Act V, Scene 5
- Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, Pisanio,
- and Lords, Officers, and Attendants.
Cymbeline1 - 7
- Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made
- Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart
- That the poor soldier that so richly fought,
- Whose rags sham’d gilded arms, whose naked breast
- Stepp’d before targes of proof, cannot be found.
- He shall be happy that can find him, if
- Our grace can make him so.
Belarius8 - 11
- I never saw
- Such noble fury in so poor a thing;
- Such precious deeds in one that promis’d nought
- But beggary and poor looks.
- No tidings of him?
Pisanio13 - 14
- He hath been search’d among the dead and living;
- But no trace of him.
Cymbeline15 - 20
- To my grief, I am
- The heir of his reward,
- to Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus
- which I will add
- To you, the liver, heart, and brain of Britain,
- By whom, I grant, she lives. ’Tis now the time
- To ask of whence you are. Report it.
Belarius21 - 24
- In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen.
- Further to boast were neither true nor modest,
- Unless I add, we are honest.
Cymbeline25 - 31
- Bow your knees.
- Arise my knights o’ th’ battle. I create you
- Companions to our person, and will fit you
- With dignities becoming your estates.
- Enter Cornelius and Ladies.
- There’s business in these faces. Why so sadly
- Greet you our victory? You look like Romans,
- And not o’ th’ court of Britain.
Cornelius32 - 34
- Hail, great King!
- To sour your happiness, I must report
- The Queen is dead.
Cymbeline35 - 38
- Who worse than a physician
- Would this report become? But I consider,
- By med’cine life may be prolong’d, yet death
- Will seize the doctor too. How ended she?
Cornelius39 - 44
- With horror, madly dying, like her life,
- Which (being cruel to the world) concluded
- Most cruel to herself. What she confess’d
- I will report, so please you. These her women
- Can trip me, if I err, who with wet cheeks
- Were present when she finish’d.
- Prithee say.
Cornelius46 - 49
- First, she confess’d she never lov’d you; only
- Affected greatness got by you, not you;
- Married your royalty, was wife to your place,
- Abhorr’d your person.
Cymbeline50 - 52
- She alone knew this;
- And but she spoke it dying, I would not
- Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.
Cornelius53 - 57
- Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to love
- With such integrity, she did confess
- Was as a scorpion to her sight, whose life,
- But that her flight prevented it, she had
- Ta’en off by poison.
Cymbeline58 - 59
- O most delicate fiend!
- Who is’t can read a woman? Is there more?
Cornelius60 - 72
- More, sir, and worse. She did confess she had
- For you a mortal mineral, which, being took,
- Should by the minute feed on life, and ling’ring,
- By inches waste you. In which time she purpos’d,
- By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to
- O’ercome you with her show, and in time
- (When she had fitted you with her craft) to work
- Her son into th’ adoption of the crown;
- But failing of her end by his strange absence,
- Grew shameless desperate; open’d (in despite
- Of heaven and men) her purposes; repented
- The evils she hatch’d were not effected; so
- Despairing died.
- Heard you all this, her women?
- We did, so please your Highness.
Cymbeline75 - 87
- Mine eyes
- Were not in fault, for she was beautiful;
- Mine ears, that heard her flattery, nor my heart,
- That thought her like her seeming. It had been vicious
- To have mistrusted her; yet, O my daughter,
- That it was folly in me, thou mayst say,
- And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all!
- Enter Lucius, Jachimo, Philarmonus, and other Roman
- prisoners guarded; Leonatus Posthumus behind, and Imogen.
- Thou com’st not, Caius, now for tribute; that
- The Britains have ras’d out, though with the loss
- Of many a bold one, whose kinsmen have made suit
- That their good souls may be appeas’d with slaughter
- Of you their captives, which ourself have granted;
- So think of your estate.
Caius Lucius88 - 105
- Consider, sir, the chance of war, the day
- Was yours by accident. Had it gone with us,
- We should not, when the blood was cool, have threaten’d
- Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods
- Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives
- May be call’d ransom, let it come. Sufficeth
- A Roman with a Roman’s heart can suffer.
- Augustus lives to think on’t; and so much
- For my peculiar care. This one thing only
- I will entreat: my boy, a Britain born,
- Let him be ransom’d. Never master had
- A page so kind, so duteous, diligent,
- So tender over his occasions, true,
- So feat, so nurse-like. Let his virtue join
- With my request, which I’ll make bold your Highness
- Cannot deny. He hath done no Britain harm,
- Though he have serv’d a Roman. Save him, sir,
- And spare no blood beside.
