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    Cymbeline
    Cymbeline
    Cymbeline
    Ebook196 pages1 hour

    Cymbeline

    By William Shakespeare

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    About this ebook

    William Shakespeare is widely considered to have been the greatest writer in the English language and the world’s greatest dramatist.  More than 400 years after Shakespeare’s death, his plays are still performed more than any other playwright and have been translated into every major language in the world.  This edition of Cymbeline includes a table of contents.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCharles River Editors
    Release dateMar 22, 2018
    ISBN9781537803340
    Author

    William Shakespeare

    William Shakespeare is the world's greatest ever playwright. Born in 1564, he split his time between Stratford-upon-Avon and London, where he worked as a playwright, poet and actor. In 1582 he married Anne Hathaway. Shakespeare died in 1616 at the age of fifty-two, leaving three children—Susanna, Hamnet and Judith. The rest is silence.

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      Book preview

      Cymbeline - William Shakespeare

      ..................

      CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY

      ..................

      Cymbeline, king of Britain.

      Cloten, son to the Queen by a former husband.

      Posthumus Leonatus, a gentleman, husband to Imogen.

      Belarius, a banished lord, disguised under the name of Morgan. Guiderius, Arviragus, sons to Cymbeline, disguised under the names of Polydote and Cadwal, supposed sons to Morgan.

      Philario, friend to Posthumus, and Iachimo, friend to Philario, Italians.

      Caius Lucius, general of the Roman forces.

      Pisanio, servant to Posthumus.

      Cornelius, a physician.

      A Roman Captain. Two British Captains.

      A Frenchman, friend to Philario.

      Two Lords of Cymbeline’s court.

      Two Gentlemen of the same.

      Two Gaolers.

      Queen, wife to Cymbeline.

      Imogen, daughter to Cymbeline by a former queen.

      Helen, a lady attending on Imogen.

      Lords, Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes, a Soothsayer, a Dutchman, a Spaniard, Musicians, Officers, Captains, Soldiers, Messengers, and other Attendants.

      Apparitions.

      SCENE: BRITAIN; ROME.

      ..................

      ACT I

      ..................

      SCENE I. 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

      Still seem as does the king.

      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

      That late he married—hath referr’d herself

      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

      Of the king’s look’s, hath a heart that is not

      Glad at the thing they scowl at.

      Second Gentleman

      And why so?

      First Gentleman

      He that hath miss’d 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 banish’d—is a creature such

      As, to seek through the regions of the earth

      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,

      Crush him together rather than unfold

      His measure duly.

      Second Gentleman

      What’s his name and birth?

      First Gentleman

      I cannot delve him to the root: his father

      Was call’d Sicilius, who did join his honour

      Against the Romans with Cassibelan,

      But had his titles by Tenantius whom

      He served with glory and admired success,

      So gain’d the sur-addition Leonatus;

      And had, besides this gentleman in question,

      Two other sons, who in the wars o’ 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 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,

      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,

      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,

      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

      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,

      So slackly guarded, and the search so slow,

      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.

      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,

      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 LEONATUS

      Please your highness,

      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

      Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband,

      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

      Of angry eyes, not comforted to live,

      But that there is this jewel in the world

      That I may see again.

      POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

      My queen! my mistress!

      O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause

      To be suspected of more tenderness

      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,

      Though ink be made of gall.

      Re-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,

      But he does buy my injuries, to be friends;

      Pays dear for my offences.

      Exit

      POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

      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:

      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;

      But keep it till you woo another wife,

      When Imogen is dead.

      POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

      How, how! another?

      You gentle gods, give me but this I have,

      And sear up my embracements from a next

      With bonds of death!

      Putting on the ring

      Remain, remain thou here

      While sense can keep it on. And, sweetest, fairest,

      As I my poor self did exchange for you,

      To your so infinite loss, so in our trifles

      I still win of you: for my sake wear this;

      It is a manacle of love; I’ll place it

      Upon this fairest prisoner.

      Putting a bracelet upon her arm

      IMOGEN

      O the gods!

      When shall we see again?

      Enter CYMBELINE and Lords

      POSTHUMUS LEONATUS

      Alack, the king!

      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 LEONATUS

      The gods protect you!

      And bless the good remainders of the court! 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

      I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare

      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,

      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:

      You bred him as my playfellow, and he is

      A man worth any woman, overbuys me

      Almost the

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