMO	Che altri godano— stavo per dire il vostro—ma è ufficio degli dèi vendicarlo, non mio parlarne.
INNOGENE	Voi sembrate sapere qualcosa di me, o che mi riguarda. Vi prego, poiché dubitare che le cose vadano male spesso duole più che l’esserne certi—ché le certezze o sono senza rimedio, o, conosciute per tempo, fanno nascere allora il rimedio—svelatemi ciò che insieme spronate e trattenete.
GIACOMO	Avessi io questa guancia su cui bagnare le mie labbra; questa mano il cui tocco, ogni cui tocco, costringerebbe l’anima di chi lo sente al giuramento di fedeltà; questo oggetto che fa prigioniero il moto vagante del mio occhio, fissandolo qui soltanto: dovrei io, dannato allora, sbavare con labbra comuni come le scale che salgono al Campidoglio; stringere mani indurite dalla falsità d’ogni ora—falsità come da fatica; e poi spiare in un occhio vile e senza lustro come la luce fumosa nutrita di sego fetido—sarebbe giusto che tutte le pesti dell’inferno in un sol tempo incontrassero tale rivolta.
INNOGENE	Il mio signore, io temo, ha dimenticato la Britannia.
GIACOMO	E se stesso. Non son io, inclinato a questa rivelazione, a proclamare la miseria del suo mutamento, ma son le vostre grazie che dalla mia più muta coscienza alla mia lingua traggono per incanto questo racconto.
INNOGENE	Non voglio udirne più.
GIACOMO	Oh carissima anima, la vostra causa mi colpisce il cuore d’una pietà che mi fa male. Una dama sì bella, e legata a un impero che farebbe doppio il più gran re, accoppiata a sgualdrinelle assoldate con quel medesimo assegno che i vostri scrigni rendono; con avventuriere malate che per oro trafficano d’ogni infermità che la putredine possa prestare alla natura; tal roba bollita che ben potrebbe avvelenare il veleno! Vendicatevi, o colei che vi generò non fu regina, e voi rinculate dal vostro gran ceppo.
INNOGENE	Vendicarmi? Come dovrei vendicarmi? Se questo è vero— ché ho tal cuore che le mie orecchie non devono in fretta ingannarlo—se è vero, come dovrei vendicarmi?
GIACOMO	S’egli mi facesse vivere come sacerdote di Diana fra lenzuola fredde mentre egli monta rampe d’ogni sorta, a vostro dispetto e a spese della vostra borsa—vendicatevene. Io mi dedico al vostro dolce piacere, più nobile di quel rinnegato per il vostro letto, e resterò saldo al vostro affetto, sempre segreto quanto sicuro.
INNOGENE	Olà, Pisanio!
GIACOMO	Lasciate ch’io offra il mio servizio sulle vostre labbra.
INNOGENE	Via, io condanno le mie orecchie che t’hanno ascoltato così a lungo. Se tu fossi onorevole avresti raccontato questa storia per virtù, non per il fine che cerchi, tanto vile quanto strano. Tu fai torto a un gentiluomo che è tanto lontano dalla tua relazione quanto tu dall’onore, e sollecìti qui una dama che disdegna te e il diavolo egualmente. Olà, Pisanio! Il Re mio padre sarà informato del tuo assalto. Se egli riterrà conveniente che uno straniero insolente faccia mercato nella sua corte come in un lupanare romano, e ci esponga la sua mente bestiale, egli ha una corte di cui poco si cura, e una figlia che punto non rispetta. Olà, Pisanio!
GIACOMO	Oh felice Leonato! Posso ben dire che la fede che la tua dama ha in te merita la tua fiducia, e la tua perfettissima bontà la sicura fede di lei. Vivete a lungo benedetta, dama del più degno signore che mai paese chiamò suo; e voi sua sposa, adatta solo al più degno di tutti. Datemi il vostro perdono. Ho detto questo per sapere se la vostra fiducia fosse profondamente radicata, e farò del vostro signore quel che egli è, di nuovo; ed egli è uomo dai costumi più veraci, un santo incantatore tale che attira a sé per magia intere brigate; metà dei cuori di tutti gli uomini sono suoi.
INNOGENE	Voi riparate.
GIACOMO	Egli siede fra gli uomini come un dio disceso. Ha una sorta d’onore che lo fa apparire più che mortale in sembianza. Non adiratevi, potentissima principessa, ch’io mi sia avventurato a saggiare come accogliereste una falsa relazione, la quale ha onorato con conferma il vostro gran giudizio nella scelta d’un signore sì raro, che voi sapete non può errare. L’amore ch’io gli porto mi fece così ventilarvi, ma gli dèi vi fecero, a differenza di tutte le altre, senza pula. Perdonatemi, vi prego.
INNOGENE	Tutto va bene, signore. Prendete come vostro il mio potere nella corte.
GIACOMO	I miei umili ringraziamenti. Avevo quasi dimenticato di supplicare vostra grazia d’una piccola richiesta, e pure di momento, ché concerne il vostro signore; io stesso e altri nobili amici siamo soci nell’affare.
INNOGENE	Di grazia, che cos’è?
GIACOMO	Una dozzina di noi Romani, e il vostro signore— penna migliore della nostra ala—hanno unito le somme per comprare un dono all’Imperatore, ciò ch’io, fattore per gli altri, ho fatto in Francia. È vasellame di rara fattura, e gioielli di ricca ed esquisita forma; il loro valore è grande, e io son piuttosto ansioso, essendo forestiero, d’averli in custodia sicura. Vi piacerebbe prenderli sotto la vostra protezione?
INNOGENE	Volentieri, e impegno il mio onore per la loro sicurezza; poiché il mio signore vi ha interesse, li terrò nella mia camera da letto.
GIACOMO	Sono in un baule custodito dai miei uomini. Mi prenderò l’ardire di mandarveli, solo per questa notte. Domani devo imbarcarmi.
INNOGENE	Oh, no, no!
GIACOMO	Sì, ve ne supplico, o mancherò alla mia parola allungando il mio ritorno. Dalla Gallia ho traversato i mari apposta e per promessa di vedere vostra grazia.
INNOGENE	Vi ringrazio della vostra fatica; ma non partire domani!
GIACOMO	Oh, devo, signora. Perciò vi supplicherò, se vi piace di salutare per iscritto il vostro signore, di farlo stanotte. Ho oltrepassato il mio tempo, il che importa alla consegna del nostro dono.
INNOGENE	Scriverò. Mandatemi il vostro baule, sarà custodito sicuro e fedelmente reso a voi. Siete molto benvenuto.
(didascalia)	Escono separatamente

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Cloten and the two Lords
CLOTEN	Was there ever man had such luck? When I kissed the jack upon an upcast, to be hit away! I had a hundred pound on’t, and then a whoreson jackanapes must take me up for swearing, as if I borrowed mine oaths of him, and might not spend them at my pleasure.
FIRST LORD	What got he by that? You have broke his pate with your bowl.
SECOND LORD	(aside) If his wit had been like him that broke it, it would have run all out.
CLOTEN	When a gentleman is disposed to swear it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths, ha?
SECOND LORD	No, my lord (aside)—nor crop the ears of them.
CLOTEN	Whoreson dog! I give him satisfaction? Would he had been one of my rank.
SECOND LORD	(aside) To have smelled like a fool.
CLOTEN	I am not vexed more at anything in th‘earth. A pox on’t, I had rather not be so noble as I am. They dare not fight with me because of the Queen, my mother. Every jack-slave hath his bellyful of fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that nobody can match.
SECOND LORD	(aside) You are cock and capon too an you crow cock with your comb on.
CLOTEN	Sayst thou?
SECOND LORD	It is not fit your lordship should undertake every companion that you give offence to.
CLOTEN	No, I know that, but it is fit I should commit offence to my inferiors.
SECOND LORD	Ay, it is fit for your lordship only.
CLOTEN	Why, so I say.
FIRST LORD	Did you hear of a stranger that’s come to court tonight?
CLOTEN	A stranger, and I not know on’t?
SECOND LORD	(aside) He’s a strange fellow himself and knows it not.
FIRST LORD	There’s an Italian come, and, ’tis thought, one of Leonatus’ friends.
CLOTEN	Leonatus? A banished rascal; and he’s another, whatsoever he be. Who told you of this stranger?
FIRST LORD	One of your lordship’s pages.
CLOTEN	Is it fit I went to look upon him? Is there no derogation in’t?
SECOND LORD	You cannot derogate, my lord.
CLOTEN	Not easily, I think.
SECOND LORD	(aside) You are a fool granted, therefore your issues, being foolish, do not derogate.
CLOTEN	Come, I’ll go see this Italian. What I have lost today at bowls I’ll win tonight of him. Come, go.
SECOND LORD	I’ll attend your lordship.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Cloten and First Lord
SECOND LORD	That such a crafty devil as is his mother Should yield the world this ass!—a woman that Bears all down with her brain, and this her son Cannot take two from twenty, for his heart, And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess, Thou divine Innogen, what thou endur‘st, Betwixt a father by thy stepdame governed, A mother hourly coining plots, a wooer More hateful than the foul expulsion is Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act Of the divorce he’d make! The heavens hold firm The walls of thy dear honour, keep unshaked That temple, thy fair mind, that thou mayst stand T’enjoy thy banished lord and this great land! Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Cloten e i due Signori
CLOTEN	Ci fu mai uomo con tanta fortuna? Quando avevo baciato il boccino con un tiro alto, essermelo fatto scacciare! Ci avevo cento sterline sopra; e poi un figlio di puttana d’un babbuino deve riprendermi perché bestemmio, come se le mie bestemmie le avessi prese in prestito da lui, e non potessi spenderle a mio piacimento.
PRIMO SIGNORE	Che ci ha guadagnato? Voi gli avete rotto la zucca con la vostra boccia.
SECONDO SIGNORE	(a parte) Se il suo cervello fosse stato come quello di chi gliel’ha rotta, sarebbe colato via tutto.
CLOTEN	Quando un gentiluomo ha voglia di bestemmiare non tocca a chi sta a guardare accorciargli le bestemmie, eh?
SECONDO SIGNORE	No, mio signore (a parte)—né tosarne le orecchie.
CLOTEN	Cane figlio di puttana! Dar soddisfazione a lui? Fosse stato del mio rango.
SECONDO SIGNORE	(a parte) Per puzzare da sciocco.
CLOTEN	Non c’è cosa al mondo che più mi irriti. Maledizione, preferirei non essere così nobile come sono. Non osano battersi con me a causa della Regina, mia madre. Ogni servaccio si empie la pancia di duelli, e io devo andare su e giù come un gallo con cui nessuno può misurarsi.
SECONDO SIGNORE	(a parte) Siete gallo e cappone insieme, se cantate da gallo con la vostra cresta addosso.
CLOTEN	Che dici?
SECONDO SIGNORE	Non conviene che vostra signoria affronti ogni compagnone che offende.
CLOTEN	No, questo lo so; ma conviene ch’io commetta offesa contro i miei inferiori.
SECONDO SIGNORE	Sì, ciò conviene a vostra signoria soltanto.
CLOTEN	Ecco, è quel che dico.
PRIMO SIGNORE	Avete sentito d’uno straniero giunto a corte stanotte?
CLOTEN	Uno straniero, e io non saperlo?
SECONDO SIGNORE	(a parte) È lui stesso un tipo strano, e non lo sa.
PRIMO SIGNORE	È giunto un Italiano, e, si crede, uno degli amici di Leonato.
CLOTEN	Leonato? Un furfante bandito; e l’altro è un altro tale, chiunque sia. Chi vi ha parlato di questo straniero?
PRIMO SIGNORE	Uno dei paggi di vostra signoria.
CLOTEN	Conviene ch’io vada a vederlo? Non c’è in ciò nessuna degradazione?
SECONDO SIGNORE	Voi non potete degradarvi, mio signore.
CLOTEN	Non facilmente, credo.
SECONDO SIGNORE	(a parte) Siete sciocco riconosciuto, perciò i vostri atti, essendo sciocchi, non vi degradano.
CLOTEN	Su, andrò a vedere quest’Italiano. Quel che ho perduto oggi alle bocce lo vincerò stanotte da lui. Su, andiamo.
SECONDO SIGNORE	Sarò al seguito di vostra signoria.
(didascalia)	Escono Cloten e il Primo Signore
SECONDO SIGNORE	Che un diavolo tanto astuto quanto è sua madre abbia dato al mondo quest’asino!—una donna che tutto abbatte col suo cervello, e questo suo figlio non sa, quand’anche ne andasse la vita, togliere due da venti e lasciarne diciotto. Ahimè, povera principessa, tu, divina Innogene, che cosa sopporti, fra un padre governato dalla tua matrigna, una madre che d’ora in ora conia trame, un pretendente più odioso della turpe espulsione del tuo caro sposo, e di quell’orrendo atto del divorzio che vorrebbe fare! Il cielo tenga saldi i muri del tuo caro onore, serbi non scosso quel tempio, la tua bella mente, sì che tu possa reggere a goderti il tuo signore bandito e questa gran terra! Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	A trunk and arras. A bed is thrust forth with Innogen in it, reading a book. Enter to her Helen, a lady
INNOGEN	Who’s there? My woman Helen?
HELEN	Please you, madam.
INNOGEN	What hour is it?
HELEN	Almost midnight, madam.
INNOGEN	I have read three hours then. Mine eyes are weak. Fold down the leaf where I have left. To bed. Take not away the taper; leave it burning, And if thou canst awake by four o’th’ clock, I prithee call me. Sleep hath seized me wholly.
(didascalia)	Exit Helen
INNOGEN	To your protection I commend me, gods. From fairies and the tempters of the night Guard me, beseech ye. She sleeps. Giacomo comes from the trunk
GIACOMO	The crickets sing, and man’s o‘er-laboured sense Repairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus Did softly press the rushes ere he wakened The chastity he wounded. Cytherea, How bravely thou becom’st thy bed! Fresh lily, And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch, But kiss, one kiss! Rubies unparagoned, How dearly they do‘t! ’Tis her breathing that Perfumes the chamber thus. The flame o‘th’ taper Bows toward her, and would underpeep her lids, To see th’enclosed lights, now canopied Under these windows, white and azure-laced With blue of heaven’s own tinct. But my design- To note the chamber. I will write all down. He writes in his tables Such and such pictures, there the window, such Th‘adornment of her bed, the arras, figures, Why, such and such; and the contents o’th’ story. Ah, but some natural notes about her body Above ten thousand meaner movables Would testify t’enrich mine inventory. O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her, And be her sense but as a monument Thus in a chapel lying. Come off, come off; As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard. He takes the bracelet from her arm ‘Tis mine, and this will witness outwardly, As strongly as the conscience does within, To th’ madding of her lord. On her left breast A mole, cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops I’th’ bottom of a cowslip. Here’s a voucher Stronger than ever law could make. This secret Will force him think I have picked the lock and ta’en The treasure of her honour. No more. To what end? Why should I write this down that’s riveted, Screwed to my memory? She hath been reading late, The tale of Tereus. Here the leaf’s turned down Where Philomel gave up. I have enough. To th’ trunk again, and shut the spring of it. Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning May bare the raven’s eye! I lodge in fear. Though this’ a heavenly angel, hell is here. Clock strikes One, two, three. Time, time!
(didascalia)	Exit into the trunk. The bed and trunk are removed

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Un baule e un arazzo. Viene spinto avanti un letto con Innogene dentro, che legge un libro. Entra da lei Elena, una dama
INNOGENE	Chi è là? La mia donna Elena?
ELENA	Piaccia a voi, signora.
INNOGENE	Che ora è?
ELENA	Quasi mezzanotte, signora.
INNOGENE	Ho letto tre ore, dunque. I miei occhi son deboli. Piega l’angolo della pagina dove ho lasciato. A letto. Non portar via la candela; lasciala accesa, e se puoi svegliarti alle quattro dell’orologio, ti prego, chiamami. Il sonno mi ha presa tutta.
(didascalia)	Esce Elena
INNOGENE	Alla vostra protezione mi affido, o dèi. Dalle fate e dai tentatori della notte guardatemi, ve ne supplico. Si addormenta. Giacomo esce dal baule
GIACOMO	Cantano i grilli, e il senso dell’uomo affaticato si ristora col riposo. Così il nostro Tarquinio premeva piano i giunchi prima di destare la castità che ferì. Citerea, come nobilmente adorni il tuo letto! Giglio fresco, e più bianco delle lenzuola! Potessi toccare, solo baciare, un bacio! Rubini impareggiabili, con quanta grazia lo fanno! È il suo respiro che così profuma la stanza. La fiamma della candela si china verso di lei, e vorrebbe spiare sotto le sue palpebre per vedere le luci rinchiuse, ora coperte sotto queste finestre bianche e trapunte d’azzurro col celeste della tinta stessa del cielo. Ma il mio disegno- notare la stanza. Scriverò tutto. Scrive nelle sue tavolette Tali e tali quadri, là la finestra, tale l’ornamento del suo letto, l’arazzo, le figure, ecco, tali e tali; e il contenuto della storia. Ah, ma alcuni segni naturali sul suo corpo testimonierebbero, più di diecimila suppellettili minori, ad arricchire il mio inventario. Oh sonno, tu scimmia della morte, giaci greve su di lei, e sia il suo senso non altro che un monumento giacente così in una cappella. Vien via, vien via; tanto scorrevole quanto duro era il nodo gordiano. Le toglie il braccialetto dal braccio È mio, e questo testimonierà di fuori, fortemente quanto la coscienza fa di dentro, fino a far impazzire il suo signore. Sulla mammella sinistra un neo, a cinque punti, come le gocce cremisi in fondo a una primula. Ecco una prova più forte di quante mai legge potesse fare. Questo segreto lo costringerà a credere ch’io ho forzato la serratura e preso il tesoro del suo onore. Basta. A che fine? Perché dovrei scrivere ciò che è ribadito, avvitato alla mia memoria? Ha letto fino a tardi la storia di Tereo. Qui la pagina è ripiegata là dove Filomela cedette. Ho abbastanza. Di nuovo nel baule, e serrarne la molla. Presto, presto, voi draghi della notte, ché l’alba scopra l’occhio del corvo! Io alloggio nella paura. Benché questa sia un angelo celeste, qui è l’inferno. L’orologio batte Uno, due, tre. Tempo, tempo!
(didascalia)	Esce nel baule. Il letto e il baule vengono portati via

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Cloten and the two Lords
FIRST LORD	Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the most coldest that ever turned up ace.
CLOTEN	It would make any man cold to lose.
FIRST LORD	But not every man patient after the noble temper of your lordship. You are most hot and furious when you win.
CLOTEN	Winning will put any man into courage. If I could get this foolish Innogen I should have gold enough. It’s almost morning, is’t not?
FIRST LORD	Day, my lord.
CLOTEN	I would this music would come. I am advised to give her music o’ mornings; they say it will penetrate.
(didascalia)	Enter Musicians
CLOTEN	Come on, tune. If you can penetrate her with your fingering, so; we’ll try with tongue too. If none will do, let her remain; but I’ll never give o’er. First, a very excellent good-conceited thing; after, a wonderful sweet air with admirable rich words to it; and then let her consider.
(didascalia)	Music
(didascalia)	MUSICIAN (sings)
CLOTEN	Hark, hark, the lark at heaven gate sings, And Phoebus gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaticed flowers that lies, And winking Mary-buds begin to ope their golden eyes; With everything that pretty is, my lady sweet, arise, Arise, arise!
CLOTEN	So, get you gone. If this penetrate I will consider your music the better; if it do not, it is a vice in her ears which horse hairs and calves’ guts nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to boot can never amend.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Musicians
(didascalia)	Enter Cymbeline and the Queen
SECOND LORD	Here comes the King.
CLOTEN	I am glad I was up so late, for that’s the reason I was up so early. He cannot choose but take this service I have done fatherly. Good morrow to your majesty, and to my gracious mother.
CYMBELINE	Attend you here the door of our stern daughter? Will she not forth?
CLOTEN	I have assailed her with musics, but she vouchsafes no notice.
CYMBELINE	The exile of her minion is too new. She hath not yet forgot him. Some more time Must wear the print of his remembrance out, And then she’s yours.
QUEEN	(to Cloten) You are most bound to th’ King, Who lets go by no vantages that may Prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself To orderly solicits, and be friended With aptness of the season. Make denials Increase your services; so seem as if You were inspired to do those duties which You tender to her; that you in all obey her, Save when command to your dismission tends, And therein you are senseless.
CLOTEN	Senseless? Not so.
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger
MESSENGER	(to Cymbeline) So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome; The one is Caius Lucius.
CYMBELINE	A worthy fellow, Albeit he comes on angry purpose now: But that’s no fault of his. We must receive him According to the honour of his sender, And towards himself, his goodness forespent on us, We must extend our notice. Our dear son, When you have given good morning to your mistress, Attend the Queen and us. We shall have need T’employ you towards this Roman. Come, our queen.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but
CYMBELINE	Cloten
CLOTEN	If she be up, I’ll speak with her; if not, Let her lie still and dream.
(didascalia)	He knocks
CLOTEN	By your leave, ho!— I know her women are about her; what If I do line one of their hands? ‘Tis gold Which buys admittance—oft it doth—yea, and makes Diana’s rangers false themselves, yield up Their deer to th’ stand o’th’ stealer; and ’tis gold Which makes the true man killed and saves the thief, Nay, sometime hangs both thief and true man. What Can it not do and undo? I will make One of her women lawyer to me, for I yet not understand the case myself.— By your leave. Knocks. Enter a Lady
LADY	Who’s there that knocks?
CLOTEN	A gentleman.
LADY	No more?
CLOTEN	Yes, and a gentlewoman’s son.
LADY	That’s more
(didascalia)	Aside Than some whose tailors are as dear as
LADY	yours Can justly boast of. (To him) What’s your lordship’s pleasure?
CLOTEN	Your lady’s person. Is she ready?
LADY	Ay.
(didascalia)	Aside To keep her chamber.
CLOTEN	There is gold for you. Sell me your good report.
LADY	How, my good name?—or to report of you What I shall think is good?
(didascalia)	Enter
LADY	Innogen The Princess.
(didascalia)	Exit
CLOTEN	Good morrow, fairest. Sister, your sweet hand.
INNOGEN	Good morrow, sir. You lay out too much pains For purchasing but trouble. The thanks I give Is telling you that I am poor of thanks, And scarce can spare them.
CLOTEN	Still I swear I love you.
INNOGEN	If you but said so, ’twere as deep with me. If you swear still, your recompense is still That I regard it not.
CLOTEN	This is no answer.
INNOGEN	But that you shall not say I yield being silent, I would not speak. I pray you, spare me. Faith, I shall unfold equal discourtesy To your best kindness. One of your great knowing Should learn, being taught, forbearance.
CLOTEN	To leave you in your madness, ’twere my sin. I will not.
INNOGEN	Fools cure not mad folks.
CLOTEN	Do you call me fool?
INNOGEN	As I am mad, I do. If you’ll be patient, I’ll no more be mad; That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir, You put me to forget a lady’s manners By being so verbal; and learn now for all That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce By th’ very truth of it: I care not for you, And am so near the lack of charity To accuse myself I hate you, which I had rather You felt than make’t my boast.
CLOTEN	You sin against Obedience which you owe your father. For The contract you pretend with that base wretch, One bred of alms and fostered with cold dishes, With scraps o‘th’ court, it is no contract, none. And though it be allowed in meaner parties— Yet who than he more mean?—to knit their souls, On whom there is no more dependency But brats and beggary, in self-figured knot, Yet you are curbed from that enlargement by The consequence o’th’ crown, and must not foil The precious note of it with a base slave, A hilding for a livery, a squire’s cloth, A pantler—not so eminent.
INNOGEN	Profane fellow, Wert thou the son of Jupiter, and no more But what thou art besides, thou wert too base To be his groom; thou wert dignified enough, Even to the point of envy, if ’twere made Comparative for your virtues to be styled The under-hangman of his kingdom, and hated For being preferred so well.
CLOTEN	The south-fog rot him!
INNOGEN	He never can meet more mischance than come To be but named of thee. His meanest garment That ever hath but clipped his body is dearer In my respect than all the hairs above thee, Were they all made such men. How now, Pisanio!
(didascalia)	Enter Pisanio
CLOTEN	His garment? Now the devil—
INNOGEN	(to Pisanio) To Dorothy, my woman, hie thee presently.
CLOTEN	His garment?
INNOGEN	(to Pisanio) I am sprited with a fool, Frighted, and angered worse. Go bid my woman Search for a jewel that too casually Hath left mine arm. It was thy master’s. ‘Shrew me If I would lose it for a revenue Of any king’s in Europe! I do think I saw’t this morning; confident I am Last night ’twas on mine arm; I kissed it. I hope it be not gone to tell my lord That I kiss aught but he.
PISANIO	’Twill not be lost.
INNOGEN	I hope so. Go and search.
(didascalia)	Exit Pisanio
CLOTEN	You have abused me. ‘His meanest garment’?
INNOGEN	Ay, I said so, sir. If you will make’t an action, call witness to’t.
CLOTEN	I will inform your father.
INNOGEN	Your mother too. She’s my good lady, and will conceive, I hope, But the worst of me. So I leave you, sir, To th’ worst of discontent.
(didascalia)	Exit
CLOTEN	I’ll be revenged. ‘His meanest garment’? Well! Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Cloten e i due Signori
PRIMO SIGNORE	Vostra signoria è l’uomo più paziente nella perdita, il più freddo che mai abbia scoperto un asso.
CLOTEN	Perdere farebbe venire freddo a chiunque.
PRIMO SIGNORE	Ma non renderebbe chiunque paziente secondo il nobile temperamento di vostra signoria. Voi siete caldissimo e furioso quando vincete.
CLOTEN	Il vincere mette coraggio in qualunque uomo. Se potessi avere questa sciocca Innogene avrei oro a sufficienza. È quasi mattino, non è vero?
PRIMO SIGNORE	È giorno, mio signore.
CLOTEN	Vorrei che venisse questa musica. Mi si consiglia di darle musica al mattino; dicono che penetri.
(didascalia)	Entrano i Musici
CLOTEN	Su, accordate. Se potete penetrarla col vostro diteggiare, bene; proveremo anche con la lingua. Se nulla giova, che rimanga com’è; ma io non desisterò mai. Prima una cosa arguta ed eccellente; poi un’aria mirabilmente dolce con parole ricche e ammirevoli; e poi ci pensi lei.
(didascalia)	Musica
(didascalia)	MUSICO (canta)
CLOTEN	Odi, odi, l’allodola alla porta del cielo canta, e Febo comincia a salire, ad abbeverare i suoi corsieri a quelle fonti che sui fiori socchiusi stanno, e i bocci assonnati di Maria cominciano ad aprire i loro occhi d’oro; con tutto ciò che è vago, dolce mia signora, sorgi, sorgi, sorgi!
CLOTEN	Così, andatevene. Se questo penetra, terrò in maggior conto la vostra musica; se non penetra, è un vizio nelle sue orecchie che né crini di cavallo né budella di vitello, né per giunta la voce d’un eunuco intatto, potranno mai emendare.
(didascalia)	Escono i Musici
(didascalia)	Entrano Cimbelino e la Regina
SECONDO SIGNORE	Ecco venire il Re.
CLOTEN	Son lieto d’essere stato in piedi così tardi, ché per questo son levato così presto. Non può non prendere paternamente questo servigio che ho reso. Buon giorno a vostra maestà, e alla mia graziosa madre.
CIMBELINO	Fate voi la posta alla porta della nostra dura figlia? Non vuol venir fuori?
CLOTEN	L’ho assalita con musiche, ma non si degna di darne cenno.
CIMBELINO	L’esilio del suo favorito è troppo recente. Non l’ha ancora dimenticato. Occorre altro tempo perché ne logori l’impronta nella memoria, e allora ella è vostra.
REGINA	(a Cloten) Voi siete assai obbligato al Re, che non lascia sfuggire vantaggio alcuno che possa innalzarvi a sua figlia. Disponetevi a corteggiamenti regolari, e fatevi amica l’opportunità della stagione. Fate che i rifiuti accrescano i vostri servigi; sì da parere ispirato a compiere quei doveri che le offrite; e ch’ella in tutto vi trovi obbediente, salvo quando l’ordine tende al vostro congedo: in ciò siate insensibile.
CLOTEN	Insensibile? Niente affatto.
(didascalia)	Entra un Messaggero
MESSAGGERO	(a Cimbelino) Se vi piace, signore, ambasciatori da Roma; l’uno è Caio Lucio.
CIMBELINO	Uomo degno, benché ora venga per fine adirato: ma non è colpa sua. Dobbiamo riceverlo secondo l’onore di chi lo manda, e verso lui stesso, per la sua bontà già spesa a nostro favore, dobbiamo estendere il nostro riguardo. Caro figlio nostro, quando avrete dato il buon giorno alla vostra signora, venite dalla Regina e da noi. Avremo bisogno d’impiegarvi presso questo Romano. Venite, nostra regina.
(didascalia)	Escono tutti tranne
CIMBELINO	Cloten
CLOTEN	S’ella è alzata, le parlerò; se no, che giaccia pure e sogni.
(didascalia)	Bussa
CLOTEN	Col vostro permesso, olà!— So che le sue donne le stanno intorno; e che se io ungessi la mano a una di loro? È l’oro che compra l’accesso—spesso è così—sì, e rende falsi i guardaboschi di Diana, che cedono la loro cerva alla posta del bracconiere; ed è l’oro che fa uccidere l’onesto e salva il ladro, anzi, talvolta impicca insieme ladro e onesto. Che cosa non può fare e disfare? Farò di una delle sue donne il mio avvocato, ché io stesso non intendo ancora la causa.— Col vostro permesso. Bussa. Entra una Dama
DAMA	Chi è là che bussa?
CLOTEN	Un gentiluomo.
DAMA	Non altro?
CLOTEN	Sì, e figlio di gentildonna.
DAMA	Questo è più
(didascalia)	A parte Di quanto alcuni, i cui sarti son cari quanto i
DAMA	vostri, possano giustamente vantare. (A lui) Qual è il piacere di vostra signoria?
CLOTEN	La persona della vostra signora. È pronta?
DAMA	Sì.
(didascalia)	A parte A tenersi in camera.
CLOTEN	Ecco dell’oro per voi. Vendetemi la vostra buona relazione.
DAMA	Come, il mio buon nome?—o il riferire di voi ciò che riterrò buono?
(didascalia)	Entra
DAMA	Innogene La Principessa.
(didascalia)	Esce
CLOTEN	Buon giorno, bellissima. Sorella, la vostra dolce mano.
INNOGENE	Buon giorno, signore. Vi date troppa pena per non acquistare che fastidio. Il ringraziamento che vi do è dirvi ch’io son povera di grazie, e a stento posso spenderne.
CLOTEN	Pure io giuro che vi amo.
INNOGENE	Se solo lo diceste, avrebbe per me lo stesso peso. Se continuate a giurarlo, la vostra ricompensa è sempre che io non ci bado.
CLOTEN	Questa non è una risposta.
INNOGENE	Se non fosse che direste che tacendo cedo, non parlerei. Vi prego, risparmiatemi. In fede, io renderò scortesia pari alla vostra migliore gentilezza. Uno del vostro gran sapere dovrebbe imparare, essendo ammaestrato, a desistere.
CLOTEN	Lasciarvi nella vostra follia sarebbe mio peccato. Non lo farò.
INNOGENE	Gli sciocchi non guariscono i pazzi.
CLOTEN	Mi chiamate sciocco?
INNOGENE	In quanto son pazza, sì. Se sarete paziente, non sarò più pazza; ciò guarisce entrambi. Mi duole assai, signore, che mi facciate dimenticare le maniere d’una dama col vostro tanto parlare; e apprendete una volta per tutte che io, che conosco il mio cuore, qui dichiaro per la verità stessa di esso: non m’importa di voi, e son tanto vicina alla mancanza di carità da accusarmi di odiarvi; il che avrei preferito che sentiste da voi piuttosto che farne vanto.
CLOTEN	Voi peccate contro l’obbedienza che dovete a vostro padre. Quanto al contratto che pretendete con quel vile miserabile, allevato di elemosina e nutrito di piatti freddi, con gli avanzi della corte, non è contratto alcuno, nessuno. E benché sia permesso a persone più umili— eppure, chi più umile di lui?—annodare le loro anime, dalle quali non dipende altro che marmocchi e pezzenteria, in nodo foggiato da loro stessi, a voi tuttavia è vietata quella licenza dalle conseguenze della corona, e non dovete macchiare la sua preziosa fama con un vile schiavo, un buono a nulla da livrea, da panno di scudiero, un dispensiere—e neppure tanto eminente.
INNOGENE	Individuo profano, fossi tu il figlio di Giove, e nulla più di quello che sei per il resto, saresti troppo vile per essergli stalliere; saresti abbastanza onorato, fino al punto di destare invidia, se, per un paragone fatto sulle tue virtù, ti si intitolasse sotto-boia del suo regno, e fossi odiato per essere stato promosso così bene.
CLOTEN	Che la nebbia del sud lo faccia marcire!
INNOGENE	Non gli può accadere sventura maggiore che l’essere anche solo nominato da te. La più vile veste sua che mai abbia stretto il suo corpo mi è più cara di quanti capelli hai sul capo, fossero tutti fatti uomini come te. Ebbene, Pisanio!
(didascalia)	Entra Pisanio
CLOTEN	La sua veste? Ora, il diavolo—
INNOGENE	(a Pisanio) Va’ subito da Dorotea, la mia donna.
CLOTEN	La sua veste?
INNOGENE	(a Pisanio) Sono ossessa da uno sciocco, spaventata, e peggio ancora adirata. Va’ e di’ alla mia donna di cercare un gioiello che troppo casualmente ha lasciato il mio braccio. Era del tuo padrone. Maledetta me se volessi perderlo per la rendita di qualunque re d’Europa! Mi pare d’averlo visto stamattina; son certa che la scorsa notte era al mio braccio; l’ho baciato. Spero che non sia andato a dire al mio signore ch’io bacio altri che lui.
PISANIO	Non andrà perduto.
INNOGENE	Lo spero. Va’ e cerca.
(didascalia)	Esce Pisanio
CLOTEN	Voi mi avete oltraggiato. ‘La sua più vile veste’?
INNOGENE	Sì, così ho detto, signore. Se volete farne causa, chiamatene testimoni.
CLOTEN	Ne informerò vostro padre.
INNOGENE	E anche vostra madre. Ella è mia buona signora, e concepirà, lo spero, solo il peggio di me. Così vi lascio, signore, al peggio dello scontento.
(didascalia)	Esce
CLOTEN	Mi vendicherò. ‘La sua più vile veste’? Bene! Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Posthumus and Filario
POSTHUMUS	Fear it not, sir. I would I were so sure To win the King as I am bold her honour Will remain hers.
FILARIO	What means do you make to him?
POSTHUMUS	Not any; but abide the change of time, Quake in the present winter’s state, and wish That warmer days would come. In these seared hopes I barely gratify your love; they failing, I must die much your debtor.
FILARIO	Your very goodness and your company O‘erpays all I can do. By this, your king Hath heard of great Augustus. Caius Lucius Will do ’s commission throughly. And I think He’ll grant the tribute, send th’arrearages, Ere look upon our Romans, whose remembrance Is yet fresh in their grief.
POSTHUMUS	I do believe, Statist though I am none, nor like to be, That this will prove a war, and you shall hear The legions now in Gallia sooner landed In our not-fearing Britain than have tidings Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen Are men more ordered than when Julius Caesar Smiled at their lack of skill but found their courage Worthy his frowning at. Their discipline, Now wing-led with their courage, will make known To their approvers they are people such That mend upon the world.
(didascalia)	Enter Giacomo
FILARIO	See, Giacomo.
POSTHUMUS	(to Giacomo) The swiftest harts have posted you by land, And winds of all the corners kissed your sails To make your vessel nimble.
FILARIO	(to Giacomo) Welcome, sir.
POSTHUMUS	(to Giacomo) I hope the briefness of your answer made The speediness of your return.
GIACOMO	Your lady is One of the fair’st that I have looked upon—
POSTHUMUS	And therewithal the best, or let her beauty Look through a casement to allure false hearts, And be false with them.
GIACOMO	Here are letters for you.
POSTHUMUS	Their tenor good, I trust.
GIACOMO	’Tis very like. Posthumus reads the letters
(didascalia)	FILARIO
GIACOMO	Was Caius Lucius in the Briton court When you were there?
GIACOMO	He was expected then, But not approached.
POSTHUMUS	All is well yet. Sparkles this stone as it was wont, or is’t not Too dull for your good wearing?
GIACOMO	If I had lost it I should have lost the worth of it in gold. I’ll make a journey twice as far t’enjoy A second night of such sweet shortness which Was mine in Britain; for the ring is won.
POSTHUMOUS	The stone’s too hard to come by.
GIACOMO	Not a whit, Your lady being so easy.
POSTHUMUS	Make not, sir, Your loss your sport. I hope you know that we Must not continue friends.
GIACOMO	Good sir, we must, If you keep covenant. Had I not brought The knowledge of your mistress home I grant We were to question farther, but I now Profess myself the winner of her honour, Together with your ring, and not the wronger Of her or you, having proceeded but By both your wills.
