Act IV. Scene VII.


Field of Battle between the Camps.
   
 
Alarum. Drums and trumpets. Enter AGRIPPA and Others.
   
  Agr.  Retire, we have engag’d ourselves too far.   
Cæsar himself has work, and our oppression      4
Exceeds what we expected.  [Exeunt.   
 
Alarum. Enter ANTONY, and SCARUS wounded.
   
  Scar.  O my brave emperor, this is fought indeed!   
Had we done so at first, we had droven them home      8
With clouts about their heads.   
  Ant.        Thou bleed’st apace.   
  Scar.  I had a wound here that was like a T,   
But now ’tis made an H.     12
  Ant.        They do retire.   
  Scar.  We’ll beat ’em into bench-holes: I have yet   
Room for six scotches more.   
 
Enter EROS.
     16
  Eros.  They are beaten, sir; and our advantage serves   
For a fair victory.   
  Scar.        Let us score their backs,   
And snatch ’em up, as we take hares, behind:     20
’Tis sport to maul a runner.   
  Ant.        I will reward thee   
Once for thy sprightly comfort, and ten-fold   
For thy good valour. Come thee on.     24
  Scar.        I’ll halt after.  [Exeunt.

Act IV. Scene VIII.


Under the Walls of Alexandria.
   
 
Alarum. Enter ANTONY, marching; SCARUS, and Forces.
   
  Ant.  We have beat him to his camp; run one before   
And let the queen know of our gests. To-morrow,      4
Before the sun shall see ’s, we’ll spill the blood   
That has to-day escap’d. I thank you all;   
For doughty-handed are you, and have fought   
Not as you serv’d the cause, but as ’t had been      8
Each man’s like mine; you have shown all Hectors.   
Enter the city, clip your wives, your friends,   
Tell them your feats; whilst they with joyful tears   
Wash the congealment from your wounds, and kiss     12
The honour’d gashes whole. [To SCARUS.] Give me thy hand:   
 
Enter CLEOPATRA, attended.
   
To this great fairy I’ll commend thy acts,   
Make her thanks bless thee. O thou day o’ the world!     16
Chain mine arm’d neck; leap thou, attire and all,   
Through proof of harness to my heart, and there   
Ride on the pants triumphing.   
  Cleo.        Lord of lords!     20
O infinite virtue! com’st thou smiling from   
The world’s great snare uncaught?   
  Ant.        My nightingale,   
We have beat them to their beds. What, girl! though grey     24
Do something mingle with our younger brown, yet ha’ we   
A brain that nourishes our nerves, and can   
Get goal for goal of youth. Behold this man;   
Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand:     28
Kiss it, my warrior: he hath fought to-day   
As if a god, in hate of mankind, had   
Destroy’d in such a shape.   
  Cleo.        I’ll give thee, friend,     32
An armour all of gold; it was a king’s.   
  Ant.  He has deserv’d it, were it carbuncled   
Like holy Phœbus’ car. Give me thy hand:   
Through Alexandria make a jolly march;     36
Bear our hack’d targets like the men that owe them:   
Had our great palace the capacity   
To camp this host, we all would sup together   
And drink carouses to the next day’s fate,     40
Which promises royal peril. Trumpeters,   
With brazen din blast you the city’s ear,   
Make mingle with our rattling tabourines,   
That heaven and earth may strike their sounds together,     44
Applauding our approach.  [Exeunt.

Act IV. Scene IX.


CÆSAR’S Camp.
   
 
Sentinels on their post.
   
  First Sold.  If we be not reliev’d within this hour,   
We must return to the court of guard: the night      4
Is shiny, and they say we shall embattle   
By the second hour i’ the morn.   
  Sec. Sold.        This last day was   
A shrewd one to ’s.      8
 
Enter ENOBARBUS.
   
  Eno.        O! bear me witness, night,—   
  Third Sold.  What man is this?   
  Sec. Sold.        Stand close and list him.     12
  Eno.  Be witness to me, O thou blessed moon,   
When men revolted shall upon record   
Bear hateful memory, poor Enobarbus did   
Before thy face repent!     16
  First Sold.        Enobarbus!   
  Third Sold.        Peace!   
Hark further.   
  Eno.  O sovereign mistress of true melancholy,     20
The poisonous damp of night disponge upon me,   
That life, a very rebel to my will,   
May hang no longer on me; throw my heart   
Against the flint and hardness of my fault,     24
Which, being dried with grief, will break to powder,   
And finish all foul thoughts. O Antony!   
Nobler than my revolt is infamous,   
Forgive me in thine own particular;     28
But let the world rank me in register   
A master-leaver and a fugitive.   
O Antony! O Antony!  [Dies.   
  Sec. Sold.  Let’s speak to him.     32
  First Sold.  Let’s hear him, for the things he speaks   
May concern Cæsar.   
  Third Sold.        Let’s do so. But he sleeps.   
  First Sold.  Swounds rather; for so bad a prayer as his     36
Was never yet for sleep.   
  Sec. Sold.        Go we to him.   
  Third Sold.  Awake, sir, awake! speak to us.   
  Sec. Sold.        Hear you, sir?     40
  First Sold.  The Land of death hath raught him.  [Drums afar off.   
Hark! the drums   
Demurely wake the sleepers. Let us bear him   
To the court of guard; he is of note: our hour     44
Is fully out.   
  Third Sold.  Come on, then;   
He may recover yet.  [Exeunt with the body.

Act IV. Scene X.


Between the two Camps.
   
 
Enter ANTONY and SCARUS, with Forces, marching.
   
  Ant.  Their preparation is to-day by sea;   
We please them not by land.      4
  Scar.        For both, my lord.   
  Ant.  I would they’d fight i’ the fire or i’ the air;   
We’d fight there too. But this it is; our foot   
Upon the hills adjoining to the city      8
Shall stay with us; order for sea is given,   
They have put forth the haven,   
Where their appointment we may best discover   
And look on their endeavour.  [Exeunt.     12
 
Enter CÆSAR, and his Forces, marching.
   
  Cæs.  But being charg’d, we will be still by land,   
Which, as I take ’t, we shall; for his best force   
Is forth to man his galleys. To the vales,     16
And hold our best advantage!  [Exeunt.   
 
Re-enter ANTONY and SCARUS.
   
  Ant.  Yet they are not join’d. Where yond pine does stand   
I shall discover all; I’ll bring thee word     20
Straight how ’tis like to go.  [Exit.   
  Scar.        Swallows have built   
In Cleopatra’s sails their nests; the augurers   
Say they know not, they cannot tell; look grimly,     24
And dare not speak their knowledge. Antony   
Is valiant, and dejected; and, by starts,   
His fretted fortunes give him hope and fear   
Of what he has and has not.  [Alarum afar off, as at a sea-fight.     28
 
Re-enter ANTONY.
   
