Speeches (Lines) for Imogen in "Cymbeline, King of Britain"

Total: 118
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# Act / Scene Speech text
1 I / 1
  • O
    Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant
    Can tickle where she wounds...
  • 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.
  • Queen. You know the peril.
    I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying
    The pangs of barr'd affections, though the king
    Hath charged you should not speak together.

    Imogen. 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.

2 I / 1
  • Nay, stay a little:
    Were you but riding forth to air yourself,
    Such part...
  • 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;
    But keep it till you woo another wife,
    When Imogen is dead.
  • Posthumus Leonatus. Should we be taking leave
    As long a term as yet we have to live,
    The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu!

    Imogen. 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;
    But keep it till you woo another wife,
    When Imogen is dead.

3 I / 1
  • O the gods!
    When shall we see again?
  • O the gods!
    When shall we see again?
  • Posthumus Leonatus. How, how! another?
    You gentle gods, give me but this I have,
    And sear up my embracements from a next
    With bonds of death!
    [Putting on the ring]
    Remain, remain thou here
    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.

    Imogen. O the gods!
    When shall we see again?

4 I / 1
  • There cannot be a pinch in death
    More sharp than this is.
  • There cannot be a pinch in death
    More sharp than this is.
  • Posthumus Leonatus. The gods protect you!
    And bless the good remainders of the court! I am gone.

    Imogen. There cannot be a pinch in death
    More sharp than this is.

5 I / 1
  • I beseech you, sir,
    Harm not yourself with your vexation
    I am senseless...
  • 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. O disloyal thing,
    That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap'st
    A year's age on me.

    Imogen. 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.

6 I / 1
  • Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace.
  • Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace.
  • Cymbeline. Past grace? obedience?

    Imogen. Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace.

7 I / 1
  • O blest, that I might not! I chose an eagle,
    And did avoid a puttock.
  • O blest, that I might not! I chose an eagle,
    And did avoid a puttock.
  • Cymbeline. That mightst have had the sole son of my queen!

    Imogen. O blest, that I might not! I chose an eagle,
    And did avoid a puttock.

8 I / 1
  • No; I rather added
    A lustre to it.
  • No; I rather added
    A lustre to it.
  • Cymbeline. Thou took'st a beggar; wouldst have made my throne
    A seat for baseness.

    Imogen. No; I rather added
    A lustre to it.

9 I / 1
  • Sir,
    It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus:
    You bred him as my pl...
  • Sir,
    It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus:
    You bred him as my playfellow, and he is
    A man worth any woman, overbuys me
    Almost the sum he pays.
  • Cymbeline. O thou vile one!

    Imogen. Sir,
    It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus:
    You bred him as my playfellow, and he is
    A man worth any woman, overbuys me
    Almost the sum he pays.

10 I / 1
  • Almost, sir: heaven restore me! Would I were
    A neat-herd's daughter, and my...
  • Almost, sir: heaven restore me! Would I were
    A neat-herd's daughter, and my Leonatus
    Our neighbour shepherd's son!
  • Cymbeline. What, art thou mad?

    Imogen. Almost, sir: heaven restore me! Would I were
    A neat-herd's daughter, and my Leonatus
    Our neighbour shepherd's son!

11 I / 1
  • Your son's my father's friend; he takes his part.
    To draw upon an exile! O b...
  • 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. Why came you from your master?
  • Queen. I am very glad on't.

    Imogen. 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. Why came you from your master?

12 I / 1
  • About some half-hour hence,
    I pray you, speak with me: you shall at least
  • About some half-hour hence,
    I pray you, speak with me: you shall at least
    Go see my lord aboard: for this time leave me.
  • Queen. Pray, walk awhile.

    Imogen. About some half-hour hence,
    I pray you, speak with me: you shall at least
    Go see my lord aboard: for this time leave me.

13 I / 3
  • I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' the haven,
    And question'dst every sa...
  • I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' the haven,
    And question'dst every sail: if he should write
    And not have it, 'twere a paper lost,
    As offer'd mercy is. What was the last
    That he spake to thee?
  • Second Lord. Well, my lord.

    Imogen. I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' the haven,
    And question'dst every sail: if he should write
    And not have it, 'twere a paper lost,
    As offer'd mercy is. What was the last
    That he spake to thee?

14 I / 3
  • Then waved his handkerchief?
  • Then waved his handkerchief?
  • Pisanio. It was his queen, his queen!

    Imogen. Then waved his handkerchief?

15 I / 3
  • Senseless Linen! happier therein than I!
    And that was all?
  • Senseless Linen! happier therein than I!
    And that was all?
  • Pisanio. And kiss'd it, madam.

    Imogen. Senseless Linen! happier therein than I!
    And that was all?

16 I / 3
  • Thou shouldst have made him
    As little as a crow, or less, ere left
    To af...
  • Thou shouldst have made him
    As little as a crow, or less, ere left
    To after-eye him.
  • 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 sail'd on,
    How swift his ship.

    Imogen. Thou shouldst have made him
    As little as a crow, or less, ere left
    To after-eye him.

17 I / 3
  • I would have broke mine eye-strings; crack'd them, but
    To look upon him, til...
  • I would have broke mine eye-strings; crack'd them, but
    To look upon him, till the diminution
    Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle,
    Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from
    The smallness of a gnat to air, and then
    Have turn'd mine eye and wept. But, good Pisanio,
    When shall we hear from him?
  • Pisanio. Madam, so I did.

    Imogen. I would have broke mine eye-strings; crack'd them, but
    To look upon him, till the diminution
    Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle,
    Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from
    The smallness of a gnat to air, and then
    Have turn'd mine eye and wept. But, good Pisanio,
    When shall we hear from him?

18 I / 3
  • I did not take my leave of him, but had
    Most pretty things to say: ere I cou...
  • 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,
    To 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.
  • Pisanio. Be assured, madam,
    With his next vantage.