POSTHUMUS	If you can make’t apparent That you have tasted her in bed, my hand And ring is yours. If not, the foul opinion You had of her pure honour gains or loses Your sword or mine, or masterless leaves both To who shall find them.
GIACOMO	Sir, my circumstances, Being so near the truth as I will make them, Must first induce you to believe; whose strength I will confirm with oath, which I doubt not You’ll give me leave to spare when you shall find You need it not.
POSTHUMUS	Proceed.
GIACOMO	First, her bedchamber— Where I confess I slept not, but profess Had that was well worth watching—it was hanged With tapestry of silk and silver; the story Proud Cleopatra when she met her Roman, And Cydnus swelled above the banks, or for The press of boats or pride: a piece of work So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive In workmanship and value; which I wondered Could be so rarely and exactly wrought, Such the true life on’t was.
POSTHUMUS	This is true, And this you might have heard of here, by me Or by some other.
GIACOMO	More particulars Must justify my knowledge.
POSTHUMUS	So they must, Or do your honour injury.
GIACOMO	The chimney Is south the chamber, and the chimney-piece Chaste Dian bathing. Never saw I figures So likely to report themselves; the cutter Was as another nature; dumb, outwent her, Motion and breath left out.
POSTHUMUS	This is a thing Which you might from relation likewise reap, Being, as it is, much spoke of.
GIACOMO	The roof o’th’ chamber With golden cherubins is fretted. Her andirons— I had forgot them—were two winking Cupids Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely Depending on their brands.
POSTHUMUS	This is her honour! Let it be granted you have seen all this—and praise Be given to your remembrance—the description Of what is in her chamber nothing saves The wager you have laid.
GIACOMO	Then, if you can Be pale, I beg but leave to air this jewel. See! He shows the bracelet And now ’tis up again; it must be married To that your diamond. I’ll keep them.
POSTHUMUS	Jove! Once more let me behold it. Is it that Which I left with her?
GIACOMO	Sir, I thank her, that. She stripped it from her arm. I see her yet. Her pretty action did outsell her gift, And yet enriched it too. She gave it me, And said she prized it once.
POSTHUMUS	Maybe she plucked it off To send it me.
GIACOMO	She writes so to you, doth she?
POSTHUMUS	O, no, no, no—’tis true! Here, take this too. He gives Giacomo his ring It is a basilisk unto mine eye, Kills me to look on’t. Let there be no honour Where there is beauty, truth where semblance, love Where there’s another man. The vows of women Of no more bondage be to where they are made Than they are to their virtues, which is nothing! O, above measure false!
PILASIO	Have patience, sir, And take your ring again; ’tis not yet won. It may be probable she lost it, or Who knows if one her woman, being corrupted, Hath stol’n it from her?
POSTHUMUS	Very true, And so I hope he came by’t. Back my ring. He takes his ring again Render to me some corporal sign about her More evident than this; for this was stol’n.
GIACOMO	By Jupiter, I had it from her arm.
POSTHUMUS	Hark you, he swears, by Jupiter he swears. ‘Tis true, nay, keep the ring, ’tis true. I am sure She would not lose it. Her attendants are All sworn and honourable. They induced to steal it? And by a stranger? No, he hath enjoyed her. The cognizance of her incontinency Is this. She hath bought the name of whore thus dearly. He gives Giacomo his ring There, take thy hire, and all the fiends of hell Divide themselves between you!
FILARIO	Sir, be patient. This is not strong enough to be believed Of one persuaded well of.
POSTHUMUS	Never talk on’t. She hath been colted by him.
GIACOMO	If you seek For further satisfying, under her breast— Worthy the pressing—lies a mole, right proud Of that most delicate lodging. By my life, I kissed it, and it gave me present hunger To feed again, though full. You do remember This stain upon her?
POSTHUMUS	Ay, and it doth confirm Another stain as big as hell can hold, Were there no more but it.
GIACOMO	Will you hear more?
POSTHUMUS	Spare your arithmetic, never count the turns. Once, and a million!
GIACOMO	I’ll be sworn.
POSTHUMUS	No swearing. If you will swear you have not done‘t, you lie, And I will kill thee if thou dost deny Thou’st made me cuckold. GlACOMO I’ll deny nothing.
POSTHUMUS	O that I had her here to tear her limb-meal! I will go there and do’t i’th’ court, before Her father. I’ll do something.
(didascalia)	Exit
FILARIO	Quite besides The government of patience! You have won. Let’s follow and pervert the present wrath He hath against himself.
GIACOMO	With all my heart.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Postumo e Filario
POSTUMO	Non lo temete, signore. Vorrei essere altrettanto sicuro di guadagnare il Re quanto son certo che il suo onore rimarrà suo.
FILARIO	Quali mezzi impiegate presso di lui?
POSTUMO	Nessuno; ma attendo il mutare del tempo, tremo nello stato del presente inverno, e desidero che vengano giorni più caldi. Con queste speranze inaridite a stento ricambio il vostro amore; e s’esse mancano, dovrò morire vostro gran debitore.
FILARIO	La vostra sola bontà e la vostra compagnia ripagano oltre misura quanto io possa fare. Ormai il vostro re ha udito del grande Augusto. Caio Lucio eseguirà a fondo la sua commissione. E credo ch’egli concederà il tributo, e manderà gli arretrati, prima che guardare in faccia i nostri Romani, la cui memoria è ancor fresca nel loro dolore.
POSTUMO	Io credo, benché uomo di stato non sia, né sia per essere, che questo si volgerà in guerra; e udrete le legioni ora in Gallia sbarcate nella nostra impavida Britannia prima d’aver notizia d’un solo denaro di tributo pagato. I nostri compatrioti sono uomini più ordinati di quando Giulio Cesare sorrise alla loro imperizia ma trovò il loro coraggio degno del suo corrugare le ciglia. La loro disciplina, ora alata dal loro coraggio, farà conoscere a chi li mette alla prova ch’essi son gente tale che va migliorando col mondo.
(didascalia)	Entra Giacomo
FILARIO	Ecco Giacomo.
POSTUMO	(a Giacomo) I più veloci cervi vi han portato per terra, e i venti d’ogni angolo han baciato le vostre vele per rendere agile il vostro vascello.
FILARIO	(a Giacomo) Benvenuto, signore.
POSTUMO	(a Giacomo) Spero che la brevità della vostra risposta abbia fatto la rapidità del vostro ritorno.
GIACOMO	La vostra dama è una delle più belle ch’io abbia contemplate—
POSTUMO	E insieme la migliore, o lasci la sua bellezza affacciarsi a una finestra per adescare cuori falsi, e sia falsa con loro.
GIACOMO	Ecco lettere per voi.
POSTUMO	Di buon tenore, spero.
GIACOMO	È assai probabile. Postumo legge le lettere
(didascalia)	FILARIO
GIACOMO	Era Caio Lucio alla corte britanna quando voi eravate là?
GIACOMO	Era allora atteso, ma non ancora giunto.
POSTUMO	Tutto va ancora bene. Scintilla questa pietra come soleva, o non è troppo opaca perché voi la portiate?
GIACOMO	Se l’avessi perduta avrei perduto il suo valore in oro. Farei un viaggio due volte più lungo per godere una seconda notte di sì dolce brevità come quella che fu mia in Britannia; ché l’anello è vinto.
POSTHUMOUS	La pietra è troppo difficile da ottenere.
GIACOMO	Neanche un poco, essendo la vostra dama tanto facile.
POSTUMO	Non fate, signore, della vostra perdita un vostro spasso. Spero sappiate che noi non possiamo restare amici.
GIACOMO	Buon signore, dobbiamo, se mantenete il patto. Se non avessi portato a casa la conoscenza della vostra signora, ammetto che avremmo dovuto discutere oltre; ma ora io mi professo vincitore del suo onore, insieme col vostro anello, e non offensore di lei né di voi, essendo proceduto secondo la volontà d’entrambi.
POSTUMO	Se potete render manifesto d’averla gustata a letto, la mia mano e l’anello son vostri. Se no, la turpe opinione che aveste del suo puro onore guadagna o perde la vostra spada o la mia, o lascia entrambe senza padrone a chi le troverà.
GIACOMO	Signore, le mie circostanze, essendo così vicine alla verità come le esporrò, devono anzitutto indurvi a credere; e la loro forza confermerò con giuramento, che non dubito mi permetterete di risparmiare quando troverete che non ve n’è bisogno.
POSTUMO	Procedete.
GIACOMO	Anzitutto, la sua camera da letto— dove confesso che non dormii, ma dichiaro d’aver avuto ciò che ben valeva il vegliare—era parata d’arazzi di seta e d’argento; la storia era la superba Cleopatra quando incontrò il suo Romano, e il Cidno si gonfiava sopra le rive, o per la calca delle barche o per orgoglio: opera eseguita sì nobilmente, sì ricca, che gareggiava in fattura e in valore; e mi meravigliavo che potesse essere lavorata con tanta rarità ed esattezza, tanta era in essa la vita vera.
POSTUMO	Questo è vero, e potevate averlo udito qui, da me o da qualche altro.
GIACOMO	Altri particolari devono giustificare la mia conoscenza.
POSTUMO	Così dev’essere, o fanno ingiuria al vostro onore.
GIACOMO	Il camino è a mezzogiorno della camera, e sulla cappa la casta Diana che si bagna. Mai vidi figure tanto pronte a raccontarsi da sé; l’intagliatore era come un’altra natura; muto, la superò, tolti il moto e il respiro.
POSTUMO	Questa è cosa che potevate del pari raccogliere per sentito dire, essendo, com’è, molto celebrata.
GIACOMO	Il soffitto della camera è tutto intagliato di cherubini d’oro. I suoi alari— li avevo dimenticati—erano due Cupidi ammiccanti d’argento, ciascuno ritto su un piede, graziosamente appoggiati alle loro fiaccole.
POSTUMO	Questo è il suo onore! Sia pur concesso che abbiate visto tutto ciò—e lode sia data alla vostra memoria—la descrizione di ciò che è nella sua camera per nulla salva la scommessa che avete posto.
GIACOMO	Allora, se potete impallidire, non chiedo che il permesso d’arieggiare questo gioiello. Guardate! Mostra il braccialetto E ora è di nuovo riposto; dev’essere sposato a quel vostro diamante. Li terrò io.
POSTUMO	Per Giove! Ancora una volta lasciate ch’io lo guardi. È quello ch’io lasciai con lei?
GIACOMO	Signore, la ringrazio, è quello. Se lo sfilò dal braccio. La vedo ancora. Il suo grazioso gesto valeva più del dono, eppure lo arricchiva anche. Me lo diede, e disse che una volta l’aveva caro.
POSTUMO	Forse se lo sfilò per mandarlo a me.
GIACOMO	Ve lo scrive così, non è vero?
POSTUMO	Oh, no, no, no—è vero! Ecco, prendete anche questo. Dà a Giacomo il suo anello È un basilisco per il mio occhio, mi uccide a guardarlo. Non vi sia onore dove è bellezza, né verità dove è apparenza, né amore dove c’è un altro uomo. I voti delle donne non abbiano più vincolo verso colui a cui son fatti di quanto ne abbiano verso le loro virtù, cioè nessuno! Oh, false oltre ogni misura!
PILASIO	Abbiate pazienza, signore, e riprendete il vostro anello; non è ancora vinto. Può essere probabile ch’ella l’abbia perduto, o chi sa se una delle sue donne, corrotta, gliel’abbia rubato?
POSTUMO	Verissimo, e così spero ch’egli l’abbia avuto. Rendetemi l’anello. Riprende il suo anello Datemi qualche segno corporale su di lei più evidente di questo; ché questo fu rubato.
GIACOMO	Per Giove, l’ebbi dal suo braccio.
POSTUMO	Udite, egli giura, per Giove egli giura. È vero, anzi, tenete l’anello, è vero. Son certo ch’ella non l’avrebbe perduto. I suoi servitori sono tutti giurati e onorevoli. Indotti a rubarlo? E da uno straniero? No, egli l’ha goduta. Il contrassegno della sua incontinenza è questo. Ha comprato il nome di sgualdrina a caro prezzo. Dà a Giacomo il suo anello Ecco, prendi la tua mercede, e tutte le furie dell’inferno si spartiscano fra voi due!
FILARIO	Signore, siate paziente. Questo non è abbastanza forte per esser creduto di persona di cui si è ben persuasi.
POSTUMO	Non parlarne più. Ella è stata cavalcata da lui.
GIACOMO	Se cercate ulteriore soddisfazione, sotto la sua mammella— degna d’esser premuta—giace un neo, ben superbo di quell’alloggio delicatissimo. Sulla mia vita, io lo baciai, e mi diede subito fame di pascermene ancora, benché sazio. Ricordate questa macchia su di lei?
POSTUMO	Sì, e conferma un’altra macchia grande quanto l’inferno può contenere, quand’anche non ve ne fosse che quella.
GIACOMO	Volete udire altro?
POSTUMO	Risparmiate la vostra aritmetica, non contate le volte. Una, e un milione!
GIACOMO	Lo giurerò.
POSTUMO	Nessun giuramento. Se giurerete di non averlo fatto, mentite, e t’ucciderò se negherai d’avermi fatto becco. GlACOMO Non negherò nulla.
POSTUMO	Oh, l’avessi qui per farla a brani! Andrò là e lo farò nella corte, davanti a suo padre. Farò qualcosa.
(didascalia)	Esce
FILARIO	Del tutto fuori dal governo della pazienza! Voi avete vinto. Seguiamolo e sviamo l’ira presente che ha contro se stesso.
GIACOMO	Con tutto il cuore.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Posthumus
POSTHUMUS	Is there no way for men to be, but women Must be half-workers? We are bastards all, And that most venerable man which I Did call my father was I know not where When I was stamped. Some coiner with his tools Made me a counterfeit; yet my mother seemed The Dian of that time: so doth my wife The nonpareil of this. O vengeance, vengeance! Me of my lawful pleasure she restrained, And prayed me oft forbearance; did it with A pudency so rosy the sweet view on’t Might well have warmed old Saturn; that I thought her As chaste as unsunned snow. O all the devils! This yellow Giacomo in an hour—was’t not?— Or less—at first? Perchance he spoke not, but Like a full-acorned boar, a German one, Cried ‘O!’ and mounted; found no opposition But what he looked for should oppose and she Should from encounter guard. Could I find out The woman’s part in me—for there’s no motion That tends to vice in man but I affirm It is the woman’s part; be it lying, note it, The woman’s; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers; Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers; Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain, Nice longing, slanders, mutability, All faults that man can name, nay, that hell knows, Why, hers in part or all, but rather all— For even to vice They are not constant, but are changing still One vice but of a minute old for one Not half so old as that. I’ll write against them, Detest them, curse them, yet ’tis greater skill In a true hate to pray they have their will. The very devils cannot plague them better.
(didascalia)	Exit
(didascalia)	3.1 Flourish. Enter in state Cymbeline, the Queen, Cloten, and lords at one door, and at another, Caius Lucius and attendants
CYMBELINE	Now say, what would Augustus Caesar with us?
LUCIUS	When Julius Caesar—whose remembrance yet Lives in men’s eyes, and will to ears and tongues Be theme and hearing ever—was in this Britain And conquered it, Cassibelan, thine uncle, Famous in Caesar’s praises no whit less Than in his feats deserving it, for him And his succession granted Rome a tribute, Yearly three thousand pounds, which by thee lately Is left untendered.
QUEEN	And, to kill the marvel, Shall be so ever.
CLOTEN	There will be many Caesars Ere such another Julius. Britain’s a world By itself, and we will nothing pay For wearing our own noses.
QUEEN	That opportunity Which then they had to take from ‘s, to resume We have again. Remember, sir, my liege, The kings your ancestors, together with The natural bravery of your isle, which stands As Neptune’s park, ribbed and paled in With banks unscalable and roaring waters, With sands that will not bear your enemies’ boats, But suck them up to th’ topmast. A kind of conquest Caesar made here, but made not here his brag Of ‘came and saw and overcame’. With shame— The first that ever touched him—he was carried From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping, Poor ignorant baubles, on our terrible seas Like eggshells moved upon their surges, cracked As easily ’gainst our rocks; for joy whereof The famed Cassibelan, who was once at point— O giglot fortune!—to master Caesar’s sword, Made Lud’s town with rejoicing fires bright, And Britons strut with courage.
CLOTEN	Come, there’s no more tribute to be paid. Our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time, and, as I said, there is no more such Caesars. Other of them may have crooked noses, but to owe such straight arms, none.
CYMBELINE	Son, let your mother end.
CLOTEN	We have yet many among us can grip as hard as Cassibelan. I do not say I am one, but I have a hand. Why tribute? Why should we pay tribute? If Caesar can hide the sun from us with a blanket, or put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for light; else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now.
CYMBELINE	(to Lucius) You must know, Till the injurious Romans did extort This tribute from us we were free. Caesar’s ambition, Which swelled so much that it did almost stretch The sides o‘th’ world, against all colour here Did put the yoke upon ’s, which to shake off Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon Ourselves to be. We do say then to Caesar, Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which Ordained our laws, whose use the sword of Caesar Hath too much mangled, whose repair and franchise Shall by the power we hold be our good deed, Though Rome be therefore angry. Mulmutius made our laws, Who was the first of Britain which did put His brows within a golden crown and called Himself a king.
LUCIUS	I am sorry, Cymbeline, That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar— Caesar, that hath more kings his servants than Thyself domestic officers—thine enemy. Receive it from me, then: war and confusion In Caesar’s name pronounce I ’gainst thee. Look For fury not to be resisted. Thus defied, I thank thee for myself.
CYMBELINE	Thou art welcome, Caius. Thy Caesar knighted me; my youth I spent Much under him; of him I gathered honour, Which he to seek of me again perforce Behoves me keep at utterance. I am perfect That the Pannonians and Dalmatians for Their liberties are now in arms, a precedent Which not to read would show the Britons cold; So Caesar shall not find them.
LUCIUS	Let proof speak.
CLOTEN	His majesty bids you welcome. Make pastime with us a day or two or longer. If you seek us afterwards in other terms, you shall find us in our salt-water girdle. If you beat us out of it, it is yours; if you fall in the adventure, our crows shall fare the better for you; and there’s an end.
LUCIUS	So, sir.
CYMBELINE	I know your master’s pleasure, and he mine. All the remain is ‘Welcome’.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Postumo
POSTUMO	Non v’è dunque modo che gli uomini siano, senza che le donne ne debbano essere per metà artefici? Siamo tutti bastardi, e quel venerabilissimo uomo ch’io chiamavo mio padre era non so dove quando io fui coniato. Qualche falsario coi suoi ferri fece di me una moneta falsa; eppure mia madre pareva la Diana di quel tempo: così mia moglie l’impareggiabile di questo. Oh vendetta, vendetta! Ella mi tratteneva dal mio lecito piacere, e spesso mi pregava d’astenermi; e lo faceva con un pudore sì roseo che il dolce spettacolo ben avrebbe potuto scaldare il vecchio Saturno; sì ch’io la credevo lei casta come neve non tocca dal sole. Oh, tutti i diavoli! Questo giallo Giacomo in un’ora—non fu così?— o meno—al primo assalto? Forse non parlò affatto, ma, come un cinghiale pasciuto di ghiande, un cinghiale germanico, gridò ‘Oh!’ e montò; e non trovò opposizione se non quella ch’egli cercava che gli si opponesse, e che lei doveva opporre all’assalto. Potessi io scoprire la parte femminile in me—ché non v’è moto che tenda al vizio nell’uomo ch’io non affermi essere parte della donna; sia il mentire, notatelo, è della donna; l’adulare, suo; l’ingannare, suo; lussuria e pensieri fetidi, suoi, suoi; le vendette, sue; ambizioni, cupidigie, mutar di superbie, disdegno, schifiltoso desiderio, calunnie, incostanza, tutte le colpe che l’uomo sappia nominare, anzi, che l’inferno conosca, ecco, son sue in parte o tutte, anzi piuttosto tutte— ché perfino al vizio non son costanti, ma van sempre cambiando un vizio d’un minuto appena con uno non vecchio la metà. Scriverò contro di loro, le detesterò, le maledirò; eppure è arte maggiore, in un odio verace, pregare che abbiano il loro volere. I diavoli stessi non saprebbero tormentarle meglio.
(didascalia)	Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter in state Cymbeline, the Queen, Cloten, and lords at one door, and at another, Caius Lucius and attendants
CYMBELINE	Now say, what would Augustus Caesar with us?
LUCIUS	When Julius Caesar—whose remembrance yet Lives in men’s eyes, and will to ears and tongues Be theme and hearing ever—was in this Britain And conquered it, Cassibelan, thine uncle, Famous in Caesar’s praises no whit less Than in his feats deserving it, for him And his succession granted Rome a tribute, Yearly three thousand pounds, which by thee lately Is left untendered.
QUEEN	And, to kill the marvel, Shall be so ever.
CLOTEN	There will be many Caesars Ere such another Julius. Britain’s a world By itself, and we will nothing pay For wearing our own noses.
QUEEN	That opportunity Which then they had to take from ‘s, to resume We have again. Remember, sir, my liege, The kings your ancestors, together with The natural bravery of your isle, which stands As Neptune’s park, ribbed and paled in With banks unscalable and roaring waters, With sands that will not bear your enemies’ boats, But suck them up to th’ topmast. A kind of conquest Caesar made here, but made not here his brag Of ‘came and saw and overcame’. With shame— The first that ever touched him—he was carried From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping, Poor ignorant baubles, on our terrible seas Like eggshells moved upon their surges, cracked As easily ’gainst our rocks; for joy whereof The famed Cassibelan, who was once at point— O giglot fortune!—to master Caesar’s sword, Made Lud’s town with rejoicing fires bright, And Britons strut with courage.
CLOTEN	Come, there’s no more tribute to be paid. Our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time, and, as I said, there is no more such Caesars. Other of them may have crooked noses, but to owe such straight arms, none.
CYMBELINE	Son, let your mother end.
CLOTEN	We have yet many among us can grip as hard as Cassibelan. I do not say I am one, but I have a hand. Why tribute? Why should we pay tribute? If Caesar can hide the sun from us with a blanket, or put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for light; else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now.
CYMBELINE	(to Lucius) You must know, Till the injurious Romans did extort This tribute from us we were free. Caesar’s ambition, Which swelled so much that it did almost stretch The sides o‘th’ world, against all colour here Did put the yoke upon ’s, which to shake off Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon Ourselves to be. We do say then to Caesar, Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which Ordained our laws, whose use the sword of Caesar Hath too much mangled, whose repair and franchise Shall by the power we hold be our good deed, Though Rome be therefore angry. Mulmutius made our laws, Who was the first of Britain which did put His brows within a golden crown and called Himself a king.
LUCIUS	I am sorry, Cymbeline, That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar— Caesar, that hath more kings his servants than Thyself domestic officers—thine enemy. Receive it from me, then: war and confusion In Caesar’s name pronounce I ’gainst thee. Look For fury not to be resisted. Thus defied, I thank thee for myself.
CYMBELINE	Thou art welcome, Caius. Thy Caesar knighted me; my youth I spent Much under him; of him I gathered honour, Which he to seek of me again perforce Behoves me keep at utterance. I am perfect That the Pannonians and Dalmatians for Their liberties are now in arms, a precedent Which not to read would show the Britons cold; So Caesar shall not find them.
LUCIUS	Let proof speak.
CLOTEN	His majesty bids you welcome. Make pastime with us a day or two or longer. If you seek us afterwards in other terms, you shall find us in our salt-water girdle. If you beat us out of it, it is yours; if you fall in the adventure, our crows shall fare the better for you; and there’s an end.
LUCIUS	So, sir.
CYMBELINE	I know your master’s pleasure, and he mine. All the remain is ‘Welcome’.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squilli di trombe. Entrano in pompa Cimbelino, la Regina, Cloten e i signori da una porta, e da un’altra Caio Lucio e il seguito
CIMBELINO	Or dite: che vuole Augusto Cesare da noi?
LUCIO	Quando Giulio Cesare—la cui memoria ancora vive negli occhi degli uomini, e sarà per orecchi e lingue tema e ascolto in eterno—era in questa Britannia e la conquistò, Cassibelano, tuo zio, famoso nelle lodi di Cesare non meno che nelle imprese che le meritarono, per sé e per la sua successione concesse a Roma un tributo, tremila libbre l’anno, che da te di recente è lasciato non versato.
REGINA	E, per uccidere la meraviglia, sarà così per sempre.
CLOTEN	Vi saranno molti Cesari prima d’un altro tal Giulio. La Britannia è un mondo da sé, e noi non pagheremo nulla per portare i nostri propri nasi.
REGINA	Quell’occasione che allora essi ebbero di toglierci qualcosa, noi l’abbiamo di nuovo per riprenderla. Ricordate, signore, mio sovrano, i re vostri antenati, insieme con la naturale fierezza della vostra isola, che sta come il parco di Nettuno, costolata e cinta da rive inaccessibili e da acque ruggenti, con sabbie che non reggeranno le barche dei vostri nemici, ma le inghiottiranno fino all’albero di gabbia. Una specie di conquista Cesare fece qui, ma non fece qui il suo vanto del ‘venni, vidi, vinsi’. Con vergogna— la prima che mai lo toccasse—fu portato via dalla nostra costa, due volte battuto; e le sue navi, povere ignoranti bagattelle, sui nostri mari terribili si movevano sui flutti come gusci d’uovo, e con pari facilità si schiantavano contro i nostri scogli; per la qual gioia il famoso Cassibelano, che una volta fu sul punto— oh fortuna sgualdrina!—d’impadronirsi della spada di Cesare, fece splendere la città di Lud di fuochi festosi, e i Britanni impettirsi di coraggio.
CLOTEN	Suvvia, non c’è più tributo da pagare. Il nostro regno è più forte di quanto fosse a quel tempo, e, come ho detto, non ci son più tali Cesari. Altri di loro potranno avere nasi adunchi, ma braccia altrettanto dritte, nessuno.
CIMBELINO	Figlio, lasciate finire vostra madre.
CLOTEN	Abbiamo ancora fra noi molti che sanno stringere forte quanto Cassibelano. Non dico d’essere uno di quelli, ma ho una mano anch’io. Perché tributo? Perché dovremmo pagare tributo? Se Cesare può nasconderci il sole con una coperta, o mettersi la luna in tasca, gli pagheremo tributo per la luce; altrimenti, signore, niente più tributo, ve ne prego.
CIMBELINO	(a Lucio) Dovete sapere che, finché gli ingiuriosi Romani non estorsero da noi questo tributo, eravamo liberi. L’ambizione di Cesare, che si gonfiò tanto da quasi distendere i fianchi del mondo, contro ogni ragione qui ci pose il giogo; e scuoterlo si conviene a un popolo guerriero, quale noi stimiamo d’essere. Diciamo dunque a Cesare che nostro antenato fu quel Mulmuzio che ordinò le nostre leggi, il cui uso la spada di Cesare ha troppo mutilato; e restaurarle e renderle libere sarà, per il potere che deteniamo, la nostra buona opera, quand’anche Roma per questo s’adiri. Mulmuzio fece le nostre leggi, egli che fu il primo in Britannia a porre la fronte dentro una corona d’oro e a chiamarsi re.
LUCIO	Mi duole, Cimbelino, di dover proclamare Augusto Cesare— Cesare, che ha più re per servi di quanti tu abbia ufficiali domestici—tuo nemico. Ricevilo dunque da me: guerra e rovina in nome di Cesare io proclamo contro di te. Aspettati un furore cui non si può resistere. Così sfidato, ti ringrazio per parte mia.
CIMBELINO	Tu sei il benvenuto, Caio. Il tuo Cesare mi fece cavaliere; la mia giovinezza spesi in gran parte sotto di lui; da lui raccolsi onore, che, poiché egli vuol ora ritoglierlo da me per forza, mi conviene difendere fino all’estremo. So per certo che i Pannoni e i Dalmati per le loro libertà sono ora in armi: un precedente che, a non leggerlo, mostrerebbe i Britanni freddi; e tali Cesare non li troverà.
LUCIO	Parli la prova.
CLOTEN	Sua maestà vi dà il benvenuto. Sollazzatevi con noi un giorno o due o più. Se poi ci cercherete in altri termini, ci troverete nella nostra cintura d’acqua salata. Se ce ne cacciate fuori, è vostra; se cadrete nell’impresa, le nostre cornacchie staranno meglio grazie a voi; e la cosa finisce lì.
LUCIO	Sia, signore.
CIMBELINO	Conosco il piacere del vostro padrone, ed egli il mio. Tutto ciò che resta è: ‘Benvenuto’.
(didascalia)	Squilli di trombe. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Pisanio, reading of a letter
PISANIO	How? Of adultery? Wherefore write you not What monster’s her accuser? Leonatus, O master, what a strange infection Is fall’n into thy ear! What false Italian, As poisonous tongued as handed, hath prevailed On thy too ready hearing? Disloyal? No. She’s punished for her truth, and undergoes, More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults As would take in some virtue. O my master, Thy mind to hers is now as low as were Thy fortunes. How? That I should murder her, Upon the love and truth and vows which I Have made to thy command? I her? Her blood? If it be so to do good service, never Let me be counted serviceable. How look I, That I should seem to lack humanity So much as this fact comes to? (Reads) ‘Do’t. The letter That I have sent her, by her own command Shall give thee opportunity.’ O damned paper, Black as the ink that’s on thee! Senseless bauble, Art thou a fedary for this act, and look’st So virgin-like without?
(didascalia)	Enter Innogen
PISANIO	Lo, here she comes. I am ignorant in what I am commanded.
INNOGEN	How now, Pisanio?
PISANIO	Madam, here is a letter from my lord.
INNOGEN	Who, thy lord that is my lord, Leonatus? O learned indeed were that astronomer That knew the stars as I his characters— He’d lay the future open. You good gods, Let what is here contained relish of love, Of my lord’s health, of his content—yet not That we two are asunder; let that grieve him. Some griefs are med’cinable; that is one of them, For it doth physic love—of his content All but in that. Good wax, thy leave. Blest be You bees that make these locks of counsel! Lovers And men in dangerous bonds pray not alike; Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet You clasp young Cupid’s tables. Good news, gods! She opens and reads the letter ’Justice and your father’s wrath, should he take me in his dominion, could not be so cruel to me as you, O the dearest of creatures, would even renew me with your eyes. Take notice that I am in Cambria, at Milford Haven. What your own love will out of this advise you, follow. So he wishes you all happiness, that remains loyal to his vow, and your increasing in love, Leonatus Posthumus.’ O for a horse with wings! Hear‘st thou, Pisanio? He is at Milford Haven. Read, and tell me How far ’tis thither. If one of mean affairs May plod it in a week, why may not I Glide thither in a day? Then, true Pisanio, Who long‘st like me to see thy lord, who long’st— O let me bate—but not like me—yet long‘st But in a fainter kind—O, not like me, For mine’s beyond beyond; say, and speak thick— Love’s counsellor should fill the bores of hearing, To th’ smothering of the sense—how far it is To this same blessèd Milford. And by th’ way Tell me how Wales was made so happy as T’inherit such a haven. But first of all, How we may steal from hence; and for the gap That we shall make in time from our hence-going Till our return, to excuse; but first, how get hence. Why should excuse be born or ere begot? We’ll talk of that hereafter. Prithee speak, How many score of miles may we well ride ’Twixt hour and hour?
PISANIO	One score ’twixt sun and sun, Madam, ’s enough for you, and too much too.
INNOGEN	Why, one that rode to ’s execution, man, Could never go so slow. I have heard of riding wagers Where horses have been nimbler than the sands That run i‘th’ clock’s behalf. But this is fool’ry. Go bid my woman feign a sickness, say She’ll home to her father; and provide me presently A riding-suit no costlier than would fit A franklin’s housewife.
PISANIO	Madam, you’re best consider.
INNOGEN	I see before me, man. Nor here, nor here, Nor what ensues, but have a fog in them That I cannot look through. Away, I prithee, Do as I bid thee. There’s no more to say: Accessible is none but Milford way.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Pisanio, leggendo una lettera
PISANIO	Come? D’adulterio? Perché non scrivete quale mostro sia il suo accusatore? Leonato, oh padrone, quale strana infezione è caduta nel tuo orecchio! Quale falso Italiano, dalla lingua velenosa quanto la mano, ha prevalso sul tuo troppo pronto ascolto? Sleale? No. Ella è punita per la sua verità, e subisce, più da dea che da moglie, tali assalti che vincerebbero più d’una virtù. Oh padrone mio, il tuo animo rispetto al suo è ora tanto basso quanto lo furono le tue fortune. Come? Ch’io la debba assassinare, in nome dell’amore e della fedeltà e dei voti ch’io ho fatto al tuo comando? Io lei? Il suo sangue? Se rendere buon servigio è questo, ch’io non sia mai contato fra i servitori. Che aspetto ho io, ch’io debba sembrare privo d’umanità quanto questo atto comporta? (Legge) ‘Fallo. La lettera ch’io le ho mandato, per suo stesso comando ti darà l’occasione.’ Oh carta dannata, nera come l’inchiostro che ti sta sopra! Insensibile bagattella, sei tu complice di quest’atto, e appari di fuori così verginale?
(didascalia)	Entra Innogene
PISANIO	Ecco, eccola venire. Fingo d’ignorare ciò che m’è comandato.
INNOGENE	Ebbene, Pisanio?
PISANIO	Signora, ecco una lettera dal mio signore.
INNOGENE	Chi, il tuo signore che è il mio signore, Leonato? Oh, davvero dotto sarebbe quell’astronomo che conoscesse le stelle come io i suoi caratteri— egli aprirebbe il futuro. Voi, dèi benigni, fate che ciò che è qui contenuto sappia d’amore, della salute del mio signore, del suo contento—ma non che noi due siamo divisi; di questo egli s’affligga. Certi dolori son medicinali; e questo è di quelli, ché medica l’amore—del suo contento in tutto fuor che in ciò. Buona cera, con tuo permesso. Benedette voi, api, che fate queste chiusure del segreto! Gli amanti e gli uomini stretti in obbligazioni pericolose non pregano allo stesso modo; ché voi gettate in prigione gli insolventi, eppure serrate le tavolette del giovane Cupido. Buone nuove, o dèi! Apre e legge la lettera ’La giustizia e l’ira di vostro padre, se mi cogliesse nel suo dominio, non potrebbero essermi tanto crudeli quanto voi, o carissima fra le creature, potreste anzi rinnovarmi con i vostri occhi. Sappiate ch’io sono in Cambria, a Milford Haven. Ciò che il vostro stesso amore vi consiglierà in proposito, seguitelo. Così vi augura ogni felicità colui che rimane leale al suo voto, e voi crescente nell’amore, Leonato Postumo.’ Oh, un cavallo con le ali! Odi tu, Pisanio? Egli è a Milford Haven. Leggi, e dimmi quanto è lontano di là. Se uno che va per affari da poco può arrancarci in una settimana, perché non potrei io scivolarvi in un giorno? Allora, fedele Pisanio, tu che come me brami vedere il tuo signore, che brami— oh, lascia ch’io scemi—ma non come me—eppure brami, ma in modo più fioco—oh, non come me, ché il mio è oltre ogni oltre; parla, e parla fitto— il consigliere dell’amore dovrebbe empire i fori dell’udito fino a soffocarne il senso—quanto sia lontana questa benedetta Milford. E per via dimmi come il Galles sia stato tanto felice da ereditare un tal porto. Ma prima di tutto, come possiamo fuggire di qui; e per il vuoto che faremo nel tempo dal nostro andarcene fino al ritorno, come scusarci; ma prima, come andarcene. Perché dovrebbe nascere la scusa prima d’esser generata? Ne parleremo poi. Ti prego, parla: quante ventine di miglia possiamo ben cavalcare fra un’ora e l’altra?
PISANIO	Una ventina fra sole e sole, signora, basta per voi, e anche troppo.
INNOGENE	Ma via, uno che cavalcasse verso la propria esecuzione, amico, non potrebbe mai andare così adagio. Ho udito di scommesse a cavallo dove i cavalli furono più agili della sabbia che corre per conto dell’orologio. Ma questa è follia. Va’ e di’ alla mia donna di fingersi malata, dica che torna a casa da suo padre; e procurami subito un abito da cavalcare non più costoso di quanto convenga alla moglie d’un piccolo possidente.
PISANIO	Signora, fareste meglio a riflettere.
INNOGENE	Io vedo davanti a me, amico. Né qui, né qui, né ciò che segue, ma tutti hanno in sé una nebbia attraverso cui non posso guardare. Va’, ti prego, fa’ come t’ho comandato. Non c’è altro da dire: accessibile non è che la via di Milford.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Belarius, followed by Guiderius and Arviragus, from a cave in the woods
BELARIUS	A goodly day not to keep house with such Whose roof’s as low as ours. Stoop, boys; this gate Instructs you how t‘adore the heavens, and bows you To a morning’s holy office. The gates of monarchs Are arched so high that giants may jet through And keep their impious turbans on without Good morrow to the sun. Hail, thou fair heaven! We house i’th’ rock, yet use thee not so hardly As prouder livers do.
GUIDERIUS	Hail, heaven!
ARVIRAGUS	Hail, heaven!