  Ant.        All is lost!   
This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me;   
My fleet hath yielded to the foe, and yonder     32
They cast their caps up and carouse together   
Like friends long lost. Triple-turn’d whore! ’tis thou   
Hast sold me to this novice, and my heart   
Makes only wars on thee. Bid them all fly;     36
For when I am reveng’d upon my charm,   
I have done all. Bid them all fly; be gone.  [Exit SCARUS.   
O sun! thy uprise shall I see no more;   
Fortune and Antony part here; even here     40
Do we shake hands. All come to this? The hearts   
That spaniel’d me at heels, to whom I gave   
Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets   
On blossoming Cæsar; and this pine is bark’d,     44
That overtopp’d them all. Betray’d I am.   
O this false soul of Egypt! this grave charm,   
Whose eyes beck’d forth my wars, and call’d them home,   
Whose bosom was my crownet, my chief end,     48
Like a right gipsy, hath, at fast and loose,   
Beguil’d me to the very heart of loss.   
What, Eros! Eros!   
 
Enter CLEOPATRA.
     52
Ah! thou spell. Avaunt!   
  Cleo.  Why is my lord enrag’d against his love?   
  Ant.  Vanish, or I shall give thee thy deserving,   
And blemish Cæsar’s triumph. Let him take thee,     56
And hoist thee up to the shouting plebeians;   
Follow his chariot, like the greatest spot   
Of all thy sex; most monster-like, be shown   
For poor’st diminutives, for doits; and let     60
Patient Octavia plough thy visage up   
With her prepared nails.  [Exit CLEOPATRA.   
’Tis well thou’rt gone,   
If it be well to live; but better ’twere     64
Thou fell’st into my fury, for one death   
Might have prevented many. Eros, ho!   
The shirt of Nessus is upon me; teach me,   
Alcides, thou mine ancestor, thy rage;     68
Let me lodge Lichas on the horns o’ the moon;   
And with those hands, that grasp’d the heaviest club,   
Subdue my worthiest self. The witch shall die:   
To the young Roman boy she hath sold me, and I fall     72
Under this plot; she dies for ’t. Eros, ho!  [Exit.

Act IV. Scene XI.


Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.
   
 
Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and MARDIAN.
   
  Cleo.  Help me, my women! O! he is more mad   
Than Telamon for his shield; the boar of Thessaly      4
Was never so emboss’d.   
  Char.        To the monument!   
There lock yourself, and send him word you are dead.   
The soul and body rive not more in parting      8
Than greatness going off.   
  Cleo.        To the monument!   
Mardian, go tell him I have slain myself;   
Say that the last I spoke was ‘Antony,’     12
And word it, prithee, piteously. Hence,   
Mardian, and bring me how he takes my death.   
To the monument!  [Exeunt.   

Act IV. Scene XII.


The Same. Another Room.
   
 
Enter ANTONY and EROS.
   
  Ant.  Eros, thou yet behold’st me?   
  Eros.        Ay, noble lord.      4
  Ant.  Sometimes we see a cloud that’s dragonish;   
A vapour sometime like a bear or lion,   
A tower’d citadel, a pendant rock,   
A forked mountain, or blue promontory      8
With trees upon ’t, that nod unto the world   
And mock our eves with air: thou hast seen these signs;   
They are black vesper’s pageants   
  Eros.        Ay, my lord.     12
  Ant.  That which is now a horse, even with a thought   
The rack dislimns, and makes it indistinct,   
As water is in water.   
  Eros.        It does, my lord.     16
  Ant.  My good knave, Eros, now thy captain is   
Even such a body: here I am Antony;   
Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave.   
I made these wars for Egypt; and the queen,     20
Whose heart I thought I had, for she had mine,   
Which whilst it was mine had annex’d unto ’t   
A million more, now lost; she, Eros, has   
Pack’d cards with Cæsar, and false-play’d my glory     24
Unto an enemy’s triumph.   
Nay, weep not, gentle Eros; there is left us   
Ourselves to end ourselves.   
 
Enter MARDIAN.
     28
O! thy vile lady;   
She has robb’d me of my sword.   
  Mar.        No, Antony;   
My mistress lov’d thee, and her fortunes mingled     32
With thine entirely.   
  Ant.        Hence, saucy eunuch; peace!   
She hath betray’d me and shall die the death.   
  Mar.  Death of one person can be paid but once,     36
And that she has discharg’d. What thou wouldst do   
Is done unto thy hand; the last she spake   
Was, ‘Antony! most noble Antony!’   
Then in the midst a tearing groan did break     40
The name of Antony; it was divided   
Between her heart and lips. She render’d life,   
Thy name so buried in her.   
  Ant.        Dead, then?     44
  Mar.        Dead.   
  Ant.  Unarm, Eros; the long day’s task is done,   
And we must sleep. [To MARDIAN.] That thou depart’st hence safe,   
Does pay thy labour richly; go.  [Exit MARDIAN.     48
Off, pluck off:   
The seven-fold shield of Ajax cannot keep   
The battery from my heart. O! cleave, my sides;   
Heart, once be stronger than thy continent,     52
Crack thy frail case! Apace, Eros, apace.   
No more a soldier; bruised pieces, go;   
You have been nobly borne. From me awhile.  [Exit EROS.   
I will o’ertake thee, Cleopatra, and     56
Weep for my pardon. So it must be, for now   
All length is torture; since the torch is out,   
Lie down, and stray no further. Now all labour   
Mars what it does; yea, very force entangles     60
Itself with strength; seal then, and all is done.   
Eros!—I come, my queen.—Eros!—Stay for me:   
Where souls do couch on flowers, we’ll hand in hand,   
And with our sprightly port make the ghosts gaze;     64
Dido and her Æneas shall want troops,   
And all the haunt be ours. Come, Eros! Eros!   
 
Re-enter EROS.
   