    Imogen. 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,
    To 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.

19 I / 3
  • Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch'd.
    I will attend the queen.
  • Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch'd.
    I will attend the queen.
  • Lady. The queen, madam,
    Desires your highness' company.

    Imogen. Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch'd.
    I will attend the queen.

20 I / 6
  • A father cruel, and a step-dame false;
    A foolish suitor to a wedded lady,
  • A father cruel, and a step-dame false;
    A foolish suitor to a wedded lady,
    That hath her husband banish'd;--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. Who may this be? Fie!
  • Pisanio. And shall do:
    But when to my good lord I prove untrue,
    I'll choke myself: there's all I'll do for you.

    Imogen. A father cruel, and a step-dame false;
    A foolish suitor to a wedded lady,
    That hath her husband banish'd;--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. Who may this be? Fie!

21 I / 6
  • Thanks, good sir:
    You're kindly welcome.
  • Thanks, good sir:
    You're kindly welcome.
  • Iachimo. Change you, madam?
    The worthy Leonatus is in safety
    And greets your highness dearly.

    Imogen. Thanks, good sir:
    You're kindly welcome.

22 I / 6
  • [Reads] 'He is one of the noblest note, to whose
    kindnesses I am most infini...
  • [Reads] 'He is one of the noblest note, to whose
    kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon
    him accordingly, as you value your trust--
    LEONATUS.'
    So far I read aloud:
    But even the very middle of my heart
    Is warm'd by the 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.
  • Iachimo. [Aside] All of her that is out of door most rich!
    If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare,
    She is alone the 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.

    Imogen. [Reads] 'He is one of the noblest note, to whose
    kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon
    him accordingly, as you value your trust--
    LEONATUS.'
    So far I read aloud:
    But even the very middle of my heart
    Is warm'd by the 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.

23 I / 6
  • What makes your admiration?
  • What makes your admiration?
  • Iachimo. 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 twinn'd stones
    Upon the number'd beach? and can we not
    Partition make with spectacles so precious
    'Twixt fair and foul?

    Imogen. What makes your admiration?

24 I / 6
  • What is the matter, trow?
  • What is the matter, trow?
  • Iachimo. It cannot be i' the eye, for apes and monkeys
    'Twixt two such shes would chatter this way and
    Contemn with mows the other; nor i' the judgment,
    For idiots in this case of favour would
    Be wisely definite; nor i' the appetite;
    Sluttery to such neat excellence opposed
    Should make desire vomit emptiness,
    Not so allured to feed.

    Imogen. What is the matter, trow?

25 I / 6
  • What, dear sir,
    Thus raps you? Are you well?
  • What, dear sir,
    Thus raps you? Are you well?
  • Iachimo. The cloyed will,
    That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub
    Both fill'd and running, ravening first the lamb
    Longs after for the garbage.

    Imogen. What, dear sir,
    Thus raps you? Are you well?

26 I / 6
  • Continues well my lord? His health, beseech you?
  • Continues well my lord? His health, beseech you?
  • Pisanio. I was going, sir,
    To give him welcome.

    Imogen. Continues well my lord? His health, beseech you?

27 I / 6
  • Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is.
  • Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is.
  • Iachimo. Well, madam.

    Imogen. Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is.

28 I / 6
  • When he was here,
    He did incline to sadness, and oft-times
    Not knowing w...
  • When he was here,
    He did incline to sadness, and oft-times
    Not knowing why.
  • Iachimo. Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there
    So merry and so gamesome: he is call'd
    The Briton reveller.

    Imogen. When he was here,
    He did incline to sadness, and oft-times
    Not knowing why.

29 I / 6
  • Will my lord say so?
  • Will my lord say so?
  • Iachimo. 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 his free hours languish for
    Assured bondage?'

    Imogen. Will my lord say so?

30 I / 6
  • Not he, I hope.
  • Not he, I hope.
  • Iachimo. 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.

    Imogen. Not he, I hope.

31 I / 6
  • What do you pity, sir?
  • What do you pity, sir?
  • Iachimo. Not he: but yet heaven's bounty towards him might
    Be used more thankfully. In himself, 'tis much;
    In you, which I account his beyond all talents,
    Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound
    To pity too.

    Imogen. What do you pity, sir?

32 I / 6
  • Am I one, sir?
    You look on me: what wreck discern you in me
    Deserves you...
  • Am I one, sir?
    You look on me: what wreck discern you in me
    Deserves your pity?
  • Iachimo. Two creatures heartily.

    Imogen. Am I one, sir?
    You look on me: what wreck discern you in me
    Deserves your pity?

33 I / 6
  • I pray you, sir,
    Deliver with more openness your answers
    To my demands....
  • I pray you, sir,
    Deliver with more openness your answers
    To my demands. Why do you pity me?
  • Iachimo. Lamentable! What,
    To hide me from the radiant sun and solace
    I' the dungeon by a snuff?

    Imogen. I pray you, sir,
    Deliver with more openness your answers
    To my demands. Why do you pity me?

34 I / 6
  • You do seem to know
    Something of me, or what concerns me: pray you,--
    Si...
  • You do seem to know
    Something of me, or what concerns me: pray you,--
    Since doubling 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.
  • Iachimo. 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.

    Imogen. You do seem to know
    Something of me, or what concerns me: pray you,--
    Since doubling 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.

35 I / 6
  • My lord, I fear,
    Has forgot Britain.
  • My lord, I fear,
    Has forgot Britain.
  • Iachimo. Had I this cheek
    To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch,
    Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul
    To the oath of loyalty; this object, which
    Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,
    Fixing it only here; should I, damn'd then,
    Slaver with lips as common as the stairs
    That mount the Capitol; join gripes with hands
    Made hard with hourly falsehood--falsehood, as
    With labour; then by-peeping in an eye
    Base and unlustrous 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.