BELARIUS	Now for our mountain sport. Up to yon hill, Your legs are young; I’ll tread these flats. Consider, When you above perceive me like a crow, That it is place which lessens and sets off, And you may then revolve what tales I have told you Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war; That service is not service, so being done, But being so allowed. To apprehend thus Draws us a profit from all things we see, And often to our comfort shall we find The sharded beetle in a safer hold Than is the full-winged eagle. O, this life Is nobler than attending for a check, Richer than doing nothing for a bauble, Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk; Such gain the cap of him that makes ’em fine, Yet keeps his book uncrossed. No life to ours.
GUIDERIUS	Out of your proof you speak. We, poor unfledged, Have never winged from view o’th’ nest, nor know not What air’s from home. Haply this life is best, If quiet life be best; sweeter to you That have a sharper known; well corresponding With your stiff age, but unto us it is A cell of ignorance, travelling abed, A prison for a debtor, that not dares To stride a limit.
ARVIRAGUS	(to Belarius) What should we speak of When we are old as you? When we shall hear The rain and wind beat dark December, how, In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing. We are beastly: subtle as the fox for prey, Like warlike as the wolf for what we eat. Our valour is to chase what flies; our cage We make a choir, as doth the prisoned bird, And sing our bondage freely.
BELARIUS	How you speak! Did you but know the city’s usuries, And felt them knowingly; the art o‘th’ court, As hard to leave as keep, whose top to climb Is certain falling, or so slipp’ry that The fear’s as bad as falling; the toil o‘th’ war, A pain that only seems to seek out danger I’th’ name of fame and honour, which dies i‘th’ search And hath as oft a sland’rous epitaph As record of fair act; nay, many times Doth ill deserve by doing well; what’s worse, Must curtsy at the censure. O boys, this story The world may read in me. My body’s marked With Roman swords, and my report was once First with the best of note. Cymbeline loved me, And when a soldier was the theme my name Was not far off. Then was I as a tree Whose boughs did bend with fruit; but in one night A storm or robbery, call it what you will, Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, And left me bare to weather.
GUIDERIUS	Uncertain favour!
BELARIUS	My fault being nothing, as I have told you oft, But that two villains, whose false oaths prevailed Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline I was confederate with the Romans. So Followed my banishment, and this twenty years This rock and these demesnes have been my world, Where I have lived at honest freedom, paid More pious debts to heaven than in all The fore-end of my time. But up to th’ mountains! This is not hunter’s language. He that strikes The venison first shall be the lord o’th’ feast, To him the other two shall minister, And we will fear no poison which attends In place of greater state. I’ll meet you in the valleys.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Guiderius and Arviragus
BELARIUS	How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature! These boys know little they are sons to th’ King, Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive. They think they are mine, and though trained up thus meanly I‘th’ cave wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit The roofs of palaces, and nature prompts them In simple and low things to prince it much Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore, The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, who The King his father called Guiderius—Jove, When on my three-foot stool I sit and tell The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out Into my story: say ‘Thus mine enemy fell, And thus I set my foot on ’s neck’, even then The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats, Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in posture That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal, Once Arviragus, in as like a figure Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more His own conceiving.
(didascalia)	A hunting-horn sounds
BELARIUS	Hark, the game is roused! O Cymbeline, heaven and my conscience knows Thou didst unjustly banish me, whereon At three and two years old I stole these babes, Thinking to bar thee of succession as Thou reft’st me of my lands. Euriphile, Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for their mother, And every day do honour to her grave. Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan called, They take for natural father.
(didascalia)	A hunting-horn sounds
BELARIUS	The game is up.
(didascalia)	Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Belario, seguito da Guiderio e Arvirago, da una caverna nei boschi
BELARIO	Bel giorno per non tenere dimora con quelli il cui tetto è basso come il nostro. Chinatevi, ragazzi; questa porta v’insegna come adorare i cieli, e vi piega al santo ufficio del mattino. Le porte dei monarchi sono arcuate così alte che i giganti possono passarvi impettiti e tenersi in capo i loro turbanti empi senza dare il buon giorno al sole. Salve, o bel cielo! Noi abitiamo nella roccia, eppure non ti trattiamo così duramente come fanno i viventi più superbi.
GUIDERIO	Salve, cielo!
ARVIRAGO	Salve, cielo!
BELARIO	Ora al nostro sollazzo montano. Su per quel colle, le vostre gambe son giovani; io batterò questi piani. Considerate, quando di lassù mi scorgerete simile a una cornacchia, ch’è il luogo a rimpicciolire e a ingrandire; e potrete allora ripensare ai racconti che v’ho fatto delle corti, dei principi, degli inganni in guerra; e che il servigio non è servigio per esser reso, ma per esser così riconosciuto. Intendere così ci trae profitto da tutte le cose che vediamo, e spesso a nostro conforto troveremo lo scarabeo corazzato in più sicuro riparo di quanto sia l’aquila dall’ala intera. Oh, questa vita è più nobile che attendere per un rimprovero, più ricca che non far nulla per un ninnolo, più superba che frusciare in seta non pagata; tali guadagnano il berretto di chi li fa eleganti, e pure ne tiene il libro non saldato. Nessuna vita pari alla nostra.
GUIDERIO	Voi parlate per prova. Noi, poveri implumi, non abbiamo mai spiccato il volo fuori dalla vista del nido, né sappiamo affatto che aria sia quella lontana da casa. Forse questa vita è la migliore, se la vita quieta è la migliore; più dolce a voi che ne avete conosciuta una più aspra; ben corrispondente alla vostra età irrigidita, ma per noi è una cella d’ignoranza, un viaggiare a letto, una prigione per un debitore, che non osa varcare un confine.
ARVIRAGO	(a Belario) Di che dovremo parlare quando saremo vecchi come voi? Quando udremo la pioggia e il vento battere il buio dicembre, come, in questa nostra angusta caverna, scacceremo discorrendo le ore gelate? Non abbiamo veduto nulla. Siamo bestiali: sottili come la volpe per la preda, bellicosi come il lupo per ciò che mangiamo. Il nostro valore è inseguire ciò che fugge; della nostra gabbia facciamo un coro, come l’uccello prigioniero, e cantiamo liberamente la nostra schiavitù.
BELARIO	Come parlate! Conosceste voi le usure della città, e le sentiste con cognizione; l’arte della corte, tanto dura a lasciare quanto a mantenere, la cui cima a salire è certa caduta, o tanto sdrucciolevole che la paura è cattiva quanto il cadere; la fatica della guerra, una pena che solo par cercare il pericolo in nome della fama e dell’onore, la quale muore nella ricerca e altrettanto spesso ha un epitaffio calunnioso quanto un ricordo di bella azione; anzi, molte volte merita male facendo bene; e, ciò ch’è peggio, deve inchinarsi alla censura. Oh ragazzi, questa storia il mondo può leggerla in me. Il mio corpo è segnato da spade romane, e la mia fama fu un tempo prima fra le più stimate. Cimbelino mi amava, e quando si parlava d’un soldato il mio nome non era lontano. Allora ero come un albero i cui rami si piegavano sotto il frutto; ma in una sola notte una tempesta o una rapina, chiamatela come volete, scosse a terra i miei frutti maturi, anzi, le mie foglie, e mi lasciò nudo all’intemperie.
GUIDERIO	Incerto favore!
BELARIO	E la mia colpa non era nulla, come v’ho detto spesso, se non che due scellerati, i cui falsi giuramenti prevalsero sul mio perfetto onore, giurarono a Cimbelino ch’io ero confederato coi Romani. Così seguì il mio bando, e da vent’anni questa rupe e questi possessi sono stati il mio mondo, dove ho vissuto in onesta libertà, e pagato più pii debiti al cielo che in tutta la prima parte del mio tempo. Ma su, ai monti! Questo non è linguaggio da cacciatori. Chi colpirà per primo la selvaggina sarà signore del banchetto, a lui gli altri due faranno da servi, e non temeremo alcun veleno che si accompagna a luoghi di maggior grandezza. C’incontreremo nelle valli.
(didascalia)	Escono Guiderio e Arvirago
BELARIO	Com’è difficile nascondere le scintille della natura! Questi ragazzi poco sanno d’esser figli del Re, né Cimbelino sogna ch’essi son vivi. Credono d’esser miei, e benché allevati così umilmente nella caverna in cui si chinano, i loro pensieri toccano i tetti dei palazzi, e la natura li spinge, in cose semplici e basse, a fare da principi assai oltre il modo degli altri. Questo Polidoro, erede di Cimbelino e della Britannia, che il Re suo padre chiamò Guiderio—per Giove, quando siedo sul mio sgabello a tre piedi e racconto le imprese guerriere che ho compiute, i suoi spiriti volano dentro il mio racconto: dico ‘Così cadde il mio nemico, e così posi il piede sul suo collo’, e proprio allora il sangue principesco gli scorre nella guancia, egli suda, tende i suoi giovani nervi, e si mette in atteggiamento che recita le mie parole. Il fratello minore, Cadwal, già Arvirago, con figura non meno simile infonde vita al mio discorso, e mostra assai più ciò che egli stesso concepisce.
(didascalia)	Suona un corno da caccia
BELARIO	Udite, la selvaggina è levata! Oh Cimbelino, il cielo e la mia coscienza sanno che tu ingiustamente mi bandisti; per il che, quando avevano tre e due anni, io rapii questi fanciulli, pensando di toglierti la successione come tu mi strappasti le mie terre. Eurifile, tu fosti la loro nutrice; essi ti presero per loro madre, e ogni giorno rendono onore alla sua tomba. Me stesso, Belario, che son chiamato Morgan, prendono per padre naturale.
(didascalia)	Suona un corno da caccia
BELARIO	La caccia è iniziata.
(didascalia)	Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Pisanio, and Innogen in a riding-suit
INNOGEN	Thou told‘st me when we came from horse the place Was near at hand. Ne’er longed my mother so To see me first as I have now. Pisanio, man, Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh From th’inward of thee? One but painted thus Would be interpreted a thing perplexed Beyond self-explication. Put thyself Into a haviour of less fear, ere wildness Vanquish my staider senses. What’s the matter? Pisanio gives her a letter Why tender‘st thou that paper to me with A look untender? If’t be summer news, Smile to’t before; if winterly, thou need’st But keep that count’nance still. My husband’s hand? That drug-damned Italy hath out-craftied him, And he’s at some hard point. Speak, man. Thy tongue May take off some extremity which to read Would be even mortal to me.
PISANIO	Please you read, And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing The most disdained of fortune.
INNOGEN	(reads) ‘Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the strumpet in my bed, the testimonies whereof lies bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak surmises but from proof as strong as my grief and as certain as I expect my revenge. That part thou, Pisanio, must act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers. Let thine own hands take away her life. I shall give thee opportunity at Milford Haven. She hath my letter for the purpose, where if thou fear to strike and to make me certain it is done, thou art the pander to her dishonour and equally to me disloyal.’
PISANIO	(aside) What shall I need to draw my sword? The paper Hath cut her throat already. No, ’tis slander, Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose breath Rides on the posting winds and doth belie All corners of the world. Kings, queens, and states, Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave This viperous slander enters. (To Innogen) What cheer, madam?
INNOGEN	False to his bed? What is it to be false? To lie in watch there and to think on him? To weep ’twixt clock and clock? If sleep charge nature, To break it with a fearful dream of him And cry myself awake? That’s false to ’s bed, is it?
PISANIO	Alas, good lady.
INNOGEN	I false? Thy conscience witness, Giacomo, Thou didst accuse him of incontinency. Thou then lookedst like a villain; now, methinks, Thy favour’s good enough. Some jay of Italy, Whose mother was her painting, hath betrayed him. Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion, And for I am richer than to hang by th’ walls I must be ripped. To pieces with me! O, Men’s vows are women’s traitors. All good seeming, By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought Put on for villainy; not born where’t grows, But worn a bait for ladies.
PISANIO	Good madam, hear me.
INNOGEN	True honest men being heard like false Aeneas Were in his time thought false, and Sinon’s weeping Did scandal many a holy tear, took pity From most true wretchedness. So thou, Posthumus, Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men. Goodly and gallant shall be false and perjured From thy great fail. (To Pisanio) Come, fellow, be thou honest, Do thou thy master’s bidding. When thou seest him, A little witness my obedience. Look, 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 mayst be valiant in a better cause, But now thou seem’st a coward.
PISANIO	Hence, vile instrument, Thou shalt not damn my hand!
INNOGEN	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? She takes letters from her bosom The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus, All turned to heresy? Away, away, Corrupters of my faith, you shall no more Be stomachers to my heart. Thus may poor fools Believe false teachers. Though those that are betrayed Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor Stands in worse case of woe. And thou, Posthumus, 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 disedged by her That now thou tirest on, how thy memory Will then be panged by me. (To Pisanio) Prithee, 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.
PISANIO	O gracious lady, Since I received command to do this business I have not slept one wink.
INNOGEN	Do’t, and to bed, then.
PISANIO	I’ll wake mine eyeballs out first.
INNOGEN	Wherefore then Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abused So many miles with a pretence?—this place, Mine action, and thine own? Our horses’ labour, The time inviting thee? The perturbed 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, Th’elected deer before thee?
PISANIO	But to win time To lose so bad employment, in the which I have considered of a course. Good lady, Hear me with patience.
INNOGEN	Talk thy tongue weary. Speak. I have heard I am a strumpet, and mine ear, Therein false struck, can take no greater wound, Nor tent to bottom that. But speak.
PISANIO	Then, madam, I thought you would not back again.
INNOGEN	Most like, Bringing me here to kill me.
PISANIO	Not so, neither. But if I were as wise as honest, then My purpose would prove well. It cannot be But that my master is abused. Some villain, Ay, and singular in his art, hath done you both This cursed injury.
INNOGEN	Some Roman courtesan.
PISANIO	No, on my life. I’ll give but notice you are dead, and send him Some bloody sign of it, for ’tis commanded I should do so. You shall be missed at court, And that will well confirm it.
INNOGEN	Why, good fellow, What shall I do the while, where bide, how live, Or in my life what comfort when I am Dead to my husband?
PISANIO	If you’ll back to th’ court—
INNOGEN	No court, no father, nor no more ado With that harsh, churlish, noble, simple nothing, That Cloten, whose love suit hath been to me As fearful as a siege.
PISANIO	If not at court, Then not in Britain must you bide.
INNOGEN	Where then? Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night, Are they not but in Britain? I‘th’ world’s volume Our Britain seems as of it but not in’t, In a great pool a swan’s nest. Prithee, think There’s livers out of Britain.
PISANIO	I am most glad You think of other place. Th‘ambassador, Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford Haven Tomorrow. Now if you could wear a mind Dark as your fortune is, and but disguise That which t’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.
INNOGEN	O, for such means, Though peril to my modesty, not death on’t, I would adventure.
PISANIO	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 it pretty self—into a waggish courage, Ready in gibes, quick-answered, saucy and As quarrelous 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.
INNOGEN	Nay, be brief. I see into thy end, and am almost A man already.
PISANIO	First, make yourself but like one. Forethinking 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’re happy—which will 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.
INNOGEN	Thou art all the comfort The gods will diet me with. Prithee away. There’s more to be considered, but we’ll even All that good time will give us. This attempt I am soldier to, and will abide it with A prince’s courage. Away, I prithee.
PISANIO	Well, madam, we must take a short farewell Lest, being missed, I be suspected of Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress, Here is a box. I had it from the Queen. What’s in’t is precious. If you are sick at sea Or stomach-qualmed at land, a dram of this Will drive away distemper. To some shade, And fit you to your manhood. May the gods Direct you to the best.
INNOGEN	Amen. I thank thee.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally
(didascalia)	3.5 Flourish. Enter Cymbeline, the Queen, Cloten, Lucius, and lords
CYMBELINE	(to Lucius) Thus far, and so farewell.
LUCIUS	Thanks, royal sir. My emperor hath wrote I must from hence; And am right sorry that I must report ye My master’s enemy.
CYMBELINE	Our subjects, sir, Will not endure his yoke, and for ourself To show less sovereignty than they must needs Appear unkinglike.
LUCIUS	So, sir, I desire of you A conduct over land to Milford Haven.
(didascalia)	(To the Queen) Madam, all joy befall your grace, to Cloten and you.
CYMBELINE	My lords, you are appointed for that office. The due of honour in no point omit. So farewell, noble Lucius.
LUCIUS	Your hand, my lord.
CLOTEN	Receive it friendly, but from this time forth I wear it as your enemy.
LUCIUS	Sir, the event Is yet to name the winner. Fare you well.
CYMBELINE	Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords, Till he have crossed the Severn. Happiness.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Lucius and lords
QUEEN	He goes hence frowning, but it honours us That we have given him cause.
CLOTEN	’Tis all the better. Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it.
CYMBELINE	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 looked to speedily and strongly.
CYMBELINE	Our expectation that it would be thus Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen, Where is our daughter? She hath not appeared Before the Roman, nor to us hath tendered 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.
(didascalia)	Exit one or more
QUEEN	Royal Sir, Since the exile of Posthumus most retired 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.
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger
CYMBELINE	Where is she, sir? How Can her contempt be answered?
MESSENGER	Please you, sir, Her chambers are all locked, and there’s no answer That will be given to th’ loud’st of noise we make.
QUEEN	My lord, when last I went to visit her She prayed me to excuse her keeping close, Whereto constrained by her infirmity, She should that duty leave unpaid to you Which daily she was bound to proffer. This She wished me to make known, but our great court Made me to blame in memory.
CYMBELINE	Her doors locked? Not seen of late? Grant heavens that which I Fear prove false.
(didascalia)	Exit
QUEEN	on, I say, follow the King.
CLOTEN	That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant, I have not seen these two days.
QUEEN	Go, look after.
(didascalia)	Exit Cloten
QUEEN	Pisanio, thou that stand’st so for Posthumus! 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 seized her, Or, winged with fervour of her love, she’s flown To her desired Posthumus. 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Cloten
QUEEN	How now, my son?
CLOTEN	’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
CLOTEN	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 Posthumus, slanders so her judgement That what’s else rare is choked; and in that point I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed, To be revenged upon her. For when fools Shall—
(didascalia)	Enter Pisanio
CLOTEN	Who is here? What, are you packing, sirrah? Come hither. Ah, you precious pander! Villain, Where is thy lady? In a word, or else Thou art straightway with the fiends.
PISANIO	O good my lord!
CLOTEN	Where is thy lady?—or, by Jupiter, I will not ask again. Close villain, I’ll have this secret from thy tongue or rip Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus, From whose so many weights of baseness cannot A dram of worth be drawn?
PISANIO	Alas, my lord, How can she be with him? When was she missed? He is in Rome.
CLOTEN	Where is she, sir? Come nearer. No farther halting. Satisfy me home What is become of her.
PISANIO	O my all-worthy lord!
CLOTEN	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.
PISANIO	Then, sir, This paper is the history of my knowledge Touching her flight. He gives Cloten a letter
CLOTEN	Let’s see’t. I will pursue her Even to Augustus’ throne.
(didascalia)	PISANIO aside
CLOTEN	Or this or perish. She’s far enough, and what he learns by this May prove his travel, not her danger.
CLOTEN	Hum!
PISANIO	(aside) I’ll write to my lord she’s dead. O Innogen, Safe mayst thou wander, safe return again!
CLOTEN	Sirrah, is this letter true?
PISANIO	Sir, as I think.
CLOTEN	It is Posthumus’ hand; I know’t. Sirrah, if thou wouldst not be a villain but do me true service, undergo those employments wherein I should have cause to use thee with a serious industry—that is, what villainy soe’er I bid thee do, to perform it directly and truly—I would think thee an honest man. Thou shouldst neither want my means for thy relief nor my voice for thy preferment.
PISANIO	Well, my good lord.
CLOTEN	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? 121
PISANIO	Sir, I will.
CLOTEN	Give me thy hand. Here’s my purse. Hast any of thy late master’s garments in thy possession?
PISANIO	I have, my lord, at my lodging the same suit he wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress.
CLOTEN	The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit hither. Let it be thy first service. Go.
PISANIO	I shall, my lord. Exit
CLOTEN	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, together 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Pisanio with Posthumus’ suit
CLOTEN	Be those the garments?
PISANIO	Ay, my noble lord.
CLOTEN	How long is’t since she went to Milford Haven?
PISANIO	She can scarce be there yet.
CLOTEN	Bring this apparel to my chamber. That is the second thing that I have commanded thee. The third is that thou wilt be a voluntary mute to my design. Be but duteous, and true preferment shall tender itself to thee. My revenge is now at Milford. Would I had wings to follow it. Come, and be true. Exit
PISANIO	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 pursuest. Flow, flow, You heavenly blessings, on her. This fool’s speed Be crossed with slowness; labour be his meed. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Pisanio e Innogene in abito da cavallerizza
INNOGENE	Mi dicevi, quando scendemmo da cavallo, che il luogo era vicino. Mai mia madre bramò tanto di vedermi la prima volta quanto io ora. Pisanio, amico, dov’è Postumo? Che cosa hai in mente che ti fa guardare così fisso? Perché prorompe quel sospiro dal tuo intimo? Uno solo dipinto così sarebbe interpretato come cosa perplessa oltre ogni auto-spiegazione. Poniti in un contegno di minor paura, prima che lo smarrimento vinca i miei sensi più fermi. Che c’è? Pisanio le porge una lettera Perché mi porgi quella carta con uno sguardo senza tenerezza? Se son notizie d’estate, sorridi prima; se invernali, non ti resta che serbare quel volto. La mano di mio marito? Quell’Italia dannata dai veleni l’ha vinto d’astuzia, ed egli è in qualche duro frangente. Parla, amico. La tua lingua può togliere qualcosa dell’estremo che a leggerlo mi sarebbe mortale.
PISANIO	Vi piaccia leggere, e mi troverete, misero uomo, la cosa più disdegnata dalla fortuna.
INNOGENE	(legge) ‘La tua padrona, Pisanio, ha fatto la meretrice nel mio letto; le testimonianze di ciò mi stanno sanguinando dentro. Non parlo per deboli congetture, ma per prova forte quanto il mio dolore e certa quanto è certo ch’io aspetto la mia vendetta. Quella parte devi tu, Pisanio, recitare per me, se la tua fede non è macchiata dalla rottura della sua. Che le tue stesse mani le tolgano la vita. Te ne darò occasione a Milford Haven. Ella ha una mia lettera a tal fine; e se là tu temi di colpire e di rendermi certo che è fatto, tu sei il ruffiano del suo disonore e ugualmente sleale verso di me.’
PISANIO	(a parte) Che bisogno avrò di sguainare la mia spada? La carta le ha già tagliato la gola. No, è la calunnia, il cui filo è più tagliente della spada, la cui lingua avvelena più di tutti i vermi del Nilo, il cui fiato cavalca i venti in posta e mentisce a tutti gli angoli del mondo. Re, regine e stati, fanciulle, matrone, anzi, i segreti della tomba questa viperina calunnia penetra. (A Innogene) Come state, signora?
INNOGENE	Infedele al suo letto? Che cosa vuol dire esser falsa? Giacere là vegliando e pensare a lui? Piangere fra un’ora e l’altra dell’orologio? Se il sonno grava sulla natura, romperlo con un sogno pauroso di lui e destarmi gridando? Questo è esser falsa al suo letto, non è vero?
PISANIO	Ahimè, buona signora.
INNOGENE	Io falsa? Ne sia testimone la tua coscienza, Giacomo: tu l’accusasti d’incontinenza. Allora avevi l’aria d’un scellerato; ora, mi pare, il tuo volto è abbastanza buono. Qualche ghiandaia d’Italia, la cui madre fu il suo belletto, l’ha tradito. Povera me, son roba stantia, veste fuori moda; e poiché son troppo ricca per pendere alle pareti devo essere sdrucita. A pezzi con me! Oh, i voti degli uomini son traditori delle donne. Ogni bella apparenza, per la tua defezione, o marito, sarà creduta indossata per scelleraggine; non nata dove cresce, ma portata come esca per le dame.
PISANIO	Buona signora, ascoltatemi.
INNOGENE	Uomini veramente onesti, ascoltati come il falso Enea, furono al suo tempo creduti falsi; e il pianto di Sinone fece scandalo di più d’una santa lacrima, e tolse pietà alla più vera miseria. Così tu, Postumo, getterai il lievito su tutti gli uomini dabbene. Il prode e il gentile saranno falsi e spergiuri per la tua gran caduta. (A Pisanio) Su, amico, sii tu onesto, fa’ il comando del tuo padrone. Quando lo vedrai, lui, testimonia un poco la mia obbedienza. Guarda, sguaino io stessa la spada. Prendila, e colpisci la dimora innocente del mio amore, il mio cuore. Non temere, è vuoto d’ogni cosa fuorché di dolore. Il tuo padrone non è là, lui che ne era invero la ricchezza. Fa’ il suo comando; colpisci. Potrai essere valoroso in causa migliore, ma ora sembri un vile.
PISANIO	Via, vile strumento, tu non dannerai la mia mano!
INNOGENE	Ma io devo morire, e se non muoio per mano tua, tu non sei servo del tuo padrone. Contro l’auto-uccisione v’è un divieto tanto divino che rende codarda la mia debole mano. Su, ecco il mio cuore. C’è qualcosa davanti. Piano, piano, nessuna difesa; obbediente come il fodero. Che c’è qui? Trae dal seno delle lettere Le scritture del leale Leonato, tutte volte in eresia? Via, via, corruttrici della mia fede, non sarete più corpetti sul mio cuore. Così i poveri sciocchi credono ai falsi maestri. Benché coloro che son traditi sentano acutamente il tradimento, pure il traditore si trova in peggior condizione di sciagura. E tu, Postumo, che sollevasti la mia disobbedienza contro il Re mio padre, e mi facesti sprezzare le domande di principeschi pretendenti, troverai d’ora in poi che non fu atto di comune andazzo, ma una tempra di rarità; e mi affliggo a pensare che, quando sarai smussato da colei su cui ora ti sfami, come la tua memoria sarà allora straziata da me. (A Pisanio) Ti prego, spicciati. L’agnello supplica il macellaio. Dov’è il tuo coltello? Sei troppo lento a fare il comando del tuo padrone quando anch’io lo desidero.
PISANIO	Oh graziosa signora, da quando ricevetti l’ordine di questa faccenda non ho chiuso occhio un istante.
INNOGENE	Fallo, dunque, e poi a letto.
PISANIO	Prima mi consumerò gli occhi vegliando.
INNOGENE	Perché allora l’hai intrapresa? Perché hai abusato di tante miglia con un pretesto?—di questo luogo, del mio agire e del tuo? Della fatica dei nostri cavalli, del tempo che t’invitava? Della corte sconvolta per la mia assenza, alla quale mai intendo tornare? Perché sei andato tanto lontano per aver l’arco allentato quando ti sei messo alla posta, col cervo prescelto davanti?
PISANIO	Solo per guadagnar tempo e perdere così malvagio incarico, nel quale ho meditato una via. Buona signora, ascoltatemi con pazienza.
INNOGENE	Parla fino a stancarti la lingua. Parla. Ho udito ch’io sono una meretrice, e il mio orecchio, colpito in ciò di falso, non può ricevere ferita maggiore, né sonda che ne raggiunga il fondo. Ma parla.
PISANIO	Allora, signora, pensai che non sareste tornata indietro.
INNOGENE	Molto probabile, portandomi qui per uccidermi.
PISANIO	Non è così, neppure. Ma se fossi tanto saggio quanto onesto, allora il mio disegno riuscirebbe bene. Non può essere se non che il mio padrone sia ingannato. Qualche scellerato, sì, e singolare nella sua arte, ha fatto a entrambi questa maledetta ingiuria.
INNOGENE	Qualche cortigiana romana.
PISANIO	No, sulla mia vita. Darò solo notizia che siete morta, e gli manderò qualche segno sanguinoso, ché così m’è comandato di fare. Sarete cercata invano a corte, e ciò lo confermerà bene.
INNOGENE	Ma, buon amico, che farò io intanto, dove starò, come vivrò, o quale conforto avrò nella mia vita quando sarò morta per mio marito?
PISANIO	Se voleste tornare a corte—
INNOGENE	Nessuna corte, nessun padre, né più nulla a che fare con quel duro, zotico, nobile, sciocco niente, quel Cloten, la cui domanda d’amore è stata per me spaventosa come un assedio.
PISANIO	Se non a corte, allora non in Britannia dovrete dimorare.
INNOGENE	Dove, allora? Ha la Britannia tutto il sole che splende? Il giorno, la notte, non sono forse che in Britannia? Nel volume del mondo la nostra Britannia par di esso ma non dentro di esso, in un gran stagno un nido di cigno. Ti prego, pensa che vi son viventi fuori di Britannia.
PISANIO	Son molto lieto che pensiate ad altro luogo. L’ambasciatore, Lucio il Romano, viene a Milford Haven domani. Ora, se poteste portare un animo oscuro quanto è la vostra fortuna, e solo travestire ciò che ad apparire qual è non potrebbe ancora se non a proprio pericolo, calchereste una via bella e piena di prospettiva; sì, forse vicina alla dimora di Postumo; almeno tanto vicina che, benché le sue azioni non fossero visibili, pure la fama ve lo renderebbe d’ora in ora all’orecchio fedelmente come egli si muove.
INNOGENE	Oh, per tali mezzi, fosse pure a rischio del mio pudore, non della sua morte, mi avventurerei.
PISANIO	Bene allora, ecco il punto: dovete dimenticare d’esser donna; mutare il comando in obbedienza, la paura e la schifiltà— ancelle di tutte le donne, o più veramente la donna nel suo grazioso essere—in un coraggio burlesco, pronto alle beffe, svelto di risposta, sfrontato e litigioso come la donnola. Anzi, dovete dimenticare quel rarissimo tesoro della vostra guancia, esponendolo—ma oh, il cuore più duro!— ahimè, non c’è rimedio—all’avido tocco del Titano che tutti bacia; e dimenticare i vostri elaborati e delicati ornamenti coi quali facevate adirare la gran Giunone.
INNOGENE	Su, sii breve. Vedo dove vuoi arrivare, e sono già quasi un uomo.
PISANIO	Prima, fatevi soltanto simile a uno. Prevedendo questo, ho già pronti— sono nella mia bisaccia—farsetto, cappello, calze, tutto ciò che vi si accompagna. Vorreste voi, servendovene, e con quanta imitazione potrete prendere dalla giovinezza di tale età, presentarvi davanti al nobile Lucio, chiedere di servirlo, e dirgli in che cosa siete felicemente dotata—il che gli farà conoscere, se il suo capo ha orecchio per la musica—senza dubbio con gioia egli vi accoglierà, ché è onorevole, e, a raddoppiare ciò, santissimo. Quanto ai vostri mezzi all’estero— avete me, ricco, e non mancherò mai né al principio né al sostentamento.
INNOGENE	Tu sei tutto il conforto di cui gli dèi vorranno nutrirmi. Ti prego, via. V’è altro da considerare, ma pareggeremo tutto ciò che il buon tempo ci darà. A questo tentativo io son soldato, e lo sosterrò con coraggio di principe. Via, ti prego.
PISANIO	Bene, signora, dobbiamo prendere un breve congedo, ché, non trovandomi, non mi si sospetti del vostro allontanamento dalla corte. Mia nobile padrona, ecco una scatola. L’ebbi dalla Regina. Ciò che v’è dentro è prezioso. Se soffrirete il mare o vi verrà nausea in terra, una dramma di questo scaccerà il malessere. In qualche luogo appartato, e adattatevi alla vostra virilità. Gli dèi vi guidino al meglio.
INNOGENE	Amen. Ti ringrazio.
(didascalia)	Escono separatamente

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter Cymbeline, the Queen, Cloten, Lucius, and lords
CYMBELINE	(to Lucius) Thus far, and so farewell.
LUCIUS	Thanks, royal sir. My emperor hath wrote I must from hence; And am right sorry that I must report ye My master’s enemy.
CYMBELINE	Our subjects, sir, Will not endure his yoke, and for ourself To show less sovereignty than they must needs Appear unkinglike.
LUCIUS	So, sir, I desire of you A conduct over land to Milford Haven.
(didascalia)	(To the Queen) Madam, all joy befall your grace, to Cloten and you.
CYMBELINE	My lords, you are appointed for that office. The due of honour in no point omit. So farewell, noble Lucius.
LUCIUS	Your hand, my lord.
CLOTEN	Receive it friendly, but from this time forth I wear it as your enemy.
LUCIUS	Sir, the event Is yet to name the winner. Fare you well.
CYMBELINE	Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords, Till he have crossed the Severn. Happiness.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Lucius and lords
QUEEN	He goes hence frowning, but it honours us That we have given him cause.
CLOTEN	’Tis all the better. Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it.
CYMBELINE	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 looked to speedily and strongly.
CYMBELINE	Our expectation that it would be thus Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen, Where is our daughter? She hath not appeared Before the Roman, nor to us hath tendered 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.
(didascalia)	Exit one or more
QUEEN	Royal Sir, Since the exile of Posthumus most retired 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.
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger
CYMBELINE	Where is she, sir? How Can her contempt be answered?
MESSENGER	Please you, sir, Her chambers are all locked, and there’s no answer That will be given to th’ loud’st of noise we make.
QUEEN	My lord, when last I went to visit her She prayed me to excuse her keeping close, Whereto constrained by her infirmity, She should that duty leave unpaid to you Which daily she was bound to proffer. This She wished me to make known, but our great court Made me to blame in memory.
CYMBELINE	Her doors locked? Not seen of late? Grant heavens that which I Fear prove false.
(didascalia)	Exit
QUEEN	on, I say, follow the King.
CLOTEN	That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant, I have not seen these two days.
QUEEN	Go, look after.
(didascalia)	Exit Cloten
QUEEN	Pisanio, thou that stand’st so for Posthumus! 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 seized her, Or, winged with fervour of her love, she’s flown To her desired Posthumus. 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Cloten
QUEEN	How now, my son?
CLOTEN	’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
CLOTEN	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 Posthumus, slanders so her judgement That what’s else rare is choked; and in that point I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed, To be revenged upon her. For when fools Shall—
(didascalia)	Enter Pisanio
CLOTEN	Who is here? What, are you packing, sirrah? Come hither. Ah, you precious pander! Villain, Where is thy lady? In a word, or else Thou art straightway with the fiends.
PISANIO	O good my lord!
CLOTEN	Where is thy lady?—or, by Jupiter, I will not ask again. Close villain, I’ll have this secret from thy tongue or rip Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus, From whose so many weights of baseness cannot A dram of worth be drawn?
PISANIO	Alas, my lord, How can she be with him? When was she missed? He is in Rome.
CLOTEN	Where is she, sir? Come nearer. No farther halting. Satisfy me home What is become of her.
PISANIO	O my all-worthy lord!
CLOTEN	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.
PISANIO	Then, sir, This paper is the history of my knowledge Touching her flight. He gives Cloten a letter
CLOTEN	Let’s see’t. I will pursue her Even to Augustus’ throne.
(didascalia)	PISANIO aside
CLOTEN	Or this or perish. She’s far enough, and what he learns by this May prove his travel, not her danger.
CLOTEN	Hum!
PISANIO	(aside) I’ll write to my lord she’s dead. O Innogen, Safe mayst thou wander, safe return again!
CLOTEN	Sirrah, is this letter true?
PISANIO	Sir, as I think.
CLOTEN	It is Posthumus’ hand; I know’t. Sirrah, if thou wouldst not be a villain but do me true service, undergo those employments wherein I should have cause to use thee with a serious industry—that is, what villainy soe’er I bid thee do, to perform it directly and truly—I would think thee an honest man. Thou shouldst neither want my means for thy relief nor my voice for thy preferment.
PISANIO	Well, my good lord.
CLOTEN	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? 121
PISANIO	Sir, I will.
CLOTEN	Give me thy hand. Here’s my purse. Hast any of thy late master’s garments in thy possession?
PISANIO	I have, my lord, at my lodging the same suit he wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress.
CLOTEN	The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit hither. Let it be thy first service. Go.
PISANIO	I shall, my lord. Exit
CLOTEN	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, together 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Pisanio with Posthumus’ suit
CLOTEN	Be those the garments?
PISANIO	Ay, my noble lord.
CLOTEN	How long is’t since she went to Milford Haven?
PISANIO	She can scarce be there yet.
CLOTEN	Bring this apparel to my chamber. That is the second thing that I have commanded thee. The third is that thou wilt be a voluntary mute to my design. Be but duteous, and true preferment shall tender itself to thee. My revenge is now at Milford. Would I had wings to follow it. Come, and be true. Exit
PISANIO	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 pursuest. Flow, flow, You heavenly blessings, on her. This fool’s speed Be crossed with slowness; labour be his meed. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squilli di trombe. Entrano Cimbelino, la Regina, Cloten, Lucio e i signori
CIMBELINO	(a Lucio) Fin qui, e così addio.
LUCIO	Grazie, regal signore. Il mio imperatore ha scritto ch’io debba partire di qui; e mi duole assai di dovervi riferire nemico del mio padrone.
CIMBELINO	I nostri sudditi, signore, non sopporteranno il suo giogo; e, quanto a noi, mostrare meno sovranità di loro non potrebbe che parere indegno d’un re.
LUCIO	Dunque, signore, chiedo da voi un salvacondotto per terra fino a Milford Haven.
(didascalia)	(Alla Regina) Signora, ogni gioia arrida a vostra grazia, e a Cloten e a voi.
