Cymbeline

---

My poor boy.

Look here, love.

This ring was my mother's.

Take it, heart.

But keep it till you woo another wife,

when Imogen is dead.

How?

How another? Give me but this.

I have.

Remain.

Remain thou here,

while sense can keep it on.

For my sake...

wear this.

Thou basest thing,

avoid hence, from my sight.

If after this command thou fraught

the court with thy unworthiness,

thou diest.

Away.

Thou art poison to my blood.

Disloyal thing

that shouldst repair my youth,

thou heapst a year's age on me.

- I chose an eagle.

- Thou took'st a beggar,

wouldst have made my throne

a seat of baseness.

It is your fault

that I have loved Posthumus.

You bred him as my playfellow.

What, art thou mad?

Almost.

Thou foolish thing.

They were again together.

You have not done after our command.

Away with her and pen her up.

Leave us to ourselves,

and make yourself some comfort

out of your best advice.

Let her languish a drop of blood a day,

and, being aged, die of this folly.

No,

be assured you shall not find me,

after the slander of most stepmothers,

evil-eyed unto you.

You are my prisoner,

but the jailer

shall deliver you the key.

That she should love

this fellow and refuse me.

She is damned.

Her brains and her beauty

go not together.

She shines not upon fools.

He hath been your faithful servant.

I dare lay my honor he will remain so.

I beseech you,

be better known to this gentleman, whom

I commend to you as a noble friend of mine.

- His father and I were soldiers together.

- Sir, we have known each other in Orleans.

By your pardon,

I was then a young traveler.

But upon my mended judgment,

if I offend not to say it is mended,

my quarrel was not altogether slight.

Can we with manners

ask what was the difference?

Safely, I think.

It was a contention in public.

Where each of us fell in praise

of our country mistresses,

this gentlemen at that time vouching...

And upon warrant

of bloody affirmation...

His to be more fair, virtuous, wise,

chaste, constant, qualified, and...

less attemptable than any

of the rarest of the ladies in France.

That lady is not now living,

or that gentleman's opinion by this worn out.

She holds her virtue still,

and I my mind.

If she went before others I have seen,

as that diamond of yours outlusters

many I have beheld,

I could not but believe

she excelled many.

But I have not seen the most precious

diamond that is, nor you the lady.

I praised her as I rated her.

So do I my stone.

What do you esteem it at?

More than the world enjoys.

Your mistress is now either dead

or out-prized by a trifle.

You are mistaken.

The ring may be sold or given.

The other is not a thing for sale,

and only a gift of the gods.

Which the gods have given you?

Which, by their graces, I will keep.

You may wear her in title yours,

but you know strange fowl

light on neighboring ponds.

Let us leave here, gentleman.

No, no, no.

I dare pawn my estate to your ring,

which in my opinion

overvalues it something.

But I make my wager rather

against your confidence

than her reputation.

What lady would you choose to assail?

Yours, whom in constancy

you think so safe.

I lay ten thousand to your ring

that, commend me to the court

where your lady is,

with no more advantage than opportunity

for a second conference,

and I will take that honor of hers

from thence which you imagine so reserved.

Even if you buy ladies' flesh

at a million a dram,

you cannot prevent it from tainting.

I dare you to this match.

Here is my ring.

If I bring you no sufficient testimony

that I have enjoyed

the dearest bodily part

of your mistress,

my ten thousand are yours,

and so your ring.

Enough of this.

Let it die as it were born.

I embrace these conditions.

Let us have articles betwixt us.

If you make your voyage upon her

and give to me directly

you have prevailed,

I am no further your enemy.

She is not worth the debate.

If she remains unseduced,

for your ill opinion

and the assault you have made

to her chastity...

You will answer my sword.

Your hand,

a covenant.

Master doctor.

Have you brought those drugs?

Pleaseth your highness, ay.

Here they are, madam.

But I beseech your grace,

my conscience bids me ask,

wherefore you have commanded of me

these most poisonous compounds,

which are the movers

of a languishing death,

but though slow, deadly.

I will test the forces

of these thy compounds

on such creatures as we count not

worth the hanging, but none human.

No further service, doctor,

until I send for thee.

Good morrow to your majesty.

Ambassador's from Rome.

Caius Lucius. A most worthy fellow.

Albeit he comes on angry purpose now.

But that's no fault of his.

We must receive him according

to the honor of his sender.

Our dear son, we will have need

to employ you towards this Roman.

Why should we pay tribute?

If Caesar can hide the sun

from us with a blanket

or put the moon in his pocket,

we will pay him tribute for light.

Else, sir, no more tribute.

You must know, till the injurious Romans

did extort this tribute from us,

we were free.

Caesar's ambition, which swelled so much

it almost stretched the sides of the world,

against all color here

did put the yoke upon us,

which to shake off

becomes a warlike people.

Whom we reckon ourselves to be.

I am sorry, Cymbeline,

that I am to pronounce

Augustus Caesar thine enemy.

Our subjects, sir,

will not endure his yoke,

and for ourself to show

less sovereignty than they

must needs appear un-kinglike.

Receive it from me, then:

War and confusion.

Fury not to be resisted.

The event is yet to name the winner.

Fare thee well.

We will nothing pay

for wearing our noses.

He goes hence frowning,

but it honors us

that we have given him cause.

O, that husband,

my supreme crown of grief.

A noble gentleman of Rome

comes from my Lord with letters.

The worthy Posthumus is in safety

and greets your highness dearly.

Thanks, good sir.

You're kindly welcome.

- His health, beseech you?

- Well, madam.

Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is.

There's none a stranger there

so merry and so gamesome.

He is called the reveler.

When he was here

he did incline to sadness,

and ofttimes not knowing why.

I never saw him sad.

You look on me.

What wrack discern you

in me deserves your pity?

Lamentable.

Why do you pity me?

That others do.

I was about to say, enjoy...

but it is an office of the gods

to avenge it, not mine to speak on it.

You do seem to know something of me,

or what concerns me.

Pray you, since fearing things go ill

often hurts more

than to be sure they do,

for certainties are either

past remedies or timely knowing,

the remedy then born, just...

discover to me

what you both spur and stop.

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 motions of mine eye,

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