Cymbeline106 - 114
- I have surely seen him;
- His favor 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.
- I humbly thank your Highness.
Caius Lucius116 - 117
- I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad,
- And yet I know thou wilt.
Imogen118 - 121
- 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 Lucius122 - 125
- The boy disdains me,
- He leaves me, scorns me. Briefly die their joys
- That place them on the truth of girls and boys.
- Why stands he so perplex’d?
Cymbeline126 - 129
- 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?
Imogen130 - 132
- He is a Roman, no more kin to me
- Than I to your Highness; who, being born your vassal,
- Am something nearer.
- Wherefore ey’st him so?
Imogen134 - 135
- I’ll tell you, sir, in private, if you please
- To give me hearing.
Cymbeline136 - 137
- Ay, with all my heart,
- And lend my best attention. What’s thy name?
- Fidele, sir.
Cymbeline139 - 140
- Thou’rt my good youth—my page;
- I’ll be thy master. Walk with me; speak freely.
- Cymbeline and Imogen talk apart.
- Is not this boy reviv’d from death?
Arviragus142 - 144
- One sand another
- Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad
- Who died, and was Fidele. What think you?
- The same dead thing alive.
Belarius146 - 148
- Peace, peace, see further. He eyes us not, forbear.
- Creatures may be alike; were’t he, I am sure
- He would have spoke to us.
- But we saw him dead.
- Be silent; let’s see further.
Pisanio151 - 153
- It is my mistress.
- Since she is living, let the time run on
- To good or bad.
- Cymbeline and Imogen come forward.
Cymbeline154 - 160
- Come, stand thou by our side,
- Make thy demand aloud.
- To Jachimo.
- 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 honor), bitter torture shall
- Winnow the truth from falsehood.—On, speak to him.
Imogen161 - 162
- My boon is, that this gentleman may render
- Of whom he had this ring.
- What’s that to him?
Cymbeline164 - 165
- That diamond upon your finger, say
- How came it yours?
Jachimo166 - 167
- Thou’lt torture me to leave unspoken that
- Which, to be spoke, would torture thee.
- How? Me?
Jachimo169 - 174
- I am glad to be constrain’d to utter that
- Which torments me to conceal. By villainy
- I got this ring. ’Twas Leonatus’ jewel,
- Whom thou didst banish; and—which more may grieve thee,
- As it doth me—a nobler sir ne’er liv’d
- ’Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord?
- All that belongs to this.
Jachimo176 - 178
- That paragon, thy daughter,
- For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits
- Quail to remember—Give me leave, I faint.
Cymbeline179 - 181
- My daughter? What of her? Renew thy strength;
- I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will
- Than die ere I hear more. Strive, man, and speak.
Jachimo182 - 197
- Upon a time—unhappy was the clock
- That struck the hour!—it was in Rome—accurs’d
- The mansion where!—’twas at a feast—O would
- Our viands had been poison’d, or at least
- Those which I heav’d to head!—the good Posthumus
- (What should I say? He was too good to be
- Where ill men were, and was the best of all
- Amongst the rar’st of good ones), sitting sadly,
- Hearing us praise our loves of Italy
- For beauty that made barren the swell’d boast
- Of him that best could speak; for feature, laming
- The shrine of Venus or straight-pight Minerva,
- Postures beyond brief nature; for condition,
- A shop of all the qualities that man
- Loves woman for, besides that hook of wiving,
- Fairness which strikes the eye—
Cymbeline198 - 199
- I stand on fire:
- Come to the matter.
Jachimo200 - 209
- All too soon I shall,
- Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This Posthumus,
- Most like a noble lord in love and one
- That had a royal lover, took his hint,
- And (not dispraising whom we prais’d; therein
- He was as calm as virtue) he began
- His mistress’ picture, which by his tongue being made,
- And then a mind put in’t, either our brags
- Were crak’d of kitchen trulls, or his description
- Prov’d us unspeaking sots.
- Nay, nay, to th’ purpose.
Jachimo211 - 241
- Your daughter’s chastity—there it begins.