CIMBELINO	Miei signori, siete designati a quell’ufficio. Il debito dell’onore non sia omesso in nulla. E così addio, nobile Lucio.
LUCIO	La vostra mano, mio signore.
CLOTEN	Ricevetela amichevolmente, ma da questo momento in poi io la porto come vostro nemico.
LUCIO	Signore, l’esito deve ancora nominare il vincitore. State bene.
CIMBELINO	Non lasciate il degno Lucio, miei buoni signori, finché non abbia varcato il Severn. Felicità.
(didascalia)	Escono Lucio e i signori
REGINA	Se ne va accigliato, ma ci fa onore che gliene abbiamo dato causa.
CLOTEN	Tanto meglio. I vostri valorosi Britanni hanno in ciò il loro desiderio.
CIMBELINO	Lucio ha già scritto all’Imperatore come vanno qui le cose. Ci conviene dunque prontamente che i nostri carri e i nostri cavalieri siano in ordine. Le forze ch’egli ha già in Gallia saranno presto radunate, e di là egli muoverà la sua guerra contro la Britannia.
REGINA	Non è faccenda da sonnolenti, ma dev’essere curata con prestezza e con forza.
CIMBELINO	L’aver noi previsto che sarebbe andata così ci ha resi solleciti. Ma, mia gentile regina, dov’è nostra figlia? Non è comparsa davanti al Romano, né a noi ha reso l’omaggio del giorno. Ci appare cosa fatta più di malizia che di dovere. L’abbiamo notato. Chiamatela davanti a noi, ché siamo stati troppo leggeri nel tollerare.
(didascalia)	Esce uno o più
REGINA	Regal signore, dall’esilio di Postumo la sua vita è stata assai ritirata; e la cura di ciò, mio signore, spetta al tempo di farla. Supplico vostra maestà di astenersi da parole aspre con lei. È dama tanto sensibile ai rimproveri che le parole son colpi, e i colpi morte per lei.
(didascalia)	Entra un Messaggero
CIMBELINO	Dov’è ella, signore? Come si può rispondere al suo disprezzo?
MESSAGGERO	Se vi piace, signore, le sue stanze son tutte chiuse a chiave, e non v’è risposta che si dia al più forte strepito che facciamo.
REGINA	Mio signore, l’ultima volta che andai a visitarla ella mi pregò di scusare il suo tenersi rinchiusa, giacché, costretta dalla sua infermità, doveva lasciare non pagato a voi quel dovere che ogni giorno era tenuta a offrire. Questo ella mi pregò di far sapere, ma la nostra gran corte mi rese colpevole di memoria.
CIMBELINO	Le sue porte chiuse? Non veduta di recente? Concedano i cieli che ciò ch’io temo si dimostri falso.
(didascalia)	Esce
REGINA	avanti, dico, seguite il Re.
CLOTEN	Quel suo uomo, Pisanio, il suo vecchio servo, non l’ho visto da due giorni.
REGINA	Va’, informati.
(didascalia)	Esce Cloten
REGINA	Pisanio, tu che stai tanto per Postumo! Egli ha una droga mia. Prego che la sua assenza proceda dall’averla ingoiata, ché egli crede che sia cosa preziosissima. Ma quanto a lei, dov’è andata? Forse la disperazione l’ha presa, o, alata dal fervore del suo amore, è volata al suo desiderato Postumo. Se n’è andata verso la morte o verso il disonore, e il mio fine può trarre buon uso dall’uno o dall’altro. Caduta lei, a me spetta il collocare la corona britanna.
(didascalia)	Entra Cloten
REGINA	Ebbene, figlio mio?
CLOTEN	È certo ch’ella è fuggita. Entrate e rincuorate il Re. Egli infuria, e nessuno osa avvicinarglisi.
REGINA	Tanto meglio. Possa questa notte privarlo del giorno che viene. Esce
CLOTEN	Io la amo e la odio. Perché è bella e regale, e perché ha tutte le doti cortesi più squisite di dama, di dame, di donna—da ciascuna ha il meglio, ed ella, composta di tutte, le supera tutte di pregio—perciò la amo; ma il suo disdegnarmi, e il gettare i suoi favori sul vile Postumo, calunnia tanto il suo giudizio che quanto altro ha di raro ne è soffocato; e in ciò concluderò d’odiarla, anzi, in verità, di vendicarmi di lei. Poiché quando gli sciocchi dovranno—
(didascalia)	Entra Pisanio
CLOTEN	Chi è qui? Che, fate fagotto, messere? Vieni qua. Ah, prezioso ruffiano! Scellerato, dov’è la tua signora? In una parola, o altrimenti sei subito coi demoni.
PISANIO	Oh mio buon signore!
CLOTEN	Dov’è la tua signora?—o, per Giove, non lo chiederò una seconda volta. Chiuso scellerato, avrò questo segreto dalla tua lingua, o squarcerò il tuo cuore per trovarlo. È ella con Postumo, dai cui tanti pesi di bassezza non si può trarre una dramma di valore?
PISANIO	Ahimè, mio signore, come può essere con lui? Quando è stata cercata invano? Egli è a Roma.
CLOTEN	Dov’è ella, messere? Vieni più vicino. Basta esitare. Soddisfami fino in fondo: che ne è stato di lei.
PISANIO	Oh mio degnissimo signore!
CLOTEN	Degnissimo scellerato, svela dov’è la tua padrona, e subito, alla prossima parola. Basta con ‘degno signore’. Parla, o il tuo silenzio all’istante è la tua condanna e la tua morte.
PISANIO	Allora, signore, questa carta è la storia di quanto io so circa la sua fuga. Dà a Cloten una lettera
CLOTEN	Vediamola. La inseguirò fin sul trono d’Augusto.
(didascalia)	PISANIO a parte
CLOTEN	O questo o perire. Ella è abbastanza lontana, e ciò ch’egli apprende da questa può risolversi nel suo viaggio, non nel pericolo di lei.
CLOTEN	Uhm!
PISANIO	(a parte) Scriverò al mio signore ch’ella è morta. Oh Innogene, possa tu errare sicura, e sicura tornare!
CLOTEN	Messere, è vera questa lettera?
PISANIO	Signore, per quanto credo.
CLOTEN	È la mano di Postumo; la conosco. Messere, se tu non volessi essere un furfante ma rendermi vero servigio, e assumessi quegli incarichi nei quali io avessi ragione d’adoperarti con seria diligenza—cioè, qualunque scelleraggine io ti comandassi di fare, eseguirla direttamente e fedelmente—ti terrei per uomo onesto. Non ti mancherebbero né i miei mezzi per il tuo sostentamento né la mia voce per la tua promozione.
PISANIO	Bene, mio buon signore.
CLOTEN	Vuoi tu servirmi? Poiché, dal momento che pazientemente e costantemente sei rimasto attaccato alla nuda fortuna di quel pezzente di Postumo, non puoi, per legge di gratitudine, non essere un diligente seguace mio. Vuoi tu servirmi? 121
PISANIO	Signore, lo farò.
CLOTEN	Dammi la mano. Ecco la mia borsa. Hai in tuo possesso qualche veste del tuo ultimo padrone?
PISANIO	Ho, mio signore, al mio alloggio, lo stesso abito ch’egli portava quando prese congedo dalla mia dama e padrona.
CLOTEN	Il primo servigio che mi rendi: porta qui quell’abito. Sia il tuo primo servigio. Va’.
PISANIO	Così farò, mio signore. Esce
CLOTEN	Incontrarti a Milford Haven! Ho dimenticato di chiedergli una cosa; me ne ricorderò fra poco. Proprio là, scellerato furfante di Postumo, ti ucciderò. Vorrei che quelle vesti fossero arrivate. Ella disse una volta—l’amarezza di ciò ora me la rutto fuori dal cuore—che teneva la veste stessa di Postumo in maggior rispetto della mia nobile e naturale persona, insieme con l’ornamento delle mie qualità. Con quell’abito addosso io la violenterò—prima ucciderò lui, e sotto gli occhi di lei; là ella vedrà il mio valore, che sarà allora un tormento per il suo disprezzo. Lui a terra, finito il mio discorso d’insulto sul suo corpo morto, e quando la mia libidine avrà pranzato—il che, come dico, per tormentarla eseguirò negli abiti ch’ella tanto lodò—a suon di calci la ricaccerò alla corte, la rimanderò a casa a pedate. Ella m’ha disprezzato con gioia, e io sarò allegro nella mia vendetta.
(didascalia)	Entra Pisanio con l’abito di Postumo
CLOTEN	Son quelle le vesti?
PISANIO	Sì, mio nobile signore.
CLOTEN	Quanto tempo è che se n’è andata a Milford Haven?
PISANIO	Può appena esservi giunta.
CLOTEN	Porta questo vestiario nella mia camera. Questa è la seconda cosa che t’ho comandato. La terza è che tu sia volontariamente muto sul mio disegno. Sii solo ossequente, e vera promozione s’offrirà da sé a te. La mia vendetta è ora a Milford. Vorrei aver ali per seguirla. Vieni, e sii fedele. Esce
PISANIO	Tu mi comandi la mia rovina, ché esser fedele a te sarebbe esser falso, cosa che non sarò mai verso colui che è verissimo. Va’ pure a Milford, e non trovare colei che insegui. Scendano, scendano su di lei le benedizioni celesti. La fretta di questo sciocco sia attraversata dalla lentezza; la fatica sia il suo premio. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Innogen, dressed as a man, before the cave
INNOGEN	I see a man’s life is a tedious one. I have tired 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 showed thee, Thou wast within a ken. O Jove, I think Foundations fly the wretched—such, I mean, Where they should be relieved. 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, When rich ones scarce tell true. To lapse in fullness Is sorer than to lie for need, and falsehood Is worse in kings than beggars. My dear lord, Thou art one o’th’ false ones. Now I think on thee My hunger’s gone, but even before I was At point to sink for food. But what is this? Here is a path to’t. ‘Tis some savage hold. I were best not call; I dare not call; yet famine, 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 anything 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!
(didascalia)	Exit into the cave
(didascalia)	Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus
BELARIUS	You, Polydore, have proved 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 resty sloth Finds the down pillow hard. Now peace be here, Poor house, that keep’st thyself.
GUIDERIUS	I am throughly weary.
ARVIRAGUS	I am weak with toil yet strong in appetite.
GUIDERIUS	There is cold meat i’th’ cave. We’ll browse on that Whilst what we have killed be cooked.
BELARIUS	(looking into the cave) Stay, come not in. But that it eats our victuals I should think Here were a fairy.
GUIDERIUS	What’s the matter, sir?
BELARIUS	By Jupiter, an angel—or, if not, An earthly paragon. Behold divineness No elder than a boy.
(didascalia)	Enter Innogen from the cave, dressed as a man
INNOGEN	Good masters, harm me not. Before I entered here I called, and thought To have begged or bought what I have took. Good truth, I have stol’n naught, nor would not, though I had found Gold strewed i’th’ floor. Here’s money for my meat. I would have left it on the board so soon As I had made my meal, and parted With prayers for the provider.
GUIDERIUS	Money, youth?
ARVIRAGUS	All gold and silver rather turn to dirt, As ’tis no better reckoned but of those Who worship dirty gods.
INNOGEN	I see you’re angry. Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should Have died had I not made it.
BELARIUS	Whither bound?
INNOGEN	To Milford Haven.
BELARIUS	What’s your name?
INNOGEN	Fidele, sir. I have a kinsman who Is bound for Italy. He embarked at Milford, To whom being going, almost spent with hunger, I am fall’n in this offence.
BELARIUS	Prithee, fair youth, Think us no churls, nor measure our good minds By this rude place we live in. Well encountered. ’Tis almost night. You shall have better cheer Ere you depart, and thanks to stay and eat it. Boys, bid him welcome.
GUIDERIUS	Were you a woman, youth, I should woo hard but be your groom in honesty, Ay, bid for you as I’d buy.
ARVIRAGUS	I’ll make’t my comfort He is a man, I’ll love him as my brother. (To Innogen) And such a welcome as I’d give to him After long absence, such is yours. Most welcome. Be sprightly, for you fall ’mongst friends.
INNOGEN	’Mongst friends If brothers. (Aside) Would it had been so that they Had been my father’s sons. Then had my price Been less, and so more equal ballasting To thee, Posthumus. The three men speak apart
BELARIUS	He wrings at some distress.
GUIDERIUS	Would I could free’t.
ARVIRAGUS	Or I, whate’er it be, What pain it cost, what danger. Gods!
BELARIUS	Hark, boys. They whisper
INNOGEN	(aside) Great men That had a court no bigger than this cave, That did attend themselves and had the virtue Which their own conscience sealed them, laying by That nothing-gift of differing multitudes, Could not outpeer these twain. Pardon me, gods, I’d change my sex to be companion with them, Since Leonatus’ false.
BELARIUS	It shall be so. Boys, we’ll go dress our hunt. Fair youth, come in. Discourse is heavy, fasting. When we have supped We’ll mannerly demand thee of thy story, So far as thou wilt speak it.
GUIDERIUS	Pray draw near.
ARVIRAGUS	The night to th’ owl and morn to th’ lark less welcome.
INNOGEN	Thanks, sir.
ARVIRAGUS	I pray draw near.
(didascalia)	Exeunt into the cave

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Innogene, vestita da uomo, davanti alla caverna
INNOGENE	Vedo che la vita d’un uomo è cosa faticosa. Mi son stancata, e per due notti di fila ho fatto del suolo il mio letto. Sarei malata, se la mia risoluzione non m’aiutasse. Milford, quando dalla cima del monte Pisanio ti mostrò, eri a portata di sguardo. Oh Giove, credo che le case fuggano i miseri—quelle, intendo, dove dovrebbero esser soccorsi. Due mendicanti mi dissero ch’io non potevo sbagliare strada. Mentiscono i poveri, che hanno afflizioni addosso, sapendo ch’è castigo o prova? Sì. Nessuna meraviglia, quando i ricchi a stento dicono il vero. Errare nell’abbondanza è più grave che mentire per bisogno, e la falsità è peggiore nei re che nei mendicanti. Mio caro signore, tu sei uno dei falsi. Ora che penso a te la mia fame è passata, e pure poco prima ero sul punto di svenire per il cibo. Ma che cos’è questo? Ecco un sentiero che vi conduce. È qualche tana selvaggia. Meglio non chiamare; non oso chiamare; eppure la fame, prima di abbattere del tutto la natura, la fa valorosa. Abbondanza e pace generano codardi, la durezza sempre è madre dell’ardire. Olà! Chi c’è qui? Se qualcosa di civile, parli; se selvaggio, prenda o dia. Olà! Nessuna risposta? Allora entrerò. Meglio sguainare la mia spada; e se il mio nemico teme la spada quanto me, a stento la guarderà. Un tal nemico, o cieli benigni!
(didascalia)	Entra nella caverna
(didascalia)	Entrano Belario, Guiderio e Arvirago
BELARIO	Tu, Polidoro, ti sei mostrato il miglior cacciatore e sei signore del banchetto. Cadwal e io faremo da cuoco e da servo; è il nostro patto. Il sudore della fatica seccherebbe e morirebbe se non fosse per il fine cui tende. Su, i nostri stomachi renderanno saporito ciò ch’è modesto. La stanchezza sa russare sulla selce, mentre l’ozio impigrito trova duro il guanciale di piuma. Or pace sia qui, povera casa, che ti custodisci da sola.
GUIDERIO	Son stanco morto.
ARVIRAGO	Son debole di fatica, ma forte d’appetito.
GUIDERIO	C’è carne fredda nella caverna. Ci rosicchieremo quella mentre si cuoce ciò che abbiamo ucciso.
BELARIO	(guardando dentro la caverna) Fermi, non entrate. Se non fosse che mangia le nostre vettovaglie, penserei che qui ci fosse un folletto.
GUIDERIO	Che c’è, signore?
BELARIO	Per Giove, un angelo—o, se no, un paragone terreno. Guardate: divinità non più vecchia d’un ragazzo.
(didascalia)	Entra Innogene dalla caverna, vestita da uomo
INNOGENE	Buoni padroni, non fatemi male. Prima d’entrare qui chiamai, e pensavo di mendicare o comprare ciò che ho preso. In buona verità, non ho rubato nulla, né lo vorrei, quand’anche avessi trovato oro sparso sul pavimento. Ecco denaro per il mio cibo. L’avrei lasciato sulla tavola non appena avessi finito il pasto, e sarei partito con preghiere per chi l’ha fornito.
GUIDERIO	Denaro, giovane?
ARVIRAGO	Che tutto l’oro e l’argento si mutino piuttosto in fango, poiché non è stimato di più se non da coloro che adorano dèi fangosi.
INNOGENE	Vedo che siete adirati. Sappiate che, se mi uccidete per la mia colpa, sarei morto se non l’avessi commessa.
BELARIO	Dove diretto?
INNOGENE	A Milford Haven.
BELARIO	Qual è il vostro nome?
INNOGENE	Fidele, signore. Ho un parente che è diretto in Italia. S’imbarcò a Milford; e andando da lui, quasi sfinito dalla fame, son caduto in questa offesa.
BELARIO	Di grazia, bel giovane, non ci credere zotici, né misurare i nostri buoni animi da questo rozzo luogo in cui viviamo. Ben incontrato. È quasi notte. Avrai miglior desco prima di partire, e grazie a te se resti a mangiarlo. Ragazzi, dategli il benvenuto.
GUIDERIO	Foste una donna, giovane, vi corteggerei con forza per esservi sposo in onestà, sì, offrirei per voi come per comprarvi.
ARVIRAGO	Mi sarà conforto ch’egli è uomo, e lo amerò come mio fratello. (A Innogene) E il benvenuto ch’io darei a lui dopo lunga assenza, tale è il vostro. Benvenutissimo. Siate allegro, ché siete capitato fra amici.
INNOGENE	Fra amici, se fratelli. (A parte) Fosse stato così, che essi fossero i figli di mio padre. Allora il mio prezzo sarebbe stato minore, e più uguale la zavorra rispetto a te, Postumo. I tre uomini parlano in disparte
BELARIO	Si torce per qualche affanno.
GUIDERIO	Potessi liberarnelo.
ARVIRAGO	O io, qualunque cosa sia, a costo di qualsiasi pena, di qualsiasi pericolo. O dèi!
BELARIO	Udite, ragazzi. Bisbigliano
INNOGENE	(a parte) Grandi uomini che avessero una corte non più grande di questa caverna, che servissero se stessi e avessero la virtù che la loro stessa coscienza sigilla loro, deposto quel dono da nulla delle moltitudini discordi, non potrebbero superare questi due. Perdonatemi, o dèi, muterei il mio sesso per esser loro compagno, poiché Leonato è falso.
BELARIO	Sia dunque così. Ragazzi, andiamo a preparare la nostra caccia. Bel giovane, entra. Il discorrere è pesante a digiuno. Quando avremo cenato ti chiederemo garbatamente la tua storia, per quanto vorrai raccontarla.
GUIDERIO	Di grazia, avvicinatevi.
ARVIRAGO	Meno benvenuta la notte al gufo e il mattino all’allodola.
INNOGENE	Grazie, signore.
ARVIRAGO	Vi prego, avvicinatevi.
(didascalia)	Escono nella caverna

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter two Roman Senators, and Tribunes
FIRST SENATOR	This is the tenor 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 commends His absolute commission. Long live Caesar! A TRIBUNE Is Lucius general of the forces?
SECOND SENATOR	Ay. A TRIBUNE Remaining now in Gallia?
FIRST SENATOR	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. A TRIBUNE We will discharge our duty.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano due Senatori romani e i Tribuni
PRIMO SENATORE	Questo è il tenore del rescritto dell’Imperatore: che, poiché i soldati comuni sono ora in azione contro i Pannoni e i Dalmati, e le legioni ora in Gallia sono troppo deboli per sostenere le nostre guerre contro i Britanni ribelli, noi incitiamo la nobiltà a quest’impresa. Egli crea Lucio proconsole, e a voi tribuni, per questa leva immediata, affida la sua assoluta commissione. Lunga vita a Cesare! UN TRIBUNO È Lucio generale delle forze?
SECONDO SENATORE	Sì. UN TRIBUNO Che ora rimangono in Gallia?
PRIMO SENATORE	Con quelle legioni di cui ho parlato, alle quali la vostra leva dev’essere di supplemento. Le parole della vostra commissione vi vincoleranno al numero e al tempo del loro invio. UN TRIBUNO Adempiremo il nostro dovere.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Cloten, in Posthumus’ suit
CLOTEN	I am near to th’ place where they should meet, if Pisanio have mapped it truly. How fit his garments serve me! Why should his mistress, who was made by him that made the tailor, not be fit too?—the rather—saving reverence of the word—for ’tis said a woman’s fitness comes by fits. Therein I must play the workman. I dare speak it to myself, for it is not vainglory for a man and his glass to confer in his own chamber. I mean the lines of 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 remarkable in single oppositions. Yet this imperceiverant 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.
(didascalia)	Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Cloten, nell’abito di Postumo
CLOTEN	Son vicino al luogo dove dovrebbero incontrarsi, se Pisanio l’ha descritto fedelmente. Come mi calzano bene le sue vesti! Perché la sua signora, che fu fatta da colui che fece il sarto, non dovrebbe calzarmi anch’essa?—tanto più—salva la riverenza della parola—che si dice che l’adattarsi d’una donna venga a momenti. In ciò dovrò fare io da artefice. Oso dirlo a me stesso, ché non è vanagloria se un uomo e il suo specchio conferiscono nella sua propria camera. Voglio dire che le linee del mio corpo sono altrettanto ben tracciate delle sue: non meno giovane, più forte, non inferiore a lui per fortuna, superiore per il vantaggio del tempo, sopra di lui per nascita, altrettanto pratico nei servizi generali, e più notevole nei duelli singolari. Eppure questa creatura senza discernimento ama lui a mio dispetto. Che cos’è la mortalità! Postumo, la tua testa che ora ti cresce sulle spalle sarà entro quest’ora staccata, la tua signora violata, le tue vesti tagliate a pezzi davanti alla tua faccia; e, fatto tutto ciò, la ricaccerò a pedate a casa da suo padre, che forse s’adirerà un poco per il mio così rude trattamento; ma mia madre, avendo potere sulla sua stizza, volgerà tutto in mia lode. Il mio cavallo è legato al sicuro. Fuori, spada, e per un fine crudele! Fortuna, mettimeli in mano. Questa è proprio la descrizione del loro luogo d’incontro, e quel tale non osa ingannarmi.
(didascalia)	Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, and Innogen dressed as a man, from the cave
BELARIUS	(to Innogen) You are not well. Remain here in the cave. We’ll come to you from hunting.
ARVIRAGUS	(to Innogen) Brother, stay here. Are we not brothers?
INNOGEN	So man and man should be, But clay and clay differs in dignity, Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick.
GUIDERIUS	(to Belarius and Arviragus) Go you to hunting. I’ll abide with him.
INNOGEN	So sick I am not, yet I am not well; But not so citizen a wanton as To seem to die ere sick. So please you, leave me. Stick to your journal course. The breach of custom Is breach of all. I am ill, but your being by me Cannot amend me. Society is no comfort To one not sociable. I am 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.
GUIDERIUS	I love thee: I have spoke it; How much the quantity, the weight as much, As I do love my father.
BELARIUS	What, how, how?
ARVIRAGUS	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’.
BELARIUS	(aside) O noble strain! O worthiness of nature, breed of greatness! Cowards father cowards, and base things sire base. Nature hath meal and bran, contempt and grace. I’m not their father, yet who this should be Doth miracle itself, loved before me. (Aloud) ‘Tis the ninth hour o’th’ morn.
ARVIRAGUS	(to Innogen) Brother, farewell.
INNOGEN	I wish ye sport.
ARVIRAGUS	You health.—So please you, sir.
INNOGEN	(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! Th’imperious seas breeds monsters; for the dish Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish. I am sick still, heart-sick. Pisanio, I’ll now taste of thy drug.
(didascalia)	She swallows the drug. The men speak apart
GUIDERIUS	I could not stir him. He said he was gentle but unfortunate, Dishonestly afflicted but yet honest.
ARVIRAGUS	Thus did he answer me, yet said hereafter I might know more.
BELARIUS	To th’ field, to th’ field! (To Innogen) We’ll leave you for this time. Go in and rest.
ARVIRAGUS	(to Innogen) We’ll not be long away.
BELARIUS	(to Innogen) Pray be not sick, For you must be our housewife.
INNOGEN	Well or ill, I am bound to you.
(didascalia)	Exit
BELARIUS	And shalt be ever. This youth, howe’er distressed, appears hath had Good ancestors.
ARVIRAGUS	How angel-like he sings!
GUIDERIUS	But his neat cookery!
(didascalia)	BELARIUS
GUIDERIUS	He cut our roots in characters, And sauced our broths as Juno had been sick And he her dieter.
ARVIRAGUS	Nobly he yokes A smiling with a sigh, as if the sigh Was that it was for not being such a smile; The smile mocking the sigh that it would fly From so divine a temple to commix With winds that sailors rail at.
GUIDERIUS	I do note That grief and patience, rooted in him both, Mingle their spurs together.
ARVIRAGUS	Grow patience, And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine His perishing root with the increasing vine.
RELARIUS	It is great morning. Come away. Who’s there?
(didascalia)	Enter Cloten in Posthumus’ suit
CLOTEN	I cannot find those runagates. That villain Hath mocked me. I am faint.
BELARIUS	(aside to Arviragus and Guiderius) ‘Those runagates’? Means he not us? I partly know him; ‘tis Cloten, the son o’th’ Queen. I fear some ambush. I saw him not these many years, and yet I know ’tis he. We are held as outlaws. Hence!
GUIDERIUS	(aside to Arviragus and Belarius) He is but one. You and my brother search What companies are near. Pray you, away. Let me alone with him.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Arviragus and Belarius
CLOTEN	Soft, what are you That fly me thus? Some villain mountaineers? I have heard of such. What slave art thou?
GUIDERIUS	A thing More slavish did I ne’er than answering A slave without a knock.
CLOTEN	Thou art a robber, A law-breaker, a villain. Yield thee, thief.
GUIDERIUS	To who? To thee? What art thou? Have 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.
CLOTEN	Thou villain base, Know’st me not by my clothes?
GUIDERIUS	No, nor thy tailor, rascal, Who is thy grandfather. He made those clothes, Which, as it seems, make thee.
CLOTEN	Thou precious varlet, My tailor made them not.
GUIDERIUS	Hence, then, and thank The man that gave them thee. Thou art some fool. I am loath to beat thee.
CLOTEN	Thou injurious thief, Hear but my name and tremble. GUlDERIUS What’s thy name?
CLOTEN	Cloten, thou villain.
GUIDERIUS	Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name, I cannot tremble at it. Were it toad or adder, spider, ’Twould move me sooner.
CLOTEN	To thy further fear, Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know I am son to th’ Queen.
GUIDERIUS	I am sorry for’t, not seeming So worthy as thy birth.
CLOTEN	Art not afeard?
GUIDERIUS	Those that I reverence, those I fear, the wise. At fools I laugh, not fear them.
CLOTEN	Die the death. 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. Yield, rustic mountaineer. Fight and exeunt
(didascalia)	Enter Belarius and Arviragus
BELARIUS	No company’s abroad?
ARVIRAGUS	None in the world. You did mistake him, sure.
BELARIUS	I cannot tell. Long is it since I saw him, But time hath nothing blurred those lines of favour Which then he wore. The snatches in his voice And burst of speaking were as his. I am absolute ’Twas very Cloten.
ARVIRAGUS	In this place we left them. I wish my brother make good time with him, You say he is so fell.
BELARIUS	Being scarce made up, I mean to man, he had not apprehension Of roaring terrors; for defect of judgement Is oft the cause of fear.
(didascalia)	Enter Guiderius with Cloten’s head
BELARIUS	But see, thy brother.
GUIDERIUS	This Cloten was a fool, an empty purse, There was no money in’t. Not Hercules Could have knocked out his brains, for he had none. Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne My head as I do his.
BELARIUS	What hast thou done?
GUIDERIUS	I am perfect what: cut off one Cloten’s head, Son to the Queen after his own report, Who called me traitor, mountaineer, and swore With his own single hand he’d take us in, Displace our heads where—thanks, ye gods—they grow, And set them on Lud’s town.
BELARIUS	We are all undone.
GUIDERIUS	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?
BELARIUS	No single soul 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 raved 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 If we do fear this body hath a tail More perilous than the head.
ARVIRAGUS	Let ord’nance Come as the gods foresay it; howsoe’er, My brother hath done well.
BELARIUS	I had no mind To hunt this day. The boy Fidele’s sickness Did make my way long forth. GUIDERlUS With his own sword, Which he did wave against my throat, I have ta’en His head from him. I’ll throw’t into the creek Behind our rock, and let it to the sea And tell the fishes he’s the Queen’s son, Cloten. That’s all I reck.
(didascalia)	Exit with Cloten’s head
BELARIUS	I fear ’twill be revenged. Would, Polydore, thou hadst not done’t, though valour Becomes thee well enough.
ARVIRAGUS	Would I had done’t, So the revenge alone pursued me. Polydore, I love thee brotherly, but envy much Thou hast robbed me of this deed. I would revenges That possible strength might meet would seek us through And put us to our answer.
BELARIUS	Well, ’tis done. We’ll hunt no more today, nor seek for danger Where there’s no profit. I prithee, to our rock. You and Fidele play the cooks. I’ll stay Till hasty Polydore return, and bring him To dinner presently.
ARVIRAGUS	Poor sick Fidele! I’ll willingly to him. To gain his colour I’d let a parish of such Clotens blood, And praise myself for charity.
(didascalia)	Exit into the cave
BELARIUS	O thou goddess, Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon‘st In these two princely boys! They are as gentle As zephyrs blowing below the violet, Not wagging his sweet head; and yet as rough, Their royal blood enchafed, as the rud’st wind That by the top doth take the mountain pine And make him stoop to th’ vale. ’Tis wonder That an invisible instinct should frame them To royalty unlearned, honour untaught, Civility not seen from other, valour That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop As if it had been sowed. Yet still it’s strange What Cloten’s being here to us portends, Or what his death will bring us.
(didascalia)	Enter Guiderius
GUIDERIUS	Where’s my brother? I have sent Cloten’s clotpoll down the stream In embassy to his mother. His body’s hostage For his return. Solemn music
BELARIUS	My ingenious instrument!— Hark, Polydore, it sounds. But what occasion Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark!
GUIDERIUS	Is he at home?
BELARIUS	He went hence even now.
GUIDERIUS	What does he mean? Since death of my dear’st mother It did not speak before. All solemn things Should answer solemn accidents. The matter? Triumphs for nothing and lamenting toys Is jollity for apes and grief for boys. Is Cadwal mad?
(didascalia)	Enter from the cave Arviragus with Innogen, dead, bearing her in his arms
BELARIUS	Look, here he comes, And brings the dire occasion in his arms Of what we blame him for.
ARVIRAGUS	The bird is dead That we have made so much on. I had rather Have skipped from sixteen years of age to sixty, To have turned my leaping time into a crutch, Than have seen this.
GUIDERIUS	(to Innogen) O sweetest, fairest lily! My brother wears thee not one half so well As when thou grew’st thyself.
BELARIUS	O melancholy, Who ever yet could sound thy bottom, find The ooze to show what coast thy sluggish crare Might easiliest harbour in? Thou blessèd thing, Jove knows what man thou mightst have made; but I, Thou diedst a most rare boy, of melancholy. (To Arviragus) How found you him?
ARVIRAGUS	Stark, as you see, Thus smiling as some fly had tickled slumber, Not as death’s dart being laughed at; his right cheek Reposing on a cushion.
GUIDERIUS	Where?
ARVIRAGUS	O’th’ floor, His arms thus leagued. I thought he slept, and put My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness Answered my steps too loud.
GUIDERIUS	Why, he but sleeps. If he be gone he’ll make his grave a bed. With female fairies will his tomb be haunted, (To Innogen) And worms will not come to thee.
ARVIRAGUS	(to Innogen) With fairest flowers Whilst summer lasts and I live here, Fidele, I’ll sweeten thy sad grave. Thou shalt not lack The flower that’s like thy face, pale primrose, nor The azured harebell, like thy veins; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander Outsweetened not thy breath. The ruddock would With charitable bill—O bill sore shaming Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie Without a monument!—bring thee all this, Yea, and furred moss besides, when flowers are none, To winter-gown thy corpse.
GUIDERIUS	Prithee, have done, And do not play in wench-like words with that Which is so serious. Let us bury him, And not protract with admiration what Is now due debt. To th’ grave.
ARVIRAGUS	Say, where shall ’s lay him?
GUIDERIUS	By good Euriphile, our mother.
ARVIRAGUS	Be’t SO, And let us, Polydore, though now our voices Have got the mannish crack, sing him to th’ ground As once our mother; use like note and words, Save that ‘Euriphile’ must be ‘Fidele’.
GUIDERIUS	Cadwal, I cannot sing. I’ll weep, and word it with thee, For notes of sorrow out of tune are worse Than priests and fanes that lie.
ARVIRAGUS	We’ll speak it then.
BELARIUS	Great griefs, I see, medicine the less, for Cloten Is quite forgot. He was a queen’s son, boys, And though he came our enemy, remember He was paid for that. Though mean and mighty rotting Together have one dust, yet reverence, That angel of the world, doth make distinction Of place ’tween high and low. Our foe was princely, And though you took his life as being our foe, Yet bury him as a prince.
GUIDERIUS	Pray you, fetch him hither. Thersites’ body is as good as Ajax’ When neither are alive.
ARVIRAGUS	(to Belarius) If you’ll go fetch him, We’ll say our song the whilst.
(didascalia)	Exit Belarius
ARVIRAGUS	Brother, begin.
GUIDERIUS	Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to th’east. My father hath a reason for’t.
ARVIRAGUS	’Tis true.
GUIDERIUS	Come on, then, and remove him.
ARVIRAGUS	So, begin.
GUIDERIUS	Fear no more the heat o‘th’ sun, Nor the furious winter’s rages. Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone and ta’en thy wages. Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
ARVIRAGUS	Fear no more the frown o’th’ great, Thou art past the tyrant’s stroke. Care no more to clothe and eat, To thee the reed is as the oak. The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this and come to dust.
GUIDERIUS	Fear no more the lightning flash,
ARVIRAGUS	Nor th’all-dreaded thunder-stone.
GUIDERIUS	Fear not slander, censure rash.
ARVIRAGUS	Thou hast finished joy and moan.
GUIDERIUS	and ARVIRAGUS All lovers young, all lovers must Consign to thee and come to dust.
GUIDERIUS	No exorcisor harm thee,
ARVIRAGUS	Nor no witchcraft charm thee.
GUIDERIUS	Ghost unlaid forbear thee.
ARVIRAGUS	Nothing ill come near thee.
GUIDERIUS	and ARVIRAGUS Quiet consummation have, And renowned be thy grave.
(didascalia)	Enter Belarius with the body of Cloten in Posthumus’ suit
GUIDERIUS	We have done our obsequies. Come, lay him down.
BELARIUS	Here’s a few flowers, but ‘bout midnight more; The herbs that have on them cold dew o’th’ night Are strewings fitt‘st for graves upon th’earth’s face. You were as flowers, now withered; even so These herblets shall, which we upon you strow. Come on, away; apart upon our knees
(didascalia)
BELARIUS	The ground that gave them first has them again. Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Belarius, Arviragus, and Guiderius
INNOGEN	(awakes) Yes, sir, to Milford Haven. Which is the way? I thank you. By yon bush? Pray, how far thither? ‘Od’s pitykins, can it be six mile yet? I have gone all night. ’Faith, I’ll lie down and sleep. She sees Cloten But soft, no bedfellow! O gods and goddesses! These flowers are like the pleasures of the world, This bloody man the care on’t. I hope I dream, For so I thought I was a cavekeeper, And cook to honest creatures. But ‘tis not so. ’Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot of nothing, Which the brain makes of fumes. Our very eyes Are sometimes like our judgements, blind. Good faith, I tremble still with fear; but if there be Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity As a wren’s eye, feared gods, a part of it! The dream’s here still. Even when I wake it is Without me as within me; not imagined, felt. A headless man? The garments of Posthumus? I know the shape of ’s leg; this is his hand, His foot Mercurial, his Martial thigh, The brawns of Hercules; but his Jovial face- Murder in heaven! How? ‘Tis gone. Pisanio, All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks, And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou, Conspired with that irregulous devil Cloten, Hath here cut off my lord. To write and read Be henceforth treacherous! Damned Pisanio Hath with his forged letters-damned Pisanio- From this most bravest vessel of the world Struck the main-top) O Posthumus, alas, Where is thy head? Where’s that? Ay me, where’s that? Pisanio might have killed thee at the heart And left thy head on. How should this be? Pisanio? ’Tis he and Cloten. Malice and lucre in them Have laid this woe here. O, ‘tis pregnant, pregnant! The drug he gave me, which he said was precious And cordial to me, have I not found it Murd’rous to th’ senses? That confirms it home. This is Pisanio’s deed, and Cloten-O, Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood, That we the horrider may seem to those Which chance to find usl
(didascalia)	She smears her face with blood
INNOGEN	O my lord, my lord!
(didascalia)	She faints.
