PERSONS REPRESENTED. CYMBELINE, King of Britain. CLOTEN, Son to the Queen by a former Husband. LEONATUS POSTHUMUS, a Gentleman, Husband to Imogen. BELARIUS, a banished Lord, disguised under the name of Morgan. GUIDERIUS,Sons to Cymbeline, disguised under the names of ARVIRAGUS, Polydore and Cadwal, supposed Sons to Belarius. PHILARIO, Friend to Posthumus,) IACHIMO, Friend to Philario, Italians. A French Gentleman, Friend to Philario. CAIUS LUCIUS, General of the Roman Forces. A Roman Captain. Two British Captains. PISANIO, Servant to Posthumus. CORNELIUS, a Physician. Two Gentlemen. Two Jailers. Queen, Wife to Cymbeline. IMOGEN, Daughter to Cymbeline by a former Queen. Lords, Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes, Apparitions, a Sooth sayer, a Dutch Gentleman, a Spanish Gentleman, Musicians, Officers, Captains, Soldiers, Messengers, and other Attendants. SCENE, sometimes in Britain; sometimes in Italy. CYMBELINE. SCENE I. Britain. ACT I. Britain. The Garden behind Cymbeline's Enter two Gentlemen. 1 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's. 2 Gent. But what's the matter? 1 Gent. His daughter, and the heir of his 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; Is outward sorrow; though, I think, the king 2 Gent. None but the king? Of the king's looks, hath a heart that is not And why so? 2 Gent. 1 Gent. 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 VOL. IV.-7 (97) So fair an outward, and such stuff within, 2 Gent. You speak him far. 1 Gent. I do extend him, sir, within himself; Crush him together, rather than unfold His measure duly. 2 Gent. His father What's his name, and birth? Died with their swords in hand; for which their father What kind of man he is. 2 Gent. I honor him But, 'pray you, tell me, Even out of your report. 1 Gent. 2 Gent. How long is this ago? 1 Gent. Some twenty years. 2 Gent. That a king's children should be so conveyed! So slackly guarded! and the search so slow, 1 Gent. Howsoe'er 'tis strange, Or that the negligence may well be laughed at, 2 Gent. I do well believe you. 1 Gent. We must forbear; here comes the queen and princess. 1 SCENE III. The same. [Exeunt. Enter the Queen, POSTHUMUS, and IMOGEN. Queen. No, be assured you shall not find me, daughter, After the slander of most step-mothers, Evil-eyed unto you; you are my prisoner, but Your jailer shall deliver you the keys That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus, I will be known your advocate: marry, yet Post. I will from hence to-day. Please your highness, 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 Queen. Imo. Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant 0, Can tickle where she wounds!-My dearest husband, I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing (Always reserved my holy duty) what lis rage can do on me. You must be gone; Post. 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. Known but by letter: thither write, my queen, Queen. Re-enter Queen. Be brief, I pray you: If the king come, I shall incur I know not How much of his displeasure.-Yet I'll move him [Aside. Post. [Exit. Should we be taking leave Were you but riding forth to air yourself, When Imogen is dead. Post. How how! another? You gentle gods, give me but this I have, And sear up my embracements from a next With bonds of death!-Remain, remain thou here [Putting 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; It is a manacle of love; I'll place it Upon this fairest prisoner. [Putting a bracelet on her arm. Imo. When shall we see again? Post. O the gods! Enter CYMBELINE and Lords. Alack, the king! Cym. Thou basest thing, avoid! hence, from my sight!, If, after this command, thou fraught the court With thy unworthiness, thou diest. Away! Thou art poison to my blood. Post. The gods protect you! [Exit. And bless the good remainders of the court! I am gone. Cym. O disloyal thing, |