  Eros.  What would my lord?     68
  Ant.        Since Cleopatra died,   
I have liv’d in such dishonour, that the gods   
Detest my baseness. I, that with my sword   
Quarter’d the world, and o’er green Neptune’s back     72
With ships made cities, condemn myself to lack   
The courage of a woman; less noble mind   
Than she, which by her death our Cæsar tells   
‘I am conqueror of myself.’ Thou art sworn, Eros,     76
That, when the exigent should come,—which now   
Is come indeed,—when I should see behind me   
The inevitable prosecution of   
Disgrace and horror, that, on my command,     80
Thou then wouldst kill me: do ’t; the time is come.   
Thou strik’st not me, ’tis Cæsar thou defeat’st.   
Put colour in thy cheek.   
  Eros.        The gods withhold me!     84
Shall I do that which all the Parthian darts,   
Though enemy, lost aim and could not?   
  Ant.        Eros,   
Wouldst thou be window’d in great Rome, and see     88
Thy master thus with pleach’d arms, bending down   
His corrigible neck, his face subdu’d   
To penetrative shame, whilst the wheel’d seat   
Of fortunate Cæsar, drawn before him, branded     92
His baseness that ensu’d?   
  Eros.        I would not see’t.   
  Ant.  Come, then; for with a wound I must be cur’d.   
Draw that thy honest sword, which thou hast worn     96
Most useful for thy country.   
  Eros.        O, sir! pardon me.   
  Ant.  When I did make thee free, swor’st thou not then   
To do this when I bade thee? Do it at once,    100
Or thy precedent services are all   
But accidents unpurpos’d. Draw, and come.   
  Eros.  Turn from me then that noble countenance,   
Wherein the worship of the whole world lies.    104
  Ant.  Lo thee!  [Turning from him.   
  Eros.  My sword is drawn.   
  Ant.        Then let it do at once   
The thing why thou hast drawn it.    108
  Eros.        My dear master,   
My captain, and my emperor, let me say,   
Before I strike this bloody stroke, farewell.   
  Ant.  ’Tis said, man; and farewell.    112
  Eros.  Farewell, great chief. Shall I strike now?   
  Ant.        Now, Eros.   
  Eros.  Why, there then; thus do I escape the sorrow  [Kills himself.   
Of Antony’s death.    116
  Ant.        Thrice-nobler than myself!   
Thou teachest me, O valiant Eros, what   
I should, and thou couldst not. My queen and Eros   
Have by their brave instruction got upon me    120
A nobleness in record; but I will be   
A bridegroom in my death, and run into ’t   
As to a lover’s bed. Come, then; and, Eros,   
Thy master dies thy scholar: to do thus  [Falls on his sword.    124
I learn’d of thee. How! not dead? not dead?   
The guard, ho! O! dispatch me.   
 
Enter DERCETAS and Guard.
   
  First Guard.        What’s the noise?    128
  Ant.  I have done my work ill, friends: O! make an end   
Of what I have begun.   
  Sec. Guard.        The star is fallen.   
  First Guard.  And time is at his period.    132
  All.        Alas, and woe!   
  Ant.  Let him that loves me strike me dead.   
  First Guard.        Not I.   
  Sec. Guard.  Nor I.    136
  Third Guard.  Nor any one.  [Exeunt Guard.   
  Der.  Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers fly.   
This sword but shown to Cæsar, with this tidings,   
Shall enter me with him.    140
 
Enter DIOMEDES.
   
  Dio.  Where’s Antony?   
  Der.        There, Diomed, there.   
  Dio.        Lives he?    144
Wilt thou not answer, man?  [Exit DERCETAS.   
  Ant.  Art thou there, Diomed? Draw thy sword, and give me   
Sufficing strokes for death.   
  Dio.        Most absolute lord,    148
My mistress Cleopatra sent me to thee.   
  Ant.  When did she send thee?   
  Dio.        Now, my lord.   
  Ant.        Where is she?    152
  Dio.  Lock’d in her monument. She had a prophesying fear   
Of what hath come to pass; for when she saw—   
Which never shall be found—you did suspect   
She had dispos’d with Cæsar, and that your rage    156
Would not be purg’d, she sent you word she was dead;   
But, fearing since how it might work, hath sent   
Me to proclaim the truth; and I am come,   
I dread, too late.    160
  Ant.  Too late, good Diomed. Call my guard, I prithee.   
  Dio.  What, ho! the emperor’s guard! The guard, what, ho!   
Come, your lord calls!   
 
Enter four or five of the Guard of ANTONY.
    164
  Ant.  Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra bides;   
’Tis the last service that I shall command you.   
  First Guard.  Woe, woe are we, sir, you may not live to wear   
All your true followers out.    168
  All.        Most heavy day!   
  Ant.  Nay, good my fellows, do not please sharp fate   
To grace it with your sorrows; bid that welcome   
Which comes to punish us, and we punish it    172
Seeming to bear it lightly. Take me up;   
I have led you oft; carry me now, good friends,   
And have my thanks for all.  [Exeunt, bearing ANTONY.

Act IV. Scene XIII.


The Same. A Monument.
   
 
Enter CLEOPATRA and her maids aloft, with CHARMIAN and IRAS.
   
  Cle.  O Charmian! I will never go from hence.   
  Char.  Be comforted, dear madam.      4
  Cleo.        No, I will not.   
All strange and terrible events are welcome,   
But comforts we despise; our size of sorrow,   
Proportion’d to our cause, must be as great      8
As that which makes it.   
 
Enter, below, DIOMEDES.
   
How now! is he dead?   
  Dio.  His death’s upon him, but not dead.     12
Look out o’ the other side your monument;   
His guard have brought him thither.   
 
Enter, below, ANTONY, borne by the Guard.
   