(didascalia)	Enter Lucius, Roman Captains, and a Soothsayer
INNOGEN	A ROMAN CAPTAIN (to Lucius) To them the legions garrisoned in Gallia After your will have crossed the sea, attending You here at Milford Haven with your ships. They are hence in readiness.
LUCIUS	But what from Rome? A ROMAN CAPTAIN The senate hath stirred up the confiners And gentlemen of Italy, most willing spirits That promise noble service, and they come Under the conduct of bold Giacomo, Siena’s brother.
LUCIUS	When expect you them? A ROMAN CAPTAIN With the next benefit o’th’ wind.
LUCIUS	This forwardness Makes our hopes fair. Command our present numbers Be mustered; bid the captains look to’t.
(didascalia)	Exit one or more
LUCIUS	(To Soothsayer) Now, sir, What have you dreamed of late of this war’s purpose?
SOOTHSAYER	Last night the very gods showed me a vision— I fast, and prayed for their intelligence-thus: I saw Jove’s bird, the Roman eagle, winged From the spongy south to this part of the west, There vanished in the sunbeams; which portends, Unless my sins abuse my divination, Success to th’ Roman host.
LUCIUS	Dream often so, And never false. He sees Cloten’s body Soft, ho, what trunk is here Without his top? The ruin speaks that sometime It was a worthy building. How, a page? Or dead or sleeping on him? But dead rather, For nature doth abhor to make his bed With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead. Let’s see the boy’s face. A ROMAN CAPTAIN He’s alive, my lord.
LUCIUS	He’ll then instruct us of this body. Young one, Inform us of thy fortunes, for it seems They crave to be demanded. Who is this Thou mak’st thy bloody pillow? Or who was he That, otherwise than noble nature did, Hath altered that good picture? What’s thy interest In this sad wreck? 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 is no more such masters. I may wander From east to occident, cry out for service, Try many, all good; serve truly, never Find such another master.
LUCIUS	’Lack, good youth, Thou mov’st no less with thy complaining than Thy master in bleeding. Say his name, good friend.
INNOGEN	Richard du Champ. (Aside) If I do lie and do No harm by it, though the gods hear I hope They’ll pardon it. (Aloud) Say you, sir?
LUCIUS	Thy name?
INNOGEN	Fidele, sir.
LUCIUS	Thou dost approve thyself the very same. 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 prefer thee. Go with me.
INNOGEN	I’ll follow, sir. But first, an’t please the gods, I’ll hide my master from the flies as deep As these poor pickaxes can dig; and when With wild-wood leaves and weeds I ha’ strewed his grave And on it said a century of prayers, Such as I can, twice o’er I’ll weep and sigh, And leaving so his service, follow you, So please you entertain me.
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 partisans A grave. Come, arm him. Boy, he is preferred By thee to us, and he shall be interred As soldiers can. Be cheerful. Wipe thine eyes. Some falls are means the happier to arise.
(didascalia)	Exeunt with Cloten’s body

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Belario, Guiderio, Arvirago e Innogene vestita da uomo, dalla caverna
BELARIO	(a Innogene) Non state bene. Restate qui nella caverna. Verremo da voi tornando dalla caccia.
ARVIRAGO	(a Innogene) Fratello, resta qui. Non siamo forse fratelli?
INNOGENE	Come uomo e uomo dovrebbero essere, ma creta e creta differiscono in dignità, benché la polvere d’entrambi sia la stessa. Son molto malato.
GUIDERIO	(a Belario e Arvirago) Andate voi a caccia. Io resterò con lui.
INNOGENE	Tanto malato non sono, eppure non sto bene; ma non son cittadino tanto molle da parer morire prima d’ammalarmi. Se vi piace, lasciatemi. Attenetevi al vostro corso quotidiano. La rottura d’un’usanza è rottura d’ogni cosa. Sono ammalato, ma il vostro starmi accanto non può guarirmi. La compagnia non è conforto a chi non è socievole. Non son molto malato, poiché posso ragionarne. Vi prego, fidatevi di me qui. Non deruberò nessuno se non me stesso; e lasciate ch’io muoia rubando così poveramente.
GUIDERIO	Io ti amo: l’ho detto; e quanto è la quantità, tanto è il peso, quanto amo mio padre.
BELARIO	Che, come, come?
ARVIRAGO	Se è peccato dirlo, signore, io mi aggiogo alla colpa del mio buon fratello. Non so perché amo questo giovane, e v’ho udito dire che la ragione dell’amore è senza ragione. Fosse la bara alla porta e la domanda chi debba morire, io direi ‘Mio padre, non questo giovane’.
BELARIO	(a parte) Oh nobile stirpe! Oh valore della natura, razza di grandezza! I codardi generano codardi, e le cose vili generano vile prole. La Natura ha farina e crusca, disprezzo e grazia. Io non son loro padre, eppure chi mai costui sia fa miracolo di sé, amato più di me. (Ad alta voce) È la nona ora del mattino.
ARVIRAGO	(a Innogene) Fratello, addio.
INNOGENE	Vi auguro buona caccia.
ARVIRAGO	E io a voi salute.—Come vi piace, signore.
INNOGENE	(a parte) Queste son creature gentili. O dèi, che menzogne ho udite! I nostri cortigiani dicono che tutto è selvaggio fuorché a corte. Esperienza, oh come tu smentisci la fama! I mari imperiosi generano mostri; per la mensa i poveri fiumi tributari danno pesce altrettanto dolce. Sto ancora male, malato di cuore. Pisanio, ora gusterò la tua droga.
(didascalia)	Ella ingoia la droga. Gli uomini parlano in disparte
GUIDERIO	Non son riuscito a smuoverlo. Disse d’essere di nascita gentile ma sfortunato, disonestamente afflitto eppure onesto.
ARVIRAGO	Così rispose anche a me, ma disse che in seguito potrei sapere di più.
BELARIO	Ai campi, ai campi! (A Innogene) Vi lasciamo per questa volta. Entrate e riposate.
ARVIRAGO	(a Innogene) Non staremo via a lungo.
BELARIO	(a Innogene) Vi prego, non ammalatevi, ché dovete essere la nostra massaia.
INNOGENE	Bene o male, vi sono legato.
(didascalia)	Esce
BELARIO	E lo sarai sempre. Questo giovane, per quanto afflitto, mostra d’aver avuto buoni antenati.
ARVIRAGO	Come canta angelicamente!
GUIDERIO	E la sua netta cucina!
(didascalia)	BELARIO
GUIDERIO	Egli tagliava le nostre radici in figure, e condiva i nostri brodi come se Giunone fosse malata ed egli il suo dietista.
ARVIRAGO	Nobilmente egli aggioga un sorriso a un sospiro, come se il sospiro fosse tale per non essere quel sorriso; e il sorriso beffasse il sospiro che voleva fuggire da un tempio sì divino per mescolarsi coi venti contro cui imprecano i marinai.
GUIDERIO	Io noto che il dolore e la pazienza, in lui entrambi radicati, intrecciano insieme le loro radici.
ARVIRAGO	Cresci, pazienza, e lasci il fetido sambuco, il dolore, sciogliere la sua radice morente dalla vite che cresce.
RELARIUS	È giorno pieno. Venite via. Chi è là?
(didascalia)	Entra Cloten nell’abito di Postumo
CLOTEN	Non riesco a trovare quei fuggiaschi. Quel furfante mi ha beffato. Son spossato.
BELARIO	(a parte, a Arvirago e Guiderio) ‘Quei fuggiaschi’? Non intende forse noi? In parte lo conosco; è Cloten, il figlio della Regina. Temo qualche imboscata. Non l’ho visto da molti anni, eppure so ch’è lui. Siamo tenuti per fuorilegge. Via di qui!
GUIDERIO	(a parte, a Arvirago e Belario) È uno solo. Voi e mio fratello cercate quali compagnie siano vicine. Vi prego, andate. Lasciatemi solo con lui.
(didascalia)	Escono Arvirago e Belario
CLOTEN	Piano, chi siete voi che mi fuggite così? Certi furfanti montanari? Ne ho sentito parlare. Che schiavo sei tu?
GUIDERIO	Cosa più servile non feci mai che rispondere a uno schiavo senza un colpo.
CLOTEN	Tu sei un rapinatore, un violatore di leggi, un furfante. Arrenditi, ladro.
GUIDERIO	A chi? A te? Che cosa sei tu? Non ho io un braccio grande quanto il tuo, un cuore altrettanto grande? Le tue parole, lo ammetto, son più grandi, ché io non porto il mio pugnale in bocca. Di’ che cosa sei, perché io debba arrendermi a te.
CLOTEN	Tu, vile furfante, non mi conosci dai miei abiti?
GUIDERIO	No, né conosco il tuo sarto, briccone, che è tuo nonno. Egli fece quegli abiti, i quali, a quanto pare, fanno te.
CLOTEN	Tu, prezioso mascalzone, non li fece il mio sarto.
GUIDERIO	Vattene, dunque, e ringrazia l’uomo che te li diede. Sei qualche sciocco. Mi ripugna batterti.
CLOTEN	Tu, ladro ingiurioso, odi soltanto il mio nome e trema. GUlDERIUS Qual è il tuo nome?
CLOTEN	Cloten, tu furfante.
GUIDERIO	Cloten, fossi tu chiamato doppio furfante, non saprei tremarne. Fosse rospo o vipera, ragno, mi smuoverebbe di più.
CLOTEN	A tua ulteriore paura, anzi, a tua pura rovina, saprai ch’io son figlio della Regina.
GUIDERIO	Me ne dispiace, ché non appari degno quanto la tua nascita.
CLOTEN	Non hai paura?
GUIDERIO	Quelli che riverisco, quelli temo, i saggi. Degli sciocchi rido, non li temo.
CLOTEN	Muori della morte. Quando t’avrò ucciso con la mia propria mano inseguirò quelli che or ora son fuggiti di qui, e sulle porte della città di Lud pianterò le vostre teste. Arrenditi, rustico montanaro. Combattono ed escono
(didascalia)	Entrano Belario e Arvirago
BELARIO	Nessuna compagnia là fuori?
ARVIRAGO	Nessuna al mondo. Vi siete di certo sbagliato su di lui.
BELARIO	Non saprei dire. È molto che non lo vedevo, ma il tempo non ha per nulla offuscato quei lineamenti ch’egli allora portava. Gli strappi della sua voce e lo scoppiare del suo parlare erano i suoi. Son certo che era proprio Cloten.
ARVIRAGO	In questo luogo li lasciammo. Auguro a mio fratello di far buon gioco con lui, voi dite ch’è tanto feroce.
BELARIO	Essendo appena formato, intendo, a uomo, non aveva percezione dei terrori ruggenti; ché il difetto di giudizio è spesso causa di paura.
(didascalia)	Entra Guiderio con la testa di Cloten
BELARIO	Ma ecco, tuo fratello.
GUIDERIO	Questo Cloten era uno sciocco, una borsa vuota, non c’era denaro dentro. Neppure Ercole avrebbe potuto fargli saltare le cervella, ché non ne aveva. Eppure, non facendo io questo, lo sciocco avrebbe portato la mia testa come io porto la sua.
BELARIO	Che cosa hai fatto?
GUIDERIO	So bene che cosa: tagliato la testa a un certo Cloten, figlio della Regina a suo stesso dire, che mi chiamò traditore, montanaro, e giurò che con la sua sola mano ci avrebbe presi, strappandoci le teste di dove—grazie, o dèi—ci crescono, per piantarle sulla città di Lud.
BELARIO	Siamo tutti rovinati.
GUIDERIO	Ma, degno padre, che abbiamo da perdere se non ciò ch’egli giurò di prendere, le nostre vite? La legge non ci protegge: perché dunque dovremmo essere sì teneri da lasciare che un arrogante pezzo di carne ci minacci, faccia da giudice e da carnefice tutto da sé, solo perché temiamo la legge? Quale compagnia avete scoperto là fuori?
BELARIO	Non una sola anima abbiamo potuto scorgere; ma, a ogni sana ragione, egli deve avere qualche seguito. Benché il suo umore non fosse che mutamento, sì, e per giunta da una cosa cattiva a una peggiore, né frenesia, né assoluta follia, avrebbero potuto delirare tanto da portarlo qui solo. Sebbene forse si possa udire a corte che gente come noi abita in caverna qui, caccia qui, è fuorilegge, e col tempo può formare qualche schiera più forte; e ciò egli udendo— come è da lui—potrebbe prorompere e giurare di venire a prenderci; e tuttavia non è probabile ch’egli venisse solo, né che lo intraprendesse, né che gli altri lo sopportassero. Dunque a buon diritto temiamo, se temiamo che questo corpo abbia una coda più pericolosa della testa.
ARVIRAGO	Venga il decreto come gli dèi lo predicono; comunque sia, mio fratello ha fatto bene.
BELARIO	Non avevo voglia di cacciare oggi. La malattia del ragazzo Fidele mi ha reso lunga la via là fuori. GUIDERlUS Con la sua stessa spada, ch’egli agitava contro la mia gola, gli ho tolto la testa. La getterò nel torrente dietro la nostra rupe, e la lascerò andare al mare a dire ai pesci ch’egli è il figlio della Regina, Cloten. È tutto ciò di cui mi curo.
(didascalia)	Esce con la testa di Cloten
BELARIO	Temo che se ne farà vendetta. Vorrei, Polidoro, che tu non l’avessi fatto, benché il valore ti si addica ben abbastanza.
ARVIRAGO	Vorrei averlo fatto io, così che la vendetta inseguisse me solo. Polidoro, ti amo fraternamente, ma invidio molto che tu m’abbia rubato quest’atto. Vorrei che vendette che una forza possibile potesse affrontare ci cercassero dovunque e ci chiamassero a risponderne.
BELARIO	Bene, è fatto. Non cacceremo più oggi, né cercheremo pericolo dove non c’è profitto. Ti prego, alla nostra rupe. Tu e Fidele fate da cuochi. Io resterò finché non torni l’impetuoso Polidoro, e lo condurrò subito a pranzo.
ARVIRAGO	Povero Fidele malato! Andrò da lui volentieri. Per ridargli il colore caverei il sangue a una parrocchia intera di tali Cloten, e mi loderei d’averlo fatto per carità.
(didascalia)	Esce nella caverna
BELARIO	Oh tu, dea, tu divina Natura, come ti blasoni in questi due principeschi ragazzi! Son gentili come zeffiri che spirano sotto la violetta senza scuoterne il dolce capo; e pure altrettanto aspri, quando il loro regale sangue s’infiamma, quanto il più rude vento che afferra per la cima il pino montano e lo fa chinare alla valle. È meraviglia che un istinto invisibile li formi a una regalità non appresa, a un onore non insegnato, a una civiltà non veduta in altri, a un valore che cresce in loro selvatico, e pur dà una messe come se fosse stato seminato. Eppure è strano che cosa ci presagisca l’esser Cloten qui, o che cosa ci porterà la sua morte.
(didascalia)	Entra Guiderio
GUIDERIO	Dov’è mio fratello? Ho mandato lo zuccone di Cloten giù per la corrente in ambasciata a sua madre. Il suo corpo è ostaggio per il suo ritorno. Musica solenne
BELARIO	Il mio ingegnoso strumento!— Odi, Polidoro, esso suona. Ma quale occasione ha ora Cadwal di metterlo in moto? Odi!
GUIDERIO	È a casa?
BELARIO	È uscito di qui or ora.
GUIDERIO	Che vuol dire? Dalla morte della mia carissima madre non aveva più parlato. Tutte le cose solenni dovrebbero rispondere a solenni accidenti. Che c’è? Trionfi per nulla e lamenti per bazzecole son giubilo da scimmie e dolore da ragazzi. È impazzito Cadwal?
(didascalia)	Entra dalla caverna Arvirago con Innogene, morta, portandola fra le braccia
BELARIO	Guarda, eccolo venire, e reca fra le braccia la funesta occasione di ciò per cui lo biasimiamo.
ARVIRAGO	L’uccello è morto di cui tanto ci prendemmo cura. Avrei preferito saltare dai sedici anni ai sessanta, e mutare in gruccia il mio tempo di salti, che vedere questo.
GUIDERIO	(a Innogene) Oh dolcissimo, bellissimo giglio! Mio fratello non ti porta neppure per metà così bene come quando crescevi da te.
BELARIO	Oh malinconia, chi mai poté scandagliare il tuo fondo, trovare la melma che mostri in quale costa la tua pigra barca possa più facilmente approdare? Tu, benedetta creatura, Giove sa quale uomo saresti potuto diventare; ma io so che moristi ragazzo rarissimo, di malinconia. (A Arvirago) Come lo trovasti?
ARVIRAGO	Rigido, come vedete, così sorridente, come se una mosca avesse solleticato il suo sonno, non come se avesse deriso il dardo della morte; la guancia destra posata su un cuscino.
GUIDERIO	Dove?
ARVIRAGO	Sul pavimento, le braccia così intrecciate. Credetti che dormisse, e mi tolsi dai piedi le mie scarpe chiodate, la cui rozzezza rispondeva troppo forte ai miei passi.
GUIDERIO	Ma via, egli dorme soltanto. Se se n’è andato, farà della sua tomba un letto. Da fate femmine sarà visitato il suo sepolcro, (a Innogene) e i vermi non verranno a te.
ARVIRAGO	(a Innogene) Coi più bei fiori, finché dura l’estate e io vivo qui, Fidele, addolcirò la tua triste tomba. Non ti mancherà il fiore che somiglia al tuo volto, la pallida primula, né la campanula azzurra, simile alle tue vene; no, né la foglia della rosa canina, che senza calunniarla non era più dolce del tuo respiro. Il pettirosso vorrebbe, col suo caritatevole becco—oh becco che assai svergogna quegli eredi lasciati ricchi che lasciano i padri giacere senza monumento!—portarti tutto questo, sì, e per giunta il musco peloso, quando fiori non ve n’è, per vestire d’inverno il tuo corpo.
GUIDERIO	Ti prego, smettila, e non giocare con parole da fanciulla su ciò che è tanto serio. Seppelliamolo, e non ritardiamo con l’ammirazione ciò ch’è ora debito dovuto. Alla tomba.
ARVIRAGO	Di’, dove lo porremo?
GUIDERIO	Presso la buona Eurifile, nostra madre.
ARVIRAGO	Sia così, e, Polidoro, benché ora le nostre voci abbiano preso l’incrinatura virile, cantiamolo alla terra come un tempo nostra madre; usiamo la stessa nota e le stesse parole, salvo che ‘Eurifile’ dev’essere ‘Fidele’.
GUIDERIO	Cadwal, io non so cantare. Piangerò, e reciterò con te le parole, ché note di dolore stonate son peggio di sacerdoti e templi che mentiscono.
ARVIRAGO	Lo diremo allora.
BELARIO	I grandi dolori, vedo, medicano i minori, ché Cloten è del tutto dimenticato. Era figlio d’una regina, ragazzi, e benché venisse da nemico, ricordate che ne fu pagato. Benché l’umile e il potente imputridendo insieme abbiano una sola polvere, pure la riverenza, quell’angelo del mondo, fa distinzione di luogo fra l’alto e il basso. Il nostro nemico era principesco, e benché tu gli abbia tolto la vita perché nostro nemico, seppelliscilo tuttavia come un principe.
GUIDERIO	Vi prego, portatelo qua. Il corpo di Tersite vale quanto quello d’Aiace quando nessuno dei due è vivo.
ARVIRAGO	(a Belario) Se andate a prenderlo, noi diremo intanto il nostro canto.
(didascalia)	Esce Belario
ARVIRAGO	Fratello, comincia.
GUIDERIO	No, Cadwal, dobbiamo porgli il capo verso oriente. Mio padre ne ha una ragione.
ARVIRAGO	È vero.
GUIDERIO	Su, dunque, e spostiamolo.
ARVIRAGO	Così, comincia.
GUIDERIO	Non temer più l’arsura del sole, né del furioso inverno il furore. Il tuo compito terreno è compiuto, a casa sei andato, e il salario avuto. Fanciulli e fanciulle d’oro, tutti, come spazzacamini, in polvere ridotti.
ARVIRAGO	Non temer più dei grandi il cipiglio, sei fuori dal colpo del tiranno. Non curarti più di vestire e mangiare, per te la canna è quanto la quercia. Lo scettro, il sapere, la medicina, devono seguir tutti questa via e in polvere tornare.
GUIDERIO	Non temer più il guizzo del fulmine,
ARVIRAGO	né la folgore da tutti paventata.
GUIDERIO	Non temer calunnia, né censura avventata.
ARVIRAGO	Hai finito con la gioia e col lamento.
GUIDERIO	e ARVIRAGO Tutti gli amanti giovani, tutti gli amanti devono consegnarsi a te e in polvere tornare.
GUIDERIO	Nessun esorcista ti faccia male,
ARVIRAGO	né alcuna stregoneria t’incanti.
GUIDERIO	Spettro non placato ti risparmi.
ARVIRAGO	Nulla di male ti s’appressi.
GUIDERIO	e ARVIRAGO Quieta consumazione tu abbia, e rinomata sia la tua tomba.
(didascalia)	Entra Belario col corpo di Cloten nell’abito di Postumo
GUIDERIO	Abbiamo compiuto le nostre esequie. Su, deponetelo.
BELARIO	Ecco pochi fiori, ma verso mezzanotte ne avremo di più; le erbe che portano su di sé la fredda rugiada della notte sono i più adatti spargimenti per le tombe sulla faccia della terra. Voi eravate come fiori, ora appassiti; e così saranno queste erbette che spargiamo su di voi. Venite via; in disparte, sulle nostre ginocchia
(didascalia)
BELARIO	La terra che li diede da prima li riprende. I loro piaceri qui son passati, e così il loro dolore.
(didascalia)	Escono Belario, Arvirago e Guiderio
INNOGENE	(si sveglia) Sì, signore, a Milford Haven. Qual è la via? Vi ringrazio. Presso quel cespuglio? Di grazia, quanto è lontano? Per la pietà di Dio, è possibile che siano ancora sei miglia? Ho camminato tutta la notte. In fede, mi sdraierò a dormire. Vede Cloten Ma piano, nessun compagno di letto! O dèi e dee! Questi fiori sono come i piaceri del mondo, quest’uomo insanguinato l’affanno che ne viene. Spero di sognare, ché così credevo d’essere custode d’una caverna e cuoco d’oneste creature. Ma non è così. Non era che un dardo di nulla, tiro di nulla, che il cervello fa di vapori. I nostri stessi occhi sono talvolta, come i nostri giudizi, ciechi. In buona fede, tremo ancora di paura; ma se è rimasta in cielo una goccia di pietà anche piccola quanto l’occhio d’uno scricciolo, o dèi temuti, datemene parte! Il sogno è ancora qui. Perfino sveglia, esso è fuori di me come dentro di me; non immaginato, sentito. Un uomo senza testa? Le vesti di Postumo? Conosco la forma della sua gamba; questa è la sua mano, il suo piede mercuriale, la sua coscia marziale, i muscoli d’Ercole; ma il suo volto gioviale- omicidio in cielo! Come? È sparito. Pisanio, tutte le maledizioni che l’impazzita Ecuba diede ai Greci, e le mie per giunta, siano scagliate su di te! Tu, congiurato con quel diavolo scomposto di Cloten, hai qui abbattuto il mio signore. Lo scrivere e il leggere siano d’ora in poi traditori! Il dannato Pisanio con le sue lettere falsificate-dannato Pisanio- da questo bravissimo vascello del mondo ha abbattuto l’albero maestro) Oh Postumo, ahimè, dov’è il tuo capo? Dov’è? Ahimè, dov’è quello? Pisanio poteva ucciderti nel cuore e lasciarti la testa. Come può essere? Pisanio? È lui e Cloten. La malizia e il lucro in loro hanno posto qui questa sciagura. Oh, è evidente, evidente! La droga ch’egli mi diede, che disse esser preziosa e cordiale per me, non l’ho forse trovata micidiale ai sensi? Ciò lo conferma fino in fondo. Questa è opera di Pisanio, e di Cloten-oh, dà colore alla mia pallida guancia col tuo sangue, perché più orridi appariamo a coloro che per caso ci trovino!
(didascalia)	Si imbratta il viso di sangue
INNOGENE	Oh mio signore, mio signore!
(didascalia)	Sviene.
(didascalia)	Entrano Lucio, Capitani romani e un Indovino
INNOGENE	UN CAPITANO ROMANO (a Lucio) A loro le legioni acquartierate in Gallia secondo la vostra volontà han varcato il mare, e vi attendono qui a Milford Haven con le vostre navi. Son di qui pronte a muovere.
LUCIO	Ma che nuove da Roma? UN CAPITANO ROMANO Il senato ha mosso i confinanti e i gentiluomini d’Italia, animi volenterosissimi che promettono nobile servizio, ed essi vengono sotto la condotta dell’ardito Giacomo, fratello del signore di Siena.
LUCIO	Quando li attendete? UN CAPITANO ROMANO Col prossimo favore del vento.
LUCIO	Questa prontezza rende belle le nostre speranze. Si comandi che le forze presenti siano radunate; i capitani ne abbiano cura.
(didascalia)	Esce uno o più
LUCIO	(All’Indovino) Ora, signore, che avete sognato di recente sul fine di questa guerra?
INDOVINO	La scorsa notte gli dèi stessi mi mostrarono una visione— io digiuno, e pregai per la loro rivelazione-così: vidi l’uccello di Giove, l’aquila romana, volare dal molle mezzogiorno a questa parte d’occidente, e là svanire nei raggi del sole; ciò che presagisce, se i miei peccati non abusano della mia divinazione, successo all’esercito romano.
LUCIO	Sogna spesso così, e mai falso. Vede il corpo di Cloten Piano, olà, che tronco è questo senza la sua cima? La rovina dice che un tempo fu un edificio degno. Come, un paggio? Morto o addormentato su di lui? Ma piuttosto morto, ché la natura aborre di far letto col defunto, o di dormire sul morto. Vediamo il volto del ragazzo. UN CAPITANO ROMANO È vivo, mio signore.
LUCIO	C’istruirà allora su questo corpo. Giovinetto, informaci delle tue sorti, ché sembra ch’esse chiedano d’essere interrogate. Chi è costui di cui fai il tuo sanguinoso guanciale? O chi fu colui che, altrimenti che la nobile natura non fece, ha alterato quella bella immagine? Che parte hai tu in questo triste naufragio? Come avvenne? Chi è? Chi sei tu?
INNOGENE	Io non son nulla; o, se non lo sono, meglio sarebbe non esser nulla. Costui era il mio padrone, un Britanno assai valoroso, e buono, che giace qui ucciso da montanari. Ahimè, non ci son più tali padroni. Posso errare da oriente a occidente, gridare in cerca di servizio, provarne molti, tutti buoni; servire fedelmente, e mai trovare un altro padrone simile.
LUCIO	Ahimè, buon giovane, tu commuovi non meno col tuo lamento di quanto il tuo padrone col suo sanguinare. Dinne il nome, buon amico.
INNOGENE	Richard du Champ. (A parte) Se mento e con ciò non faccio male, benché gli dèi m’odano spero che me lo perdoneranno. (Ad alta voce) Dicevate, signore?
LUCIO	Il tuo nome?
INNOGENE	Fidele, signore.
LUCIO	Tu ti dimostri appunto tale. Il tuo nome s’adatta bene alla tua fede, e la tua fede al tuo nome. Vuoi tentare la sorte con me? Non dirò che avrai un padrone altrettanto buono, ma sii certo, non meno amato. Le lettere dell’Imperatore romano mandate a me per mezzo d’un console non ti raccomanderebbero più presto del tuo stesso valore. Vieni con me.
INNOGENE	Vi seguirò, signore. Ma prima, se piace agli dèi, nasconderò il mio padrone alle mosche tanto in fondo quanto questi poveri picconi possono scavare; e quando con foglie di bosco selvatico ed erbe avrò cosparso la sua tomba e vi avrò detto sopra un centinaio di preghiere, quali io so, due volte piangerò e sospirerò, e, lasciato così il suo servizio, seguirò voi, se vi piace prendermi.
LUCIO	Sì, buon giovane, e ti farò piuttosto da padre che da padrone. Amici miei, il ragazzo ci ha insegnato virili doveri. Cerchiamo il più bel prato fiorito di margherite che possiamo, e facciamogli con le nostre picche e alabarde una fossa. Su, prendetelo in braccio. Ragazzo, egli ci è raccomandato da te, e sarà sepolto come i soldati sanno fare. Fatti animo. Asciuga i tuoi occhi. Certe cadute son mezzo per risorgere più felici.
(didascalia)	Escono col corpo di Cloten

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Cymbeline, Lords, and Pisanio
CYMBELINE	Again, and bring me word how ’tis with her.
(didascalia)	Exit one or more
CYMBELINE	A fever with the absence of her son, A madness of which her life’s in danger-heavens, How deeply you at once do touch me! Innogen, The great part of my comfort, gone; my queen Upon a desperate bed, and in a time When fearful wars point at me; her son gone, So needful for this present! It strikes me past The hope of comfort. (To Pisanio) But for thee, fellow, Who needs must know of her departure and Dost seem so ignorant, we’ll enforce it from thee By a sharp torture.
PISANIO	Sir, my life is yours. I humbly set it at your will. But for my mistress, I nothing know where she remains, why gone, Nor when she purposes return. Beseech your highness, Hold me your loyal servant. A 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 subjection loyally. For Cloten, There wants no diligence in seeking him, And will no doubt be found.
CYMBELINE	The time is troublesome. (To Pisanio) We’ll slip you for a season, but our jealousy Does yet depend. A LORD So please your majesty, The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn, Are landed on your coast with a supply Of Roman gentlemen by the senate sent.
CYMBELINE	Now for the counsel of my son and queen! I am amazed with matter. A LORD Good my liege, Your preparation can affront no less Than what you hear of. Come more, for more you’re ready. The want is but 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 annoy us, but We grieve at chances here. Away.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Cymbeline and Lords
PISANIO	I heard no letter 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 betid 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 find I love my country Even to the note o’th’ King, or I’ll fall in them. All other doubts, by time let them be cleared: Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered.
(didascalia)	Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Cimbelino, i Signori e Pisanio
CIMBELINO	Di nuovo, e portatemi notizia di come stia.
(didascalia)	Esce uno o più
CIMBELINO	Una febbre per l’assenza del figlio, una follia per cui la sua vita è in pericolo-o cieli, quanto profondamente mi colpite tutt’insieme! Innogene, gran parte del mio conforto, scomparsa; la mia regina su un letto disperato, e in un tempo in cui guerre paurose mi minacciano; suo figlio scomparso, lui così necessario in questo frangente! Ciò mi colpisce oltre ogni speranza di conforto. (A Pisanio) Ma quanto a te, uomo, che per forza devi sapere della sua partenza e fingi tanta ignoranza, te lo strapperemo con una tortura acuta.
PISANIO	Signore, la mia vita è vostra. Umilmente la pongo al vostro volere. Ma quanto alla mia padrona, nulla so di dove ella sia, né perché partita, né quando si proponga di tornare. Supplico vostra altezza, tenetemi per vostro leale servitore. UN SIGNORE Mio buon sovrano, il giorno in cui ella fu cercata invano, costui era qui. Oso garantire ch’egli è fedele, e adempirà lealmente ogni parte della sua sudditanza. Quanto a Cloten, non manca diligenza nel cercarlo, e senza dubbio sarà trovato.
CIMBELINO	Il tempo è travagliato. (A Pisanio) Ti lasceremo andare per una stagione, ma il nostro sospetto resta ancora pendente. UN SIGNORE Se piace a vostra maestà, le legioni romane, tutte tratte dalla Gallia, sono sbarcate sulla vostra costa con un rinforzo di gentiluomini romani mandati dal senato.
CIMBELINO	Ora sì che mi occorre il consiglio di mio figlio e della regina! Sono sopraffatto dagli eventi. UN SIGNORE Mio buon sovrano, i vostri preparativi possono affrontare non meno di quanto udite. Ne vengano di più: per di più siete pronto. Non manca che mettere in moto quelle forze che bramano muoversi.
CIMBELINO	Vi ringrazio. Ritiriamoci, e affrontiamo il tempo come esso ci cerca. Non temiamo ciò che dall’Italia può molestarci, ma ci addoloriamo delle sventure di qui. Via.
(didascalia)	Escono Cimbelino e i Signori
PISANIO	Non ho ricevuto lettera dal mio padrone da quando gli scrissi che Innogene era uccisa. È strano. Né ho notizie dalla mia padrona, che promise di darmi spesso ragguagli. Né so che sia accaduto a Cloten, ma resto perplesso in tutto. Il cielo deve pur operare. In ciò in cui son falso, io sono onesto; non verace, per esser verace. Queste guerre presenti troveranno ch’io amo il mio paese fin sotto gli occhi del Re, o cadrò in esse. Tutti gli altri dubbi, sia il tempo a chiarirli: la fortuna porta in porto certe barche che nessuno governa.
(didascalia)	Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus
GUIDERIUS	The noise is round about us.
BELARIUS	Let us from it.
ARVIRAGUS	What pleasure, sir, find we in life to lock it From action and adventure?
GUIDERIUS	Nay, what hope Have we in hiding us? This way the Romans Must or for Britains slay us, or receive us For barbarous and unnatural revolts During their use, and slay us after.
BELARIUS	Sons, We’ll higher to the mountains; there secure us. To the King’s party there’s no going. Newness Of Cloten’s death-we being not known, not mustered Among the bands—may drive us to a render Where we have lived, and so extort from ’s that Which we have done, whose answer would be death Drawn on with 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 files, have both their eyes And ears so cloyed importantly as now, That they will waste their time upon our note, To know from whence we are.
BELARIUS	O, I am known Of many in the army. Many years, Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore him From my remembrance. And besides, the King Hath not deserved my service nor your loves, Who find in my exile the want of breeding, The certainty of this hard life; aye hopeless To have the courtesy your cradle promised, But to be still hot summer’s tanlings, and The shrinking slaves of winter.
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’ergrown, Cannot be questioned.
ARVIRAGUS	By this sun that shines, I’ll thither. What thing is’t that I never Did see man die, scarce ever looked on blood But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison, Never bestrid a horse save one that had A rider like myself, who ne’er wore rowel Nor iron 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 care; but if you will not, The hazard therefore due 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 My cracked one to more care. Have with you, boys! If in your country wars you chance to die, That is my bed, too, lads, and there I’ll lie. Lead, lead. (Aside) The time seems long. Their blood thinks scorn Till it fly out and show them princes born.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Belario, Guiderio e Arvirago
GUIDERIO	Il frastuono ci è tutt’intorno.
BELARIO	Allontaniamocene.
ARVIRAGO	Qual piacere, signore, troviamo nella vita a chiuderla fuori dall’azione e dall’avventura?
GUIDERIO	Anzi, quale speranza abbiamo nel nasconderci? Per questa via i Romani o ci uccideranno come Britanni, o ci accoglieranno come barbari e snaturati ribelli finché servono loro, e poi ci uccideranno.
BELARIO	Figli, saliremo più in alto ai monti; là ci metteremo al sicuro. Dal partito del Re non si può andare. La novità della morte di Cloten-non essendo noi conosciuti né arruolati fra le schiere—potrebbe costringerci a render conto di dove abbiamo vissuto, e così estorcerci ciò che abbiamo fatto, la cui risposta sarebbe la morte tirata in lungo con la tortura.
GUIDERIO	Questo è, signore, un timore che in tal tempo per nulla vi si addice né ci soddisfa.
ARVIRAGO	Non è verosimile che, quando odono nitrire i cavalli romani, e vedono le loro file accampate, e hanno occhi e orecchi tanto saziati di cose importanti come ora, essi vogliano sprecare il loro tempo a prender nota di noi, per sapere donde veniamo.
BELARIO	Oh, io son conosciuto da molti nell’esercito. Molti anni, benché Cloten fosse allora giovane, vedete, non l’hanno cancellato dalla mia memoria. E inoltre il Re non ha meritato il mio servizio né il vostro amore, voi che trovate nel mio esilio la mancanza d’educazione, la certezza di questa dura vita; e siete senza speranza d’avere quella cortesia che la vostra culla prometteva, ma dovete essere abbronzati dalla calda estate, e schiavi rattrappiti dell’inverno.
GUIDERIO	Piuttosto che esser così, meglio cessar d’essere. Di grazia, signore, all’esercito. Io e mio fratello non siamo conosciuti; voi stesso, tanto uscito dalla memoria, e per giunta così invecchiato d’aspetto, non potete essere interrogato.
ARVIRAGO	Per questo sole che splende, io andrò là. Che cosa è mai ch’io non abbia mai veduto morire un uomo, che a stento abbia mai guardato sangue se non quello di lepri codarde, di capre in foia e di selvaggina, né mai cavalcato un cavallo fuorché uno che aveva un cavaliere simile a me, che mai portò sperone né ferro al calcagno! Mi vergogno di guardare il santo sole, di godere il beneficio dei suoi raggi benedetti, restando così a lungo un povero sconosciuto.
GUIDERIO	Per il cielo, io andrò. Se volete benedirmi, signore, e darmi licenza, avrò maggior cura di me; ma se non volete, cada su di me il rischio che ne consegue, per le mani dei Romani.
ARVIRAGO	Così dico io, amen.