- He spake of her, as Dian had hot dreams,
- And she alone were cold; whereat I, wretch,
- Made scruple of his praise, and wager’d with him
- Pieces of gold ’gainst this which then he wore
- Upon his honor’d finger, to attain
- In suit the place of ’s bed and win this ring
- By hers and mine adultery. He, true knight,
- No lesser of her honor confident
- Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring,
- And would so, had it been a carbuncle
- Of Phoebus’ wheel; and might so safely, had it
- Been all the worth of ’s car. Away to Britain
- Post I in this design. Well may you, sir,
- Remember me at court, where I was taught
- Of your chaste daughter the wide difference
- ’Twixt amorous and villainous. Being thus quench’d
- Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain
- Gan in your duller Britain operate
- Most vildly; for my vantage, excellent;
- And to be brief, my practice so prevail’d,
- That I return’d with simular proof enough
- To make the noble Leonatus mad,
- By wounding his belief in her renown
- With tokens thus, and thus; averring notes
- Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet
- (O cunning, how I got’t!), nay, some marks
- Of secret on her person, that he could not
- But think her bond of chastity quite crack’d,
- I having ta’en the forfeit. Whereupon—
- Methinks I see him now—
Posthumus242 - 260
- 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 th’ abhorred things o’ th’ earth amend
- By being worse than they. I am Posthumus,
- That kill’d thy daughter—villain-like, I lie—
- That caus’d a lesser villain than myself,
- A sacrilegious thief, to do’t. The temple
- Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself.
- Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set
- The dogs o’ th’ street to bay me; every villain
- Be call’d Posthumus Leonatus, and
- Be villainy less than ’twas! O Imogen!
- My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,
- Imogen, Imogen!
- Peace, my lord, hear, hear—
Posthumus262 - 263
- Shall ’s have a play of this? Thou scornful page,
- There lie thy part.
- Striking her; she falls.
Pisanio264 - 267
- O gentlemen, help
- Mine and your mistress! O my Lord Posthumus,
- You ne’er kill’d Imogen till now! Help, help!
- Mine honor’d lady!
- Does the world go round?
- How comes these staggers on me?
- Wake, my mistress!
Cymbeline271 - 272
- If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me
- To death with mortal joy.
- How fares my mistress?
Imogen274 - 276
- O, get thee from my sight,
- Thou gav’st me poison. Dangerous fellow, hence!
- Breathe not where princes are.
- The tune of Imogen!
Pisanio278 - 281
- The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if
- That box I gave you was not thought by me
- A precious thing. I had it from the Queen.
- New matter still.
- It poison’d me.
Cornelius284 - 289
- O gods!
- I left out one thing which the Queen confess’d,
- Which must approve thee honest. “If Pisanio
- Have,” said she, “given his mistress that confection
- Which I gave him for cordial, she is serv’d
- As I would serve a rat.”
- What’s this, Cornelius?
Cornelius291 - 300
- The Queen, sir, very oft importun’d me
- To temper poisons for her, still pretending
- The satisfaction of her knowledge only
- In killing creatures vild, 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 pow’r of life, but in short time
- All offices of nature should again
- Do their due functions. Have you ta’en of it?
- Most like I did, for I was dead.
Belarius302 - 303
- My boys,
- There was our error.
- This is sure Fidele.
Imogen305 - 307
- Why did you throw your wedded lady from you?
- Think that you are upon a rock, and now
- Throw me again.
- Embracing him.
Posthumus308 - 309
- Hang there like fruit, my soul,
- Till the tree die!
Cymbeline310 - 312
- How now, my flesh? My child?
- What, mak’st thou me a dullard in this act?
- Wilt thou not speak to me?
- Your blessing, sir.
Belarius314 - 315
- To Guiderius and Arviragus.
- Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not,
- You had a motive for’t.
Cymbeline316 - 318
- My tears that fall
- Prove holy water on thee! Imogen,
- Thy mother’s dead.
- I am sorry for’t, my lord.
Cymbeline320 - 322
- O, she was naught; and long of her it was
- That we meet here so strangely; but her son
- Is gone, we know not how, nor where.
Pisanio323 - 336
- My lord,
- Now fear is from me, I’ll speak troth. Lord Cloten,
- Upon my lady’s missing, came to me
- With his sword drawn, foam’d at the mouth, and swore,
- If I discover’d not which way she was gone,
- It was my instant death. By accident
- I had a feigned letter of my master’s
- Then in my pocket, which directed him
- To seek her on the mountains near to Milford,
- Where, in a frenzy, in my master’s garments
- (Which he enforc’d from me), away he posts
- With unchaste purpose, and with oath to violate
- My lady’s honor. What became of him
- I further know not.
Guiderius337 - 338
- Let me end the story:
- I slew him there.
Cymbeline339 - 342
- Marry, the gods forefend!