  Cleo.        O sun!     16
Burn the great sphere thou mov’st in; darkling stand   
The varying star o’ the world. O Antony,   
Antony, Antony! Help, Charmian, help, Iras, help;   
Help, friends below! let’s draw him hither.     20
  Ant.        Peace!   
Not Cæsar’s valour hath o’erthrown Antony,   
But Antony’s hath triumph’d on itself.   
  Cleo.  So it should be, that none but Antony     24
Should conquer Antony; but woe ’tis so!   
  Ant.  I am dying, Egypt, dying; only   
I here importune death awhile, until   
Of many thousand kisses the poor last     28
I lay upon thy lips.   
  Cleo.        I dare not, dear,—   
Dear my lord, pardon,—I dare not,   
Lest I be taken: not the imperious show     32
Of the full-fortun’d Cæsar ever shall   
Be brooch’d with me; if knife, drugs, serpents, have   
Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe:   
Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes     36
And still conclusion, shall acquire no honour   
Demuring upon me. But come, come, Antony,—   
Help me, my women,—we must draw thee up.   
Assist, good friends.     40
  Ant.        O! quick, or I am gone.   
  Cleo.  Here’s sport indeed! How heavy weighs my lord!   
Our strength is all gone into heaviness,   
That makes the weight. Had I great Juno’s power,     44
The strong-wing’d Mercury should fetch thee up,   
And set thee by Jove’s side. Yet come a little,   
Wishers were ever fools. O! come, come, come;  [They heave ANTONY aloft to CLEOPATRA.   
And welcome, welcome! die where thou hast liv’d;     48
Quicken with kissing; had my lips that power,   
Thus would I wear them out.   
  All.        A heavy sight!   
  Ant.  I am dying, Egypt, dying:     52
Give me some wine, and let me speak a little.   
  Cleo.  No, let me speak; and let me rail so high,   
That the false housewife Fortune break her wheel,   
Provok’d by my offence.     56
  Ant.        One word, sweet queen.   
Of Cæsar seek your honour with your safety. O!   
  Cleo.  They do not go together.   
  Ant.        Gentle, hear me:     60
None about Cæsar trust, but Proculeius.   
  Cleo.  My resolution and my hands I’ll trust;   
None about Cæsar.   
  Ant.  The miserable change now at my end     64
Lament nor sorrow at; but please your thoughts   
In feeding them with those my former fortunes   
Wherein I liv’d, the greatest prince o’ the world,   
The noblest; and do now not basely die,     68
Not cowardly put off my helmet to   
My countryman; a Roman by a Roman   
Valiantly vanquish’d. Now my spirit is going;   
I can no more.     72
  Cleo.        Noblest of men, woo ’t die?   
Hast thou no care of me? shall I abide   
In this dull world, which in thy absence is   
No better than a sty? O! see my women,  [ANTONY dies.     76
The crown o’ the earth doth melt. My lord!   
O! wither’d is the garland of the war,   
The soldier’s pole is fall’n; young boys and girls   
Are level now with men; the odds is gone,     80
And there is nothing left remarkable   
Beneath the visiting moon.  [Swoons.   
  Char.        O, quietness, lady!   
  Iras.  She is dead too, our sovereign.     84
  Char.        Lady!   
  Iras.        Madam!   
  Char.  O madam, madam, madam!   
  Iras.        Royal Egypt!     88
Empress!   
  Char.  Peace, peace, Iras!   
  Cleo.  No more, but e’en a woman, and commanded   
By such poor passion as the maid that milks     92
And does the meanest chares. It were for me   
To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods;   
To tell them that this world did equal theirs   
Till they had stol’n our jewel. All’s but naught;     96
Patience is sottish, and impatience does   
Become a dog that’s mad; then is it sin   
To rush into the secret house of death,   
Ere death dare come to us? How do you, women?    100
What, what! good cheer! Why, how now, Charmian!   
My noble girls! Ah, women, women, look!   
Our lamp is spent, it’s out. Good sirs, take heart;—   
We’ll bury him; and then, what’s brave, what’s noble,    104
Let’s do it after the high Roman fashion,   
And make death proud to take us. Come, away;   
This case of that huge spirit now is cold;   
Ah! women, women. Come; we have no friend    108
But resolution, and the briefest end.  [Exeunt; those above bearing off ANTONY’S body.   

Act V. Scene I.


Alexandria. CÆSAR’S Camp.
   
 
Enter CÆSAR, AGRIPPA, DOLABELLA, MECÆNAS, GALLUS, PROCULEIUS, and Others.
   
  Cæs.  Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield;   
Being so frustrate, tell him he mocks      4
The pauses that he makes.   
  Dol.        Cæsar, I shall.  [Exit.   
 
Enter DERCETAS, with the sword of ANTONY.
   
  Cæs.  Wherefore is that? and what art thou that dar’st      8
Appear thus to us?   
  Der.        I am call’d Dercetas;   
Mark Antony I serv’d, who best was worthy   
Best to be serv’d; whilst he stood up and spoke     12
He was my master, and I wore my life   
To spend upon his haters. If thou please   
To take me to thee, as I was to him   
I’ll be to Cæsar; if thou pleasest not,     16
I yield thee up my life.   
  Cœs/        What is ’t thou sayst?   
  Der.  I say, O Cæsar, Antony is dead.   
Cœs. The breaking of so great a thing should make     20
A greater crack; the round world   
Should have shook lions into civil streets,   
And citizens to their dens. The death of Antony   
Is not a single doom; in the name lay     24
A moiety of the world.   
  Der.        He is dead, Cæsar;   
Not by a public minister of justice,   
Nor by a hired knife; but that self hand,     28
Which writ his honour in the acts it did,   
Hath, with the courage which the heart did lend it,   
Splitted the heart. This is his sword;   
I robb’d his wound of it; behold it stain’d     32
With his most noble blood.   
  Cœs/        Look you sad, friends?   
The gods rebuke me, but it is tidings   
To wash the eyes of kings.     36
  Agr.        And strange it is,   
That nature must compel us to lament   
Our most persisted deeds.   
  Mec.        His taints and honours     40
Wag’d equal with him.   
  Agr.        A rarer spirit never   
Did steer humanity; but you, gods, will give us   
Some faults to make us men. Cæsar is touch’d.     44
  Mec.  When such a spacious mirror’s set before him,   
He needs must see himself.   
  Cœs/        O Antony!   
I have follow’d thee to this; but we do lance     48
Diseases in our bodies: I must perforce   
Have shown to thee such a declining day,   
Or look on thine; we could not stall together   
In the whole world. But yet let me lament,     52
With tears as sovereign as the blood of hearts,   
That thou, my brother, my competitor   
In top of all design, my mate in empire,   
Friend and companion in the front of war,     56
The arm of mine own body, and the heart   
Where mine his thoughts did kindle, that our stars,   
Unreconciliable, should divide   
Our equalness to this. Hear me, good friends,—     60
 
Enter an Egyptian.
   
But I will tell you at some meeter season:   
The business of this man looks out of him;   
We’ll hear him what he says. Whence are you?     64
  Egyp.  A poor Egyptian yet. The queen my mistress,   
Confin’d in all she has, her monument,   
Of thy intents desires instruction,   
That she preparedly may frame herself     68
To the way she’s forc’d to.   
  Cœs/        Bid her have good heart;   
She soon shall know of us, by some of ours,   
How honourable and how kindly we     72
Determine for her; for Cæsar cannot live   
To be ungentle.   
  Egyp.        So the gods preserve thee!  [Exit.   
Cœs. Come hither, Proculeius. Go and say,     76
We purpose her no shame; give her what comforts   
The quality of her passion shall require,   
Lest, in her greatness, by some mortal stroke   
She do defeat us; for her life in Rome     80
Would be eternal in our triumph. Go,   
And with your speediest bring us what she says,   
And how you find of her.   
  Pro.        Cæsar, I shall.  [Exit.     84
  Cæs.  Gallus, go you along.  [Exit GALLUS.   
Where’s Dolabella,   
To second Proculeius?   
  Agr. & Mec.        Dolabella!     88
  Cæs.  Let him alone, for I remember now   
How he’s employ’d; he shall in time be ready.   
Go with me to my tent; where you shall see   
How hardly I was drawn into this war;     92
How calm and gentle I proceeded still   
In all my writings. Go with me, and see   
What I can show in this.  [Exeunt.

Act V. Scene II.


The Same. The Monument.
   
 
Enter aloft, CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, and IRAS.
   