BELARIO	Non v’è ragione ch’io, poiché delle vostre vite fate sì lieve stima, riservi la mia, già incrinata, a maggior cura. Vengo con voi, ragazzi! Se nelle guerre del vostro paese vi accade di morire, quello è anche il mio letto, figlioli, e là giacerò. Guidate, guidate. (A parte) Il tempo pare lungo. Il loro sangue sdegna d’attendere finché non prorompa e li mostri nati principi.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Posthumus, dressed as an Italian gentleman, carrying a bloody cloth
POSTHUMUS	Yea, bloody cloth, I’ll keep thee, for I once wished Thou shouldst be coloured thus. You married ones, If each of you should take this course, how many Must murder wives much better than themselves For wrying but a little! O Pisanio, Every good servant does not all commands, No bond but to do just ones. Gods, if you Should have ta‘en vengeance on my faults, I never Had lived to put on this; so had you saved The noble Innogen to repent, and struck Me, wretch, more worth your vengeance. But alack, You snatch some hence for little faults; that’s love, To have them fall no more. You some permit To second ills with ills, each elder worse, And make them dread ill, to the doer’s thrift. But Innogen is your own. Do your blest 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-piece; I’ll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heavens, Hear patiently my purpose. I’ll disrobe me Of these Italian weeds, and suit myself As does a Briton peasant.
(didascalia)	He disrobes himself
POSTHUMUS	So I’ll fight Against the part I come with; so I’ll die For thee, O Innogen, even for whom my life Is every breath a death; and, thus unknown, Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril Myself I’ll dedicate. Let me make men know More valour in me than my habits show. Gods, put the strength o‘th’ Leonati in me. To shame the guise o’th’ world, I will begin The fashion-less without and more within. Exit
(didascalia)	5.2 A march. Enter Lucius, Giacomo, 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. Alarums. Then enter again in skirmish Giacomo and Posthumus: he vanquisheth and disarmeth Giacomo, and then leaves him
GIACOMO	The heaviness and guilt within my bosom Takes off my manhood. I have belied a lady, The princess of this country, and the air on’t Revengingly enfeebles me; or could this carl, A very drudge of nature’s, have subdued me In my profession? Knighthoods and honours borne As I wear mine are titles but of scorn. If that thy gentry, Britain, go before This lout as he exceeds our lords, the odds Is that we scarce are men and you are gods.
(didascalia)	Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Postumo, vestito da gentiluomo italiano, recando un panno insanguinato
POSTUMO	Sì, panno insanguinato, ti serberò, ché una volta desiderai che tu fossi tinto così. Voi uomini sposati, se ciascuno di voi tenesse questa via, quanti dovrebbero uccidere mogli assai migliori di loro per un piccolo sviamento! Oh Pisanio, ogni buon servo non esegue tutti i comandi, e non è tenuto se non ai giusti. O dèi, se voi aveste preso vendetta delle mie colpe, io mai sarei vissuto per commettere questo; e così avreste salvato la nobile Innogene al pentimento, e colpito me, miserabile, più degno della vostra vendetta. Ma ahimè, voi strappate di qui alcuni per lievi colpe; e questo è amore, perché non cadano più. Ad altri permettete di far seguire mali a mali, ciascuno peggiore del precedente, e li fate temere del male, a profitto di chi lo compie. Ma Innogene è vostra. Fate i vostri benedetti voleri, e fate me benedetto nell’obbedire. Son condotto qui fra la nobiltà italiana, a combattere contro il regno della mia signora. Basti che, o Britannia, io t’abbia ucciso il tuo capolavoro; non ti darò altra ferita. Perciò, cieli benigni, udite con pazienza il mio proposito. Mi spoglierò di queste vesti italiane, e mi vestirò come un contadino britanno.
(didascalia)	Si spoglia
POSTUMO	Così combatterò contro la parte con cui vengo; così morrò per te, o Innogene, per la quale la mia vita è a ogni respiro una morte; e, così sconosciuto, non compianto né odiato, alla faccia del pericolo mi consacrerò. Ch’io faccia conoscere agli uomini più valore in me di quanto mostrino i miei abiti. O dèi, mettete in me la forza dei Leonati. Per svergognare l’usanza del mondo, io comincerò la moda: meno fuori e più dentro. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	A march. Enter Lucius, Giacomo, 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. Alarums. Then enter again in skirmish Giacomo and Posthumus: he vanquisheth and disarmeth Giacomo, and then leaves him
GIACOMO	The heaviness and guilt within my bosom Takes off my manhood. I have belied a lady, The princess of this country, and the air on’t Revengingly enfeebles me; or could this carl, A very drudge of nature’s, have subdued me In my profession? Knighthoods and honours borne As I wear mine are titles but of scorn. If that thy gentry, Britain, go before This lout as he exceeds our lords, the odds Is that we scarce are men and you are gods.
(didascalia)	Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Una marcia. Entrano Lucio, Giacomo e l’esercito romano da una porta, e l’esercito britanno da un’altra, Leonato Postumo che segue in veste di povero soldato. Sfilano ed escono. Squilli d’allarme. Poi rientrano in scaramuccia Giacomo e Postumo: questi lo vince e lo disarma, e poi lo lascia
GIACOMO	Il peso e la colpa dentro il mio petto mi tolgono la virilità. Ho calunniato una dama, la principessa di questo paese, e l’aria di esso vendicandosi mi snerva; o come potrebbe questo villano, un vero manovale della natura, avermi soggiogato nella mia professione? Cavallerie e onori portati come io porto i miei non son che titoli di scherno. Se la tua nobiltà, o Britannia, supera questo zoticone quanto egli supera i nostri signori, il divario è che noi a stento siamo uomini e voi siete dèi.
(didascalia)	Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	The battle continues. Alarums. Excursions. The trumpets sound a retreat. 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 routs us but The villainy of our fears.
GUIDERIUS	and ARVIRAGUS Stand, stand, and fight.
(didascalia)	Enter Posthumus like a poor soldier, and seconds the Britons. They rescue Cymbeline and exeunt
(didascalia)	5.4 The trumpets sound a retreat, then enter Lucius, Giacomo, and Innogen
LUCIUS	(to Innogen) Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself; For friends kill friends, and the disorder’s such As war were hoodwinked.
GIACOMO	’Tis their fresh supplies.
LUCIUS	It is a day turned strangely. Or betimes Let’s reinforce, or fly.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	La battaglia continua. Squilli d’allarme. Sortite. Le trombe suonano la ritirata. I Britanni fuggono, Cimbelino è fatto prigioniero. Poi entrano in suo soccorso Belario, Guiderio e Arvirago
BELARIO	Fermi, fermi, abbiamo il vantaggio del terreno. Il passo è custodito. Nulla ci mette in rotta se non la scelleratezza delle nostre paure.
GUIDERIO	e ARVIRAGO Fermi, fermi, e combattete.
(didascalia)	Entra Postumo in veste di povero soldato, e seconda i Britanni. Essi liberano Cimbelino ed escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	The trumpets sound a retreat, then enter Lucius, Giacomo, and Innogen
LUCIUS	(to Innogen) Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself; For friends kill friends, and the disorder’s such As war were hoodwinked.
GIACOMO	’Tis their fresh supplies.
LUCIUS	It is a day turned strangely. Or betimes Let’s reinforce, or fly.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Le trombe suonano la ritirata, poi entrano Lucio, Giacomo e Innogene
LUCIO	(a Innogene) Via, ragazzo, lontano dalle truppe, e salvati; ché gli amici uccidono gli amici, e il disordine è tale come se la guerra fosse bendata.
GIACOMO	Sono i loro rinforzi freschi.
LUCIO	È una giornata volta stranamente. O per tempo ci rinforziamo, o fuggiamo.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Posthumus like a poor soldier, 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.
LORD	Ay.
POSTHUMUS	No blame be to you, sir, for all was lost, But that the heavens fought. The King himself Of his wings destitute, the army broken, And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying Through a strait lane; the enemy full-hearted, Lolling the tongue with slaught‘ring, having work More plentiful than tools to do’t, struck down Some mortally, some slightly touched, some falling Merely through fear, that the strait pass was dammed With dead men hurt behind, and cowards living To die with lengthened shame.
LORD	Where was this lane?
POSTHUMUS	Close by the battle, ditched, and walled with turf; Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier, An honest one, I warrant, who deserved 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 run The country base than to commit such slaughter; With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer Than those for preservation cased, or shame- Made good the passage, cried to those that fled ‘Our Britain’s harts die flying, not her men. To darkness fleet souls that fly backwards. Stand, Or we are Romans, and will give you that Like beasts which you shun beastly, and may save But to look back in frown. Stand, stand.’ These three, Three thousand confident, in act as many- For three performers are the file when all The rest do nothing-with this word ‘Stand, stand’, Accommodated by the place, more charming With their own nobleness, which could have turned A distaff to a lance, gilded pale looks; Part shame, part spirit renewed, that some, turned coward But by example,-O, a sin in war, Damned in the first beginnersl-gan to look The way that they did and to grin like lions Upon the pikes o‘th’ hunters. Then began A stop i’th’ chaser, a retire. Anon A rout, confusion thick; forthwith they fly Chickens the way which they stooped eagles; slaves, The strides they victors made; and now our cowards, Like fragments in hard voyages, became The life o‘th’ need. Having found the back door open Of the unguarded hearts, heavens, how they wound! Some slain before, some dying, some their friends O’erborne i‘th’ former wave, ten chased by one, Are now each one the slaughterman of twenty. Those that would die or ere resist are grown The mortal bugs o’th’ field.
LORD	This was strange chance: A narrow lane, an old man, and two boys.
POSTHUMUS	Nay, do not wonder at it. Yet you are made Rather to wonder at the things you hear Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon‘t, And vent it for a mock’ry? Here is one: ‘Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane, Preserved the Britons, was the Romans’ bane.’
LORD	Nay, be not angry, sir.
POSTHUMUS	’Lack, to what end? Who dares not stand his foe, I’ll be his friend, For if he’ll do as he is made to do, I know he’ll quickly fly my friendship too. You have put me into rhyme.
LORD	Farewell; you’re angry.
(didascalia)	Exit
POSTHUMUS	Still going? This a lord? O noble misery, To be i‘th’ field and ask ‘What news?’ of me! Today how many would have given their honours To have saved their carcasses-took heel to do’t, And yet died too! I, in mine own woe charmed, 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 ministers than we That draw his knives i’th’ war. Well, I will find him; For being now a favourer to the Briton, No more a Briton, I have resumed again The part I came in. Fight I will no more, But yield me to the veriest hind that shall Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is Here made by th’ Roman; great the answer be Britons must take. For me, my ransom’s death, On either side I come to spend my breath, Which neither here I’ll keep nor bear again, But end it by some means for Innogen.
(didascalia)	Enter two Briton Captains, and soldiers
FIRST CAPTAIN	Great Jupiter be praised, Lucius is taken. ’Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels.
SECOND CAPTAIN	There was a fourth man, in a seely habit, That gave th’affront with them.
FIRST CAPTAIN	So ’tis reported, But none of ’em can be found. Stand, who’s there?
POSTHUMUS	A Roman, Who had not now been drooping here if seconds Had answered him.
SECOND CAPTAIN	(to soldiers) Lay hands on him, a dog! A leg of Rome shall not return to tell What crows have pecked them here. He brags his service As if he were of note. Bring him to th’ King.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter Cymbeline and his train, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, Pisanio, and Roman captives. The Captains present Posthumus to Cymbeline, who delivers him over to a Jailer. Exeunt all but Posthumus and two Jailers, who lock gyves on his legs
FIRST JAILER	You shall not now be stol’n. You have locks upon you, So graze as you find pasture.
SECOND JAILER	Ay, or a stomach.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Jailers
POSTHUMUS	Most welcome, bondage, for thou art a way, I think, to liberty. Yet am I better Than one that’s sick o‘th’ gout, since he had rather Groan so in perpetuity than be cured By th’ sure physician, death, who is the key T’unbar these locks. My conscience, thou art fettered More than my shanks and wrists. You good gods give me The penitent instrument to pick that bolt, Then free for ever. Is’t enough I am sorry? So children temporal fathers do appease; Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent, I cannot do it better than in gyves Desired more than constrained. To satisfy, If of my freedom ‘tis the main part, take no No stricter render of me than my all. I know you are more clement than vile men Who of their broken debtors take a third, A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again On their abatement. That’s not my desire. For Innogen’s dear life take mine, and though ’Tis not so dear, yet ‘tis a life; you coined it. ’Tween man and man they weigh not every stamp; Though light, take pieces for the figure’s sake; You rather mine, being yours. And so, great powers, If you will make this audit, take this life, And cancel these cold bonds. O Innogen, I’ll speak to thee in silence! He sleeps. Solemn music. Enter, as in an apparition, Sicilius Leonatus (father to Posthumus, an old man), attired like a warrior, leading in his hand an ancient matron, his wife, and mother to Posthumus, with music before them. Then, after other music, follows the two young Leonati, brothers to Posthumus, with wounds as they died in the wars. They circle Posthumus round as he lies sleeping
SICILIUS	No more, thou thunder-master, show Thy spite on mortal flies. With Mars fall out, with Juno chide, That thy adulteries Rates and revenges. Hath my poor boy done aught but well, Whose face I never saw? I died whilst in the womb he stayed, Attending nature’s law, Whose father then-as men report Thou orphans’ father art- Thou shouldst have been, and shielded him From this earth-vexing smart.
MOTHER	Lucina lent not me her aid, But took me in my throes, That from me was Posthumus ripped, Came crying ’mongst his foes, A thing of pity.
SICILIUS	Great nature like his ancestry Moulded the stuff so fair That he deserved the praise o’th’ world As great Sicilius’ heir.
FIRST BROTHER	When once he was mature for man, In Britain where was he That could stand up his parallel, Or fruitful object be In eye of Innogen, that best Could deem his dignity?
MOTHER	With marriage wherefore was he mocked, To be exiled, and thrown From Leonati seat and cast From her his dearest one, Sweet Innogen?
SICILIUS	Why did you suffer Giacomo, Slight thing of Italy, To taint his nobler heart and brain With needless jealousy, And to become the geck and scorn O’th’ other’s villainy?
SECOND BROTHER	For this from stiller seats we come, Our parents and us twain, That striking in our country’s cause Fell bravely and were slain, Our fealty and Tenantius’ right With honour to maintain.
FIRST BROTHER	Like hardiment Posthumus hath To Cymbeline Performed. Then, Jupiter, thou king of gods, Why hast thou thus adjourned The graces for his merits due, Being all to dolours turned?
SICILIUS	Thy crystal window ope; look out; No longer exercise Upon a valiant race thy harsh And potent injuries.
MOTHER	Since, Jupiter, our son is good, Take off his miseries.
SICILIUS	Peep through thy marble mansion. Help, Or we poor ghosts will cry To th’ shining synod of the rest Against thy deity.
BROTHERS	Help, Jupiter, or we appeal, And from thy justice fly. Jupiter descends in thunder and lightning, sitting upon an eagle. He throws a thunderbolt. The ghosts fall on their knees
JUPITER	No more, you petty spirits of region low, Offend our hearing. Hush! How dare you ghosts Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt, you know, Sky-planted, batters all rebelling coasts? Poor shadows of Elysium, hence, and rest Upon your never-withering banks of flowers. Be not with mortal accidents oppressed; No care of yours it is; you know ’tis ours. Whom best I love, I cross, to make my gift, The more delayed, delighted. Be content. Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift. His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent. Our Jovial star reigned at his birth, and in Our temple was he married. Rise, and fade. He shall be lord of Lady Innogen, And happier much by his affliction made. This tablet lay upon his breast, wherein Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine. He gives the ghosts a tablet which they lay upon Posthumus’ breast And so away. No farther with your din Express impatience, lest you stir up mine. Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline. He ascends into the heavens
SICILIUS	He came in thunder. His celestial breath Was sulphurous to smell. The holy eagle Stooped, as to foot us. His ascension is More sweet than our blest fields. His royal bird Preens the immortal wing and claws his beak As when his god is pleased.
ALL THE GHOSTS	Thanks, Jupiter.
SICILIUS	The marble pavement closes, he is entered His radiant roof. Away, and, to be blest, Let us with care perform his great behest. The ghosts vanish Posthumus awakes
POSTHUMUS	Sleep, thou hast been a grandsire, and begot A father to me; and thou hast created A mother and two brothers. But, O scorn, Gone! They went hence so soon as they were born, And so I am awake. Poor wretches that depend On greatness’ favour dream as I have done, Wake and find nothing. But, alas, I swerve. Many dream not to find, neither deserve, And yet are steeped in favours; so am I, That have this golden chance and know not why. What fairies haunt this ground? A book? O rare one, Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment Nobler than that it covers. Let thy effects So follow to be most unlike our courtiers, As good as promise. He reads ‘Whenas a lion’s whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty.’ ’Tis still a dream, or else such stuff as madmen Tongue, and brain not; either both, or nothing, Or senseless speaking, or a speaking such As sense cannot untie. Be what it is, The action of my life is like it, which I’ll keep, If but for sympathy.
(didascalia)	Enter Jailer
JAILER	Come, sir, are you ready for death?
POSTHUMUS	Over-roasted rather; ready long ago.
JAILER	Hanging is the word, sir. If you be ready for that, you are well cooked.
POSTHUMUS	So, if I prove a good repast to the spectators, the dish pays the shot.
JAILER	A heavy reckoning for you, sir. But the comfort is, you shall be called to no more payments, fear no more tavern bills, which are as often the sadness of parting as the procuring of mirth. You come in faint for want of meat, depart reeling with too much drink, sorry that you have paid too much and sorry that you are paid too much; purse and brain both empty: the brain the heavier for being too light, the purse too light, being drawn of heaviness. Of this contradiction you shall now be quit. O, the charity of a penny cord! It sums up thousands in a trice. You have no true debitor and creditor but it: of what’s past, is, and to come the discharge. Your neck, sir, is pen, book, and counters; so the acquittance follows.
POSTHUMUS	I am merrier to die than thou art to live.
JAILER	Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the toothache; but a man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he would change places with his officer; for look you, sir, you know not which way you shall go.
POSTHUMUS	Yes, indeed do I, fellow.
JAILER	Your death has eyes in ’s head, then. I have not seen him so pictured. You must either be directed by some that take upon them to know, or take upon yourself that which I am sure you do not know, or jump the after-enquiry on your own peril; and how you shall speed in your journey’s end I think you’ll never return to tell on.
POSTHUMUS	I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to direct them the way I am going but such as wink and will not use them.
JAILER	What an infinite mock is this, that a man should have the best use of eyes to see the way of blindness! I am sure hanging’s the way of winking.
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger
MESSENGER	Knock off his manacles, bring your prisoner to the King.
POSTHUMUS	Thou bring’st good news, I am called to be made free.
JAILER	I’ll be hanged then.
POSTHUMUS	Thou shalt be then freer than a jailer; no bolts for the dead.
JAILER	(aside) Unless a man would marry a gallows and beget young gibbets, I never saw one so prone. Yet, on my conscience, there are verier knaves desire to live, for all he be a Roman; and there be some of them, too, that die against their wills; so should I if I were one. I would we were all of one mind, and one mind good. O, there were desolation of jailers and gallowses! I speak against my present profit, but my wish hath a preferment in’t. Exeunt
(didascalia)	5.6 Flourish. Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, Pisanio, and lords
CYMBELINE	(to Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus) Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart That the poor soldier that so richly fought, Whose rags shamed gilded arms, whose naked breast Stepped before targs of proof, cannot be found. He shall be happy that can find him, if Our grace can make him so.
BELARIUS	I never saw Such noble fury in so poor a thing, Such precious deeds in one that promised naught But beggary and poor looks.
CYMBELINE	No tidings of him?
PISANIO	He hath been searched among the dead and living, But no trace of him.
CYMBELINE	To my grief I am The heir of his reward, which I will add (To Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus) To you, the liver, heart, and brain of Britain, By whom I grant she lives. ’Tis now the time To ask of whence you are. Report it.
BELARIUS	Sir, In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen. Further to boast were neither true nor modest, Unless I add we are honest.
CYMBELINE	Bow your knees. They kneel. He knights them Arise, my knights o’th’ battle. I create you Companions to our person, and will fit you With dignities becoming your estates. Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus rise.
(didascalia)	Enter Cornelius and Ladies
CYMBELINE	There’s business in these faces. Why so sadly Greet you our victory? You look like Romans, And not o’th’ court of Britain.
CORNELIUS	Hail, great King! To sour your happiness I must report The Queen is dead.
CYMBELINE	Who worse than a physician Would this report become? But I consider By medicine life may be prolonged, yet death Will seize the doctor too. How ended she?
CORNELIUS	With horror, madly dying, like her life, Which being cruel to the world, concluded Most cruel to herself. What she confessed I will report, so please you. These her women Can trip me if I err, who with wet cheeks Were present when she finished.
CYMBELINE	Prithee, say.
CORNELIUS	First, she confessed she never loved you, only Affected greatness got by you, not you; Married your royalty, was wife to your place, Abhorred your person.
CYMBELINE	She alone knew this, And but she spoke it dying, I would not Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.
CORNELIUS	Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to love With such integrity, she did confess Was as a scorpion to her sight, whose life, But that her flight prevented it, she had Ta’en off by poison.
CYMBELINE	O most delicate fiend! Who is’t can read a woman? Is there more?
CORNELIUS	More, sir, and worse. She did confess she had For you a mortal mineral which, being took, Should by the minute feed on life, and, ling‘ring, By inches waste you. In which time she purposed By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to O’ercome you with her show; and in fine, When she had fit you with her craft, to work Her son into th’adoption of the crown; But failing of her end by his strange absence, Grew shameless-desperate, opened in despite Of heaven and men her purposes, repented The evils she hatched were not effected; so Despairing died.
CYMBELINE	Heard you all this, her women?
(didascalia)	LADIES
CYMBELINE	We did, so please your highness.
CYMBELINE	Mine eyes Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; Mine ears that heard her flattery, nor my heart That thought her like her seeming. It had been vicious To have mistrusted her. Yet, O my daughter, That it was folly in me thou mayst say, And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all!
(didascalia)	Enter Lucius, Giacomo, Soothsayer, and other Roman prisoners, Posthumus behind, and Innogen dressed as a man, all guarded by Briton soldiers
CYMBELINE	Thou com’st not, Caius, now for tribute. That The Britons have razed out, though with the loss Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have made suit That their good souls may be appeased with slaughter Of you, their captives, which ourself have granted. So think of your estate.
LUCIUS	Consider, sir, the chance of war. The day Was yours by accident. Had it gone with us, We should not, when the blood was cool, have threatened Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives May be called ransom, let it come. Sufficeth A Roman with a Roman’s heart can suffer. Augustus lives to think on’t; and so much For my peculiar care. This one thing only I will entreat: He presents Innogen to Cymbeline my boy, a Briton born, Let him be ransomed. Never master had A page so kind, so duteous, diligent, So tender over his occasions, true, So feat, so nurse-like; let his virtue join With my request, which I’ll make bold your highness Cannot deny. He hath done no Briton harm, Though he have served a Roman. Save him, sir, And spare no blood beside.
CYMBELINE	I have surely seen him. His favour is familiar to me. Boy, Thou hast looked thyself into my grace, And art mine own. I know not why, wherefore, To say ‘Live, boy’. Ne‘er thank thy master. Live, And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt Fitting my bounty and thy state, I’ll give it, Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner The noblest ta’en.
INNOGEN	I humbly thank your highness.
LUCIUS	I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad, And yet I know thou wilt.
INNOGEN	No, no. Alack, There’s other work in hand. I see a thing Bitter to me as death. Your life, good master, Must shuffle for itself.
LUCIUS	The boy disdains me. He leaves me, scorns me. Briefly die their joys That place them on the truth of girls and boys. Why stands he so perplexed?
CYMBELINE	(to Innogen) What wouldst thou, boy? I love thee more and more; think more and more What’s best to ask. Know‘st him thou look’st on? Speak, no Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin, thy friend?
INNOGEN	He is a Roman, no more kin to me Than I to your highness, who, being born your vassal, Am something nearer.
CYMBELINE	Wherefore ey’st him so?
INNOGEN	I’ll tell you, sir, in private, if you please To give me hearing.
CYMBELINE	Ay, with all my heart, And lend my best attention. What’s thy name?
INNOGEN	Fidele, sir.
CYMBELINE	Thou’rt my good youth, my page. I’ll be thy master. Walk with me, speak freely. Cymbeline and Innogen speak apart
BELARIUS	(aside to Guiderius and Arviragus) Is not this boy revived from death?
ARVIRAGUS	One sand another Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad Who died, and was Fidele. What think you?
GUIDERIUS	The same dead thing alive.
BELARIUS	Peace, peace, see further. He eyes us not. Forbear. Creatures may be alike. Were’t he, I am sure He would have spoke to us.
GUIDERIUS	But we see him dead.
BELARIUS	Be silent; let’s see further.
PISANIO	(aside) It is my mistress. Since she is living, let the time run on To good or bad.
CYMBELINE	(to Innogen) Come, stand thou by our side, Make thy demand aloud. (To Giacomo) Sir, step you forth. Give answer to this boy, and do it freely, Or, by our greatness and the grace of it, Which is our honour, bitter torture shall Winnow the truth from falsehood. (To Innogen) On, speak to him.
INNOGEN	My boon is that this gentleman may render Of whom he had this ring.
POSTHUMUS	(aside) What’s that to him?
CYMBELINE	(to Giacomo) That diamond upon your finger, say, How came it yours?
GIACOMO	Thou’lt torture me to leave unspoken that Which to be spoke would torture thee.
CYMBELINE	How, me?
GIACOMO	I am glad to be constrained to utter that Torments me to conceal. By villainy I got this ring; ‘twas Leonatus’ jewel, Whom thou didst banish; and, which more may grieve thee, As it doth me, a nobler sir ne’er lived ’Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord?
CYMBELINE	All that belongs to this.
GIACOMO	That paragon thy daughter, For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits Quail to remember-give me leave, I faint.
CYMBELINE	My daughter? What of her? Renew thy strength. I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will Than die ere I hear more. Strive, man, and speak.
GIACOMO	Upon a time-unhappy was the clock That struck the hour-it was in Rome-accursed The mansion where-‘twas at a feast-O, would Our viands had been poisoned, or at least Those which I heaved to head!—the good Posthumus— What should I say?—he was too good to be Where ill men were, and was the best of all Amongst the rar’st of good ones-sitting sadly, Hearing us praise our loves of Italy For beauty that made barren the swelled boast Of him that best could speak; for feature laming The shrine of Venus or straight-pitched Minerva, Postures beyond brief nature; for condition, A shop of all the qualities that man Loves woman for; besides that hook of wiving, Fairness which strikes the eye—
CYMBELINE	I stand on fire. Come to the matter.
GIACOMO	All too soon I shall, Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This Posthumus, Most like a noble lord in love and one That had a royal lover, took his hint, And not dispraising whom we praised—therein He was as calm as virtue-he began His mistress’ picture, which by his tongue being made, And then a mind put in’t, either our brags Were cracked of kitchen-trulls, or his description Proved us unspeaking sots.
CYMBELINE	Nay, nay, to th’ purpose.
GIACOMO	Your daughter’s chastity-there it begins. He spake of her as Dian had hot dreams And she alone were cold, whereat I, wretch, Made scruple of his praise, and wagered with him Pieces of gold ‘gainst this which then he wore Upon his honoured finger, to attain In suit the place of ’s bed and win this ring By hers and mine adultery. He, true knight, No lesser of her honour confident Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring— And would so had it been a carbuncle Of Phoebus’ wheel, and might so safely had it Been all the worth of ’s car. Away to Britain Post I in this design. Well may you, sir, Remember me at court, where I was taught Of your chaste daughter the wide difference ’Twixt amorous and villainous. Being thus quenched Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain Gan in your duller Britain operate Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent. And, to be brief, my practice so prevailed That I returned with simular proof enough To make the noble Leonatus mad By wounding his belief in her renown With tokens thus and thus; averring notes Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet— O cunning, how I got it!—nay, some marks Of secret on her person, that he could not But think her bond of chastity quite cracked, I having ta’en the forfeit. Whereupon— Methinks I see him now—
POSTHUMUS	(coming forward) Ay, so thou dost, Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool, Egregious murderer, thief, anything That’s due to all the villains past, in being, To come! O, give me cord, or knife, or poison, Some upright justicer! Thou, King, send out For torturers ingenious. It is I That all th‘abhorrèd things o’th’ earth amend By being worse than they. I am Posthumus, That killed thy daughter—villain-like, I lie: That caused a lesser villain than myself, A sacrilegious thief, to do’t. The temple Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself. Spit and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set The dogs o‘th’ street to bay me. Every villain Be called Posthumus Leonatus, and Be ‘villain’ less than ’twas! O Innogen! My queen, my life, my wife, O Innogen, Innogen, Innogen!
INNOGEN	(approaching him) Peace, my lord. Hear, hear.
POSTHUMUS	Shall ’s have a play of this? Thou scornful page, There lie thy part. He strikes her down
PISANIO	(coming forward) O gentlemen, help! Mine and your mistress! O my lord Posthumus, You ne’er killed Innogen till now. Help, help! (To Innogen) Mine honoured lady.
CYMBELINE	Does the world go round?
POSTHUMUS	How comes these staggers on me?
PISANIO	(to Innogen) Wake, my mistress.
CYMBELINE	If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me To death with mortal joy.
PISANIO	(to Innogen) How fares my mistress?
INNOGEN	O, get thee from my sight! Thou gav’st me poison. Dangerous fellow, hence. Breathe not where princes are.
CYMBELINE	The tune of Innogen.
PISANIO	Lady, the gods throw stones of sulphur on me if That box I gave you was not thought by me A precious thing. I had it from the Queen.
CYMBELINE	New matter still.
INNOGEN	It poisoned me.
CORNELIUS	O gods! I left out one thing which the Queen confessed (To Pisanio) Which must approve thee honest. ’If Pisanio Have‘, said she, ‘given his mistress that confection Which I gave him for cordial, she is served As I would serve a rat.’
CYMBELINE	What’s this, Cornelius?
CORNELIUS	The Queen, sir, very oft importuned me To temper poisons for her, still pretending The satisfaction of her knowledge only In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs Of no esteem. I, dreading that her purpose Was of more danger, did compound for her A certain stuff which, being ta‘en, would cease The present power of life, but in short time All offices of nature should again Do their due functions. (To Innogen) Have you ta’en of it?
INNOGEN	Most like I did, for I was dead.
BELARIUS	(aside to Guiderius and Arviragus) My boys, There was our error.
GUIDERIUS	This is sure Fidele.
INNOGEN	(to Posthumus) Why did you throw your wedded lady from you? Think that you are upon a lock, and now Throw me again. She throws her arms about his neck
POSTHUMUS	Hang there like fruit, my soul, Till the tree die.
CYMBELINE	(to Innogen) How now, my flesh, my child? What, mak’st thou me a dullard in this act? Wilt thou not speak to me?
INNOGEN	(kneeling) Your blessing, sir.
BELARIUS	(aside to Guiderius and Arviragus) Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not. You had a motive for’t.
CYMBELINE	My tears that fall Prove holy water on thee!
(didascalia)	He raises her
CYMBELINE	Innogen, Thy mother’s dead.
INNOGEN	I am sorry for’t, my lord.
CYMBELINE	O, she was naught, and ’long of her it was That we meet here so strangely. But her son Is gone, we know not how nor where.
PISANIO	My lord, Now fear is from me I’ll speak truth. Lord Cloten, Upon my lady’s missing, came to me With his sword drawn, foamed at the mouth, and swore If I discovered not which way she was gone It was my instant death. By accident I had a feigned letter of my master’s Then in my pocket, which directed him To seek her on the mountains near to Milford, Where in a frenzy, in my master’s garments, Which he enforced from me, away he posts With unchaste purpose, and with oath to violate My lady’s honour. What became of him I further know not.
GUIDERIUS	Let me end the story. I slew him there.
CYMBELINE	Marry, the gods forfend! I would not thy good deeds should from my lips Pluck a hard sentence. Prithee, valiant youth, Deny’t again.
GUIDERIUS	I have spoke it, and I did it.
CYMBELINE	He was a prince.
GUIDERIUS	A most incivil one. The wrongs he did me Were nothing prince-like, for he did provoke me With language that would make me spurn the sea If it could so roar to me. I cut off ’s head, And am right glad he is not standing here To tell this tale of mine.
CYMBELINE	I am sorrow for thee. By thine own tongue thou art condemned, and must Endure our law. Thou’rt dead.
INNOGEN	That headless man I thought had been my lord.
CYMBELINE	(to soldiers) Bind the offender, And take him from our presence.
BELARIUS	Stay, sir King. This boy is better than the man he slew, As well descended as thyself, and hath More of thee merited than a band of Clotens Had ever scar for. Let his arms alone; They were not born for bondage.
CYMBELINE	Why, old soldier, Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for By tasting of our wrath? How of descent As good as we?
ARVIRAGUS	In that he spake too far.
(didascalia)	CYMBELINE to Belarius
ARVIRAGUS	And thou shalt die for’t.
BELARIUS	We will die all three But I will prove that two on ’s are as good As I have given out him. My sons, I must For mine own part unfold a dangerous speech, Though haply well for you.
ARVIRAGUS	Your danger’s ours.
GUIDERIUS	And our good his.
BELARIUS	Have at it then. By leave, Thou hadst, great King, a subject who Was called Belarius.
CYMBELINE	What of him? He is A banished traitor.
BELARIUS	He it is that hath Assumed this age. Indeed, a banished man; I know not how a traitor.
CYMBELINE	(to soldiers) Take him hence. The whole world shall not save him.
BELARIUS	Not too hot. First pay me for the nursing of thy sons, And let it be confiscate all so soon As I have received it.
CYMBELINE	Nursing of my sons?
BELARIUS	I am too blunt and saucy. (Kneeling) Here’s my knee. Ere I arise I will prefer my sons, Then spare not the old father. Mighty sir, These two young gentlemen that call me father And think they are my sons are none of mine. They are the issue of your loins, my liege, And blood of your begetting.
CYMBELINE	How, my issue?
BELARIUS	So sure as you your father’s. I, old Morgan, Am that Belarius whom you sometime banished. Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment Itself, and all my treason. That I suffered Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes— For such and so they are-these twenty years Have I trained up. Those arts they have as I Could put into them. My breeding was, sir, As your highness knows. Their nurse Euriphile, Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children Upon my banishment. I moved her to‘t, Having received the punishment before For that which I did then. Beaten for loyalty Excited me to treason. Their dear loss, The more of you ‘twas felt, the more it shaped Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir, Here are your sons again, and I must lose Two of the sweet’st companions in the world. The benediction of these covering heavens Fall on their heads like dew, for they are worthy To inlay heaven with stars.
CYMBELINE	Thou weep‘st, and speak’st. The service that you three have done is more Unlike than this thou tell’st. I lost my children. If these be they, I know not how to wish A pair of worthier sons.
(didascalia)	BELARIUS rising
CYMBELINE	Be pleased a while. This gentleman, whom I call Polydore, Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius.
(didascalia)	Guiderius kneels
CYMBELINE	This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus, Your younger princely son.
(didascalia)	Arviragus kneels
CYMBELINE	He, sir, was lapped In a most curious mantle wrought by th’ hand Of his queen mother, which for more probation I can with ease produce.
CYMBELINE	Guiderius had Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star. It was a mark of wonder.
BELARIUS	This is he, Who hath upon him still that natural stamp. It was wise nature’s end in the donation To be his evidence now.
CYMBELINE	O, what am I? A mother to the birth of three? Ne’er mother Rejoiced deliverance more. Blest pray you be, That, after this strange starting from your orbs, You may reign in them now!
(didascalia)	Guiderius and Arviragus rise
CYMBELINE	O Innogen, Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.
INNOGEN	No, my lord, I have got two worlds by’t. O my gentle brothers, Have we thus met? O, never say hereafter But I am truest speaker. You called me brother When I was but your sister; I you brothers When ye were so indeed.
CYMBELINE	Did you e’er meet?
ARVIRAGUS	Ay, my good lord.
GUIDERIUS	And at first meeting loved, Continued so until we thought he died.
CORNELIUS	By the Queen’s dram she swallowed.
CYMBELINE	O rare instinct! When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridgement Hath to it circumstantial branches which Distinction should be rich in. Where? How lived you? And when came you to serve our Roman captive? How parted with your brothers? How first met them? Why fled you from the court? And whither? These, And your three motives to the battle, with I know not how much more, should be demanded, And all the other by-dependences, From chance to chance. But nor the time nor place Will serve our long inter’gatories. See, Posthumus anchors upon Innogen, And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye On him, her brothers, me, her master, hitting Each object with a joy. The counterchange Is severally in all. Let’s quit this ground, And smoke the temple with our sacrifices. (To Belarius) Thou art my brother; so we’ll hold thee ever.
INNOGEN	(to Belarius) You are my father too, and did relieve me To see this gracious season.
CYMBELINE	All o’erjoyed, Save these in bonds. Let them be joyful too, For they shall taste our comfort.
INNOGEN	(to Lucius) My good master, I will yet do you service.
LUCIUS	Happy be you!
CYMBELINE	The forlorn soldier that so nobly fought, He would have well becomed this place, and graced The thankings of a king.
