NeXTSTEP 3.2 for Intel/NeXTSTEP 3.2 for Intel.iso/NextLibrary/Literature/Shakespeare/Plays/Cymbeline/5.6

Text File | 1993-02-01 | 30.7 KB | 660 lines

{\rtf0\ansi{\fonttbl{\f0\froman Times Roman;}{\f1\fmodern Courier;}}
{\pard\f0\fs28{\fs48 Cymbeline
}\
\
{\b\fs36 5.6}
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{\i         [Flourish.] Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius,\
        Arviragus, Pisanio, and lords\
}{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}{\i   (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.        {\fs20   5}\
       He shall be happy that can find him, if\
       Our grace can make him so.\
{\b \fs24 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.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}                        No tidings of him?        {\fs20  10}\
{\b \fs24 PISANIO\
}       He hath been searched among the dead and living,\
       But no trace of him.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}          To my grief I am\
       The heir of his reward, which I will add\
{\i      (To Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus)\
}       To you, the liver, heart, and brain of Britain,\
       By whom I grant she lives. 'Tis now the time        {\fs20  15}\
       To ask of whence you are. Report it.\
{\b \fs24 BELARIUS}                                            Sir,\
       In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen.\
       Further to boast were neither true nor modest,\
       Unless I add we are honest.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}                        Bow your knees.\
{\i         They kneel. He knights them\
}       Arise, my knights o'th' battle. I create you        {\fs20  20}\
       Companions to our person, and will fit you\
       With dignities becoming your estates.\
{\i         Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus rise.\
        Enter Cornelius and Ladies\
}       There's business in these faces. Why so sadly\
       Greet you our victory? You look like Romans,\
       And not o'th' court of Britain.\
{\b \fs24 CORNELIUS}                                Hail, great King!    {\fs20  25}\
       To sour your happiness I must report\
       The Queen is dead.\
{\b \fs24 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?        {\fs20  30}\
{\b \fs24 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        {\fs20  35}\
       Were present when she finished.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}                                Prithee, say.\
{\b \fs24 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.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}            She alone knew this,        {\fs20  40}\
       And but she spoke it dying, I would not\
       Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.\
{\b \fs24 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,        {\fs20  45}\
       But that her flight prevented it, she had\
       Ta'en off by poison.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}          O most delicate fiend!\
       Who is't can read a woman? Is there more?\
{\b \fs24 CORNELIUS\
}       More, sir, and worse. She did confess she had\
       For you a mortal mineral which, being took,        {\fs20  50}\
       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        {\fs20  55}\
       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        {\fs20  60}\
       Despairing died.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}    Heard you all this, her women?\
{\b \fs24 [LADIES]\
}       We did, so please your highness.\
{\b \fs24 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    {\fs20  65}\
       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!\
{\i         Enter Lucius, Giacomo, Soothsayer, and other\
        Roman prisoners, Posthumus behind, and Innogen\
        dressed as a man, all guarded by Briton soldiers\
}       Thou com'st not, Caius, now for tribute. That\
       The Britons have razed out, though with the loss    {\fs20  70}\
       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.\
{\b \fs24 LUCIUS\
}       Consider, sir, the chance of war. The day        {\fs20  75}\
       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        {\fs20  80}\
       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:\
{\i         He presents Innogen to Cymbeline\
}                                     my boy, a Briton born,\
       Let him be ransomed. Never master had            {\fs20  85}\
       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,        {\fs20  90}\
       Though he have served a Roman. Save him, sir,\
       And spare no blood beside.\
{\b \fs24 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,        {\fs20  95}\
       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.\
{\b \fs24 INNOGEN}          I humbly thank your highness.        {\fs20 100}\
{\b \fs24 LUCIUS\
}       I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad,\
       And yet I know thou wilt.\
{\b \fs24 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.\
{\b \fs24 LUCIUS}                        The boy disdains me.        {\fs20 105}\
