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.

86. trick, art.

87. who, whom.
94. nerves, muscles.

96. in as like a figure, 'acting my words' as graphically as his brother. While Guiderius'

The game is up.

[Exit.

90

100

gestures reflect the immediate impression of Belarius' tale, Arviragus, a more imaginative hearer, heightens what he hears by his greater energy of conception.

SCENE IV. Country near Milford-Haven.

Enter PISANIO and IMOGEN.

Imo. 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?

that sigh

Wherefore breaks

From the inward of thee? One, but painted thus,
Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd

Beyond self-explication: put thyself
Into a haviour 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.

Please you, read;

Pis.
And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing
The most disdain'd of fortune.

Imo. [Reads] Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the strumpet in my bed; the testimonies

8. self-explication, the power

of accounting for himself.

9. haviour, posture.

ΙΟ

20

15. drug-damn'd, detested for its (poisonous) drugs.

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 30 strike and to make me certain it is done, thou art the pandar to her dishonour and equally to me disloyal.'

Pis. 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

madam?

Imo. False to his bed!

40

enters. What cheer,

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?

Pis. Alas, good lady!

Imo. 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.

39. states, men of high estate.

Some jay of Italy

51. jay, bedizened harlot.

50

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.

Pis.

Good madam, hear me.

Imo. True honest men being heard, like false

Æneas,

Were in his time thought false, and Sinon's weeping

Did scandal many a holy tear, took pity

From most true wretchedness: so thou, Posthu

mus,

Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men;

Goodly and gallant shall be false and perjured
From thy great fail. 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.

52. Whose mother was her painting, who is 'made' by her painted face. Cf. iv. 2. 81: he made those clothes, which, as it seems, make thee.'

54. for, because.

60. false Eneas, i.e. in his betrayal of Dido.

60

70

61. Sinon, who induced the Trojans to admit the wooden horse into Troy by pretending to be a Greek deserter.

62. scandal, put a scandal upon, defame.

64. proper, fair seeming.

Thou mayst be valiant in a better cause;
But now thou seem'st a coward.

Pis.

Hence, vile instrument!

Why, I must die ;

Thou shalt not damn my hand.

Imo.

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?

80

90

common passage, com

mon occurrence.

95. A strain of rareness, a disposition rarely found.

96. disedged by, sated with.

97. tirest on, ravenously feedest on (primarily said of birds of prey).