CYMBELINE, Act 1 Scene 1

Act 1, Scene 1

Britain. The garden of Cymbeline's palace.

Enter two Gentlemen

First Gentleman	You do not meet a man but frowns. Our bloods
	No more obey the heavens than our courtiers'	n.b.
	Still seem as does the King's.

Second Gentleman

But what's the matter?

First Gentleman	His daughter, and the heir of's kingdom, whom
	He purposed to his wife's sole son--a widow	5
	That late he married--hath referred herself		referred: married
	Unto a poor but worthy gentleman. She's wedded,
	Her husband banish'd, she imprison'd. All
	Is outward sorrow; though I think the King
	Be touch'd at very heart.

Second Gentleman

None but the King?

First Gentleman	He that hath lost her too. So is the queen,
	That most desired the match. But not a courtier,
	Although they wear their faces to the bent	wear . . . bent: mimic
	Of the King's looks, hath a heart that is not
	Glad at the thing they scowl at.

Second Gentleman

And why so?

First Gentleman	He that hath missed the Princess is a thing
	Too bad for bad report, and he that hath her--
	I mean, that married her, alack, good man!
	And therefore banished--is a creature such
	As, to seek through the regions of the earth	20
	For one his like, there would be something failing
	In him that should compare. I do not think
	So fair an outward and such stuff within
	Endows a man but he.

Second Gentleman

You speak him far

First Gentleman	I do extend him, sir, within himself,	25	n.b.
	Crush him together rather than unfold
	His measure duly.

Second Gentleman

What's his name and birth?

birth: social rank

First Gentleman	I cannot delve him to the root. His father
	Was called Sicilius, who did join his honour
	Against the Romans with Cassibelan,	30	n.b.
	But had his titles by Tenantius, whom
	He served with glory and admired success,
	So gained the sur-addition Leonatus;
	And had, besides this gentleman in question,
	Two other sons, who in the wars o' the time	35
	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	40
	To his protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus,
	Breeds him and makes him of his bed-chamber,
	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 minister'd,	45
	And in's spring became a harvest, lived in court--
	Which rare it is to do--most praised, most loved,
	A sample to the youngest, to the more mature
	A glass that feated them, and to the graver
	A child that guided dotards; to his mistress,	50
	For whom he now is banish'd, her own price
	Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue;
	By her election may be truly read
	What kind of man he is.

Second Gentleman	I honour him
	Even out of your report. But, pray you, tell me,	55
	Is she sole child to the king?

First Gentleman	His only child.
	He had two sons: if this be worth your hearing,
	Mark it: the eldest of them at three years old,
	I' the swathing-clothes the other, from their nursery	60
	Were stol'n, and to this hour no guess in knowledge
	Which way they went.

Second Gentleman

How long is this ago?

First Gentleman

Some twenty years.

Second Gentleman	That a king's children should be so convey'd,		convey'd: abducted
	So slackly guarded, and the search so slow,	65
	That could not trace them!

First Gentleman	Howsoe'er 'tis strange,
	Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at,
	Yet is it true, sir.

Second Gentleman

I do well believe you.

First Gentleman	We must forbear: here comes the gentleman,
	The queen, and princess.	70	n.b.

Exeunt
Enter the Queen, Posthumus Leonatus, and Imogen

Queen	No, be assured you shall not find me, daughter,
	After the slander of most stepmothers,
	Evil-eyed unto you. You're my prisoner, but
	Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys
	That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus,	75
	So soon as I can win the offended king,
	I will be known your advocate: marry, yet
	The fire of rage is in him, and 'twere good
	You lean'd unto his sentence with what patience
	Your wisdom may inform you.

Posthumus	Please your highness,	80
	I will from hence to-day.

Queen	You know the peril.
	I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying
	The pangs of barr'd affections, though the king
	Hath charged you should not speak together.
	Exit
Imogen	O Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant	85
	Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband,		tickle: flatter
	I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing--
	Always reserved my holy duty--what
	His rage can do on me: you must be gone;
	And I shall here abide the hourly shot	90
	Of angry eyes, not comforted to live,
	But that there is this jewel in the world
	That I may see again.