- I would not thy good deeds should from my lips
- Pluck a hard sentence. Prithee, valiant youth,
- Deny’t again.
- I have spoke it, and I did it.
- He was a prince.
Guiderius345 - 350
- A most incivil one. The wrongs he did me
- Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me
- With language that would make me spurn the sea
- If it could so roar to me. I cut off ’s head,
- And am right glad he is not standing here
- To tell this tale of mine.
Cymbeline351 - 353
- I am sorrow for thee;
- By thine own tongue thou art condemn’d, and must
- Endure our law. Thou’rt dead.
Imogen354 - 355
- That headless man
- I thought had been my lord.
Cymbeline356 - 357
- Bind the offender,
- And take him from our presence.
Belarius358 - 364
- Stay, sir King.
- This man is better than the man he slew,
- As well descended as thyself, and hath
- More of thee merited than a band of Clotens
- Had ever scar for.
- To the Guard.
- Let his arms alone,
- They were not born for bondage.
Cymbeline365 - 368
- Why, old soldier:
- Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for,
- By tasting of our wrath? How of descent
- As good as we?
- In that he spake too far.
- And thou shalt die for’t.
Belarius371 - 375
- We will die all three
- But I will prove that two on ’s are as good
- As I have given out him. My sons, I must
- For mine own part unfold a dangerous speech,
- Though haply well for you.
- Your danger’s ours.
- And our good his.
Belarius378 - 380
- Have at it then, by leave:
- Thou hadst, great King, a subject who
- Was call’d Belarius.
Cymbeline381 - 382
- What of him? He is
- A banish’d traitor.
Belarius383 - 385
- He it is that hath
- Assum’d this age: indeed a banish’d man,
- I know not how a traitor.
Cymbeline386 - 387
- Take him hence,
- The whole world shall not save him.
Belarius388 - 391
- Not too hot.
- First pay me for the nursing of thy sons,
- And let it be confiscate all, so soon
- As I have receiv’d it.
- Nursing of my sons?
Belarius393 - 399
- I am too blunt and saucy: here’s my knee.
- Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons;
- Then spare not the old father. Mighty sir,
- These two young gentlemen, that call me father,
- And think they are my sons, are none of mine;
- They are the issue of your loins, my liege,
- And blood of your begetting.
- How? My issue?
Belarius401 - 421
- So sure as you your father’s. I, old Morgan,
- Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish’d.
- Your pleasure was my mere offense, my punishment
- Itself, and all my treason: that I suffer’d
- Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes
- (For such and so they are) these twenty years
- Have I train’d up; those arts they have as I
- Could put into them. My breeding was, sir, as
- Your Highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile
- (Whom for the theft I wedded), stole these children
- Upon my banishment; I mov’d her to’t,
- Having receiv’d the punishment before
- For that which I did then. Beaten for loyalty
- Excited me to treason. Their dear loss,
- The more of you ’twas felt, the more it shap’d
- Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir,
- Here are your sons again, and I must lose
- Two of the sweet’st companions in the world.
- The benediction of these covering heavens
- Fall on their heads like dew! For they are worthy
- To inlay heaven with stars.
Cymbeline422 - 426
- Thou weep’st, and speak’st.
- The service that you three have done is more
- Unlike than this thou tell’st. I lost my children;
- If these be they, I know not how to wish
- A pair of worthier sons.
Belarius427 - 434
- Be pleas’d awhile:
- This gentleman, whom I call Polydore,
- Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius;
- This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus,
- Your younger princely son. He, sir, was lapp’d
- In a most curious mantle, wrought by th’ hand
- Of his queen mother, which for more probation
- I can with ease produce.
Cymbeline435 - 437
- Guiderius had
- Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star,
- It was a mark of wonder.
Belarius438 - 441
- This is he,
- Who hath upon him still that natural stamp.
- It was wise nature’s end in the donation,
- To be his evidence now.
Cymbeline442 - 447
- O, what, am I
- A mother to the birth of three? Ne’er mother
- Rejoic’d deliverance more. Blest pray you be,
- That after this strange starting from your orbs,
- You may reign in them now! O Imogen,
- Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.
Imogen448 - 453
- 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 we were so indeed.
- Did you e’er meet?
- Ay, my good lord.
Guiderius456 - 457
- And at first meeting lov’d,
- Continu’d so, until we thought he died.
- By the Queen’s dram she swallow’d.
Cymbeline459 - 477
- O rare instinct!
