Cymbeline Page #4

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I hope I dream.

The dream's here still.

Even when I wake,

it is without me as within me.

Not imagined...

felt.

O Posthumus! Where is thy head?

Where's that?

Ay me, where's that?

And left this head on.

The king.

His daughter, whom he purposed

to his wife's sole son,

a widow that late he married...

Hath referred herself to a poor but...

worthy gentleman.

She's wedded, her husband banished,

she imprisoned.

All is outward sorrow, though...

I think the king

be touched at very heart.

What's his name and birth?

His father was called Sicilius,

who did join his honor against the Romans

and had, besides this gentleman

in question, two other sons,

who in the wars of the time,

died with their swords in hand.

For which their father,

then old and fond of issue,

took such sorrow that he quit being.

And his gentle lady,

big of this gentleman our theme,

deceased as he was born.

The king...

He takes the babe to his protection,

calls him Posthumus Leonatus.

Breeds him.

Puts to him all the learnings that his time

could make him the receiver of,

which he took as we do air,

fast as 'twas ministered,

and in it's spring became a harvest.

Lived in court, which rare it is to do.

More praised, most loved.

To his mistress,

for whom he now is banished,

her own price proclaims

how she esteemed him.

And his virtue by her election may be

truly read what kind of man he is.

A banished rascal.

Return he cannot,

nor continue where he is.

'Tis strange.

Your service for this time is ended.

Take your own way.

Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes.

Some falls are means

the happier to arise.

After laughter

Comes tears

- After laughter

- After your laughter

- Comes tears

- There'll be tears

- Ooh

- When you're in love

You're happy

- Oh, and then

- Ooh

When you're in an arm

You gaze

This doesn't last always

- After laughter

- After your laughter

There'll be tears

My friends all say

- Don't...

- Oh!

Know how I feel

Is it enough I am sorry?

For Imogen's dear life, take mine.

Sons.

We'll higher to the mountains,

there secure us.

To the king's party there's no going.

Newness of cloten's death...

It is not likely that they will waste

their time upon our note,

- to know from whence we are.

- I am known.

I and my brother are not known.

I scarce ever look on blood

but that of hares, goats, and venison.

I am ashamed to look upon the sun,

to feel the benefit of his blest beams,

remaining so long a poor unknown.

I'll go. If you will bless me, sir,

and give me leave,

I'll take the better care.

So say I. Amen.

No reason I, since of your lives

you set so slight a valuation,

should reserve my cracked one

to more care.

Have with you, boys. If in

your country wars you chance to die...

That is my bed, too, lads,

and there I'll lie.

Good my liege, your preparations

can affront no less than what you hear of.

Come more, for more you're ready.

The want is but to put those powers

in motion that long to move.

He's alive.

A rout, confusion thick.

Forthwith they fly.

Great the slaughter; an old man

and two boys struck down some mortally,

some slightly touched,

some falling merely through fear.

An old man and two boys are grown

the mortal bugs o' the field.

My poor boy...

Whose face I've never seen...

I died

whilst in the womb he stayed,

awaiting nature's law.

Whose father then...

As men report thou orphans' father art,

thou shouldn't have been,

shielded him

from this earth-vexing smart.

"Of God we ask one favor,

that we may be forgiven...

from what, he is presumed to know...

the crime, from us,

is hidden...

immured the whole of life

within a magic prison."

Oh...

Come sir, are you ready for death?

I am merrier to die

than you are to live.

I tell thee, fellow, there are none

want eyes to direct them where I am going,

but such as wink and will not use them.

What an infinite mock is this,

that a man should have the best use

of eyes to see the way of blindness.

Knock off his manacles.

Bring your prisoner to the king.

Every good servant

does not all commands:

No bond but to do just ones.

Gods.

If you should have ta'en vengeance

on my faults,

I never had lived to put on this:

So had you saved Imogen and struck me,

wretch more worth your vengeance.

For thee,

o Imogen,

even for whom my life

is every breath a death;

and thus, unknown,

pitied nor hated, to the face

of peril myself I'll dedicate.

Let me make men know more valor

in me than my habits show.

Gods, give me the strength

to shame the guise o' the world,

I will begin the fashion,

less without

and more within.

Stand by my side,

you whom the gods have made

preservers of my throne.

Knights of the battle,

I create you companions to our person,

and fit you with dignities

befitting your estates...

Why so sadly greet you our victory?

Hail, great king.

To sour your happiness,

I must report the queen is dead.

No!

How ended she?

With horror, madly dying, like her life,

which, being cruel to the world,

concluded most cruel to herself.

These her women were present

when she finished.

First, she confessed

she never loved you,

only affected greatness

got by you, not you;

married your royalty, wife to your place;

abhorred your person.

She alone knew this.

Your daughter 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.

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.

O my daughter.

That it was my folly, thou mayst say.

The day was yours by accident.

Had it gone with us, we should not,

when the blood was cool, have threatened

our prisoners with the sword.

But let it come.

That diamond on your finger,

how came it yours?

By villainy I got this ring.

The good Posthumus.

What can I say? He were too good

to be where ill men were...

I stand on fire. Come to the matter.

Your daughter's chastity.

- There it begins!

- My daughter?

I wagered with him

pieces of gold against this

which then he wore

upon his honored finger

to attain in suit

the place of his bed...

To win this ring by hers

and mine adultery.

At court, I learned your chaste daughter

and the wide difference

'twixt villainous and amorous.

And yet...

I returned with proof enough

to make the noble Posthumus mad.

Ay.

Me,

most credulous fool, o, give me cord,

or knife, or poison.

I killed thy daughter.

Caused a lesser villain

than myself to do it.

Spit and throw stones,

cast mire upon me.

Imogen.

My queen, my wife.

- My life...

- Peace.

- O Imogen...

- My Lord, hear, hear.

Shall's have a play of this?

You never killed Imogen... till now.

Get thee from my sight.

Thou gavest me poison.

- I had it from the queen...

- Oh, gods.

I left out one thing

the queen confessed.

The queen, sir, very often

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