Posthumus	My queen! my mistress!
	O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause
	To be suspected of more tenderness	95
	Than doth become a man. I will remain
	The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth:
	My residence in Rome at one Philario's,
	Who to my father was a friend, to me
	Known but by letter: thither write, my queen,
	And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send,	100
	Though ink be made of gall.
	Enter Queen
Queen	Be brief, I pray you:
	If the king come, I shall incur I know not
	How much of his displeasure. [Aside] Yet I'll move him
	To walk this way: I never do him wrong,	105	n.b.
	But he does buy my injuries, to be friends;
	Pays dear for my offences.
	Exit
Posthumus	Should we be taking leave
	As long a term as yet we have to live,
	The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu!

Imogen	Nay, stay a little:	110
	Were you but riding forth to air yourself,
	Such parting were too petty. Look here, love;
	This diamond was my mother's: take it, heart;
	[She gives him a ring]
	But keep it till you woo another wife,
	When Imogen is dead.

Posthumus	How, how! another?	115
	You gentle gods, give me but this I have,
	And sear up my embracements from a next
	With bonds of death! Remain, remain thou here
	[He puts on the ring]
	While sense can keep it on. And, sweetest, fairest,
	As I my poor self did exchange for you	120
	To your so infinite loss, so in our trifles
	I still win of you: for my sake wear this.
	[He gives her a bracelet]
	It is a manacle of love; I'll place it
	Upon this fairest prisoner.

Imogen	O the gods!
	When shall we see again?

Enter Cymbeline and lords

Posthumus	Alack, the king!	125

Cymbeline	Thou basest thing, avoid! hence, from my sight!
	If after this command thou fraught the court
	With thy unworthiness, thou diest: away!
	Thou'rt poison to my blood.

Posthumus	The gods protect you!
	And bless the good remainders of the court!	130
	I am gone.
	Exit
Imogen	There cannot be a pinch in death
	More sharp than this is.

Cymbeline	O disloyal thing,
	That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap'st
	A year's age on me.

Imogen	I beseech you, sir,
	Harm not yourself with your vexation	135
	I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare		senseless of: numb to
	Subdues all pangs, all fears.

Cymbeline	Past grace? obedience?

Imogen	Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace.

Cymbeline	That mightst have had the sole son of my queen!

Imogen	O blest, that I might not! I chose an eagle,	140
	And did avoid a puttock.

Cymbeline	Thou took'st a beggar; wouldst have made my throne
	A seat for baseness.

Imogen	No; I rather added
	A lustre to it.

Cymbeline	O thou vile one!

Imogen	Sir,
	It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus:	145
	You bred him as my playfellow, and he is
	A man worth any woman, overbuys me		n.b.
	Almost the sum he pays.

Cymbeline	What, art thou mad?

Imogen	Almost, sir: heaven restore me! Would I were
	A neatherd's daughter, and my Leonatus	150
	Our neighbour shepherd's son!

	Enter Queen
Cymbeline	Thou foolish thing!
	[To Queen] They were again together: you have done
	Not after our command. [To Lords] Away with her,
	And pen her up.

Queen	Beseech your patience. Peace,
	Dear lady daughter, peace! Sweet sovereign,	155
	Leave us to ourselves; and make yourself some comfort
	Out of your best advice.

Cymbeline	Nay, let her languish
	A drop of blood a day; and, being aged,
	Die of this folly!

Exeunt Cymbeline and lords

Queen	Fie! you must give way.
	Enter Pisanio
	Here is your servant. How now, sir! What news?	160

Pisanio	My lord your son drew on my master.

Queen	Ha!
	No harm, I trust, is done?

Pisanio	There might have been,
	But that my master rather play'd than fought
	And had no help of anger: they were parted
	By gentlemen at hand.

Queen	I am very glad on't.	165

Imogen	Your son's my father's friend; he takes his part.
	To draw upon an exile! O brave sir!
	I would they were in Afric both together;
	Myself by with a needle, that I might prick
	The goer-back. [To Pisanio] Why came you from your master?	170

Pisanio	On his command. He would not suffer me
	To bring him to the haven; left these notes
	Of what commands I should be subject to,
	When 't pleased you to employ me.

Queen	This hath been
	Your faithful servant: I dare lay mine honour	175
	He will remain so.

Pisanio	I humbly thank your highness.

Queen	Pray, walk awhile.
	Exit
Imogen	About some half-hour hence, pray you, speak with me.
	You shall at least go see my lord aboard.
	For this time leave me.

Exeunt