       He leaves me, scorns me. Briefly die their joys\
       That place them on the truth of girls and boys.\
       Why stands he so perplexed?\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}{\i   (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,                        {\fs20 110}\
       Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin, thy friend?\
{\b \fs24 INNOGEN\
}       He is a Roman, no more kin to me\
       Than I to your highness, who, being born your vassal,\
       Am something nearer.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}          Wherefore ey'st him so?\
{\b \fs24 INNOGEN\
}       I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please        {\fs20 115}\
       To give me hearing.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}        Ay, with all my heart,\
       And lend my best attention. What's thy name?\
{\b \fs24 INNOGEN\
}       Fidele, sir.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}    Thou'rt my good youth, my page.\
       I'll be thy master. Walk with me, speak freely.\
{\i         Cymbeline and Innogen speak apart\
}{\b \fs24 BELARIUS}{\i   (aside to Guiderius and Arviragus)\
}       Is not this boy revived from death?\
{\b \fs24 ARVIRAGUS}                                        One sand another    {\fs20 120}\
       Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad\
       Who died, and was Fidele. What think you?\
{\b \fs24 GUIDERIUS}    The same dead thing alive.\
{\b \fs24 BELARIUS\
}       Peace, peace, see further. He eyes us not. Forbear.\
       Creatures may be alike. Were't he, I am sure        {\fs20 125}\
       He would have spoke to us.\
{\b \fs24 GUIDERIUS}                      But we see him dead.\
{\b \fs24 BELARIUS\
}       Be silent; let's see further.\
{\b \fs24 PISANIO}{\i   (aside)}    It is my mistress.\
       Since she is living, let the time run on\
       To good or bad.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}{\i   (to Innogen)}    Come, stand thou by our side,\
       Make thy demand aloud.{\i   (To Giacomo)}    Sir, step you\
            forth.                        {\fs20 130}\
       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.\
{\i      (To Innogen)}                                  On, speak to him.\
{\b \fs24 INNOGEN\
}       My boon is that this gentleman may render        {\fs20 135}\
       Of whom he had this ring.\
{\b \fs24 POSTHUMUS}{\i   (aside)}    What's that to him?\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}{\i   (to Giacomo)\
}       That diamond upon your finger, say,\
       How came it yours?\
{\b \fs24 GIACOMO\
}       Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that\
       Which to be spoke would torture thee.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}                                            How, me?        {\fs20 140}\
{\b \fs24 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            {\fs20 145}\
       'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord?\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE\
}       All that belongs to this.\
{\b \fs24 GIACOMO}                        That paragon thy daughter,\
       For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits\
       Quail to remember\'b1\'b1give me leave, I faint.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE\
}       My daughter? What of her? Renew thy strength.        {\fs20 150}\
       I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will\
       Than die ere I hear more. Strive, man, and speak.\
{\b \fs24 GIACOMO\
}       Upon a time\'b1\'b1unhappy was the clock\
       That struck the hour\'b1\'b1it was in Rome\'b1\'b1accursed\
       The mansion where\'b1\'b1'twas at a feast\'b1\'b1O, would {\fs20 155}\
       Our viands had been poisoned, or at least\
       Those which I heaved to head!\'b1\'b1the good Posthumus\'b1\'b1\
       What should I say?\'b1\'b1he was too good to be\
       Where ill men were, and was the best of all\
       Amongst the rar'st of good ones\'b1\'b1sitting sadly,    {\fs20 160}\
       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,        {\fs20 165}\
       A shop of all the qualities that man\
       Loves woman for; besides that hook of wiving,\
       Fairness which strikes the eye\'b1\'b1\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}                                              I stand on fire.\
       Come to the matter.\
{\b \fs24 GIACOMO}            All too soon I shall,\
       Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This Posthumus,    {\fs20 170}\
       Most like a noble lord in love and one\
       That had a royal lover, took his hint,\
       And not dispraising whom we praised\'b1\'b1therein\
       He was as calm as virtue\'b1\'b1he began\
       His mistress' picture, which by his tongue being made,    {\fs20 175}\
       And then a mind put in't, either our brags\
       Were cracked of kitchen-trulls, or his description\
       Proved us unspeaking sots.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}                      Nay, nay, to th' purpose.\
{\b \fs24 GIACOMO\
}       Your daughter's chastity\'b1\'b1there it begins.\