POSTHUMUS	I am, sir, The soldier that did company these three In poor beseeming. ’Twas a fitment for The purpose I then followed. That I was he, Speak, Giacomo; I had you down, and might Have made you finish.
GIACOMO	(kneeling) I am down again, But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee As then your force did. Take that life, beseech you, Which I so often owe; but your ring first, And here the bracelet of the truest princess That ever swore her faith.
POSTHUMUS	(raising him) Kneel not to me. The power that I have on you is to spare you, The malice towards you to forgive you. Live, And deal with others better.
CYMBELINE	Nobly doomed! We’ll learn our freeness of a son-in-law. Pardon’s the word to all.
ARVIRAGUS	(to Posthumus) You holp us, sir, As you did mean indeed to be our brother. Joyed are we that you are.
POSTHUMUS	Your servant, princes. (To Lucius) Good my lord of Rome, Call forth your soothsayer. As I slept, methought Great Jupiter, upon his eagle backed, Appeared to me with other spritely shows Of mine own kindred. When I waked I found This label on my bosom, whose containing Is so from sense in hardness that I can Make no collection of it. Let him show His skill in the construction.
LUCIUS	Philharmonus.
SOOTHSAYER	Here, my good lord.
LUCIUS	Read, and declare the meaning.
SOOTHSAYER	(reads the tablet) ‘Whenas a lion’s whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow: then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty.’ Thou, Leonatus, art the lion’s whelp. The fit and apt construction of thy name, Being leo-natus, doth import so much. (To Cymbeline) The piece of tender air thy virtuous daughter, Which we call ‘mollis aer’; and ‘mollis aer’ We term it ‘mulier’, (to Posthumus) which ‘mulier’ I divine Is this most constant wife, who even now, Answering the letter of the oracle, Unknown to you, unsought, were clipped about With this most tender air.
CYMBELINE	This hath some seeming.
SOOTHSAYER	The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, Personates thee, and thy lopped branches point Thy two sons forth, who, by Belarius stol’n, For many years thought dead, are now revived, To the majestic cedar joined, whose issue Promises Britain peace and plenty.
CYMBELINE	Well, My peace we will begin; and, Caius Lucius, Although the victor, we submit to Caesar And to the Roman empire, promising To pay our wonted tribute, from the which We were dissuaded by our wicked queen, Whom heavens in justice both on her and hers Have laid most heavy hand.
SOOTHSAYER	The fingers of the powers above do tune The harmony of this peace. The vision, Which I made known to Lucius ere the stroke Of this yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant Is full accomplished. For the Roman eagle, From south to west on wing soaring aloft, Lessened herself, and in the beams o‘th’ sun So vanished; which foreshowed our princely eagle Th’imperial Caesar should again unite His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, Which shines here in the west.
CYMBELINE	Laud we the gods, And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils From our blest altars. Publish we this peace To all our subjects. Set we forward, let A Roman and a British ensign wave Friendly together. So through Lud’s town march, And in the temple of great Jupiter Our peace we’ll ratify, seal it with feasts. Set on there. Never was a war did cease, Ere bloody hands were washed, with such a peace.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt in triumph
THE	King’s Men acted The Tempest before their patron, James I, at Whitehall on I November 1611. (It was also chosen for performance during the festivities for the marriage of James’s daughter, Princess Elizabeth, to the Elector Palatine during the winter of 1612- 13.) Shakespeare’s play takes place on a desert island somewhere between Tunis and Naples; he derived some details of it from his reading of travel literature, including accounts of an expedition of nine ships taking five hundred colonists from Plymouth to Virginia, which set sail in May 1609. On 29 July the flagship, the Sea-Adventure, was wrecked by a storm on the coast of the Bermudas. She was presumed lost, but on 23 May 1610 those aboard her arrived safely in Jamestown, Virginia, having found shelter on the island of Bermuda, where they were able to build the pinnaces in which they completed their journey. Accounts of the voyage soon reached England; the last-written that Shakespeare seems to have known is a letter by William Strachey, who was on the Sea-Adventure, dated 15 July 1610; though it was not published until 1625, it circulated in manuscript. So it seems clear that Shakespeare wrote The Tempest during the later part of 1610or in 1611. It was first printed in the 1623 Folio, where it is the opening play. Though other items of Shakespeare’s reading—including both Arthur Golding’s translation and Ovid’s original Metamorphoses (closely echoed in Prospero’s farewell to his magic), John Florio’s translation of essays by Michel de Montaigne, and (less locally but no less pervasively) Virgil’s Aeneid—certainly fed Shakespeare’s imagination as he wrote The Tempest, he appears to have devised the main plot himself. Many of its elements are based on the familiar stuff of romance literature: the long-past shipwreck after a perilous voyage of Prospero and his daughter Miranda; the shipwreck, depicted in the opening scene, of Prospero’s brother, Antonio, with Alonso, King of Naples, and others; the separation and estrangement of relatives—Antonio usurped Prospero’s dukedom, and Alonso believes his son, Ferdinand, is drowned; the chaste love, subjected to trials, of the handsome Ferdinand and the beautiful Miranda; the influence of the supernatural exercised through Prospero’s magic powers; and the final reunions and reconciliations along with the happy conclusion of the love affair. Shakespeare had employed such conventions from the beginning of his career in his comedies, and with especial concentration, shortly before he wrote The Tempest, in Pericles, The Winter’s Tale, and Cymbeline. But whereas those plays unfold the events as they happen, taking us on a journey through time and space, in The Tempest (as elsewhere only in The Comedy of Errors) Shakespeare gives us only the end of the story, concentrating the action into a few hours and locating it in a single place, but informing us about the past, as in the long, romance-type narrative (1.2) in which Prospero tells Miranda of her childhood. The supernatural, a strong presence in all Shakespeare’s late plays, is particularly pervasive in The Tempest; Prospero is a ‘white’ magician—a beneficent one—attended by the spirit Ariel and the sub-human Caliban, two of Shakespeare’s most obviously symbolic characters; and a climax of the play is the supernaturally induced wedding masque that Prospero conjures up for the entertainment and edification of the young lovers, and which vanishes as he remembers Caliban’s plot against his life.
THE PERSONS OF THE	PLAY PROSPERO, the rightful Duke of Milan MIRANDA, his daughter ANTONIO, his brother, the usurping Duke of Milan ALONSO, King of Naples SEBASTIAN, his brother FERDINAND, Alonso’s son GONZALO, an honest old counsellor of Naples ARIEL, an airy spirit attendant upon Prospero CALIBAN, a savage and deformed native of the island, Prospero’s slave TRINCULO, Alonso’s jester STEFANO, Alonso’s drunken butler The MASTER of a ship
SPIRITS	The Masque Spirits appearing as:
JUNO	Nymphs, reapers

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Postumo in veste di povero soldato, e un Signore britanno
SIGNORE	Vieni tu di dove fecero la resistenza?
POSTUMO	Sì, benché voi, a quel che pare, veniate dai fuggitivi.
SIGNORE	Sì.
POSTUMO	Nessun biasimo a voi, signore, ché tutto era perduto se non avesse combattuto il cielo. Il Re stesso privo delle sue ali, l’esercito spezzato, e non si vedevano che schiene di Britanni, tutti in fuga per uno stretto viottolo; il nemico pieno d’ardire, con la lingua penzoloni dal macellare, avendo lavoro più abbondante degli strumenti per farlo, abbatteva alcuni mortalmente, altri appena toccava, altri cadevano per sola paura, sì che lo stretto passo fu ostruito di uomini morti feriti alle spalle, e di codardi vivi per morire con vergogna prolungata.
SIGNORE	Dov’era questo viottolo?
POSTUMO	Vicinissimo alla battaglia, fossato e murato di zolle; il che diede vantaggio a un vecchio soldato, onesto, ve lo garantisco, che meritava una così lunga vita quanta la sua bianca barba diceva, per aver fatto questo per il suo paese. Attraverso il viottolo egli, con due giovinetti-ragazzi più adatti a correre giochi di campagna che a compiere tale strage; con volti degni d’esser mascherati, o piuttosto più belli di quelli che si coprono per preservarli, o per vergogna- tenne il passaggio, gridò a quelli che fuggivano: ‘I cervi della nostra Britannia muoiono fuggendo, non i suoi uomini. Alle tenebre volino le anime che volano all’indietro. Fermatevi, o siamo Romani, e vi daremo da bestie ciò che da bestie fuggite, e potete salvarvi solo guardando indietro con cipiglio. Fermi, fermi.’ Questi tre, arditi come tremila, e nell’atto altrettanti- ché tre esecutori sono tutta la schiera quando gli altri non fanno nulla-con questa parola ‘Fermi, fermi’, favoriti dal luogo, e più incantevoli per la loro stessa nobiltà, che avrebbe potuto mutare una conocchia in lancia, e dorò i visi pallidi; parte vergogna, parte spirito rinnovato, sì che alcuni, fatti codardi solo per esempio,-oh, peccato in guerra, dannato in chi per primo lo comincia!-presero a guardare là dove guardavan quelli, e a digrignare come leoni contro le picche dei cacciatori. Allora cominciò un arresto negli inseguitori, una ritirata. Tosto una rotta, una fitta confusione; e subito fuggono come polli per la via per cui erano piombati aquile; schiavi, là dove da vincitori marciavano; e ora i nostri codardi, come avanzi in dure traversate, divennero la vita del bisogno. Trovata aperta la porta di dietro dei cuori non custoditi, o cieli, come feriscono! Alcuni già uccisi, altri morenti, altri i cui amici erano stati travolti nell’ondata precedente, dieci inseguiti da uno, son ora ciascuno il carnefice di venti. Quelli che avrebbero preferito morire che resistere son divenuti i mortali spauracchi del campo.
SIGNORE	Fu strana ventura: uno stretto viottolo, un vecchio e due ragazzi.
POSTUMO	Ma no, non ve ne meravigliate. Eppure siete fatto più per meravigliarvi delle cose che udite che per compierne alcuna. Volete metterlo in rima, e spacciarlo come una beffa? Eccone una: ‘Due ragazzi, un vecchio due volte ragazzo, un viottolo, salvarono i Britanni, e furono dei Romani la rovina.’
SIGNORE	Suvvia, non v’adirate, signore.
POSTUMO	Ahimè, a che fine? Chi non osa affrontare il suo nemico, io gli sarò amico; ché s’egli farà com’è fatto per fare, so che presto fuggirà anche la mia amicizia. Voi m’avete messo in rima.
SIGNORE	Addio; siete in collera.
(didascalia)	Esce
POSTUMO	Se ne va ancora? E questo è un signore? Oh nobile miseria, esser sul campo e chiedere a me ‘Che nuove?’! Oggi quanti avrebbero dato i loro onori per salvare le loro carcasse-e presero il volo per farlo, eppure morirono lo stesso! Io, incantato dal mio stesso dolore, non ho potuto trovare la morte dove l’udivo gemere, né sentirla dove colpiva. Essendo un brutto mostro, è strano ch’essa si nasconda in coppe fresche, in molli letti, in dolci parole, e abbia più ministri di noi che sguainiamo i suoi coltelli in guerra. Bene, la troverò; ché, essendo ora favorevole al Britanno, non più Britanno, ho ripreso di nuovo la parte con cui venni. Combattere non voglio più, ma mi arrenderò al più vile villano che mi tocchi una sola volta la spalla. Grande è la strage fatta qui dal Romano; grande sia la risposta che i Britanni devono dare. Quanto a me, il mio riscatto è la morte; d’ambo le parti io vengo a spendere il mio fiato, che né qui serberò né porterò altrove, ma lo finirò in qualche modo per Innogene.
(didascalia)	Entrano due Capitani britanni e soldati
PRIMO CAPITANO	Sia lodato il gran Giove, Lucio è preso. Si crede che il vecchio e i suoi figli fossero angeli.
SECONDO CAPITANO	C’era un quarto uomo, in umile arnese, che sostenne l’urto con loro.
PRIMO CAPITANO	Così si riferisce, ma nessuno di loro si trova. Fermo, chi è là?
POSTUMO	Un Romano, che ora non sarebbe qui abbattuto se dei secondi gli avessero risposto.
SECONDO CAPITANO	(ai soldati) Mettetegli le mani addosso, cane! Non tornerà una gamba di Roma a raccontare quali cornacchie li abbiano beccati qui. Egli si vanta del suo servizio come se fosse persona di conto. Conducetelo al Re.
(didascalia)	Squilli di trombe. Entrano Cimbelino e il suo seguito, Belario, Guiderio, Arvirago, Pisanio e prigionieri romani. I Capitani presentano Postumo a Cimbelino, che lo consegna a un Carceriere. Escono tutti tranne Postumo e due Carcerieri, che gli serrano i ceppi alle gambe
PRIMO CARCERIERE	Ora non sarete rubato. Avete i lucchetti addosso, e pascolate pure dove trovate pastura.
SECONDO CARCERIERE	Sì, o dove trovate appetito.
(didascalia)	Escono i Carcerieri
POSTUMO	Benvenuta, o schiavitù, ché tu sei una via, io credo, alla libertà. Eppure sto meglio di chi ha la gotta, poiché costui preferisce gemere così in perpetuo che esser guarito dal sicuro medico, la morte, che è la chiave per aprire questi lucchetti. Mia coscienza, tu sei incatenata più dei miei stinchi e dei miei polsi. Voi, dèi benigni, datemi a me lo strumento penitente per forzare quel chiavistello, e poi libero per sempre. Basta ch’io sia pentito? Così i figli placano i padri temporali; gli dèi son più pieni di misericordia. Se devo pentirmi, non posso farlo meglio che in ceppi desiderati più che imposti. Per soddisfare, se della mia libertà questa è la parte principale, non chiedete no rendiconto più stretto da me del mio tutto. So che siete più clementi degli uomini vili che dai loro debitori falliti prendono un terzo, un sesto, un decimo, lasciandoli prosperare di nuovo sul loro abbuono. Non è questo il mio desiderio. Per la cara vita d’Innogene prendete la mia, e benché non sia così cara, pure è una vita; voi la coniaste. Fra uomo e uomo non si pesa ogni conio; benché leggeri, si prendono i pezzi per amor dell’effigie; voi a maggior ragione i miei, essendo vostri. E dunque, o grandi potenze, se volete fare questo bilancio, prendete questa vita, e cancellate questi freddi vincoli. Oh Innogene, ti parlerò in silenzio! Si addormenta. Musica solenne. Entra, come in apparizione, Sicilio Leonato (padre di Postumo, un vecchio), vestito da guerriero, conducendo per mano un’antica matrona, sua moglie e madre di Postumo, con musica davanti a loro. Poi, dopo altra musica, seguono i due giovani Leonati, fratelli di Postumo, con le ferite quali le ebbero morendo in guerra. Fanno cerchio intorno a Postumo mentre giace dormendo
SICILIO	Non più, o signore del tuono, mostrare il tuo dispetto su mortali mosche. Con Marte litiga, con Giunone contendi, che i tuoi adultèri rimprovera e vendica. Ha il mio povero figlio fatto altro che bene, lui di cui mai vidi il volto? Io morii mentr’egli stava nel grembo, attendendo la legge di natura; e suo padre allora-come dicono gli uomini che tu sei padre degli orfani- tu avresti dovuto essere, e fargli scudo contro questa pena che affligge la terra.
MADRE	Lucina non mi prestò il suo aiuto, ma mi colse fra le doglie, sì che da me Postumo fu strappato, e venne piangendo fra i suoi nemici, creatura da pietà.
SICILIO	La gran natura, come i suoi avi, plasmò la materia sì bella ch’egli meritò la lode del mondo quale erede del grande Sicilio.
PRIMO FRATELLO	Quando una volta fu maturo per esser uomo, in Britannia dov’era colui che potesse ergersi suo pari, o essere fecondo oggetto agli occhi d’Innogene, che meglio d’ogni altro sapeva stimarne la dignità?
MADRE	Perché fu beffato col matrimonio, per essere esiliato, e scacciato dalla sede dei Leonati, e strappato a lei, la sua carissima, la dolce Innogene?
SICILIO	Perché permetteste che Giacomo, cosa da nulla d’Italia, infettasse il suo più nobile cuore e cervello con vana gelosia, e ch’egli divenisse lo zimbello e lo scherno della scelleraggine altrui?
SECONDO FRATELLO	Per questo veniamo da sedi più quiete, i nostri genitori e noi due, che, colpendo per la causa del nostro paese, cademmo valorosi e fummo uccisi, per mantenere con onore la nostra fedeltà e il diritto di Tenanzio.
PRIMO FRATELLO	Pari ardimento Postumo ha a Cimbelino Prestato. Allora, Giove, tu re degli dèi, perché hai così differito le grazie dovute ai suoi meriti, volte tutte in dolori?
SICILIO	Apri la tua finestra di cristallo; guarda fuori; non esercitare più su una stirpe valorosa le tue dure e potenti ingiurie.
MADRE	Poiché, Giove, nostro figlio è buono, togligli le sue miserie.
SICILIO	Sbircia dalla tua dimora di marmo. Soccorri, o noi poveri spettri grideremo al fulgente sinodo degli altri contro la tua deità.
FRATELLI	Soccorri, Giove, o noi ci appelliamo, e dalla tua giustizia fuggiamo. Giove discende fra tuoni e lampi, seduto su un’aquila. Scaglia un fulmine. Gli spettri cadono in ginocchio
GIOVE	Non più, voi minuti spiriti di regione bassa, offendete il nostro udito. Zitti! Come osate voi spettri accusare il tonante, il cui dardo, ben sapete, piantato dal cielo, batte tutte le coste ribelli? Povere ombre dell’Elisio, via, e riposate sulle vostre rive di fiori che mai appassiscono. Non siate oppresse da accidenti mortali; non è cura vostra; sapete ch’è nostra. Chi più amo, io contrario, per rendere il mio dono, quanto più differito, tanto più gradito. Contentatevi. Il vostro figlio abbattuto la nostra divinità solleverà. I suoi conforti prosperano, le sue prove son ben spese. La nostra stella gioviale regnò alla sua nascita, e nel nostro tempio fu sposato. Sorgete, e dileguatevi. Egli sarà signore di Madonna Innogene, e assai più felice reso dalla sua afflizione. Ponete questa tavoletta sul suo petto, nella quale il nostro piacere racchiude la sua piena fortuna. Dà agli spettri una tavoletta ch’essi pongono sul petto di Postumo E ora via. Non esprimete oltre col vostro strepito impazienza, ché non destiate la mia. Sali, aquila, al mio palazzo cristallino. Ascende nei cieli
SICILIO	Venne fra i tuoni. Il suo fiato celeste era sulfureo all’odorato. La santa aquila si abbassò, come per ghermirci. La sua ascesa è più dolce dei nostri campi beati. Il suo regale uccello si liscia l’ala immortale e s’affila il becco come quando il suo dio è compiaciuto.
TUTTI GLI SPETTRI	Grazie, Giove.
SICILIO	Il pavimento di marmo si chiude, egli è entrato nel suo tetto radioso. Via, e, per essere benedetti, compiamo con cura il suo grande comando. Gli spettri svaniscono Postumo si sveglia
POSTUMO	Sonno, tu sei stato un avo, e hai generato un padre per me; e hai creato una madre e due fratelli. Ma, oh scherno, spariti! Se ne andarono appena furono nati, e così io sono desto. Poveri miseri che dipendono dal favore della grandezza sognano come io ho sognato, si destano e non trovano nulla. Ma, ahimè, io devio. Molti non sognano di trovare, né meritano, eppure sono immersi nei favori; e tale son io, che ho questa aurea ventura e non so perché. Quali fate infestano questo suolo? Un libro? Oh cosa rara, non essere, come il nostro mondo bizzarro, una veste più nobile di ciò che copre. Fa’ che i tuoi effetti seguano tanto diversi dai nostri cortigiani quanto la promessa è buona. Legge ‘Quando il cucciolo d’un leone, a se stesso ignoto, senza cercare troverà, e sarà abbracciato da un lembo di tenera aria; e quando da un cedro maestoso saranno recisi rami che, morti da molti anni, poi rivivranno, si congiungeranno al vecchio tronco e cresceranno freschi; allora Postumo porrà fine alle sue miserie, la Britannia sarà fortunata e fiorirà in pace e abbondanza.’ È ancora un sogno, o roba tale quale i pazzi pronunciano senza intenderla; o entrambe le cose, o nulla, o un parlare senza senso, o un parlare tale che il senso non sa sciogliere. Sia quel che sia, l’azione della mia vita gli somiglia, e lo serberò, non fosse che per simpatia.
(didascalia)	Entra il Carceriere
CARCERIERE	Venite, signore, siete pronto per la morte?
POSTUMO	Troppo arrostito, piuttosto; pronto da un pezzo.
CARCERIERE	La parola è impiccagione, signore. Se siete pronto per quella, siete ben cotto.
POSTUMO	Così, se riesco buon pasto per gli spettatori, la pietanza paga il conto.
CARCERIERE	Un conto pesante per voi, signore. Ma il conforto è che non sarete chiamato ad altri pagamenti, non temerete più conti d’osteria, che tanto spesso sono la tristezza del congedo quanto il procacciare allegria. Entrate svenuto per mancanza di cibo, uscite barcollando per troppo bere, dolente d’aver pagato troppo e dolente d’essere stato pagato troppo; borsa e cervello entrambi vuoti: il cervello tanto più pesante per essere troppo leggero, la borsa troppo leggera per essere stata svuotata del suo peso. Di questa contraddizione ora sarete quitto. Oh, la carità d’una corda da un soldo! Somma migliaia in un attimo. Non avete debitore e creditore più veri di lei: del passato, del presente e del futuro essa è la quietanza. Il vostro collo, signore, è penna, libro e gettoni; e così ne segue la quietanza.
POSTUMO	Io son più lieto di morire di quanto tu lo sia di vivere.
CARCERIERE	Invero, signore, chi dorme non sente il mal di denti; ma un uomo che dovesse dormire il vostro sonno, con un boia ad aiutarlo ad andare a letto, credo che scambierebbe il posto col suo ufficiale; perché, vedete, signore, voi non sapete per quale via andrete.
POSTUMO	Sì che lo so, amico.
CARCERIERE	La vostra morte ha dunque occhi in testa. Non l’ho mai vista dipinta così. Dovete o farvi guidare da certuni che si arrogano di sapere, o arrogarvi voi stesso ciò che di sicuro non sapete, o saltare l’indagine finale a vostro rischio; e quanto alla riuscita alla fine del vostro viaggio, credo che non tornerete mai a raccontarlo.
POSTUMO	Ti dico, amico, che non mancano occhi per indicare la via ch’io prendo, se non a coloro che li chiudono e non vogliono usarli.
CARCERIERE	Che beffa infinita è questa, che un uomo debba fare il miglior uso degli occhi per vedere la via della cecità! Son certo che l’impiccagione è la via del chiudere gli occhi.
(didascalia)	Entra un Messaggero
MESSAGGERO	Togliètegli le manette, portate il vostro prigioniero al Re.
POSTUMO	Tu porti buone nuove: son chiamato per essere fatto libero.
CARCERIERE	Allora m’impicchino.
POSTUMO	Sarai allora più libero d’un carceriere: nessun chiavistello per i morti.
CARCERIERE	(a parte) A meno che uno non voglia sposare una forca e generare giovani patiboli, non ho mai visto nessuno tanto pronto. Eppure, sulla mia coscienza, ci sono furfanti ben peggiori che desiderano vivere, per quanto costui sia Romano; e ce ne sono anche di quelli che muoiono contro voglia; e così farei io se fossi uno di loro. Vorrei che fossimo tutti d’un solo animo, e d’un animo buono. Oh, allora sarebbe la desolazione dei carcerieri e delle forche! Parlo contro il mio presente guadagno, ma il mio desiderio contiene una promozione. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, Pisanio, and lords
CYMBELINE	(to Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus) Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart That the poor soldier that so richly fought, Whose rags shamed gilded arms, whose naked breast Stepped before targs of proof, cannot be found. He shall be happy that can find him, if Our grace can make him so.
BELARIUS	I never saw Such noble fury in so poor a thing, Such precious deeds in one that promised naught But beggary and poor looks.
CYMBELINE	No tidings of him?
PISANIO	He hath been searched among the dead and living, But no trace of him.
CYMBELINE	To my grief I am The heir of his reward, which I will add (To Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus) To you, the liver, heart, and brain of Britain, By whom I grant she lives. ’Tis now the time To ask of whence you are. Report it.
BELARIUS	Sir, In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen. Further to boast were neither true nor modest, Unless I add we are honest.
CYMBELINE	Bow your knees. They kneel. He knights them Arise, my knights o’th’ battle. I create you Companions to our person, and will fit you With dignities becoming your estates. Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus rise.
(didascalia)	Enter Cornelius and Ladies
CYMBELINE	There’s business in these faces. Why so sadly Greet you our victory? You look like Romans, And not o’th’ court of Britain.
CORNELIUS	Hail, great King! To sour your happiness I must report The Queen is dead.
CYMBELINE	Who worse than a physician Would this report become? But I consider By medicine life may be prolonged, yet death Will seize the doctor too. How ended she?
CORNELIUS	With horror, madly dying, like her life, Which being cruel to the world, concluded Most cruel to herself. What she confessed I will report, so please you. These her women Can trip me if I err, who with wet cheeks Were present when she finished.
CYMBELINE	Prithee, say.
CORNELIUS	First, she confessed she never loved you, only Affected greatness got by you, not you; Married your royalty, was wife to your place, Abhorred your person.
CYMBELINE	She alone knew this, And but she spoke it dying, I would not Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.
CORNELIUS	Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to love With such integrity, she did confess Was as a scorpion to her sight, whose life, But that her flight prevented it, she had Ta’en off by poison.
CYMBELINE	O most delicate fiend! Who is’t can read a woman? Is there more?
CORNELIUS	More, sir, and worse. She did confess she had For you a mortal mineral which, being took, Should by the minute feed on life, and, ling‘ring, By inches waste you. In which time she purposed By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to O’ercome you with her show; and in fine, When she had fit you with her craft, to work Her son into th’adoption of the crown; But failing of her end by his strange absence, Grew shameless-desperate, opened in despite Of heaven and men her purposes, repented The evils she hatched were not effected; so Despairing died.
CYMBELINE	Heard you all this, her women?
(didascalia)	LADIES
CYMBELINE	We did, so please your highness.
CYMBELINE	Mine eyes Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; Mine ears that heard her flattery, nor my heart That thought her like her seeming. It had been vicious To have mistrusted her. Yet, O my daughter, That it was folly in me thou mayst say, And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all!
(didascalia)	Enter Lucius, Giacomo, Soothsayer, and other Roman prisoners, Posthumus behind, and Innogen dressed as a man, all guarded by Briton soldiers
CYMBELINE	Thou com’st not, Caius, now for tribute. That The Britons have razed out, though with the loss Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have made suit That their good souls may be appeased with slaughter Of you, their captives, which ourself have granted. So think of your estate.
LUCIUS	Consider, sir, the chance of war. The day Was yours by accident. Had it gone with us, We should not, when the blood was cool, have threatened Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives May be called ransom, let it come. Sufficeth A Roman with a Roman’s heart can suffer. Augustus lives to think on’t; and so much For my peculiar care. This one thing only I will entreat: He presents Innogen to Cymbeline my boy, a Briton born, Let him be ransomed. Never master had A page so kind, so duteous, diligent, So tender over his occasions, true, So feat, so nurse-like; let his virtue join With my request, which I’ll make bold your highness Cannot deny. He hath done no Briton harm, Though he have served a Roman. Save him, sir, And spare no blood beside.
CYMBELINE	I have surely seen him. His favour is familiar to me. Boy, Thou hast looked thyself into my grace, And art mine own. I know not why, wherefore, To say ‘Live, boy’. Ne‘er thank thy master. Live, And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt Fitting my bounty and thy state, I’ll give it, Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner The noblest ta’en.
INNOGEN	I humbly thank your highness.
LUCIUS	I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad, And yet I know thou wilt.
INNOGEN	No, no. Alack, There’s other work in hand. I see a thing Bitter to me as death. Your life, good master, Must shuffle for itself.
LUCIUS	The boy disdains me. He leaves me, scorns me. Briefly die their joys That place them on the truth of girls and boys. Why stands he so perplexed?
CYMBELINE	(to Innogen) What wouldst thou, boy? I love thee more and more; think more and more What’s best to ask. Know‘st him thou look’st on? Speak, no Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin, thy friend?
INNOGEN	He is a Roman, no more kin to me Than I to your highness, who, being born your vassal, Am something nearer.
CYMBELINE	Wherefore ey’st him so?
INNOGEN	I’ll tell you, sir, in private, if you please To give me hearing.
CYMBELINE	Ay, with all my heart, And lend my best attention. What’s thy name?
INNOGEN	Fidele, sir.
CYMBELINE	Thou’rt my good youth, my page. I’ll be thy master. Walk with me, speak freely. Cymbeline and Innogen speak apart
BELARIUS	(aside to Guiderius and Arviragus) Is not this boy revived from death?
ARVIRAGUS	One sand another Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad Who died, and was Fidele. What think you?
GUIDERIUS	The same dead thing alive.
BELARIUS	Peace, peace, see further. He eyes us not. Forbear. Creatures may be alike. Were’t he, I am sure He would have spoke to us.
GUIDERIUS	But we see him dead.
BELARIUS	Be silent; let’s see further.
PISANIO	(aside) It is my mistress. Since she is living, let the time run on To good or bad.
CYMBELINE	(to Innogen) Come, stand thou by our side, Make thy demand aloud. (To Giacomo) Sir, step you forth. Give answer to this boy, and do it freely, Or, by our greatness and the grace of it, Which is our honour, bitter torture shall Winnow the truth from falsehood. (To Innogen) On, speak to him.
INNOGEN	My boon is that this gentleman may render Of whom he had this ring.
POSTHUMUS	(aside) What’s that to him?
CYMBELINE	(to Giacomo) That diamond upon your finger, say, How came it yours?
GIACOMO	Thou’lt torture me to leave unspoken that Which to be spoke would torture thee.
CYMBELINE	How, me?
GIACOMO	I am glad to be constrained to utter that Torments me to conceal. By villainy I got this ring; ‘twas Leonatus’ jewel, Whom thou didst banish; and, which more may grieve thee, As it doth me, a nobler sir ne’er lived ’Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord?
CYMBELINE	All that belongs to this.
GIACOMO	That paragon thy daughter, For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits Quail to remember-give me leave, I faint.
CYMBELINE	My daughter? What of her? Renew thy strength. I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will Than die ere I hear more. Strive, man, and speak.
GIACOMO	Upon a time-unhappy was the clock That struck the hour-it was in Rome-accursed The mansion where-‘twas at a feast-O, would Our viands had been poisoned, or at least Those which I heaved to head!—the good Posthumus— What should I say?—he was too good to be Where ill men were, and was the best of all Amongst the rar’st of good ones-sitting sadly, Hearing us praise our loves of Italy For beauty that made barren the swelled boast Of him that best could speak; for feature laming The shrine of Venus or straight-pitched Minerva, Postures beyond brief nature; for condition, A shop of all the qualities that man Loves woman for; besides that hook of wiving, Fairness which strikes the eye—
CYMBELINE	I stand on fire. Come to the matter.
GIACOMO	All too soon I shall, Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This Posthumus, Most like a noble lord in love and one That had a royal lover, took his hint, And not dispraising whom we praised—therein He was as calm as virtue-he began His mistress’ picture, which by his tongue being made, And then a mind put in’t, either our brags Were cracked of kitchen-trulls, or his description Proved us unspeaking sots.
CYMBELINE	Nay, nay, to th’ purpose.
GIACOMO	Your daughter’s chastity-there it begins. He spake of her as Dian had hot dreams And she alone were cold, whereat I, wretch, Made scruple of his praise, and wagered with him Pieces of gold ‘gainst this which then he wore Upon his honoured finger, to attain In suit the place of ’s bed and win this ring By hers and mine adultery. He, true knight, No lesser of her honour confident Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring— And would so had it been a carbuncle Of Phoebus’ wheel, and might so safely had it Been all the worth of ’s car. Away to Britain Post I in this design. Well may you, sir, Remember me at court, where I was taught Of your chaste daughter the wide difference ’Twixt amorous and villainous. Being thus quenched Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain Gan in your duller Britain operate Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent. And, to be brief, my practice so prevailed That I returned with simular proof enough To make the noble Leonatus mad By wounding his belief in her renown With tokens thus and thus; averring notes Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet— O cunning, how I got it!—nay, some marks Of secret on her person, that he could not But think her bond of chastity quite cracked, I having ta’en the forfeit. Whereupon— Methinks I see him now—
POSTHUMUS	(coming forward) Ay, so thou dost, Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool, Egregious murderer, thief, anything That’s due to all the villains past, in being, To come! O, give me cord, or knife, or poison, Some upright justicer! Thou, King, send out For torturers ingenious. It is I That all th‘abhorrèd things o’th’ earth amend By being worse than they. I am Posthumus, That killed thy daughter—villain-like, I lie: That caused a lesser villain than myself, A sacrilegious thief, to do’t. The temple Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself. Spit and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set The dogs o‘th’ street to bay me. Every villain Be called Posthumus Leonatus, and Be ‘villain’ less than ’twas! O Innogen! My queen, my life, my wife, O Innogen, Innogen, Innogen!
INNOGEN	(approaching him) Peace, my lord. Hear, hear.
POSTHUMUS	Shall ’s have a play of this? Thou scornful page, There lie thy part. He strikes her down
PISANIO	(coming forward) O gentlemen, help! Mine and your mistress! O my lord Posthumus, You ne’er killed Innogen till now. Help, help! (To Innogen) Mine honoured lady.
CYMBELINE	Does the world go round?
POSTHUMUS	How comes these staggers on me?
PISANIO	(to Innogen) Wake, my mistress.
CYMBELINE	If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me To death with mortal joy.
PISANIO	(to Innogen) How fares my mistress?
INNOGEN	O, get thee from my sight! Thou gav’st me poison. Dangerous fellow, hence. Breathe not where princes are.
CYMBELINE	The tune of Innogen.
PISANIO	Lady, the gods throw stones of sulphur on me if That box I gave you was not thought by me A precious thing. I had it from the Queen.
CYMBELINE	New matter still.
INNOGEN	It poisoned me.
CORNELIUS	O gods! I left out one thing which the Queen confessed (To Pisanio) Which must approve thee honest. ’If Pisanio Have‘, said she, ‘given his mistress that confection Which I gave him for cordial, she is served As I would serve a rat.’
CYMBELINE	What’s this, Cornelius?
CORNELIUS	The Queen, sir, very oft importuned me To temper poisons for her, still pretending The satisfaction of her knowledge only In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs Of no esteem. I, dreading that her purpose Was of more danger, did compound for her A certain stuff which, being ta‘en, would cease The present power of life, but in short time All offices of nature should again Do their due functions. (To Innogen) Have you ta’en of it?
INNOGEN	Most like I did, for I was dead.
BELARIUS	(aside to Guiderius and Arviragus) My boys, There was our error.
GUIDERIUS	This is sure Fidele.
INNOGEN	(to Posthumus) Why did you throw your wedded lady from you? Think that you are upon a lock, and now Throw me again. She throws her arms about his neck
POSTHUMUS	Hang there like fruit, my soul, Till the tree die.
CYMBELINE	(to Innogen) How now, my flesh, my child? What, mak’st thou me a dullard in this act? Wilt thou not speak to me?
INNOGEN	(kneeling) Your blessing, sir.
BELARIUS	(aside to Guiderius and Arviragus) Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not. You had a motive for’t.
CYMBELINE	My tears that fall Prove holy water on thee!
(didascalia)	He raises her
CYMBELINE	Innogen, Thy mother’s dead.
INNOGEN	I am sorry for’t, my lord.
CYMBELINE	O, she was naught, and ’long of her it was That we meet here so strangely. But her son Is gone, we know not how nor where.
PISANIO	My lord, Now fear is from me I’ll speak truth. Lord Cloten, Upon my lady’s missing, came to me With his sword drawn, foamed at the mouth, and swore If I discovered not which way she was gone It was my instant death. By accident I had a feigned letter of my master’s Then in my pocket, which directed him To seek her on the mountains near to Milford, Where in a frenzy, in my master’s garments, Which he enforced from me, away he posts With unchaste purpose, and with oath to violate My lady’s honour. What became of him I further know not.
GUIDERIUS	Let me end the story. I slew him there.
CYMBELINE	Marry, the gods forfend! I would not thy good deeds should from my lips Pluck a hard sentence. Prithee, valiant youth, Deny’t again.
GUIDERIUS	I have spoke it, and I did it.
CYMBELINE	He was a prince.
GUIDERIUS	A most incivil one. The wrongs he did me Were nothing prince-like, for he did provoke me With language that would make me spurn the sea If it could so roar to me. I cut off ’s head, And am right glad he is not standing here To tell this tale of mine.
CYMBELINE	I am sorrow for thee. By thine own tongue thou art condemned, and must Endure our law. Thou’rt dead.
INNOGEN	That headless man I thought had been my lord.
CYMBELINE	(to soldiers) Bind the offender, And take him from our presence.
BELARIUS	Stay, sir King. This boy is better than the man he slew, As well descended as thyself, and hath More of thee merited than a band of Clotens Had ever scar for. Let his arms alone; They were not born for bondage.