  Cleo.  My desolation does begin to make   
A better life. ’Tis paltry to be Cæsar;      4
Not being Fortune, he’s but Fortune’s knave,   
A minister of her will; and it is great   
To do that thing that ends all other deeds,   
Which shackles accidents, and bolts up change,      8
Which sleeps, and never palates more the dug,   
The beggar’s nurse and Cæsar’s.   
 
Enter, below, PROCULEIUS, GALLUS, and Soldiers.
   
  Pro.  Cæsar sends greeting to the Queen of Egypt;     12
And bids thee study on what fair demands   
Thou mean’st to have him grant thee.   
  Cleo.        What’s thy name?   
  Pro.  My name is Proculeius.     16
  Cleo.        Antony   
Did tell me of you, bade me trust you; but   
I do not greatly care to be deceiv’d,   
That have no use for trusting. If your master     20
Would have a queen his beggar, you must tell him,   
That majesty, to keep decorum, must   
No less beg than a kingdom: if he please   
To give me conquer’d Egypt for my son,     24
He gives me so much of mine own as I   
Will kneel to him with thanks.   
  Pro.        Be of good cheer;   
You’re fall’n into a princely hand, fear nothing.     28
Make your full reference freely to my lord,   
Who is so full of grace, that it flows over   
On all that need; let me report to him   
Your sweet dependancy, and you shall find     32
A conqueror that will pray in aid for kindness   
Where he for grace is kneel’d to.   
  Cleo.        Pray you, tell him   
I am his fortune’s vassal, and I send him     36
The greatness he has got. I hourly learn   
A doctrine of obedience, and would gladly   
Look him i’ the face.   
  Pro.        This I’ll report, dear lady:     40
Have comfort, for I know your plight is pitied   
Of him that caus’d it.   
  Gal.  You see how easily she may be surpris’d.  [PROCULEIUS and two of the Guard ascend the monument by a ladder, and come behind CLEOPATRA. Some of the Guard unbar and open the gates, discovering the lower room of the monument.   
[To PROCULEIUS and the Guard.] Guard her till Cæsar come.  [Exit.     44
  Iras.  Royal queen!   
  Char.  O Cleopatra! thou art taken, queen.   
  Cleo.  Quick, quick, good hands.  [Drawing a dagger.   
  Pro.        Hold, worthy lady, hold!  [Seizes and disarms her.     48
Do not yourself such wrong, who are in this   
Reliev’d, but not betray’d.   
  Cleo.        What, of death too,   
That rids our dogs of languish?     52
  Pro.        Cleopatra,   
Do not abuse my master’s bounty by   
The undoing of yourself; let the world see   
His nobleness well acted, which your death     56
Will never let come forth.   
  Cleo.        Where art thou, death?   
Come hither, come! come, come, and take a queen   
Worth many babes and beggars!     60
  Pro.        O! temperance, lady.   
  Cleo.  Sir, I will eat no meat, I’ll not drink, sir;   
If idle talk will once be necessary,   
I’ll not sleep neither. This mortal house I’ll ruin,     64
Do Cæsar what he can. Know, sir, that I   
Will not wait pinion’d at your master’s court,   
Nor once be chastis’d with the sober eye   
Of dull Octavia. Shall they hoist me up     68
And show me to the shouting varletry   
Of censuring Rome? Rather a ditch in Egypt   
Be gentle grave unto me! rather on Nilus’ mud   
Lay me stark nak’d, and let the water-flies     72
Blow me into abhorring! rather make   
My country’s high pyramides my gibbet,   
And hang me up in chains!   
  Pro.        You do extend     76
These thoughts of horror further than you shall   
Find cause in Cæsar.   
 
Enter DOLABELLA.
   
  Dol.        Proculeius,     80
What thou hast done thy master Cæsar knows,   
And he hath sent for thee; as for the queen,   
I’ll take her to my guard.   
  Pro.        So, Dolabella,     84
It shall content me best; be gentle to her.   
[To CLEOPATRA.] To Cæsar I will speak what you shall please,   
If you’ll employ me to him.   
  Cleo.        Say, I would die.  [Exeunt PROCULEIUS and Soldiers.     88
  Dol.  Most noble empress, you have heard of me?   
  Cleo.  I cannot tell.   
  Dol.        Assuredly you know me.   
  Cleo.  No matter, sir, what I have heard or known.     92
You laugh when boys or women tell their dreams;   
Is ’t not your trick?   
  Dol.        I understand not, madam.   
  Cleo.  I dream’d there was an Emperor Antony:     96
O! such another sleep, that I might see   
But such another man.   
  Dol.        If it might please ye,—   
  Cleo.  His face was as the heavens, and therein stuck    100
A sun and moon, which kept their course, and lighted   
The little O, the earth.   
  Dol.        Most sovereign creature,—   
  Cleo.  His legs bestrid the ocean; his rear’d arm    104
Crested the world; his voice was propertied   
As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends;   
But when he meant to quail and shake the orb,   
He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty,    108
There was no winter in ’t, an autumn ’twas   
That grew the more by reaping; his delights   
Were dolphin-like, they show’d his back above   
The element they liv’d in; in his livery    112
Walk’d crowns and crownets, realms and islands were   
As plates dropp’d from his pocket.   
  Dol.        Cleopatra,—   
  Cleo.  Think you there was, or might be, such a man    116
As this I dream’d of?   
  Dol.        Gentle madam, no.   
  Cleo.  You lie, up to the hearing of the gods.   
But, if there be, or ever were, one such,    120
It’s past the size of dreaming; nature wants stuff   
To vie strange forms with fancy; yet to imagine   
An Antony were nature’s piece ’gainst fancy,   
Condemning shadows quite.    124
  Dol.        Hear me, good madam.   
Your loss is as yourself, great; and you bear it   
As answering to the weight: would I might never   
O’ertake pursu’d success, but I do feel,    128
By the rebound of yours, a grief that smites   
My very heart at root.   
  Cleo.        I thank you, sir.   
Know you what Cæsar means to do with me?    132
  Dol.  I am loath to tell you what I would you knew.   
  Cleo.  Nay, pray you, sir,—   
  Dol.        Though he be honourable,—   
  Cleo.  He’ll lead me then in triumph?    136
  Dol.  Madam, he will; I know ’t.  [Within, ‘Make way there!—Cæsar!’   
 
Enter CÆSAR, GALLUS, PROCULEIUS, MECÆNAS, SELEUCUS, and Attendants.
   