    Imogen. My lord, I fear,
    Has forgot Britain.

36 I / 6
  • Let me hear no more.
  • Let me hear no more.
  • Iachimo. And himself. Not I,
    Inclined to this intelligence, pronounce
    The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces
    That from pay mutest conscience to my tongue
    Charms this report out.

    Imogen. Let me hear no more.

37 I / 6
  • Revenged!
    How should I be revenged? If this be true,--
    As I have such a...
  • 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?
  • Iachimo. O dearest soul! your cause doth strike my heart
    With pity, that doth make me sick. A lady
    So fair, and fasten'd to an empery,
    Would make the great'st king double,--to be partner'd
    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 nature! such boil'd stuff
    As well might poison poison! Be revenged;
    Or she that bore you was no queen, and you
    Recoil from your great stock.

    Imogen. 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?

38 I / 6
  • What, ho, Pisanio!
  • What, ho, Pisanio!
  • Iachimo. 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.

    Imogen. What, ho, Pisanio!

39 I / 6
  • Away! I do condemn mine ears that have
    So long attended thee. If thou wert h...
  • 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!
  • Iachimo. Let me my service tender on your lips.

    Imogen. 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!

40 I / 6
  • You make amends.
  • You make amends.
  • Iachimo. 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 call'd 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 manner'd; such a holy witch
    That he enchants societies into him;
    Half all men's hearts are his.

    Imogen. You make amends.

41 I / 6
  • All's well, sir: take my power i' the court
    for yours.
  • All's well, sir: take my power i' the court
    for yours.
  • Iachimo. 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 a false report; which hath
    Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment
    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.

    Imogen. All's well, sir: take my power i' the court
    for yours.

42 I / 6
  • Pray, what is't?
  • Pray, what is't?
  • Iachimo. My humble thanks. I had almost forgot
    To entreat your grace but in a small request,
    And yet of moment to, for it concerns
    Your lord; myself and other noble friends,
    Are partners in the business.

    Imogen. Pray, what is't?

43 I / 6
  • Willingly;
    And pawn mine honour for their safety: since
    My lord hath int...
  • Willingly;
    And pawn mine honour for their safety: since
    My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them
    In my bedchamber.
  • Iachimo. Some dozen Romans of us and your lord--
    The 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 values great;
    And I am something curious, being strange,
    To have them in safe stowage: may it please you
    To take them in protection?

    Imogen. Willingly;
    And pawn mine honour for their safety: since
    My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them
    In my bedchamber.

44 I / 6
  • O, no, no.
  • O, no, no.
  • Iachimo. 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 to-morrow.

    Imogen. O, no, no.

45 I / 6
  • I thank you for your pains:
    But not away to-morrow!
  • I thank you for your pains:
    But not away to-morrow!
  • Iachimo. Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my word
    By lengthening my return. From Gallia
    I cross'd the seas on purpose and on promise
    To see your grace.

    Imogen. I thank you for your pains:
    But not away to-morrow!

46 I / 6
  • I will write.
    Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept,
    And truly yi...
  • I will write.
    Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept,
    And truly yielded you. You're very welcome.
  • Iachimo. O, I must, madam:
    Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please
    To greet your lord with writing, do't to-night:
    I have outstood my time; which is material
    To the tender of our present.

    Imogen. I will write.
    Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept,
    And truly yielded you. You're very welcome.

47 II / 2
  • Who's there? my woman Helen?
  • Who's there? my woman Helen?
  • Second Lord. I'll attend your lordship.
    [Exeunt CLOTEN and First 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 Imogen, what thou endurest,
    Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern'd,
    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'ld make! The heavens hold firm
    The walls of thy dear honour, keep unshaked
    That temple, thy fair mind, that thou mayst stand,
    To enjoy thy banish'd lord and this great land!

    Imogen. Who's there? my woman Helen?

48 II / 2
  • What hour is it?
  • What hour is it?
  • Lady. Please you, madam

    Imogen. What hour is it?

49 II / 2
  • I have read three hours then: mine eyes are weak:
    Fold down the leaf where I...
  • 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' the clock,
    I prithee, call me. Sleep hath seized me wholly
    [Exit Lady]
    To your protection I commend me, gods.
    From fairies and the tempters of the night
    Guard me, beseech ye.
  • Lady. Almost midnight, madam.

    Imogen. 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' the clock,
    I prithee, call me. Sleep hath seized me wholly
    [Exit Lady]
    To your protection I commend me, gods.
    From fairies and the tempters of the night
    Guard me, beseech ye.

50 II / 3
  • Good morrow, sir. You lay out too much pains
    For purchasing but trouble; the...
  • 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. Good morrow, fairest: sister, your sweet hand.

    Imogen. 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.

51 II / 3
  • If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me:
    If you swear still, your recompe...
  • If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me:
    If you swear still, your recompense is still
    That I regard it not.
  • Cloten. Still, I swear I love you.

    Imogen. If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me:
    If you swear still, your recompense is still
    That I regard it not.

52 II / 3
  • But that you shall not say I yield being silent,
    I would not speak. I pray y...
  • 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. This is no answer.

    Imogen. 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.

53 II / 3
  • Fools are not mad folks.
  • Fools are not mad folks.
  • Cloten. To leave you in your madness, 'twere my sin:
    I will not.

    Imogen. Fools are not mad folks.

54 II / 3
  • As I am mad, I do:
    If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad;
    That cures...
  • 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 the 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. Do you call me fool?

    Imogen. 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 the 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.

55 II / 3
  • Profane fellow
    Wert thou the son of Jupiter and no more
    But what thou ar...
  • 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. You sin against
    Obedience, which you owe your father. For
    The contract you pretend with that base wretch,
    One bred of alms and foster'd with cold dishes,
    With scraps o' the court, it is no contract, none:
    And though it be allow'd 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 curb'd from that enlargement by
    The consequence o' the crown, and must not soil
    The precious note of it with a base slave.
    A hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth,
    A pantler, not so eminent.