CYMBELINE	Why, old soldier, Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for By tasting of our wrath? How of descent As good as we?
ARVIRAGUS	In that he spake too far.
(didascalia)	CYMBELINE to Belarius
ARVIRAGUS	And thou shalt die for’t.
BELARIUS	We will die all three But I will prove that two on ’s are as good As I have given out him. My sons, I must For mine own part unfold a dangerous speech, Though haply well for you.
ARVIRAGUS	Your danger’s ours.
GUIDERIUS	And our good his.
BELARIUS	Have at it then. By leave, Thou hadst, great King, a subject who Was called Belarius.
CYMBELINE	What of him? He is A banished traitor.
BELARIUS	He it is that hath Assumed this age. Indeed, a banished man; I know not how a traitor.
CYMBELINE	(to soldiers) Take him hence. The whole world shall not save him.
BELARIUS	Not too hot. First pay me for the nursing of thy sons, And let it be confiscate all so soon As I have received it.
CYMBELINE	Nursing of my sons?
BELARIUS	I am too blunt and saucy. (Kneeling) Here’s my knee. Ere I arise I will prefer my sons, Then spare not the old father. Mighty sir, These two young gentlemen that call me father And think they are my sons are none of mine. They are the issue of your loins, my liege, And blood of your begetting.
CYMBELINE	How, my issue?
BELARIUS	So sure as you your father’s. I, old Morgan, Am that Belarius whom you sometime banished. Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment Itself, and all my treason. That I suffered Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes— For such and so they are-these twenty years Have I trained up. Those arts they have as I Could put into them. My breeding was, sir, As your highness knows. Their nurse Euriphile, Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children Upon my banishment. I moved her to‘t, Having received the punishment before For that which I did then. Beaten for loyalty Excited me to treason. Their dear loss, The more of you ‘twas felt, the more it shaped Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir, Here are your sons again, and I must lose Two of the sweet’st companions in the world. The benediction of these covering heavens Fall on their heads like dew, for they are worthy To inlay heaven with stars.
CYMBELINE	Thou weep‘st, and speak’st. The service that you three have done is more Unlike than this thou tell’st. I lost my children. If these be they, I know not how to wish A pair of worthier sons.
(didascalia)	BELARIUS rising
CYMBELINE	Be pleased a while. This gentleman, whom I call Polydore, Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius.
(didascalia)	Guiderius kneels
CYMBELINE	This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus, Your younger princely son.
(didascalia)	Arviragus kneels
CYMBELINE	He, sir, was lapped In a most curious mantle wrought by th’ hand Of his queen mother, which for more probation I can with ease produce.
CYMBELINE	Guiderius had Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star. It was a mark of wonder.
BELARIUS	This is he, Who hath upon him still that natural stamp. It was wise nature’s end in the donation To be his evidence now.
CYMBELINE	O, what am I? A mother to the birth of three? Ne’er mother Rejoiced deliverance more. Blest pray you be, That, after this strange starting from your orbs, You may reign in them now!
(didascalia)	Guiderius and Arviragus rise
CYMBELINE	O Innogen, Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.
INNOGEN	No, my lord, I have got two worlds by’t. O my gentle brothers, Have we thus met? O, never say hereafter But I am truest speaker. You called me brother When I was but your sister; I you brothers When ye were so indeed.
CYMBELINE	Did you e’er meet?
ARVIRAGUS	Ay, my good lord.
GUIDERIUS	And at first meeting loved, Continued so until we thought he died.
CORNELIUS	By the Queen’s dram she swallowed.
CYMBELINE	O rare instinct! When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridgement Hath to it circumstantial branches which Distinction should be rich in. Where? How lived you? And when came you to serve our Roman captive? How parted with your brothers? How first met them? Why fled you from the court? And whither? These, And your three motives to the battle, with I know not how much more, should be demanded, And all the other by-dependences, From chance to chance. But nor the time nor place Will serve our long inter’gatories. See, Posthumus anchors upon Innogen, And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye On him, her brothers, me, her master, hitting Each object with a joy. The counterchange Is severally in all. Let’s quit this ground, And smoke the temple with our sacrifices. (To Belarius) Thou art my brother; so we’ll hold thee ever.
INNOGEN	(to Belarius) You are my father too, and did relieve me To see this gracious season.
CYMBELINE	All o’erjoyed, Save these in bonds. Let them be joyful too, For they shall taste our comfort.
INNOGEN	(to Lucius) My good master, I will yet do you service.
LUCIUS	Happy be you!
CYMBELINE	The forlorn soldier that so nobly fought, He would have well becomed this place, and graced The thankings of a king.
POSTHUMUS	I am, sir, The soldier that did company these three In poor beseeming. ’Twas a fitment for The purpose I then followed. That I was he, Speak, Giacomo; I had you down, and might Have made you finish.
GIACOMO	(kneeling) I am down again, But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee As then your force did. Take that life, beseech you, Which I so often owe; but your ring first, And here the bracelet of the truest princess That ever swore her faith.
POSTHUMUS	(raising him) Kneel not to me. The power that I have on you is to spare you, The malice towards you to forgive you. Live, And deal with others better.
CYMBELINE	Nobly doomed! We’ll learn our freeness of a son-in-law. Pardon’s the word to all.
ARVIRAGUS	(to Posthumus) You holp us, sir, As you did mean indeed to be our brother. Joyed are we that you are.
POSTHUMUS	Your servant, princes. (To Lucius) Good my lord of Rome, Call forth your soothsayer. As I slept, methought Great Jupiter, upon his eagle backed, Appeared to me with other spritely shows Of mine own kindred. When I waked I found This label on my bosom, whose containing Is so from sense in hardness that I can Make no collection of it. Let him show His skill in the construction.
LUCIUS	Philharmonus.
SOOTHSAYER	Here, my good lord.
LUCIUS	Read, and declare the meaning.
SOOTHSAYER	(reads the tablet) ‘Whenas a lion’s whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow: then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty.’ Thou, Leonatus, art the lion’s whelp. The fit and apt construction of thy name, Being leo-natus, doth import so much. (To Cymbeline) The piece of tender air thy virtuous daughter, Which we call ‘mollis aer’; and ‘mollis aer’ We term it ‘mulier’, (to Posthumus) which ‘mulier’ I divine Is this most constant wife, who even now, Answering the letter of the oracle, Unknown to you, unsought, were clipped about With this most tender air.
CYMBELINE	This hath some seeming.
SOOTHSAYER	The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, Personates thee, and thy lopped branches point Thy two sons forth, who, by Belarius stol’n, For many years thought dead, are now revived, To the majestic cedar joined, whose issue Promises Britain peace and plenty.
CYMBELINE	Well, My peace we will begin; and, Caius Lucius, Although the victor, we submit to Caesar And to the Roman empire, promising To pay our wonted tribute, from the which We were dissuaded by our wicked queen, Whom heavens in justice both on her and hers Have laid most heavy hand.
SOOTHSAYER	The fingers of the powers above do tune The harmony of this peace. The vision, Which I made known to Lucius ere the stroke Of this yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant Is full accomplished. For the Roman eagle, From south to west on wing soaring aloft, Lessened herself, and in the beams o‘th’ sun So vanished; which foreshowed our princely eagle Th’imperial Caesar should again unite His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, Which shines here in the west.
CYMBELINE	Laud we the gods, And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils From our blest altars. Publish we this peace To all our subjects. Set we forward, let A Roman and a British ensign wave Friendly together. So through Lud’s town march, And in the temple of great Jupiter Our peace we’ll ratify, seal it with feasts. Set on there. Never was a war did cease, Ere bloody hands were washed, with such a peace.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt in triumph

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squilli di trombe. Entrano Cimbelino, Belario, Guiderio, Arvirago, Pisanio e i signori
CIMBELINO	(a Belario, Guiderio e Arvirago) State al mio fianco, voi che gli dèi hanno fatto preservatori del mio trono. Duole al mio cuore che il povero soldato che sì riccamente combatté, i cui cenci fecero vergogna alle armi dorate, il cui petto nudo si spinse davanti a scudi a prova, non si possa trovare. Sarà felice chi potrà trovarlo, se la nostra grazia può renderlo tale.
BELARIO	Non vidi mai sì nobile furore in cosa tanto povera, gesta sì preziose in uno che nulla prometteva se non pezzenteria e povero aspetto.
CIMBELINO	Nessuna notizia di lui?
PISANIO	È stato cercato fra i morti e i vivi, ma nessuna traccia di lui.
CIMBELINO	Con mio dolore io sono l’erede della sua ricompensa, che aggiungerò (a Belario, Guiderio e Arvirago) a voi, fegato, cuore e cervello della Britannia, per i quali riconosco ch’ella vive. È ora il tempo di chiedere donde venite. Riferitelo.
BELARIO	Signore, in Cambria siamo nati, e gentiluomini. Vantarsi oltre non sarebbe né vero né modesto, se non aggiungo che siamo onesti.
CIMBELINO	Piegate le ginocchia. S’inginocchiano. Egli li fa cavalieri Sorgete, miei cavalieri della battaglia. Vi creo compagni della nostra persona, e vi fornirò di dignità convenienti al vostro stato. Belario, Guiderio e Arvirago si alzano.
(didascalia)	Entrano Cornelio e le Dame
CIMBELINO	C’è qualcosa in questi volti. Perché salutate così mestamente la nostra vittoria? Sembrate Romani, e non della corte di Britannia.
CORNELIO	Salve, gran Re! Per inacidire la vostra felicità devo riferire che la Regina è morta.
CIMBELINO	A chi peggio che a un medico si converrebbe questo annuncio? Ma considero che con la medicina la vita può prolungarsi, eppure la morte afferrerà anche il dottore. Come è finita?
CORNELIO	Con orrore, morendo furiosamente, come la sua vita, che, essendo crudele al mondo, si concluse crudelissima verso se stessa. Ciò ch’ella confessò riferirò, se vi piace. Queste sue donne possono smentirmi s’io erro, ché con le guance bagnate erano presenti quando spirò.
CIMBELINO	Ti prego, parla.
CORNELIO	Prima, confessò che non v’amò mai, ma solo desiderò la grandezza ottenuta per mezzo vostro, non voi; sposò la vostra regalità, fu moglie del vostro seggio, aborrì la vostra persona.
CIMBELINO	Ella sola sapeva questo, e se non l’avesse detto morendo, io non crederei alle sue labbra nel rivelarlo. Procedi.
CORNELIO	Vostra figlia, che ella fingeva d’amare con tanta integrità, confessò ch’era come uno scorpione alla sua vista, e la cui vita, se la fuga non l’avesse impedito, ella avrebbe spenta col veleno.
CIMBELINO	Oh demonio raffinatissimo! Chi mai può leggere una donna? V’è dell’altro?
CORNELIO	Dell’altro, signore, e peggiore. Confessò d’avere per voi un minerale mortale che, preso, avrebbe di minuto in minuto roso la vita, e, indugiando, a pollice a pollice consumato voi. Nel qual tempo ella si proponeva, col vegliare, piangere, assistere, baciare, di vincervi con la sua finzione; e infine, quando v’avesse foggiato con la sua arte, di condurre suo figlio all’adozione della corona; ma, mancato il suo fine per la strana assenza di lui, divenne svergognatamente disperata, e aprì a dispetto del cielo e degli uomini i suoi disegni, pentendosi che i mali covati non fossero stati compiuti; e così morì disperando.
CIMBELINO	Udiste tutto ciò, voi sue donne?
(didascalia)	DAME
CIMBELINO	L’udimmo, se piace a vostra altezza.
CIMBELINO	I miei occhi non erano in colpa, ché ella era bella; né i miei orecchi che udirono la sua adulazione, né il mio cuore che la credette simile al suo apparire. Sarebbe stato vizioso diffidare di lei. Eppure, o mia figlia, che fu follia in me tu puoi ben dirlo, e provarlo con ciò che hai sofferto. Il cielo emendi tutto!
(didascalia)	Entrano Lucio, Giacomo, l’Indovino e altri prigionieri romani, Postumo dietro, e Innogene vestita da uomo, tutti sotto scorta di soldati britanni
CIMBELINO	Non vieni ora, Caio, per il tributo. Quello i Britanni l’hanno cancellato, benché con la perdita di più d’un ardito; i cui congiunti hanno chiesto che le loro buone anime siano placate con la strage di voi, loro prigionieri, il che noi stessi abbiamo concesso. Pensate dunque alla vostra condizione.
LUCIO	Considerate, signore, la sorte della guerra. La giornata fu vostra per accidente. Se fosse andata a noi, non avremmo, quando il sangue si fu raffreddato, minacciato i nostri prigionieri con la spada. Ma poiché gli dèi vogliono così, che nulla se non le nostre vite possa chiamarsi riscatto, venga pure. Basti che un Romano con cuore di Romano sa soffrire. Augusto vive per pensarci; e questo basti quanto alla mia particolare sorte. Solo questa cosa chiederò in grazia: Presenta Innogene a Cimbelino il mio ragazzo, nato Britanno, sia riscattato. Mai padrone ebbe un paggio così gentile, così ossequente, diligente, così premuroso nelle sue occorrenze, fedele, così destro, così simile a una nutrice; s’unisca la sua virtù alla mia richiesta, che oso dire vostra altezza non può negare. Egli non ha fatto male a nessun Britanno, benché abbia servito un Romano. Salvate lui, signore, e non risparmiate altro sangue.
CIMBELINO	Certamente l’ho già veduto. Il suo volto mi è familiare. Ragazzo, tu ti sei guardato dentro la mia grazia, e sei mio. Non so perché, né per qual ragione, debba dire ‘Vivi, ragazzo’. Non ringraziare il tuo padrone. Vivi, e chiedi a Cimbelino qual grazia tu voglia, conveniente alla mia munificenza e al tuo stato, e te la darò, sì, quand’anche tu domandassi un prigioniero fra i più nobili presi.
INNOGENE	Umilmente ringrazio vostra altezza.
LUCIO	Non ti chiedo di supplicare per la mia vita, buon ragazzo, eppure so che lo farai.
INNOGENE	No, no. Ahimè, c’è altro da fare. Vedo una cosa amara per me quanto la morte. La vostra vita, buon padrone, deve arrangiarsi da sé.
LUCIO	Il ragazzo mi disdegna. Mi lascia, mi sprezza. Brevemente muoiono le gioie di chi le ripone nella fedeltà di fanciulle e fanciulli. Perché sta così perplesso?
CIMBELINO	(a Innogene) Che vuoi tu, ragazzo? Ti amo sempre più; pensa sempre più a ciò che è meglio chiedere. Conosci colui che guardi? Parla, no vuoi ch’egli viva? È tuo parente, tuo amico?
INNOGENE	Egli è un Romano, non più mio parente di quanto io lo sia di vostra altezza; e io, nato vostro vassallo, lo sono un poco di più.
CIMBELINO	Perché lo fissi così?
INNOGENE	Ve lo dirò, signore, in privato, se vi piace di darmi ascolto.
CIMBELINO	Sì, con tutto il cuore, e presterò la mia miglior attenzione. Qual è il tuo nome?
INNOGENE	Fidele, signore.
CIMBELINO	Sei il mio buon giovane, il mio paggio. Sarò il tuo padrone. Cammina con me, parla liberamente. Cimbelino e Innogene parlano in disparte
BELARIO	(a parte, a Guiderio e Arvirago) Non è questo ragazzo tornato dalla morte?
ARVIRAGO	Un granello di sabbia con un altro non somiglia di più a quel dolce roseo giovinetto che morì, ed era Fidele. Che ne pensate?
GUIDERIO	La stessa cosa morta, viva.
BELARIO	Zitti, zitti, guardiamo oltre. Non ci guarda. Trattenetevi. Le creature possono somigliarsi. Fosse lui, son certo che ci avrebbe parlato.
GUIDERIO	Ma lo vedemmo morto.
BELARIO	Silenzio; guardiamo oltre.
PISANIO	(a parte) È la mia padrona. Poiché è viva, che il tempo corra al bene o al male.
CIMBELINO	(a Innogene) Su, mettiti al nostro fianco, e fa’ la tua domanda ad alta voce. (A Giacomo) Signore, fatevi avanti. Rispondete a questo ragazzo, e fatelo liberamente, o, per la nostra grandezza e la sua grazia, che è il nostro onore, un’amara tortura separerà come loglio la verità dalla menzogna. (A Innogene) Su, parlagli.
INNOGENE	La mia grazia è che questo gentiluomo dichiari da chi ebbe quest’anello.
POSTUMO	(a parte) Che gliene importa?
CIMBELINO	(a Giacomo) Quel diamante sul vostro dito, dite, come divenne vostro?
GIACOMO	Mi tortureresti perché lasci non detto ciò che a essere detto torturerebbe te.
CIMBELINO	Come, me?
GIACOMO	Son lieto d’esser costretto a proferire ciò che mi tormenta a tacere. Per scelleraggine ottenni quest’anello; era il gioiello di Leonato, che tu bandisti; e, ciò che più può affliggerti, come affligge me, mai visse signore più nobile fra cielo e terra. Vuoi udire di più, mio signore?
CIMBELINO	Tutto ciò che a questo appartiene.
GIACOMO	Quel paragone di tua figlia, per la quale il mio cuore stilla sangue, e i miei falsi spiriti vengon meno a ricordare-datemi licenza, mi sento mancare.
CIMBELINO	Mia figlia? Che c’è di lei? Rinnova la tua forza. Preferirei che tu vivessi quanto vorrà la natura piuttosto che morissi prima ch’io oda di più. Sforzati, uomo, e parla.
GIACOMO	Una volta-infelice fu l’orologio che batté quell’ora-fu a Roma-maledetta la casa dove-fu a un banchetto-oh, fossero state avvelenate le nostre vivande, o almeno quelle ch’io portai alla bocca!—il buon Postumo— che dovrei dire?—egli era troppo buono per stare dove stavan uomini cattivi, ed era il migliore fra tutti fra i più rari dei buoni-sedendo mesto, udendoci lodare le nostre amanti d’Italia per una bellezza che rendeva sterile il gonfio vanto di chi meglio sapeva parlare; per fattezze che facevano zoppicare il tempio di Venere o la ben ritta Minerva, portamenti oltre la breve natura; per indole, una bottega di tutte le qualità per cui l’uomo ama la donna; oltre a quell’amo del maritarsi, la beltà che colpisce l’occhio—
CIMBELINO	Io sto sul fuoco. Vieni al fatto.
GIACOMO	Ci verrò fin troppo presto, a meno che tu non voglia affliggerti in fretta. Questo Postumo, proprio come nobile signore in amore, e uno che aveva un regale amante, colse lo spunto, e, senza denigrare chi noi lodavamo—in ciò fu calmo come la virtù-cominciò il ritratto della sua signora; e quel ritratto, fatto dalla sua lingua e poi animato d’un’anima, o rese i nostri vanti vanti da sguattere di cucina, o la sua descrizione ci provò balordi senza parola.
CIMBELINO	Suvvia, suvvia, al punto.
GIACOMO	La castità di vostra figlia-là comincia. Egli parlò di lei come se Diana avesse caldi sogni ed ella sola fosse fredda; onde io, misero, feci obiezione alla sua lode, e scommisi con lui pezzi d’oro contro questo ch’egli allora portava sul suo onorato dito, per ottenere col corteggiare il posto del suo letto e vincere quest’anello con l’adulterio di lei e mio. Egli, vero cavaliere, non meno fiducioso nel suo onore di quanto io la trovai in verità, mette in gioco quest’anello— e l’avrebbe fatto fosse pure un carbonchio della ruota di Febo; e con pari sicurezza l’avrebbe fatto fosse tutto il valore del suo carro. Via, in Britannia corro in questo disegno. Ben potete, signore, ricordarvi di me a corte, dove appresi dalla vostra casta figlia la larga differenza fra amoroso e scellerato. Così spento di speranza, non di desiderio, il mio cervello italiano prese a operare nella vostra più ottusa Britannia vilissimamente; per il mio vantaggio, eccellentemente. E, per esser breve, il mio artificio prevalse tanto ch’io tornai con prove simulate abbastanza da far impazzire il nobile Leonato ferendo la sua fede nella fama di lei con segni tali e tali; asserendo particolari dei parati della camera, dei quadri, e questo suo braccialetto— oh astuzia, come lo presi!—anzi, certi segni segreti sulla sua persona, sì ch’egli non poté non credere che il suo vincolo di castità fosse infranto, e ch’io ne avessi preso il pegno. E allora— mi par di vederlo ora—
POSTUMO	(facendosi avanti) Sì, tu lo vedi, demonio italiano! Ahimè, credulissimo sciocco, egregio assassino, ladro, tutto ciò che si conviene a tutti gli scellerati passati, presenti e futuri! Oh, datemi corda, o coltello, o veleno, qualche giusto giustiziere! Tu, Re, manda a chiamare ingegnosi torturatori. Son io che tutte le cose aborrite della terra emendo essendo peggiore di esse. Io sono Postumo, che uccise tua figlia—da scellerato, mento: che fece fare a uno scellerato minore di me, a un ladro sacrilego, l’opera. Ella era il tempio della virtù; anzi, era la virtù stessa. Sputate e gettate pietre, scagliatemi fango addosso, aizzate i cani della strada a latrarmi dietro. Ogni scellerato sia chiamato Postumo Leonato, e ‘scellerato’ sia meno di quel che era! Oh Innogene! Mia regina, mia vita, mia moglie, oh Innogene, Innogene, Innogene!
INNOGENE	(avvicinandoglisi) Pace, mio signore. Udite, udite.
POSTUMO	Dovremo farne una commedia? Tu, paggio sprezzante, là giace la tua parte. La atterra con un colpo
PISANIO	(facendosi avanti) Oh signori, aiuto! La mia e la vostra padrona! Oh mio signore Postumo, voi non uccideste Innogene fino a ora. Aiuto, aiuto! (A Innogene) Mia onorata signora.
CIMBELINO	Gira il mondo intorno?
POSTUMO	Donde mi vengono queste vertigini?
PISANIO	(a Innogene) Destatevi, mia padrona.
CIMBELINO	Se questo è vero, gli dèi vogliono colpirmi a morte con gioia mortale.
PISANIO	(a Innogene) Come sta la mia padrona?
INNOGENE	Oh, togliti dalla mia vista! Tu mi desti il veleno. Uomo pericoloso, via. Non respirare dove son principi.
CIMBELINO	La voce di Innogene.
PISANIO	Signora, gli dèi mi scaglino addosso pietre di zolfo se quella scatola ch’io vi diedi non fu da me creduta cosa preziosa. L’ebbi dalla Regina.
CIMBELINO	Sempre nuove cose.
INNOGENE	Essa mi avvelenò.
CORNELIO	O dèi! Ho tralasciato una cosa che la Regina confessò (a Pisanio) e che deve provarti onesto. ’Se Pisanio ha’, disse ella, ‘dato alla sua padrona quella confezione ch’io gli diedi per cordiale, ella è servita come io servirei un topo.’
CIMBELINO	Che è questo, Cornelio?
CORNELIO	La Regina, signore, assai spesso m’importunò perché le preparassi veleni, sempre pretendendo di volere soltanto soddisfazione al suo sapere uccidendo creature vili, come gatti e cani di nessun pregio. Io, temendo che il suo scopo fosse di maggior pericolo, le composi una certa sostanza che, presa, avrebbe sospeso la presente potenza della vita, ma in breve tempo tutti gli uffici della natura avrebbero di nuovo compiuto le loro debite funzioni. (A Innogene) Ne avete presa?
INNOGENE	Assai probabilmente sì, ché io ero morta.
BELARIO	(a parte, a Guiderio e Arvirago) Ragazzi miei, là fu il nostro errore.
GUIDERIO	Questo è di certo Fidele.
INNOGENE	(a Postumo) Perché scagliaste lontano da voi la vostra sposa? Pensate d’essere su una rupe, e ora gettatemi di nuovo. Gli getta le braccia al collo
POSTUMO	Pendi là come un frutto, anima mia, finché l’albero non muoia.
CIMBELINO	(a Innogene) Ebbene, carne mia, figlia mia? Che, mi fai tu da balordo in questa scena? Non vuoi parlarmi?
INNOGENE	(inginocchiandosi) La vostra benedizione, signore.
BELARIO	(a parte, a Guiderio e Arvirago) Benché abbiate amato questo giovane, non vi biasimo. Ne avevate un motivo.
CIMBELINO	Le mie lacrime che cadono siano su di te acqua santa!
(didascalia)	La rialza
CIMBELINO	Innogene, tua madre è morta.
INNOGENE	Me ne duole, mio signore.
CIMBELINO	Oh, ella non valeva nulla, e per causa sua ci ritroviamo qui in modo sì strano. Ma suo figlio è scomparso, non sappiamo come né dove.
PISANIO	Mio signore, ora che la paura è lontana da me dirò la verità. Il signor Cloten, quando la mia signora fu cercata invano, venne da me con la spada sguainata, con la schiuma alla bocca, e giurò che, se non gli scoprivo per quale via ella se n’era andata, sarebbe stata la mia morte immediata. Per caso avevo allora in tasca una finta lettera del mio padrone, che lo indirizzò a cercarla sui monti presso Milford, dove, in preda alla frenesia, negli abiti del mio padrone, ch’egli mi estorse, corse in fretta con proposito impuro, e con giuramento di violare l’onore della mia signora. Che ne sia stato di lui oltre non so.
GUIDERIO	Lasciate ch’io finisca la storia. Io l’uccisi là.
CIMBELINO	In verità, gli dèi non voglia! Non vorrei che le tue buone azioni strappassero dalle mie labbra una dura sentenza. Ti prego, valoroso giovane, negalo di nuovo.
GUIDERIO	L’ho detto, e l’ho fatto.
CIMBELINO	Egli era un principe.
GUIDERIO	Un principe incivilissimo. I torti che mi fece non erano affatto da principe, ché mi provocò con parole tali che m’avrebbero fatto sprezzare il mare se avesse potuto ruggirmi così. Gli tagliai la testa, e son ben lieto ch’egli non stia qui ritto a raccontar questa mia storia.
CIMBELINO	Mi duole per te. Per la tua stessa lingua sei condannato, e devi subire la nostra legge. Sei morto.
INNOGENE	Quell’uomo senza testa io credetti fosse il mio signore.
CIMBELINO	(ai soldati) Legate il colpevole, e toglietelo dalla nostra presenza.
BELARIO	Fermati, sire Re. Questo ragazzo è migliore dell’uomo che uccise, di nascita altrettanto buona della tua, e ha meritato di te più di quanto una banda di Cloten abbia mai avuto cicatrici per meritare. Lascia stare le sue braccia; non nacquero per i ceppi—lasciale libere.
CIMBELINO	Ma, vecchio soldato, vuoi tu disfare il merito per cui non sei ancora pagato gustando la nostra ira? Come, di stirpe buona quanto la nostra?
ARVIRAGO	In questo egli disse troppo.
(didascalia)	CIMBELINO a Belario
ARVIRAGO	E tu ne morrai.
BELARIO	Moriremo tutti e tre, ma io proverò che due di noi son buoni quanto ho detto che è lui. Figli miei, devo per parte mia svelare un discorso pericoloso, benché forse buono per voi.
ARVIRAGO	Il vostro pericolo è nostro.
GUIDERIO	E il nostro bene è suo.
BELARIO	Sia dunque. Col vostro permesso, tu avesti, gran Re, un suddito che si chiamava Belario.
CIMBELINO	Che c’è di lui? È un traditore bandito.
BELARIO	È lui che ha assunto questa vecchiaia. Bandito, invero; traditore non so come.
CIMBELINO	(ai soldati) Portatelo via. Il mondo intero non lo salverà.
BELARIO	Non tanta foga. Prima pagami per l’allevamento dei tuoi figli, e sia poi confiscato tutto non appena l’avrò ricevuto.
CIMBELINO	L’allevamento dei miei figli?
BELARIO	Sono troppo brusco e insolente. (Inginocchiandosi) Ecco il mio ginocchio. Prima d’alzarmi innalzerò i miei figli, poi non risparmiate il vecchio padre. Possente signore, questi due giovani gentiluomini che mi chiamano padre e credono d’esser miei figli non son miei affatto. Sono il frutto dei vostri lombi, mio sovrano, e sangue del vostro generare.
CIMBELINO	Come, frutto mio?
BELARIO	Sì certo come voi lo siete di vostro padre. Io, vecchio Morgan, sono quel Belario che un tempo bandiste. Il vostro piacere fu tutta la mia offesa, la mia punizione stessa, e tutto il mio tradimento. Ciò che soffrii fu tutto il male ch’io feci. Questi gentili principi— ché tali essi sono-per vent’anni li ho allevati. Quelle arti hanno che io seppi metter loro dentro. La mia educazione fu, signore, quale vostra altezza sa. La loro nutrice Eurifile, che per il furto sposai, rubò questi bambini al tempo del mio bando. Io ve la spinsi, avendo ricevuto la punizione prima di ciò che allora feci. L’esser battuto per lealtà mi eccitò al tradimento. La loro cara perdita, quanto più fu sentita da voi, tanto più si conformò al mio fine nel rapirli. Ma, grazioso signore, eccovi di nuovo i vostri figli, e io devo perdere due dei più dolci compagni del mondo. La benedizione di questi cieli che ci coprono cada sui loro capi come rugiada, ché son degni d’intarsiare il cielo di stelle.
CIMBELINO	Tu piangi, e parli. Il servigio che voi tre avete reso è più inverosimile di questo che racconti. Io persi i miei figli. Se questi son loro, non so come desiderare una coppia di figli più degni.
(didascalia)	BELARIO alzandosi
CIMBELINO	Compiacetevi un momento. Questo gentiluomo, ch’io chiamo Polidoro, degnissimo principe, come vostro, è il vero Guiderio.
(didascalia)	Guiderio s’inginocchia
CIMBELINO	Questo gentiluomo, il mio Cadwal, è Arvirago, il vostro più giovane figlio principesco.
(didascalia)	Arvirago s’inginocchia
CIMBELINO	Egli, signore, fu avvolto in un mantello ricercatissimo, opera della mano della sua regina madre; il quale, per maggior prova, posso con facilità produrre.
CIMBELINO	Guiderio aveva sul collo un neo, una stella sanguigna. Era un segno di meraviglia.
BELARIO	Questi è lui, che porta ancora addosso quel naturale suggello. Fu il fine della saggia natura nel donarglielo ch’esso fosse ora la sua testimonianza.
CIMBELINO	Oh, che cosa sono io? Una madre al parto di tre? Mai madre gioì più d’un partorire. Siate benedetti, voi che, dopo questo strano uscire dalle vostre orbite, possiate ora regnarvi dentro!
(didascalia)	Guiderio e Arvirago si alzano
CIMBELINO	Oh Innogene, tu hai perduto con ciò un regno.
INNOGENE	No, mio signore, ci ho guadagnato due mondi. Oh miei gentili fratelli, ci siamo dunque incontrati così? Oh, non dite mai più ch’io non sia la più verace parlatrice. Voi mi chiamaste fratello quand’io non ero che vostra sorella; e io voi fratelli quando tali eravate davvero.
CIMBELINO	Vi incontraste mai?
ARVIRAGO	Sì, mio buon signore.
GUIDERIO	E al primo incontro l’amammo, e così continuammo finché non lo credemmo morto.
CORNELIO	Per la dramma della Regina ch’egli ingoiò.
CIMBELINO	Oh raro istinto! Quando udrò tutto per intero? Questo aspro compendio ha in sé rami circostanziati nei quali la distinzione dovrebbe esser ricca. Dove? Come viveste? E quando veniste a servire il nostro prigioniero romano? Come vi separaste dai vostri fratelli? Come li incontraste dapprima? Perché fuggiste dalla corte? E dove? Queste cose, e i vostri tre motivi per la battaglia, con non so quanto altro, dovrebbero esser chieste, e tutte le altre dipendenze accessorie, di caso in caso. Ma né il tempo né il luogo serviranno ai nostri lunghi interrogatori. Vedete, Postumo getta l’àncora su Innogene, ed ella, come innocuo lampo, getta lo sguardo su di lui, sui suoi fratelli, su me, sul suo padrone, colpendo ciascun oggetto con una gioia. Lo scambio è distinto in ciascuno. Lasciamo questo terreno, e affumichiamo il tempio coi nostri sacrifici. (A Belario) Tu sei mio fratello; e tale ti terremo per sempre.
INNOGENE	(a Belario) Voi siete anche mio padre, e mi soccorreste perché vedessi questa graziosa stagione.
CIMBELINO	Tutti son colmi di gioia, salvo questi in catene. Siano lieti anch’essi, ché gusteranno il nostro conforto.
INNOGENE	(a Lucio) Mio buon padrone, vi renderò ancora servizio.
LUCIO	Siate felice!
CIMBELINO	Quel derelitto soldato che sì nobilmente combatté, ben si sarebbe addetto a questo luogo, e avrebbe onorato i ringraziamenti d’un re.
POSTUMO	Io sono, signore, il soldato che accompagnò questi tre in povero arnese. Era abito adatto al fine ch’io allora seguivo. Ch’io fossi quello, dillo tu, Giacomo; t’avevo atterrato, e avrei potuto farla finita con te.
GIACOMO	(inginocchiandosi) Sono di nuovo a terra, ma ora la mia grave coscienza mi piega il ginocchio come allora la vostra forza. Prendete quella vita, ve ne supplico, che tante volte vi devo; ma prima il vostro anello, ed ecco il braccialetto della più verace principessa che mai giurasse la sua fede.
POSTUMO	(rialzandolo) Non inginocchiarti a me. Il potere che ho su di te è di risparmiarti, la malizia verso di te è di perdonarti. Vivi, e comportati meglio con gli altri.
CIMBELINO	Nobilmente sentenziato! Impareremo la nostra generosità da un genero. ‘Perdono’ è la parola per tutti.
ARVIRAGO	(a Postumo) Voi ci aiutaste, signore, come se davvero intendeste essere nostro fratello. Ci rallegriamo che lo siate.
POSTUMO	Vostro servo, principi. (A Lucio) Mio buon signore di Roma, fate venire il vostro indovino. Mentre dormivo, mi parve che il gran Giove, in groppa alla sua aquila, m’apparisse con altre spettrali visioni della mia stirpe. Quando mi destai trovai questo cartiglio sul petto, il cui contenuto è tanto lontano dal senso per oscurità ch’io non ne so trarre alcuna conclusione. Mostri egli la sua arte nell’interpretarlo.
LUCIO	Filarmono.
INDOVINO	Eccomi, mio buon signore.
LUCIO	Leggi, e dichiara il significato.
INDOVINO	(legge la tavoletta) ‘Quando il cucciolo d’un leone, a se stesso ignoto, senza cercare troverà, e sarà abbracciato da un lembo di tenera aria; e quando da un cedro maestoso saranno recisi rami che, morti da molti anni, poi rivivranno, si congiungeranno al vecchio tronco e cresceranno freschi: allora Postumo porrà fine alle sue miserie, la Britannia sarà fortunata e fiorirà in pace e abbondanza.’ Tu, Leonato, sei il cucciolo del leone. La giusta e appropriata interpretazione del tuo nome, essendo leo-natus, importa appunto questo. (A Cimbelino) Il lembo di tenera aria è la tua virtuosa figlia, che noi chiamiamo ‘mollis aer’; e ‘mollis aer’ lo diciamo ‘mulier’, (a Postumo) e quella ‘mulier’ io divino essere questa costantissima moglie, la quale proprio ora, rispondendo alla lettera dell’oracolo, a te ignota, non cercata, ti fu stretta intorno come questa tenerissima aria.
CIMBELINO	Questo ha una qualche verosimiglianza.
INDOVINO	L’alto cedro, regale Cimbelino, rappresenta te, e i tuoi rami recisi indicano i tuoi due figli, che, rubati da Belario, per molti anni creduti morti, ora son rivissuti, congiunti al maestoso cedro, la cui progenie promette alla Britannia pace e abbondanza.
CIMBELINO	Bene, daremo inizio alla mia pace; e, Caio Lucio, benché vincitori, ci sottomettiamo a Cesare e all’impero romano, promettendo di pagare il nostro consueto tributo, dal quale fummo dissuasi dalla nostra malvagia regina, sulla quale e sui suoi il cielo in giustizia ha posto pesantissima mano.
INDOVINO	Le dita delle potenze superne accordano l’armonia di questa pace. La visione, ch’io feci nota a Lucio prima del cozzo di questa battaglia appena raffreddata, in questo istante è pienamente compiuta. Poiché l’aquila romana, volando alta da mezzogiorno a occidente, si rimpiccioliva, e nei raggi del sole così svanì; il che presagiva che la nostra principesca aquila, l’imperiale Cesare, dovesse di nuovo unire il suo favore al radioso Cimbelino, che qui risplende in occidente.
CIMBELINO	Lodiamo gli dèi, e i nostri fumi ricurvi salgano alle loro narici dai nostri altari benedetti. Pubblichiamo questa pace a tutti i nostri sudditi. Muoviamo avanti, e un’insegna romana e una britanna sventolino amiche insieme. Marciamo così per la città di Lud, e nel tempio del gran Giove ratificheremo la nostra pace, la suggelleremo con banchetti. Avanti, dunque. Mai guerra cessò, prima che fossero lavate le mani sanguinose, con tale pace.
(didascalia)	Squilli di trombe. Escono in trionfo