  Cæs.  Which is the Queen of Egypt?   
  Dol.  It is the emperor, madam.  [CLEOPATRA kneels.    140
Cœs. Arise, you shall not kneel.   
I pray you, rise; rise, Egypt.   
  Cleo.        Sir, the gods   
Will have it thus; my master and my lord    144
I must obey.   
  Cœs/        Take to you no hard thoughts;   
The record of what injuries you did us,   
Though written in our flesh, we shall remember    148
As things but done by chance.   
  Cleo.        Sole sir o’ the world,   
I cannot project mine own cause so well   
To make it clear; but do confess I have    152
Been laden with like frailties which before   
Have often sham’d our sex.   
  Cœs/        Cleopatra, know,   
We will extenuate rather than enforce:    156
If you apply yourself to our intents,—   
Which towards you are most gentle,—you shall find   
A benefit in this change; but if you seek   
To lay on me a cruelty, by taking    160
Antony’s course, you shall bereave yourself   
Of my good purposes, and put your children   
To that destruction which I’ll guard them from,   
If thereon you rely. I’ll take my leave.    164
  Cleo.  And may through all the world: ’tis yours; and we,   
Your scutcheons, and your signs of conquest, shall   
Hang in what place you please. Here, my good lord.   
Cœs. You shall advise me in all for Cleopatra.    168
  Cleo.  [Giving a Scroll.] This is the brief of money, plate, and jewels,   
I am possess’d of: ’tis exactly valued;   
Not petty things admitted. Where’s Seleucus?   
  Sel.  Here, madam.    172
  Cleo.  This is my treasurer; let him speak, my lord,   
Upon his peril, that I have reserv’d   
To myself nothing. Speak the truth, Seleucus.   
  Sel.  Madam,    176
I had rather seal my lips, than, to my peril,   
Speak that which is not.   
  Cleo.        What have I kept back?   
  Sel.  Enough to purchase what you have made known.    180
Cœs. Nay, blush not, Cleopatra; I approve   
Your wisdom in the deed.   
  Cleo.        See! Cæsar! O, behold,   
How pomp is follow’d; mine will now be yours;    184
And, should we shift estates, yours would be mine.   
The ingratitude of this Seleucus does   
Even make me wild. O slave! of no more trust   
Than love that’s hir’d. What! goest thou back? thou shalt    188
Go back, I warrant thee; but I’ll catch thine eyes,   
Though they had wings: slave, soulless villain, dog!   
O rarely base!   
  Cœs/        Good queen, let us entreat you.    192
  Cleo.  O Cæsar! what a wounding shame is this,   
That thou, vouchsafing here to visit me,   
Doing the honour of thy lordliness   
To one so meek, that mine own servant should    196
Parcel the sum of my disgraces by   
Addition of his envy. Say, good Cæsar,   
That I some lady trifles have reserv’d,   
Immoment toys, things of such dignity    200
As we greet modern friends withal; and say,   
Some nobler token I have kept apart   
For Livia and Octavia, to induce   
Their mediation; must I be unfolded    204
With one that I have bred? The gods! it smites me   
Beneath the fall I have. [To SELEUCUS.] Prithee, go hence;   
Or I shall show the cinders of my spirits   
Through the ashes of my chance. Wert thou a man,    208
Thou wouldst have mercy on me.   
  Cœs/        Forbear, Seleucus.  [Exit SELEUCUS.   
  Cleo.  Be it known that we, the greatest, are misthought   
For things that others do; and, when we fall,    212
We answer others’ merits in our name,   
Are therefore to be pitied.   
  Cœs/        Cleopatra,   
Not what you have reserv’d, nor what acknowledg’d,    216
Put we i’ the roll of conquest: still be ’t yours,   
Bestow it at your pleasure; and believe,   
Cæsar’s no merchant, to make prize with you   
Of things that merchants sold. Therefore be cheer’d;    220
Make not your thoughts your prisons: no, dear queen;   
For we intend so to dispose you as   
Yourself shall give us counsel. Feed, and sleep:   
Our care and pity is so much upon you,    224
That we remain your friend; and so, adieu.   
  Cleo.  My master, and my lord!   
  Cœs/        Not so. Adieu.  [Flourish. Exeunt CÆSAR and his Train.   
  Cleo.  He words me, girls, he words me, that I should not    228
Be noble to myself: but, hark thee, Charmian.  [Whispers CHARMIAN.   
  Iras.  Finish, good lady; the bright day is done,   
And we are for the dark.   
  Cleo.        Hie thee again:    232
I have spoke already, and it is provided;   
Go, put it to the haste.   
  Char.        Madam, I will.   
 
Re-Enter DOLABELLA.
    236
  Dol.  Where is the queen?   
  Char.        Behold, sir.  [Exit.   
  Cleo.        Dolabella!   
  Dol.  Madam, as thereto sworn by your command,    240
Which my love makes religion to obey,   
I tell you this: Cæsar through Syria   
Intends his journey; and within three days   
You with your children will he send before.    244
Make your best use of this; I have perform’d   
Your pleasure and my promise.   
  Cleo.        Dolabella,   
I shall remain your debtor.    248
  Dol.        I your servant.   
Adieu, good queen; I must attend on Cæsar.   
  Cleo.  Farewell, and thanks.  [Exit DOLABELLA.   
Now, Iras, what think’st thou?    252
Thou, an Egyptian puppet, shall be shown   
In Rome, as well as I; mechanic slaves   
With greasy aprons, rules and hammers, shall   
Uplift us to the view; in their thick breaths,    256
Rank of gross diet, shall we be enclouded,   
And forc’d to drink their vapour.   
  Iras.        The gods forbid!   
  Cleo.  Nay, ’tis most certain, Iras. Saucy lictors    260
Will catch at us, like strumpets, and scald rimers   
Ballad us out o’ tune; the quick comedians   
Extemporally will stage us, and present   
Our Alexandrian revels. Antony    264
Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see   
Some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness   
I’ the posture of a whore.   
  Iras.        O, the good gods!    268
  Cleo.  Nay, that’s certain.   
  Iras.  I’ll never see it; for, I am sure my nails   
Are stronger than mine eyes.   
  Cleo.        Why, that’s the way    272
To fool their preparation, and to conquer   
Their most absurd intents.   
 
Re-Enter CHARMIAN.
   
Now, Charmian,    276
Show me, my women, like a queen; go fetch   
My best attires; I am again for Cydnus,   
To meet Mark Antony. Sirrah Iras, go.   
Now, noble Charmian, we’ll dispatch indeed;    280
And, when thou hast done this chare, I’ll give thee leave   
To play till doomsday. Bring our crown and all.  [Exit IRAS. A noise heard.   
Wherefore’s this noise?   
 
Enter one of the Guard.
    284
  Guard.        Here is a rural fellow   
That will not be denied your highness’ presence:   
He brings you figs.   
  Cleo.  Let him come in. [Exit Guard.] What poor an instrument    288
May do a noble deed! he brings me liberty.   
My resolution’s plac’d, and I have nothing   
Of woman in me; now from head to foot   
I am marble-constant, now the fleeting moon    292
No planet is of mine.   
 