    Imogen. 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.

56 II / 3
  • He never can meet more mischance than come
    To be but named of thee. His mean...
  • He never can meet more mischance than come
    To be but named of thee. His meanest garment,
    That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer
    In my respect than all the hairs above thee,
    Were they all made such men. How now, Pisanio!
  • Cloten. The south-fog rot him!

    Imogen. He never can meet more mischance than come
    To be but named of thee. His meanest garment,
    That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer
    In my respect than all the hairs above thee,
    Were they all made such men. How now, Pisanio!

57 II / 3
  • To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently--
  • To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently--
  • Cloten. 'His garment!' Now the devil--

    Imogen. To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently--

58 II / 3
  • I am sprited with a fool.
    Frighted, and anger'd worse: go bid my woman
    S...
  • I am sprited with a fool.
    Frighted, and anger'd 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 kiss'd it:
    I hope it be not gone to tell my lord
    That I kiss aught but he.
  • Cloten. 'His garment!'

    Imogen. I am sprited with a fool.
    Frighted, and anger'd 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 kiss'd it:
    I hope it be not gone to tell my lord
    That I kiss aught but he.

59 II / 3
  • I hope so: go and search.
  • I hope so: go and search.
  • Pisanio. 'Twill not be lost.

    Imogen. I hope so: go and search.

60 II / 3
  • Ay, I said so, sir:
    If you will make't an action, call witness to't.
  • Ay, I said so, sir:
    If you will make't an action, call witness to't.
  • Cloten. You have abused me:
    'His meanest garment!'

    Imogen. Ay, I said so, sir:
    If you will make't an action, call witness to't.

61 II / 3
  • Your mother too:
    She's my good lady, and will conceive, I hope,
    But the...
  • Your mother too:
    She's my good lady, and will conceive, I hope,
    But the worst of me. So, I leave you, sir,
    To the worst of discontent.
  • Cloten. I will inform your father.

    Imogen. Your mother too:
    She's my good lady, and will conceive, I hope,
    But the worst of me. So, I leave you, sir,
    To the worst of discontent.

62 III / 2
  • How now, Pisanio!
  • How now, Pisanio!
  • 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 prevail'd
    On thy too ready hearing? Disloyal! No:
    She's punish'd 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 her 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?
    [Reading]
    'Do't: the letter
    that I have sent her, by her own command
    Shall give thee opportunity.' O damn'd paper!
    Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble,
    Art thou a feodary for this act, and look'st
    So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes.
    I am ignorant in what I am commanded.

    Imogen. How now, Pisanio!

63 III / 2
  • Who? thy lord? that is my lord, Leonatus!
    O, learn'd indeed were that astron...
  • Who? thy lord? that is my lord, Leonatus!
    O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer
    That knew the stars as I his characters;
    He'ld lay the future open. You good gods,
    Let what is here contain'd 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!
    [Reads]
    '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,--
    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 the smothering of the sense--how far it is
    To this same blessed Milford: and by the way
    Tell me how Wales was made so happy as
    To 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
    And our return, to excuse: but first, how get hence:
    Why should excuse be born or e'er begot?
    We'll talk of that hereafter. Prithee, speak,
    How many score of miles may we well ride
    'Twixt hour and hour?
  • Pisanio. Madam, here is a letter from my lord.

    Imogen. Who? thy lord? that is my lord, Leonatus!
    O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer
    That knew the stars as I his characters;
    He'ld lay the future open. You good gods,
    Let what is here contain'd 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!
    [Reads]
    '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,--
    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 the smothering of the sense--how far it is
    To this same blessed Milford: and by the way
    Tell me how Wales was made so happy as
    To 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
    And our return, to excuse: but first, how get hence:
    Why should excuse be born or e'er begot?
    We'll talk of that hereafter. Prithee, speak,
    How many score of miles may we well ride
    'Twixt hour and hour?

64 III / 2
  • Why, one that rode to's execution, man,
    Could never go so slow: I have heard...
  • 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' the clock's behalf. But this is foolery:
    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. One score 'twixt sun and sun,
    Madam, 's enough for you:
    [Aside]
    and too much too.

    Imogen. 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' the clock's behalf. But this is foolery:
    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.

65 III / 2
  • I see before me, man: nor here, nor here,
    Nor what ensues, but have a fog in...
  • 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.
  • Pisanio. Madam, you're best consider.

    Imogen. 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.

66 III / 4
  • Thou told'st me, when we came from horse, the place
    Was near at hand: ne'er...
  • Thou told'st me, when we came from horse, the place
    Was near at hand: ne'er long'd 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 the inward of thee? One, but painted thus,
    Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd
    Beyond self-explication: put thyself
    Into a havior of less fear, ere wildness
    Vanquish my staider senses. What's the matter?
    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 countenance still. My husband's hand!
    That drug-damn'd 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.
  • Belarius. My fault being nothing--as I have told you oft--
    But that two villains, whose false oaths prevail'd
    Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline
    I was confederate with the Romans: so
    Follow'd 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 the mountains!
    This is not hunters' language: he that strikes
    The venison first shall be the lord o' the 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.
    [Exeunt GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS]
    How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature!
    These boys know little they are sons to the king;
    Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive.
    They think they are mine; and though train'd
    up thus meanly
    I' the 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 call'd 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.--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 call'd,
    They take for natural father. The game is up.

    Imogen. Thou told'st me, when we came from horse, the place
    Was near at hand: ne'er long'd 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 the inward of thee? One, but painted thus,
    Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd
    Beyond self-explication: put thyself
    Into a havior of less fear, ere wildness
    Vanquish my staider senses. What's the matter?
    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 countenance still. My husband's hand!
    That drug-damn'd 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.