       He spake of her as Dian had hot dreams            {\fs20 180}\
       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        {\fs20 185}\
       By hers and mine adultery. He, true knight,\
       No lesser of her honour confident\
       Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring\'b1\'b1\
       And would so had it been a carbuncle\
       Of Phoebus' wheel, and might so safely had it        {\fs20 190}\
       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    {\fs20 195}\
       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        {\fs20 200}\
       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\'b1\'b1\
       O cunning, how I got it!\'b1\'b1nay, some marks        {\fs20 205}\
       Of secret on her person, that he could not\
       But think her bond of chastity quite cracked,\
       I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon\'b1\'b1\
       Methinks I see him now\'b1\'b1\
{\b \fs24 POSTHUMUS}{\i   (coming forward)}    Ay, so thou dost,\
       Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool,        {\fs20 210}\
       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            {\fs20 215}\
       That all th'abhorre\'c1d things o'th' earth amend\
       By being worse than they. I am Posthumus,\
       That killed thy daughter\'b1\'b1villain-like, I lie:\
       That caused a lesser villain than myself,\
       A sacrilegious thief, to do't. The temple        {\fs20 220}\
       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!        {\fs20 225}\
       My queen, my life, my wife, O Innogen,\
       Innogen, Innogen!\
{\b \fs24 INNOGEN}{\i   (approaching him)}    Peace, my lord. Hear, hear.\
{\b \fs24 POSTHUMUS\
}       Shall 's have a play of this? Thou scornful page,\
       There lie thy part.\
{\i         He strikes her down\
}{\b \fs24 PISANIO}{\i   (coming forward)}    O gentlemen, help!\
       Mine and your mistress! O my lord Posthumus,        {\fs20 230}\
       You ne'er killed Innogen till now. Help, help!\
{\i      (To Innogen)}    Mine honoured lady.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}                                          Does the world go round?\
{\b \fs24 POSTHUMUS\
}       How comes these staggers on me?\
{\b \fs24 PISANIO}{\i   (to Innogen)}    Wake, my mistress.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE\
}       If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me\
       To death with mortal joy.                {\fs20 235}\
{\b \fs24 PISANIO}{\i   (to Innogen)}    How fares my mistress?\
{\b \fs24 INNOGEN}    O, get thee from my sight!\
       Thou gav'st me poison. Dangerous fellow, hence.\
       Breathe not where princes are.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}                              The tune of Innogen.\
{\b \fs24 PISANIO\
}       Lady, the gods throw stones of sulphur on me if        {\fs20 240}\
       That box I gave you was not thought by me\
       A precious thing. I had it from the Queen.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE\
}       New matter still.\
{\b \fs24 INNOGEN}        It poisoned me.\
{\b \fs24 CORNELIUS}                                  O gods!\
       I left out one thing which the Queen confessed\
{\i      (To Pisanio)}    Which must approve thee honest. `If\
            Pisanio                        {\fs20 245}\
       Have', said she, `given his mistress that confection\
       Which I gave him for cordial, she is served\
       As I would serve a rat.'\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}                  What's this, Cornelius?\
{\b \fs24 CORNELIUS\
}       The Queen, sir, very oft importuned me\
       To temper poisons for her, still pretending        {\fs20 250}\
       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        {\fs20 255}\
       The present power of life, but in short time\
       All offices of nature should again\
       Do their due functions.{\i   (To Innogen)}    Have you ta'en\
            of it?\
{\b \fs24 INNOGEN\
}       Most like I did, for I was dead.\
{\b \fs24 BELARIUS}{\i   (aside to Guiderius and Arviragus)}    My boys,\
       There was our error.\
{\b \fs24 GUIDERIUS}          This is sure Fidele.        {\fs20 260}\
{\b \fs24 INNOGEN}{\i   (to Posthumus)\
}       Why did you throw your wedded lady from you?\
       Think that you are upon a lock, and now\
       Throw me again.\
{\i         She throws her arms about his neck\
}{\b \fs24 POSTHUMUS}    Hang there like fruit, my soul,\
       Till the tree die.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}{\i   (to Innogen)}    How now, my flesh, my child?\
       What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act?        {\fs20 265}\
       Wilt thou not speak to me?\
{\b \fs24 INNOGEN}{\i   (kneeling)}    Your blessing, sir.\
{\b \fs24 BELARIUS}{\i   (aside to Guiderius and Arviragus)\
}       Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not.\
       You had a motive for't.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}                My tears that fall\
       Prove holy water on thee!\
{\i         [He raises her]\
}                                                         Innogen,\
