Complete Plays, The (452 page)

Queen

Go, look after.

Exit Cloten

Pisanio, thou that stand’st so for Posthumus!
He hath a drug of mine; I pray his absence
Proceed by swallowing that, for he believes
It is a thing most precious. But for her,
Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seized her,
Or, wing’d with fervor of her love, she’s flown
To her desired Posthumus: gone she is
To death or to dishonour; and my end
Can make good use of either: she being down,
I have the placing of the British crown.

Re-enter Cloten

How now, my son!

Cloten

’Tis certain she is fled.
Go in and cheer the king: he rages; none
Dare come about him.

Queen

[Aside]
 
All the better: may
This night forestall him of the coming day!

Exit

Cloten

I love and hate her: for she’s fair and royal,
And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite
Than lady, ladies, woman; from every one
The best she hath, and she, of all compounded,
Outsells them all; I love her therefore: but
Disdaining me and throwing favours on
The low Posthumus slanders so her judgment
That what’s else rare is choked; and in that point
I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed,
To be revenged upon her. For when fools Shall —

Enter Pisanio

Who is here? What, are you packing, sirrah?
Come hither: ah, you precious pander! Villain,
Where is thy lady? In a word; or else
Thou art straightway with the fiends.

Pisanio

O, good my lord!

Cloten

Where is thy lady? Or, by Jupiter,—
I will not ask again. Close villain,
I’ll have this secret from thy heart, or rip
Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus?
From whose so many weights of baseness cannot
A dram of worth be drawn.

Pisanio

Alas, my lord,
How can she be with him? When was she missed?
He is in Rome.

Cloten

 
Where is she, sir? Come nearer;
No further halting: satisfy me home
What is become of her.

Pisanio

O, my all-worthy lord!

Cloten

All-worthy villain!
Discover where thy mistress is at once,
At the next word: no more of ‘worthy lord!’
Speak, or thy silence on the instant is
Thy condemnation and thy death.

Pisanio

Then, sir,
This paper is the history of my knowledge
Touching her flight.

Presenting a letter

Cloten

Let’s see’t. I will pursue her
Even to Augustus’ throne.

Pisanio

[Aside]
 
Or this, or perish.
She’s far enough; and what he learns by this
May prove his travel, not her danger.

Cloten

Hum!

Pisanio

[Aside]
 
I’ll write to my lord she’s dead. O Imogen,
Safe mayst thou wander, safe return again!

Cloten

Sirrah, is this letter true?

Pisanio

Sir, as I think.

Cloten

It is Posthumus’ hand; I know’t. Sirrah, if thou wouldst not be a villain, but do me true service, undergo those employments wherein I should have cause to use thee with a serious industry, that is, what villany soe’er I bid thee do, to perform it directly and truly, I would think thee an honest man: thou shouldst neither want my means for thy relief nor my voice for thy preferment.

Pisanio

Well, my good lord.

Cloten

Wilt thou serve me? for since patiently and constantly thou hast stuck to the bare fortune of that beggar Posthumus, thou canst not, in the course of gratitude, but be a diligent follower of mine: wilt thou serve me?

Pisanio

Sir, I will.

Cloten

Give me thy hand; here’s my purse. Hast any of thy late master’s garments in thy possession?

Pisanio

I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same suit he wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress.

Cloten

The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit hither: let it be thy lint service; go.

Pisanio

I shall, my lord.

Exit

Cloten

Meet thee at Milford-Haven!— I forgot to ask him one thing; I’ll remember’t anon:— even there, thou villain Posthumus, will I kill thee. I would these garments were come. She said upon a time — the bitterness of it I now belch from my heart — that she held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect than my noble and natural person together with the adornment of my qualities. With that suit upon my back, will I ravish her: first kill him, and in her eyes; there shall she see my valour, which will then be a torment to her contempt. He on the ground, my speech of insultment ended on his dead body, and when my lust hath dined,— which, as I say, to vex her I will execute in the clothes that she so praised,— to the court I’ll knock her back, foot her home again. She hath despised me rejoicingly, and I’ll be merry in my revenge.

Re-enter Pisanio, with the clothes

Be those the garments?

Pisanio

Ay, my noble lord.

Cloten

How long is’t since she went to Milford-Haven?

Pisanio

She can scarce be there yet.