67 III / 4
  • [Reads] 'Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the
    strumpet in my bed; the test...
  • [Reads] 'Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the
    strumpet in my bed; the testimonies whereof lie
    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 pandar to her dishonour and
    equally to me disloyal.'
  • Pisanio. Please you, read;
    And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing
    The most disdain'd of fortune.

    Imogen. [Reads] 'Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the
    strumpet in my bed; the testimonies whereof lie
    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 pandar to her dishonour and
    equally to me disloyal.'

68 III / 4
  • False to his bed! What is it to be false?
    To lie in watch there and to think...
  • 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. 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. What cheer, madam?

    Imogen. 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?

69 III / 4
  • I false! Thy conscience witness: Iachimo,
    Thou didst accuse him of incontine...
  • I false! Thy conscience witness: Iachimo,
    Thou didst accuse him of incontinency;
    Thou then look'dst like a villain; now methinks
    Thy favour's good enough. Some jay of Italy
    Whose mother was her painting, hath betray'd him:
    Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion;
    And, for I am richer than to hang by the walls,
    I must be ripp'd:--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 villany; not born where't grows,
    But worn a bait for ladies.
  • Pisanio. Alas, good lady!

    Imogen. I false! Thy conscience witness: Iachimo,
    Thou didst accuse him of incontinency;
    Thou then look'dst like a villain; now methinks
    Thy favour's good enough. Some jay of Italy
    Whose mother was her painting, hath betray'd him:
    Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion;
    And, for I am richer than to hang by the walls,
    I must be ripp'd:--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 villany; not born where't grows,
    But worn a bait for ladies.

70 III / 4
  • True honest men being heard, like false Aeneas,
    Were in his time thought fal...
  • 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 fall. Come, fellow, be thou honest:
    Do thou thy master's bidding: when thou see'st 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. Good madam, hear me.

    Imogen. 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 fall. Come, fellow, be thou honest:
    Do thou thy master's bidding: when thou see'st 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.

71 III / 4
  • Why, I must die;
    And if I do not by thy hand, thou art
    No servant of thy...
  • Why, I must die;
    And if I do not by thy hand, thou art
    No servant of thy master's. Against self-slaughter
    There is a prohibition so divine
    That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's my heart.
    Something's afore't. Soft, soft! we'll no defence;
    Obedient as the scabbard. What is here?
    The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus,
    All turn'd to heresy? Away, away,
    Corrupters of my faith! you shall no more
    Be stomachers to my heart. Thus may poor fools
    Believe false teachers: though those that
    are betray'd
    Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor
    Stands in worse case of woe.
    And thou, Posthumus, thou that didst set up
    My disobedience 'gainst the king my father
    And make me put into contempt the suits
    Of princely fellows, shalt hereafter find
    It is no act of common passage, but
    A strain of rareness: and I grieve myself
    To think, when thou shalt be disedged by her
    That now thou tirest on, how thy memory
    Will then be pang'd by me. 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. Hence, vile instrument!
    Thou shalt not damn my hand.

    Imogen. Why, I must die;
    And if I do not by thy hand, thou art
    No servant of thy master's. Against self-slaughter
    There is a prohibition so divine
    That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's my heart.
    Something's afore't. Soft, soft! we'll no defence;
    Obedient as the scabbard. What is here?
    The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus,
    All turn'd to heresy? Away, away,
    Corrupters of my faith! you shall no more
    Be stomachers to my heart. Thus may poor fools
    Believe false teachers: though those that
    are betray'd
    Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor
    Stands in worse case of woe.
    And thou, Posthumus, thou that didst set up
    My disobedience 'gainst the king my father
    And make me put into contempt the suits
    Of princely fellows, shalt hereafter find
    It is no act of common passage, but
    A strain of rareness: and I grieve myself
    To think, when thou shalt be disedged by her
    That now thou tirest on, how thy memory
    Will then be pang'd by me. 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.

72 III / 4
  • Do't, and to bed then.
  • Do't, and to bed then.
  • Pisanio. O gracious lady,
    Since I received command to do this business
    I have not slept one wink.

    Imogen. Do't, and to bed then.

73 III / 4
  • Wherefore then
    Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abused
    So many miles wi...
  • 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 perturb'd court,
    For my being absent? whereunto I never
    Purpose return. Why hast thou gone so far,
    To be unbent when thou hast ta'en thy stand,
    The elected deer before thee?
  • Pisanio. I'll wake mine eye-balls blind first.

    Imogen. 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 perturb'd court,
    For my being absent? whereunto I never
    Purpose return. Why hast thou gone so far,
    To be unbent when thou hast ta'en thy stand,
    The elected deer before thee?

74 III / 4
  • Talk thy tongue weary; speak
    I have heard I am a strumpet; and mine ear
    ...
  • 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. But to win time
    To lose so bad employment; in the which
    I have consider'd of a course. Good lady,
    Hear me with patience.

    Imogen. 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.

75 III / 4
  • Most like;
    Bringing me here to kill me.
  • Most like;
    Bringing me here to kill me.
  • Pisanio. Then, madam,
    I thought you would not back again.

    Imogen. Most like;
    Bringing me here to kill me.

76 III / 4
  • Some Roman courtezan.
  • Some Roman courtezan.
  • 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.

    Imogen. Some Roman courtezan.

77 III / 4
  • Why good fellow,
    What shall I do the where? where bide? how live?
    Or in...
  • Why good fellow,
    What shall I do the where? where bide? how live?
    Or in my life what comfort, when I am
    Dead to my husband?
  • 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 miss'd at court,
    And that will well confirm it.

    Imogen. Why good fellow,
    What shall I do the where? where bide? how live?
    Or in my life what comfort, when I am
    Dead to my husband?

