CYMBELINE and IMOGEN converse apart BELARIUS Is not this boy revived from death? ARVIRAGUS One sand another Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad Who died, and was Fidele. What think you? GUIDERIUS The same dead thing alive. BELARIUS Peace, peace! see further; he eyes us not; forbear;Creatures may be alike: were 't he, I am sure He would have spoke to us. GUIDERIUS But we saw him dead. BELARIUS Be silent; let's see further. PISANIO [Aside] It is my mistress:
Since she is living, let the time run on To good or bad.
CYMBELINE and IMOGEN come forward CYMBELINE Come, stand thou by our side;Make thy demand aloud.
To IACHIMO
Sir, step you forth;
Give answer to this boy, and do it freely;
Or, by our greatness and the grace of it, Which is our honour, bitter torture shall Winnow the truth from falsehood. On, speak to him. IMOGEN My boon is, that this gentleman may render Of whom he had this ring. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS [Aside] What's that to him? CYMBELINE That diamond upon your finger, say How came it yours? IACHIMO Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that Which, to be spoke, would torture thee. CYMBELINE How! me? IACHIMO I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that Which torments me to conceal. By villany I got this ring: 'twas Leonatus' jewel;Whom thou didst banish; and--which more may grieve thee, As it doth me--a nobler sir ne'er lived 'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord? CYMBELINE All that belongs to this. IACHIMO That paragon, thy daughter,--For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits Quail to remember--Give me leave; I faint. CYMBELINE My daughter! what of her? Renew thy strength:
I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will Than die ere I hear more: strive, man, and speak. IACHIMO Upon a time,--unhappy was the clock That struck the hour!--it was in Rome,--accursed The mansion where!--'twas at a feast,--O, would Our viands had been poison'd, or at least Those which I heaved to head!--the good Posthumus--What should I say? he was too good to be Where ill men were; and was the best of all Amongst the rarest of good ones,--sitting sadly, Hearing us praise our loves of Italy For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast Of him that best could speak, for feature, laming The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva.
Postures beyond brief nature, for condition, A shop of all the qualities that man Loves woman for, besides that hook of wiving, Fairness which strikes the eye-- CYMBELINE I stand on fire:
Come to the matter. IACHIMO All too soon I shall, Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This Posthumus, Most like a noble lord in love and one That had a royal lover, took his hint;And, not dispraising whom we praised,--therein He was as calm as virtue--he began His mistress' picture; which by his tongue being made, And then a mind put in't, either our brags Were crack'd of kitchen-trolls, or his description Proved us unspeaking sots. CYMBELINE Nay, nay, to the purpose. IACHIMO Your daughter's chastity--there it begins.
He spake of her, as Dian had hot dreams, And she alone were cold: whereat I, wretch, Made scruple of his praise; and wager'd with him Pieces of gold 'gainst this which then he wore Upon his honour'd finger, to attain In suit the place of's bed and win this ring By hers and mine adultery. He, true knight, No lesser of her honour confident Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring;And would so, had it been a carbuncle Of Phoebus' wheel, and might so safely, had it Been all the worth of's car. Away to Britain Post I in this design: well may you, sir, Remember me at court; where I was taught Of your chaste daughter the wide difference 'Twixt amorous and villanous. Being thus quench'd Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain 'Gan in your duller Britain operate Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent:
And, to be brief, my practise so prevail'd, That I return'd with simular proof enough To make the noble Leonatus mad, By wounding his belief in her renown With tokens thus, and thus; averting notes Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet,--O cunning, how I got it!--nay, some marks Of secret on her person, that he could not But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd, I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon--Methinks, I see him now-- POSTHUMUS LEONATUS [Advancing] Ay, so thou dost, Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool, Egregious murderer, thief, any thing That's due to all the villains past, in being, To come! O, give me cord, or knife, or poison, Some upright justicer! Thou, king, send out For torturers ingenious: it is IThat all the abhorred things o' the earth amend By being worse than they. I am Posthumus, That kill'd thy daughter:--villain-like, I lie--That caused a lesser villain than myself, A sacrilegious thief, to do't: the temple Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself.
Spit, and throw stone s, cast mire upon me, set The dogs o' the street to bay me: every villain Be call'd Posthumus Leonitus; and Be villany less than 'twas! O Imogen!
My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen, Imogen, Imogen! IMOGEN Peace, my lord; hear, hear-- POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful page, There lie thy part.
Striking her: she falls PISANIO O, gentlemen, help!
Mine and your mistress! O, my lord Posthumus!
You ne'er kill'd Imogen til now. Help, help!
Mine honour'd lady! CYMBELINE Does the world go round? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS How come these staggers on me? PISANIO Wake, my mistress! CYMBELINE If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me To death with mortal joy. PISANIO How fares thy mistress? IMOGEN O, get thee from my sight;Thou gavest me poison: dangerous fellow, hence!
Breathe not where princes are. CYMBELINE The tune of Imogen! PISANIO Lady, The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if That box I gave you was not thought by me A precious thing: I had it from the queen. CYMBELINE New matter still? IMOGEN It poison'd me. CORNELIUS O gods!
I left out one thing which the queen confess'd.