Cymbeline Page #3

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Villains, whose false oaths prevailed

before my perfect honor,

swore to Cymbeline

I was confederate with the Romans:

O Cymbeline! Heaven and my conscience

knows thou didst unjustly banish me:

Whereon, at three and two years old,

I stole these boys.

And this twenty years

this rock has 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.

These boys know little

they are sons to the king;

nor Cymbeline dreams

that they are alive.

They think they are mine;

and though trained up thus meanly

their thoughts do hit

the roofs of palaces.

O, vengeance, vengeance.

Could I find out

the woman's part in me...

for there's no motion

that tends to vice in man,

but I affirm it is the woman's part.

Be it lying, note it,

the woman's; fattering, hers;

deceiving, hers;

lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers;

revenges, hers.

Ambitions, covetings,

change of prides, disdain,

slanders, mutability.

All faults that have a name, hers.

Detest them,

curse them.

Where is Posthumus?

What is in thy mind,

that thee stare thus?

"Thy mistress hath played

the strumpet in my bed...

The testimonies whereof

lie bleeding in me.

I speak not out of weak surmise

but from proof as strong as my grief

and as certain as I expect my revenge.

That part, thou, Pisanio,

you must act for me."

"If thy faith be not tainted

with the breach of hers,

let thine own hand take away her life.

If thou fear to strike

and to make me certain it is done,

thou art the pander to her dishonor

and equally to me disloyal."

False to his bed?

What is it to be false?

To lie there in watch

and to think on him?

No, no. No, no. On my life.

Where's thy knife? Where?!

Thou art too slow to do

thy master's bidding when I desire it too.

Since I received command

to do this business,

I have not slept one wink.

Well, do it, and to bed, then.

I'll wake mine eyeballs blind first.

Why?

Why has thou abused

so many miles with a pretense?

This place? Bring me here to kill me?

But to win time.

I have considered a course.

Hear me. Hear me with patience.

It cannot be

but that my master is abused.

Some villain, ay,

and singular in his art,

hath done you both

this... this cursed injury.

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 missed at court,

and that will well confirm it.

Now, here's the point:

If you could wear a mind

dark as your fortune is,

forget to be a woman.

Change.

I see into thy end...

And am almost a man already.

This attempt...

I am soldier to,

and will abide it

with a prince's courage.

From the queen. What's in't is precious.

A dram of this

will drive away distemper.

We must take a short farewell

lest being missed,

I be suspected of your carriage

from the court.

Away, I prithee.

Where is our daughter?

Call her before us.

Since the exile of Posthumus,

most retired hath her life been,

the cure whereof, my Lord,

'tis time must do.

Where is she?

How can her contempt be answered?

That man of hers, Pisanio,

her old servant,

I have not seen these two days.

Go, look after.

Pisanio!

Come hither! Villain.

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.

Where is she?

I will not ask again.

This is the history of my knowledge

touching her flight.

Is she with Posthumus?

As I think.

How long is't she went to Milford Haven?

She can scarce be there yet.

Give me thy hand.

Hast any of thy master's garments

in thy possession?

The same suit he wore

when he took leave.

Fetch that suit hither.

Be a voluntary mute to my design.

Go.

With the suit upon my back,

I will ravish her.

First, kill Posthumus,

and in her eyes.

There shall she see my valor,

which will then be a torment

to her contempt.

He on the ground,

my speech an insultment

ended on his dead body,

and once 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.

Who's there?

An angel here. No elder than a boy.

Good masters, harm me not.

Before I entered here, I thought

to have begged or bought what I took.

Here's money.

I would have left it on the board

as soon as I had made my meal

and parted with prayers

for the provider.

Money?

All gold and silver rather turn to dirt.

As 'tis no better reckoned

but of those who worship dirty gods.

- I see you're angry.

- What's your name?

Fidel, sir.

Wither Bound?

To Milford Haven.

'Tis almost night.

You shall have better cheer ere you depart,

and thanks to sit and eat.

Boys, bid him welcome.

I'll love him as a brother.

Mmm, mmm

Mmm, yeah

Mmm, mmm, mmm

Mmm, mmm

Mmm, mmm, yeah

It is you

Oh, yeah

It is you, you

Oh, yeah

It is you

Oh, yeah

I say pressure drop

oh, pressure, oh yeah

Pressure gonna drop on you

I say pressure drop

oh, pressure, oh yeah

Pressure gonna drop on you

I say when it drops

oh, you're gonna feel it

Pressure, pressure, pressure, pressure

Pressure drop oh, pressure

Oh, yeah, it's gonna drop on you

Yeah, yeah, pressure, pressure

Pressure, pressure, pressure, pressure

Pressure, pressure, pressure, pressure

Pressure, pressure, pressure, pressure

Pressure, pressure, pressure, pressure

Pressure gonna drop on you

Pressure, pressure, preassure,

pressure, pressure...

'Tis cloten, the son o' the queen.

I fear some ambush.

Posthumus...

What's thy name?

I am son to the queen.

I am sorry for it,

not seeming so worthy as thy birth.

Art not afeard?

Those that I reverence,

those I fear, the wise.

At fools I laugh, not fear them.

Die thy death!

I am sick.

Heartsick.

Pisanio, I'll now taste of thy drug.

What hast thou done?

With his own sword

which he did wave against my throat,

I have taken his head from him.

I'll throw it into the creek

behind our rock, and let it into the sea.

And tell the fishes

he's the queen's son.

He must have some attendants.

Well, 'tis done.

I do fear this body hath a tail

more perilous than the head.

Fidel!

Thou blessed thing.

Jove knows what man

thou might'st have made.

Why, he but sleeps.

Let us bury him.

Fear no more

The heat o' the sun

Nor the furious

Winter rages

Thou thy worldly task

Hast done

Home art gone

And ta'en thy wages

Golden lads and girls

All must

As chimney sweepers

Come to dust

Imogen.

The prized part of my comfort, gone,

my queen upon a desperate bed,

and in a time

when fearful wars point on me.

But for thee, fellow,

who needs must know of her departure

and dost seem so ignorant.

I beseech your highness,

hold me your loyal servant.

The day that she went missing,

he was here.

I dare be bound he's true, and shall perform

all parts of his subjection loyally.

The time is troublesome.

We'll slip you for a second.

But our jealousy does yet depend.

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