78 III / 4
  • No court, no father; nor no more ado
    With that harsh, noble, simple nothing,...
  • No court, no father; nor no more ado
    With that harsh, noble, simple nothing,
    That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me
    As fearful as a siege.
  • Pisanio. If you'll back to the court--

    Imogen. No court, no father; nor no more ado
    With that harsh, noble, simple nothing,
    That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me
    As fearful as a siege.

79 III / 4
  • Where then
    Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night,
    Are they no...
  • Where then
    Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night,
    Are they not but in Britain? I' the world's volume
    Our Britain seems as of it, but not in 't;
    In a great pool a swan's nest: prithee, think
    There's livers out of Britain.
  • Pisanio. If not at court,
    Then not in Britain must you bide.

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

80 III / 4
  • O, for such means!
    Though peril to my modesty, not death on't,
    I would a...
  • O, for such means!
    Though peril to my modesty, not death on't,
    I would adventure.
  • Pisanio. I am most glad
    You think of other place. The ambassador,
    Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven
    To-morrow: now, if you could wear a mind
    Dark as your fortune is, and but disguise
    That which, to appear itself, must not yet be
    But by self-danger, you should tread a course
    Pretty and full of view; yea, haply, near
    The residence of Posthumus; so nigh at least
    That though his actions were not visible, yet
    Report should render him hourly to your ear
    As truly as he moves.

    Imogen. O, for such means!
    Though peril to my modesty, not death on't,
    I would adventure.

81 III / 4
  • Nay, be brief
    I see into thy end, and am almost
    A man already.
  • Nay, be brief
    I see into thy end, and am almost
    A man already.
  • 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 its pretty self--into a waggish courage:
    Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, 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.

    Imogen. Nay, be brief
    I see into thy end, and am almost
    A man already.

82 III / 4
  • Thou art all the comfort
    The gods will diet me with. Prithee, away:
    Ther...
  • Thou art all the comfort
    The gods will diet me with. Prithee, away:
    There's more to be consider'd; 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. First, make yourself but like one.
    Fore-thinking this, I have already fit--
    'Tis in my cloak-bag--doublet, hat, hose, all
    That answer to them: would you in their serving,
    And with what imitation you can borrow
    From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius
    Present yourself, desire his service, tell him
    wherein you're happy,--which you'll make him know,
    If that his head have ear in music,--doubtless
    With joy he will embrace you, for he's honourable
    And doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad,
    You have me, rich; and I will never fail
    Beginning nor supplyment.

    Imogen. Thou art all the comfort
    The gods will diet me with. Prithee, away:
    There's more to be consider'd; 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.

83 III / 4
  • Amen: I thank thee.
  • Amen: I thank thee.
  • Pisanio. Well, madam, we must take a short farewell,
    Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of
    Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress,
    Here is a box; I had it from the queen:
    What's in't is precious; if you are sick at sea,
    Or stomach-qualm'd 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!

    Imogen. Amen: I thank thee.

84 III / 6
  • I see a man's life is a tedious one:
    I have tired myself, and for two nights...
  • 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 show'd 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 fulness
    Is sorer than to lie for need, and falsehood
    Is worse in kings than beggars. My dear lord!
    Thou art one o' the 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 to 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 any thing that's civil, speak; if savage,
    Take or lend. Ho! No answer? Then I'll enter.
    Best draw my sword: and if mine enemy
    But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look on't.
    Such a foe, good heavens!
  • Pisanio. Thou bid'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 cross'd with slowness; labour be his meed!

    Imogen. 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 show'd 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 fulness
    Is sorer than to lie for need, and falsehood
    Is worse in kings than beggars. My dear lord!
    Thou art one o' the 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 to 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 any thing that's civil, speak; if savage,
    Take or lend. Ho! No answer? Then I'll enter.
    Best draw my sword: and if mine enemy
    But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look on't.
    Such a foe, good heavens!

85 III / 6
  • Good masters, harm me not:
    Before I enter'd here, I call'd; and thought
    ...
  • Good masters, harm me not:
    Before I enter'd here, I call'd; and thought
    To have begg'd or bought what I have took:
    good troth,
    I have stol'n nought, nor would not, though I had found
    Gold strew'd i' the 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.
  • Belarius. By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not,
    An earthly paragon! Behold divineness
    No elder than a boy!

    Imogen. Good masters, harm me not:
    Before I enter'd here, I call'd; and thought
    To have begg'd or bought what I have took:
    good troth,
    I have stol'n nought, nor would not, though I had found
    Gold strew'd i' the 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.

86 III / 6
  • I see you're angry:
    Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should
    Have die...
  • I see you're angry:
    Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should
    Have died had I not made it.
  • Arviragus. All gold and silver rather turn to dirt!
    As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those
    Who worship dirty gods.

    Imogen. I see you're angry:
    Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should
    Have died had I not made it.

87 III / 6
  • To Milford-Haven.
  • To Milford-Haven.
  • Belarius. Whither bound?

    Imogen. To Milford-Haven.

88 III / 6
  • Fidele, sir. I have a kinsman who
    Is bound for Italy; he embark'd at Milford...
  • Fidele, sir. I have a kinsman who
    Is bound for Italy; he embark'd at Milford;
    To whom being going, almost spent with hunger,
    I am fall'n in this offence.
  • Belarius. What's your name?

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

89 III / 6
  • 'Mongst friends,
    If brothers.
    [Aside]
    Would it had been so, that the...
  • 'Mongst friends,
    If brothers.
    [Aside]
    Would it had been so, that they
    Had been my father's sons! then had my prize
    Been less, and so more equal ballasting
    To thee, Posthumus.
  • Arviragus. I'll make't my comfort
    He is a man; I'll love him as my brother:
    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.

    Imogen. 'Mongst friends,
    If brothers.
    [Aside]
    Would it had been so, that they
    Had been my father's sons! then had my prize
    Been less, and so more equal ballasting
    To thee, Posthumus.