- When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridgment
- Hath to it circumstantial branches, which
- Distinction should be rich in. Where? How liv’d 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-dependances,
- From chance to chance; but nor the time nor place
- Will serve our long interrogatories. See,
- Posthumus anchors upon Imogen;
- And she (like harmless lightning) throws her eye
- On him, her brothers, me, her master, hitting
- Each object with a joy; the counterchange
- Is severally in all. Let’s quit this ground,
- And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.
- To Belarius.
- Thou art my brother, so we’ll hold thee ever.
Imogen478 - 479
- You are my father too, and did relieve me
- To see this gracious season.
Cymbeline480 - 482
- All o’erjoy’d,
- Save these in bonds. Let them be joyful too,
- For they shall taste our comfort.
Imogen483 - 484
- My good master,
- I will yet do you service.
- Happy be you!
Cymbeline486 - 488
- The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought,
- He would have well becom’d this place, and grac’d
- The thankings of a king.
Posthumus489 - 494
- I am, sir,
- The soldier that did company these three
- In poor beseeming; ’twas a fitment for
- The purpose I then follow’d. That I was he,
- Speak, Jachimo. I had you down and might
- Have made you finish.
Jachimo495 - 500
- I am down again;
- But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee,
- As then your force did. Take that life, beseech you,
- Which I so often owe; but your ring first,
- And here the bracelet of the truest princess
- That ever swore her faith.
Posthumus501 - 504
- Kneel not to me.
- The pow’r that I have on you is to spare you;
- The malice towards you, to forgive you. Live,
- And deal with others better.
Cymbeline505 - 507
- Nobly doom’d!
- We’ll learn our freeness of a son-in-law:
- Pardon’s the word to all.
Arviragus508 - 510
- To Posthumus.
- You holp us, sir,
- As you did mean indeed to be our brother;
- Joy’d are we that you are.
Posthumus511 - 519
- Your servant, Princes. Good my lord of Rome,
- Call forth your soothsayer. As I slept, methought
- Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back’d,
- Appear’d to me, with other spritely shows
- Of mine own kindred. When I wak’d, I found
- This label on my bosom, whose containing
- Is so from sense in hardness, that I can
- Make no collection of it. Let him show
- His skill in the construction.
- Here, my good lord.
- Read, and declare the meaning.
Philarmonus523 - 540
- “When as a lion’s whelp shall, to himself unknown, without
- seeking find, and be embrac’d by a piece of tender air; and
- when from a stately cedar shall be lopp’d branches, which,
- being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the
- old stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his
- miseries, Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and
- Thou, Leonatus, art the lion’s whelp;
- The fit and apt construction of thy name,
- Being Leo-natus, doth import so much.
- To Cymbeline
- The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter,
- Which we call mollis aer, and mollis aer
- We term it mulier;
- To Posthumus
- which mulier I divine
- Is this most constant wife, who, even now,
- Answering the letter of the oracle,
- Unknown to you, unsought, were clipt about
- With this most tender air.
- This hath some seeming.
Philarmonus542 - 547
- The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline,
- Personates thee; and thy lopp’d branches point
- Thy two sons forth; who, by Belarius stol’n,
- For many years thought dead, are now reviv’d,
- To the majestic cedar join’d, whose issue
- Promises Britain peace and plenty.
Cymbeline548 - 555
- My peace we will begin. And, Caius Lucius,
- Although the victor, we submit to Caesar,
- And to the Roman empire, promising
- To pay our wonted tribute, from the which
- We were dissuaded by our wicked queen,
- Whom heavens, in justice both on her and hers,
- Have laid most heavy hand.
Philarmonus556 - 566
- The fingers of the pow’rs above do tune
- The harmony of this peace. The vision
- Which I made known to Lucius, ere the stroke
- Of yet this scarce-cold battle, at this instant
- Is full accomplish’d: for the Roman eagle,
- From south to west on wing soaring aloft,
- Lessen’d herself, and in the beams o’ th’ sun
- So vanish’d; which foreshow’d our princely eagle,
- Th’ imperial Caesar, should again unite
- His favor with the radiant Cymbeline,
- Which shines here in the west.
Cymbeline567 - 576
- Laud we the gods,
- And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils
- From our blest altars. Publish we this peace
- To all our subjects. Set we forward. Let
- A Roman and a British ensign wave
- Friendly together. So through Lud’s-Town march,
- And in the temple of great Jupiter
- Our peace we’ll ratify; seal it with feasts.
- Set on there! Never was a war did cease
- (Ere bloody hands were wash’d) with such a peace.