Re-Enter Guard, with a Clown bringing in a basket.
   
  Guard.        This is the man.   
  Cleo.  Avoid, and leave him.  [Exit Guard.    296
Hast thou the pretty worm of Nilus there,   
That kills and pains not?   
  Clo.  Truly, I have him; but I would not be the party that should desire you to touch him, for his biting is immortal; those that do die of it do seldom or never recover.   
  Cleo.  Remember’st thou any that have died on ’t?    300
  Clo.  Very many, men and women too. I heard of one of them no longer than yesterday; a very honest woman, but something given to lie, as a woman should not do but in the way of honesty, how she died of the biting of it, what pain she felt. Truly, she makes a very good report o’ the worm; but he that will believe all that they say shall never be saved by half that they do. But this is most fallible, the worm’s an odd worm.   
  Cleo.  Get thee hence; farewell.   
  Clo.  I wish you all joy of the worm.  [Sets down the basket.   
  Cleo.  Farewell.    304
  Clo.  You must think this, look you, that the worm will do his kind.   
  Cleo.  Ay, ay; farewell.   
  Clo.  Look you, the worm is not to be trusted but in the keeping of wise people; for indeed there is no goodness in the worm.   
  Cleo.  Take thou no care; it shall be heeded.    308
  Clo.  Very good. Give it nothing, I pray you, for it is not worth the feeding.   
  Cleo.  Will it eat me?   
  Clo.  You must not think I am so simple but I know the devil himself will not eat a woman; I know that a woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil dress her not. But, truly, these same whoreson devils do the gods great harm in their women, for in every ten that they make, the devils mar five.   
  Cleo.  Well, get thee gone; farewell.    312
  Clo.  Yes, forsooth; I wish you joy of the worm.  [Exit.   
 
Re-Enter IRAS, with a robe, crown, &c.
   
  Cleo.  Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have   
Immortal longings in me; now no more    316
The juice of Egypt’s grape shall moist this lip.   
Yare, yare, good Iras; quick. Methinks I hear   
Antony call; I see him rouse himself   
To praise my noble act; I hear him mock    320
The luck of Cæsar, which the gods give men   
To excuse their after wrath: husband, I come:   
Now to that name my courage prove my title!   
I am fire, and air; my other elements    324
I give to baser life. So; have you done?   
Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips.   
Farewell, kind Charmian; Iras, long farewell.  [Kisses them. IRAS falls and dies.   
Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall?    328
If thou and nature can so gently part,   
The stroke of death is as a lover’s pinch,   
Which hurts, and is desir’d. Dost thou lie still?   
If thus thou vanishest, thou tell’st the world    332
It is not worth leave-taking.   
  Char.  Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain; that I may say,   
The gods themselves do weep.   
  Cleo.        This proves me base:    336
If she first meet the curled Antony,   
He’ll make demand of her, and spend that kiss   
Which is my heaven to have. Come, thou mortal wretch,  [To the asp, which she applies to her breast.   
With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate    340
Of life at once untie; poor venomous fool,   
Be angry, and dispatch. O! couldst thou speak,   
That I might hear thee call great Cæsar ass   
Unpolicied.    344
  Char.        O eastern star!   
  Cleo.        Peace, peace!   
Dost thou not see my baby at my breast,   
That sucks the nurse asleep?    348
  Char.        O, break! O, break!   
  Cleo.  As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle,—   
O Antony!—Nay, I will take thee too.  [Applying another asp to her arm.   
What should I stay—  [Dies.    352
  Char.  In this vile world? So, fare thee well.   
Now boast thee, death, in thy possession lies   
A lass unparallel’d. Downy windows, close;   
And golden Phœbus never be beheld    356
Of eyes again so royal! Your crown’s awry;   
I’ll mend it, and then play.   
 
Enter the Guard, rushing in.
   
  First Guard.  Where is the queen?    360
  Char.        Speak softly, wake her not.   
  First Guard.  Cæsar hath sent—   
  Char.        Too slow a messenger.  [Applies an asp.   
O! come apace, dispatch; I partly feel thee.    364
  First Guard.  Approach, ho! All’s not well; Cæsar’s beguil’d.   
  Sec. Guard.  There’s Dolabella sent from Cæsar; call him.   
  First Guard.  What work is here! Charmian, is this well done?   
  Char.  It is well done, and fitting for a princess    368
Descended of so many royal kings.   
Ah! soldier.  [Dies.   
 
Re-Enter DOLABELLA.
   
  Dol.  How goes it here?    372
  Sec. Guard.        All dead.   
  Dol.        Cæsar, thy thoughts   
Touch their effects in this; thyself art coming   
To see perform’d the dreaded act which thou    376
So sought’st to hinder.  [Within, ‘A way there!—a way for Cæsar!’   
 
Re-Enter DOLABELLA.
   
  Dol.  How goes it here?   
  Sec. Guard.        All dead.    380
  Dol.        Cæsar, thy thoughts   
Touch their effects in this; thyself art coming   
To see perform’d the dreaded act which thou   
So sought’st to hinder.  [Within, ‘A way there!—a way for Cæsar!’    384
 
Re-Enter CÆSAR and all his Train.
   
  Dol.  O! sir, you are too sure an augurer;   
That you did fear is done.   
  Cœs        Bravest at the last,    388
She levell’d at our purposes, and, being royal,   
Took her own way. The manner of their deaths?   
I do not see them bleed.   
  Dol.        Who was last with them?    392
  First Guard.  A simple countryman that brought her figs:   
This was his basket.   
  Cœs/        Poison’d then.   
  First Guard.        O Cæsar!    396
This Charmian liv’d but now; she stood, and spake:   
I found her trimming up the diadem   
On her dead mistress; tremblingly she stood,   
And on the sudden dropp’d.    400
  Cœs/        O noble weakness!   
If they had swallow’d poison ’twould appear   
By external swelling; but she looks like sleep,   
As she would catch another Antony    404
In her strong toil of grace.   
  Dol.        Here, on her breast,   
There is a vent of blood, and something blown;   
The like is on her arm.    408
  First Guard.  This is an aspic’s trail; and these fig-leaves   
Have slime upon them, such as the aspic leaves   
Upon the caves of Nile.   
  Cœs        Most probable    412
That so she died; for her physician tells me   
She hath pursu’d conclusions infinite   
Of easy ways to die. Take up her bed;   
And bear her women from the monument.    416
She shall be buried by her Antony:   
No grave upon the earth shall clip in it   
A pair so famous. High events as these   
Strike those that make them; and their story is    420
No less in pity than his glory which   
Brought them to be lamented. Our army shall,   
In solemn show, attend this funeral,   
And then to Rome. Come, Dolabella, see    424
High order in this great solemnity.  [Exeunt.   