90 III / 6
  • Great men,
    That had a court no bigger than this cave,
    That did attend th...
  • Great men,
    That had a court no bigger than this cave,
    That did attend themselves and had the virtue
    Which their own conscience seal'd them--laying by
    That nothing-gift of differing multitudes--
    Could not out-peer these twain. Pardon me, gods!
    I'd change my sex to be companion with them,
    Since Leonatus's false.
  • Belarius. Hark, boys.

    Imogen. Great men,
    That had a court no bigger than this cave,
    That did attend themselves and had the virtue
    Which their own conscience seal'd them--laying by
    That nothing-gift of differing multitudes--
    Could not out-peer these twain. Pardon me, gods!
    I'd change my sex to be companion with them,
    Since Leonatus's false.

91 III / 6
  • Thanks, sir.
  • Thanks, sir.
  • Arviragus. The night to the owl and morn to the lark
    less welcome.

    Imogen. Thanks, sir.

92 IV / 2
  • So man and man should be;
    But clay and clay differs in dignity,
    Whose du...
  • So man and man should be;
    But clay and clay differs in dignity,
    Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick.
  • Arviragus. [To IMOGEN]. Brother, stay here
    Are we not brothers?

    Imogen. So man and man should be;
    But clay and clay differs in dignity,
    Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick.

93 IV / 2
  • So sick I am not, yet I am not well;
    But not so citizen a wanton as
    To s...
  • 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. Go you to hunting; I'll abide with him.

    Imogen. 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.

94 IV / 2
  • I wish ye sport.
  • I wish ye sport.
  • Arviragus. Brother, farewell.

    Imogen. I wish ye sport.

95 IV / 2
  • [Aside] These are kind creatures. Gods, what lies
    I have heard!
    Our cour...
  • [Aside] These are kind creatures. Gods, what lies
    I have heard!
    Our courtiers say all's savage but at court:
    Experience, O, thou disprovest report!
    The imperious seas breed monsters, for the dish
    Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish.
    I am sick still; heart-sick. Pisanio,
    I'll now taste of thy drug.
  • Arviragus. You health. So please you, sir.

    Imogen. [Aside] These are kind creatures. Gods, what lies
    I have heard!
    Our courtiers say all's savage but at court:
    Experience, O, thou disprovest report!
    The imperious seas breed monsters, for the dish
    Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish.
    I am sick still; heart-sick. Pisanio,
    I'll now taste of thy drug.

96 IV / 2
  • Well or ill,
    I am bound to you.
  • Well or ill,
    I am bound to you.
  • Belarius. Pray, be not sick,
    For you must be our housewife.

    Imogen. Well or ill,
    I am bound to you.

97 IV / 2
  • [Awaking] Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; which is
    the way?--
    I thank you.--...
  • [Awaking] Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; which is
    the way?--
    I thank you.--By yond bush?--Pray, how far thither?
    'Ods pittikins! can it be six mile yet?--
    I have gone all night. 'Faith, I'll lie down and sleep.
    But, soft! no bedfellow!--O gods and goddesses!
    [Seeing the body of CLOTEN]
    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 cave-keeper,
    And cook to honest creatures: but 'tis not so;
    'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing,
    Which the brain makes of fumes: our very eyes
    Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good faith,
    I tremble stiff with fear: but if there be
    Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity
    As a wren's eye, fear'd 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,
    Hast here cut off my lord. To write and read
    Be henceforth treacherous! Damn'd Pisanio
    Hath with his forged letters,--damn'd 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 kill'd thee at the heart,
    And left this 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
    Murderous to the senses? That confirms it home:
    This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's: O!
    Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood,
    That we the horrider may seem to those
    Which chance to find us: O, my lord, my lord!
    [Falls on the body]
    [Enter LUCIUS, a Captain and other Officers,]
    and a Soothsayer]
  • Belarius. Here's a few flowers; but 'bout midnight, more:
    The herbs that have on them cold dew o' the night
    Are strewings fitt'st for graves. Upon their faces.
    You were as flowers, now wither'd: even so
    These herblets shall, which we upon you strew.
    Come on, away: apart upon our knees.
    The ground that gave them first has them again:
    Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain.

    Imogen. [Awaking] Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; which is
    the way?--
    I thank you.--By yond bush?--Pray, how far thither?
    'Ods pittikins! can it be six mile yet?--
    I have gone all night. 'Faith, I'll lie down and sleep.
    But, soft! no bedfellow!--O gods and goddesses!
    [Seeing the body of CLOTEN]
    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 cave-keeper,
    And cook to honest creatures: but 'tis not so;
    'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing,
    Which the brain makes of fumes: our very eyes
    Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good faith,
    I tremble stiff with fear: but if there be
    Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity
    As a wren's eye, fear'd 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,
    Hast here cut off my lord. To write and read
    Be henceforth treacherous! Damn'd Pisanio
    Hath with his forged letters,--damn'd 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 kill'd thee at the heart,
    And left this 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
    Murderous to the senses? That confirms it home:
    This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's: O!
    Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood,
    That we the horrider may seem to those
    Which chance to find us: O, my lord, my lord!
    [Falls on the body]
    [Enter LUCIUS, a Captain and other Officers,]
    and a Soothsayer]

98 IV / 2
  • I am nothing: or if not,
    Nothing to be were better. This was my master,
    ...
  • 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.
  • Caius 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 makest thy bloody pillow? Or who was he
    That, otherwise than noble nature did,
    Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy interest
    In this sad wreck? How came it? Who is it?
    What art thou?

    Imogen. 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.

99 IV / 2
  • Richard du Champ.
    [Aside]
    If I do lie and do
    No harm by it, though t...
  • Richard du Champ.
    [Aside]
    If I do lie and do
    No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope
    They'll pardon it.--Say you, sir?
  • Caius Lucius. 'Lack, good youth!
    Thou movest no less with thy complaining than
    Thy master in bleeding: say his name, good friend.