       Thy mother's dead.\
{\b \fs24 INNOGEN}          I am sorry for't, my lord.        {\fs20 270}\
{\b \fs24 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.\
{\b \fs24 PISANIO}                                            My lord,\
       Now fear is from me I'll speak truth. Lord Cloten,\
       Upon my lady's missing, came to me            {\fs20 275}\
       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 feigne\'c1d letter of my master's\
       Then in my pocket, which directed him            {\fs20 280}\
       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            {\fs20 285}\
       I further know not.\
{\b \fs24 GUIDERIUS}        Let me end the story.\
       I slew him there.\
{\b \fs24 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.                        {\fs20 290}\
{\b \fs24 GUIDERIUS}    I have spoke it, and I did it.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}    He was a prince.\
{\b \fs24 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        {\fs20 295}\
       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.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}                      I am sorrow for thee.\
       By thine own tongue thou art condemned, and must\
       Endure our law. Thou'rt dead.\
{\b \fs24 INNOGEN}                                That headless man        {\fs20 300}\
       I thought had been my lord.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}{\i   (to soldiers)}    Bind the offender,\
       And take him from our presence.\
{\b \fs24 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        {\fs20 305}\
       Had ever scar for. Let his arms alone;\
       They were not born for bondage.\
{\b \fs24 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?\
{\b \fs24 ARVIRAGUS}    In that he spake too far.        {\fs20 310}\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}{\i   [to Belarius]\
}       And thou shalt die for't.\
{\b \fs24 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.\
{\b \fs24 ARVIRAGUS}                      Your danger's ours.        {\fs20 315}\
{\b \fs24 GUIDERIUS\
}       And our good his.\
{\b \fs24 BELARIUS}      Have at it then. By leave,\
       Thou hadst, great King, a subject who\
       Was called Belarius.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}          What of him? He is\
       A banished traitor.\
{\b \fs24 BELARIUS}          He it is that hath\
       Assumed this age. Indeed, a banished man;        {\fs20 320}\
       I know not how a traitor.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}{\i   (to soldiers)}    Take him hence.\
       The whole world shall not save him.\
{\b \fs24 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.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}              Nursing of my sons?        {\fs20 325}\
{\b \fs24 BELARIUS\
}       I am too blunt and saucy.{\i   (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.        {\fs20 330}\
       They are the issue of your loins, my liege,\
       And blood of your begetting.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}                          How, my issue?\
{\b \fs24 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    {\fs20 335}\
       Itself, and all my treason. That I suffered\
       Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes\'b1\'b1\
       For such and so they are\'b1\'b1these twenty years\
       Have I trained up. Those arts they have as I\
       Could put into them. My breeding was, sir,        {\fs20 340}\
       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        {\fs20 345}\
       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.        {\fs20 350}\
       The benediction of these covering heavens\
       Fall on their heads like dew, for they are worthy\
       To inlay heaven with stars.\
{\b \fs24 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.    {\fs20 355}\
       If these be they, I know not how to wish\
       A pair of worthier sons.\
{\b \fs24 BELARIUS}{\i   [rising]}    Be pleased a while.\
       This gentleman, whom I call Polydore,\
       Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius.\
{\i         [Guiderius kneels]\
}       This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus,            {\fs20 360}\
       Your younger princely son.\
{\i         [Arviragus kneels]\
}                                                           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.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}                  Guiderius had\
       Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star.            {\fs20 365}\
       It was a mark of wonder.\
{\b \fs24 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.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}                O, what am I?\
       A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother        {\fs20 370}\
       Rejoiced deliverance more. Blest pray you be,\
       That, after this strange starting from your orbs,\
       You may reign in them now!\
{\i         [Guiderius and Arviragus rise]\
}                                                           O Innogen,\
       Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.\
{\b \fs24 INNOGEN}                                        No, my lord,\
       I have got two worlds by't. O my gentle brothers,    {\fs20 375}\
       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.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}                Did you e'er meet?\
{\b \fs24 ARVIRAGUS\
}       Ay, my good lord.\
{\b \fs24 GUIDERIUS}    And at first meeting loved,        {\fs20 380}\
       Continued so until we thought he died.\
{\b \fs24 CORNELIUS\
}       By the Queen's dram she swallowed.\
{\b \fs24 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?    {\fs20 385}\
       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,        {\fs20 390}\
       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    {\fs20 395}\
       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.\
{\i      (To Belarius)}    Thou art my brother; so we'll hold thee\
            ever.                        {\fs20 400}\
{\b \fs24 INNOGEN}{\i   (to Belarius)\
}       You are my father too, and did relieve me\
       To see this gracious season.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}                          All o'erjoyed,\
       Save these in bonds. Let them be joyful too,\
       For they shall taste our comfort.\
{\b \fs24 INNOGEN}{\i   (to Lucius)}    My good master,\
       I will yet do you service.\
{\b \fs24 LUCIUS}                            Happy be you!            {\fs20 405}\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE\
}       The forlorn soldier that so nobly fought,\
       He would have well becomed this place, and graced\
       The thankings of a king.\
{\b \fs24 POSTHUMUS}                  I am, sir,\
       The soldier that did company these three\
       In poor beseeming. 'Twas a fitment for            {\fs20 410}\
       The purpose I then followed. That I was he,\
       Speak, Giacomo; I had you down, and might\
       Have made you finish.\
{\b \fs24 GIACOMO}{\i   (kneeling)}    I am down again,\
       But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee\
       As then your force did. Take that life, beseech you,    {\fs20 415}\
       Which I so often owe; but your ring first,\
       And here the bracelet of the truest princess\
       That ever swore her faith.\
{\b \fs24 POSTHUMUS}{\i   (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,        {\fs20 420}\
       And deal with others better.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}                          Nobly doomed!\
       We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law.\
       Pardon's the word to all.\
{\b \fs24 ARVIRAGUS}{\i   (to Posthumus)}    You holp us, sir,\
       As you did mean indeed to be our brother.\
       Joyed are we that you are.                {\fs20 425}\
{\b \fs24 POSTHUMUS\
}       Your servant, princes.{\i   (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        {\fs20 430}\
       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.\
{\b \fs24 LUCIUS}                                    Philharmonus.\
{\b \fs24 SOOTHSAYER\
}       Here, my good lord.\
{\b \fs24 LUCIUS}              Read, and declare the meaning.    {\fs20 435}\
{\b \fs24 SOOTHSAYER}{\i   (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    {\fs20 440}\
       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,        {\fs20 445}\
       Being {\i leo-natus}, doth import so much.\
{\i      (To Cymbeline)}    The piece of tender air thy virtuous\
            daughter,\
       Which we call `{\i mollis aer}'; and `{\i mollis aer}'\
       We term it `{\i mulier}',{\i   (to Posthumus)}    which `{\i mulier}' I\
            divine\
       Is this most constant wife, who even now,        {\fs20 450}\
       Answering the letter of the oracle,\
       Unknown to you, unsought, were clipped about\
       With this most tender air.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}                      This hath some seeming.\
{\b \fs24 SOOTHSAYER\
}       The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline,\
       Personates thee, and thy lopped branches point        {\fs20 455}\
       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.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}                                      Well,\
       My peace we will begin; and, Caius Lucius,        {\fs20 460}\
       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        {\fs20 465}\
       Have laid most heavy hand.\
{\b \fs24 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        {\fs20 470}\
       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            {\fs20 475}\
       His favour with the radiant Cymbeline,\
       Which shines here in the west.\
{\b \fs24 CYMBELINE}                              Laud we the gods,\
       And let our crooke\'c1d smokes climb to their nostrils\
       From our blest altars. Publish we this peace\
       To all our subjects. Set we forward, let        {\fs20 480}\
       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,        {\fs20 485}\
       Ere bloody hands were washed, with such a peace.\
{\i         [Flourish.] Exeunt [in triumph]\
\