Cloten

Bring this apparel to my chamber; that is the second thing that I have commanded thee: the third is, that thou wilt be a voluntary mute to my design. Be but duteous, and true preferment shall tender itself to thee. My revenge is now at Milford: would I had wings to follow it! Come, and be true.

Exit

Pisanio

Thou 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!

Exit

S
CENE
VI. W
ALES
. B
EFORE
THE
CAVE
OF
B
ELARIUS
.

Enter Imogen, in boy’s clothes

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!

Exit, to the cave

Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus

Belarius

You, Polydote, have proved best woodman and
Are master of the feast: Cadwal and I
Will play the cook and servant; ’tis our match:
The sweat of industry would dry and die,
But for the end it works to. Come; our stomachs
Will make what’s homely savoury: weariness
Can snore upon the flint, when resty sloth
Finds the down pillow hard. Now peace be here,
Poor house, that keep’st thyself!

Guiderius

I am thoroughly weary.

Arviragus

I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite.

Guiderius

There is cold meat i’ the cave; we’ll browse on that,
Whilst what we have kill’d be cook’d.

Belarius

[Looking into the cave]
Stay; come not in.
But that it eats our victuals, I should think
Here were a fairy.

Guiderius

What’s the matter, sir?

Belarius

By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not,
An earthly paragon! Behold divineness
No elder than a boy!

Re-enter Imogen

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.

Guiderius

Money, youth?

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.

Belarius

Whither bound?

Imogen

To Milford-Haven.

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.

Belarius

Prithee, fair youth,
Think us no churls, nor measure our good minds
By this rude place we live in. Well encounter’d!
’Tis almost night: you shall have better cheer
Ere you depart: and thanks to stay and eat it.
Boys, bid him welcome.

Guiderius

Were you a woman, youth,
I should woo hard but be your groom. In honesty,
I bid for you as I’d buy.

Arviragus

I’ll make’t my comfort
He is a man; I’ll love him as my brother:
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.

Belarius

He wrings at some distress.

Guiderius

Would I could free’t!

Arviragus

Or I, whate’er it be,
What pain it cost, what danger. God’s!

Belarius

Hark, boys.

Whispering

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.

Belarius

It shall be so.
Boys, we’ll go dress our hunt. Fair youth, come in:
Discourse is heavy, fasting; when we have supp’d,
We’ll mannerly demand thee of thy story,
So far as thou wilt speak it.

Guiderius

Pray, draw near.

Arviragus

The night to the owl and morn to the lark less welcome.

Imogen

Thanks, sir.

Arviragus

I pray, draw near.

Exeunt

S
CENE
VII. R
OME
. A
PUBLIC
PLACE
.

Enter two Senators and Tribunes

First Senator

This is the tenor of the emperor’s writ:
That since the common men are now in action
’Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians,
And that the legions now in Gallia are
Full weak to undertake our wars against
The fall’n-off Britons, that we do incite
The gentry to this business. He creates
Lucius preconsul: and to you the tribunes,
For this immediate levy, he commends
His absolute commission. Long live Caesar!

First Tribune

Is Lucius general of the forces?

Second Senator

Ay.

First Tribune

Remaining now in Gallia?

First Senator

With those legions
Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy
Must be supplyant: the words of your commission
Will tie you to the numbers and the time
Of their dispatch.

First Tribune

 
We will discharge our duty.

Exeunt

A
CT
IV

S
CENE
I. W
ALES
:
NEAR
THE
CAVE
OF
B
ELARIUS
.

Enter Cloten

Cloten

I am near to the place where they should meet, if Pisanio have mapped it truly. How fit his garments serve me! Why should his mistress, who was made by him that made the tailor, not be fit too? the rather — saving reverence of the word — for ’tis said a woman’s fitness comes by fits. Therein I must play the workman. I dare speak it to myself — for it is not vain-glory for a man and his glass to confer in his own chamber — I mean, the lines of my body are as well drawn as his; no less young, more strong, not beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in the advantage of the time, above him in birth, alike conversant in general services, and more remarkable in single oppositions: yet this imperceiverant thing loves him in my despite. What mortality is! Posthumus, thy head, which now is growing upon thy shoulders, shall within this hour be off; thy mistress enforced; thy garments cut to pieces before thy face: and all this done, spurn her home to her father; who may haply be a little angry for my so rough usage; but my mother, having power of his testiness, shall turn all into my commendations. My horse is tied up safe: out, sword, and to a sore purpose! Fortune, put them into my hand! This is the very description of their meeting-place; and the fellow dares not deceive me.