    Imogen. Richard du Champ.
    [Aside]
    If I do lie and do
    No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope
    They'll pardon it.--Say you, sir?

100 IV / 2
  • Fidele, sir.
  • Fidele, sir.
  • Caius Lucius. Thy name?

    Imogen. Fidele, sir.

101 IV / 2
  • I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please the gods,
    I'll hide my master from...
  • 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' strew'd 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.
  • Caius 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 master'd, 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.

    Imogen. 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' strew'd 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.

102 V / 5
  • I humbly thank your highness.
  • I humbly thank your highness.
  • Cymbeline. I have surely seen him:
    His favour is familiar to me. Boy,
    Thou hast look'd 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.

    Imogen. I humbly thank your highness.

103 V / 5
  • No, no: alack,
    There's other work in hand: I see a thing
    Bitter to me as...
  • 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.
  • Caius Lucius. I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad;
    And yet I know thou wilt.

    Imogen. 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.

104 V / 5
  • He is a Roman; no more kin to me
    Than I to your highness; who, being born yo...
  • He is a Roman; no more kin to me
    Than I to your highness; who, being born your vassal,
    Am something nearer.
  • Cymbeline. 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,
    Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend?

    Imogen. He is a Roman; no more kin to me
    Than I to your highness; who, being born your vassal,
    Am something nearer.

105 V / 5
  • I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please
    To give me hearing.
  • I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please
    To give me hearing.
  • Cymbeline. Wherefore eyest him so?

    Imogen. I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please
    To give me hearing.

106 V / 5
  • Fidele, sir.
  • Fidele, sir.
  • Cymbeline. Ay, with all my heart,
    And lend my best attention. What's thy name?

    Imogen. Fidele, sir.

107 V / 5
  • My boon is, that this gentleman may render
    Of whom he had this ring.
  • My boon is, that this gentleman may render
    Of whom he had this ring.
  • Cymbeline. Come, stand thou by our side;
    Make thy demand aloud.
    [To IACHIMO]
    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. On, speak to him.

    Imogen. My boon is, that this gentleman may render
    Of whom he had this ring.

108 V / 5
  • Peace, my lord; hear, hear--
  • Peace, my lord; hear, hear--
  • Posthumus Leonatus. [Advancing] Ay, so thou dost,
    Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool,
    Egregious murderer, thief, any thing
    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 the abhorred things o' the earth amend
    By being worse than they. I am Posthumus,
    That kill'd 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' the street to bay me: every villain
    Be call'd Posthumus Leonitus; and
    Be villany less than 'twas! O Imogen!
    My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,
    Imogen, Imogen!

    Imogen. Peace, my lord; hear, hear--

109 V / 5
  • O, get thee from my sight;
    Thou gavest me poison: dangerous fellow, hence! <...
  • O, get thee from my sight;
    Thou gavest me poison: dangerous fellow, hence!
    Breathe not where princes are.
  • Pisanio. How fares thy mistress?

    Imogen. O, get thee from my sight;
    Thou gavest me poison: dangerous fellow, hence!
    Breathe not where princes are.

110 V / 5
  • It poison'd me.
  • It poison'd me.
  • Cymbeline. New matter still?

    Imogen. It poison'd me.

111 V / 5
  • Most like I did, for I was dead.
  • Most like I did, for I was dead.
  • 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. Have you ta'en of it?

    Imogen. Most like I did, for I was dead.

112 V / 5
  • Why did you throw your wedded lady from you?
    Think that you are upon a rock;...
  • Why did you throw your wedded lady from you?
    Think that you are upon a rock; and now
    Throw me again.
  • Guiderius. This is, sure, Fidele.

    Imogen. Why did you throw your wedded lady from you?
    Think that you are upon a rock; and now
    Throw me again.

113 V / 5
  • [Kneeling] Your blessing, sir.
  • [Kneeling] Your blessing, sir.
  • Cymbeline. How now, my flesh, my child!
    What, makest thou me a dullard in this act?
    Wilt thou not speak to me?

    Imogen. [Kneeling] Your blessing, sir.

114 V / 5
  • I am sorry for't, my lord.
  • I am sorry for't, my lord.
  • Cymbeline. My tears that fall
    Prove holy water on thee! Imogen,
    Thy mother's dead.

    Imogen. I am sorry for't, my lord.

115 V / 5
  • That headless man
    I thought had been my lord.
  • That headless man
    I thought had been my lord.
  • Cymbeline. I am sorry for thee:
    By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must
    Endure our law: thou'rt dead.

    Imogen. That headless man
    I thought had been my lord.

116 V / 5
  • No, my lord;
    I have got two worlds by 't. O my gentle brothers,
    Have we...
  • 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 call'd me brother,
    When I was but your sister; I you brothers,
    When ye were so indeed.
  • 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,
    may reign in them now! O Imogen,
    Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.

    Imogen. 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 call'd me brother,
    When I was but your sister; I you brothers,
    When ye were so indeed.

117 V / 5
  • You are my father too, and did relieve me,
    To see this gracious season.
  • You are my father too, and did relieve me,
    To see this gracious season.
  • 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-dependencies,
    From chance to chance: but nor the time nor place
    Will serve our long inter'gatories. See,
    Posthumus anchors upon Imogen,
    And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye
    On him, her brother, 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.

    Imogen. You are my father too, and did relieve me,
    To see this gracious season.

118 V / 5
  • My good master,
    I will yet do you service.
  • My good master,
    I will yet do you service.
  • Cymbeline. All o'erjoy'd,
    Save these in bonds: let them be joyful too,
    For they shall taste our comfort.

    Imogen. My good master,
    I will yet do you service.

© Copyright 2017-2022 Shakespeare Network - Maximianno Cobra - All rights reserved.

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© Copyright 2017-2022 Shakespeare Network - Maximianno Cobra - All rights reserved.