Act I. Scene I.


Britain. The Garden of CYMBELINE’S Palace.
   
 
Enter two Gentlemen.
   
  First Gent.  You do not meet a man but frowns; our bloods   
No more obey the heavens than our courtiers      4
Still seem as does the king.   
  Sec. Gent.        But what’s the matter?   
  First Gent.  His daughter, and the heir of ’s kingdom, whom   
He purpos’d to his wife’s sole son,—a widow      8
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     12
Be touch’d at very heart.   
  Sec. Gent.        None but the king?   
  First Gent.  He that hath lost her too; so is the queen,   
That most desir’d the match; but not a courtier,     16
Although they wear their faces to the bent   
Of the king’s looks, hath a heart that is not   
Glad at the thing they scowl at.   
  Sec. Gent.        And why so?     20
  First Gent.  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     24
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     28
Endows a man but he.   
  Sec. Gent.        You speak him far.   
  First Gent.  I do extend him, sir, within himself,   
Crush him together rather than unfold     32
His measure duly.   
  Sec. Gent.        What’s his name and birth?   
  First Gent.  I cannot delve him to the root: his father   
Was called Sicilius, who did join his honour     36
Against the Romans with Cassibelan,   
But had his titles by Tenantius whom   
He serv’d with glory and admir’d success,   
So gain’d the sur-addition Leonatus;     40
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     44
That he quit being, and his gentle lady,   
Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceas’d   
As he was born. The king, he takes the babe   
To his protection; calls him Posthumus Leonatus;     48
Breeds him and makes him of his bedchamber,   
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,     52
And in’s spring became a harvest; liv’d in court,—   
Which rare it is to do—most prais’d, most lov’d;   
A sample to the youngest, to the more mature   
A glass that feated them, and to the graver     56
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     60
What kind of man he is.   
  Sec. Gent.        I honour him,   
Even out of your report. But pray you, tell me,   
Is she sole child to the king?     64
  First Gent.        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     68
Were stol’n; and to this hour no guess in knowledge   
Which way they went.   
  Sec. Gent.        How long is this ago?   
  First Gent.  Some twenty years.     72
  Sec. Gent.  That a king’s children should be so convey’d,   
So slackly guarded, and the search so slow,   
That could not trace them!   
  First Gent.        Howsoe’er ’tis strange,     76
Or that the negligence may well be laugh’d at,   
Yet is it true, sir.   
  Sec. Gent.        I do well believe you.   
  First Gent.  We must forbear. Here comes the gentleman,     80
The queen, and princess.  [Exeunt.   
 
Enter the QUEEN, POSTHUMUS, and IMOGEN.
   
  Queen.  No, be assur’d you shall not find me, daughter,   
After the slander of most step-mothers,     84
Evil-ey’d 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,     88
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.     92
  Post.        Please your highness,   
I will from hence to-day.   
  Queen.        You know the peril:   
I’ll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying     96
The pangs of barr’d affections, though the king   
Hath charg’d you should not speak together.  [Exit.   
  Imo.        O!   
Dissembling courtesy. How fine this tyrant    100
Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband,   
I something fear my father’s wrath; but nothing,—   
Always reserv’d my holy duty,—what   
His rage can do on me. You must be gone;    104
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.    108
  Post.        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    112
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,    116
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;    120
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,    124
Pays dear for my offences.  [Exit.   
  Post.        Should we be taking leave   
As long a term as yet we have to live,   
The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu!    128
  Imo.  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;    132
But keep it till you woo another wife,   
When Imogen is dead.   
  Post.        How! how! another?   
You gentle gods, give me but this I have,    136
And sear up my embracements from a next   
With bonds of death!—Remain, remain thou here  [Putting on the ring.   
While sense can keep it on! And, sweetest, fairest,   
As I my poor self did exchange for you,    140
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 on her arm.    144
  Imo.        O the gods!   
When shall we see again?   
 
Enter CYMBELINE and Lords.
   
  Post.        Alack! the king!    148
  Cym.  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.    152
  Post.        The gods protect you   
And bless the good remainders of the court!   
I am gone.  [Exit.   
  Imo.  There cannot be a pinch in death    156
More sharp than this is.   
  Cym.        O disloyal thing,   
That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap’st instead   
A year’s age on me.    160
  Imo.        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.    164
  Cym.        Past grace? obedience?   
  Imo.  Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace.   
  Cym.  That mightst have had the sole son of my queen!   
  Imo.  O bless’d, that I might not! I chose an eagle    168
And did avoid a puttock.   
  Cym.  Thou took’st a beggar; wouldst have made my throne   
A seat for baseness.   
  Imo.        No; I rather added    172
A lustre to it.   
  Cym.        O thou vile one!   
  Imo.        Sir,   
It is your fault that I have lov’d Posthumus;    176
You bred him as my playfellow, and he is   
A man worth any woman, overbuys me   
Almost the sum he pays.   
  Cym.        What! art thou mad?    180
  Imo.  Almost, sir; heaven restore me! Would I were   
A neat-herd’s daughter, and my Leonatus   
Our neighbour shepherd’s son!   
  Cym.        Thou foolish thing!    184
 
Re-Enter QUEEN.
   
They were again together; you have done   
Not after our command. Away with her,   
And pen her up.    188
  Queen.        Beseech your patience. Peace!   
Dear lady daughter, peace! Sweet sovereign,   
Leave us to ourselves, and make yourself some comfort   
Out of your best advice.    192
  Cym.        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:    196
 
Enter PISANIO.
   
Here is your servant. How now, sir! What news?   
  Pis.  My lord your son drew on my master.   
  Queen.        Ha!    200
No harm, I trust, is done?   
  Pis.        There might have been,   
But that my master rather play’d than fought,   
And had no help of anger; they were parted    204
By gentlemen at hand.   
  Queen.        I am very glad on ’t.   
  Imo.  Your son’s my father’s friend; he takes his part.   
To draw upon an exile! O brave sir!    208
I would they were in Afric both together,   
Myself by with a needle, that I might prick   
The goer-back. Why came you from your master?   
  Pis.  On his command: he would not suffer me    212
To bring him to the haven; left these notes   
Of what commands I should be subject to,   
When ’t pleas’d you to employ me.   
  Queen.        This hath been    216
Your faithful servant; I dare lay mine honour   
He will remain so.   
  Pis.        I humbly thank your highness.   
  Queen.  Pray, walk a while.    220
  Imo.  [To PISANIO.] About some half-hour hence,   
I pray you, speak with me. You shall at least   
Go see my lord aboard; for this time leave me.  [Exeunt.