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twg_000000016100 | given up For certain drops of salt your city Rome I say your cityto his wife and mother, Breaking his oath and resolution like A twist of rotten silk, never admitting Counsel o th war, but at his nurses tears He whined and roared away your victory, That pages blushed at him and men of heart Looked wondring each at | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016101 | other. CORIOLANUS. Hearst thou, Mars? AUFIDIUS. Name not the god, thou boy of tears. CORIOLANUS. Ha? AUFIDIUS. No more. CORIOLANUS. Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart Too great for what contains it. Boy? O slave! Pardon me, lords, tis the first time that ever I was forced to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords, Must give this cur the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016102 | lie; and his own notion Who wears my stripes impressed upon him, that Must bear my beating to his graveshall join To thrust the lie unto him. FIRST LORD. Peace, both, and hear me speak. CORIOLANUS. Cut me to pieces, Volsces. Men and lads, Stain all your edges on me. Boy? False hound! If you have writ your annals true, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016103 | tis there, That like an eagle in a dovecote, I Fluttered your Volscians in Corioles, Alone I did it. Boy! AUFIDIUS. Why, noble lords, Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, Fore your own eyes and ears? ALL CONSPIRATORS. Let him die fort. ALL PEOPLE Tear him to pieces! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016104 | Do it presently! He killed my son! My daughter! He killed my cousin Marcus! He killed my father! SECOND LORD. Peace, ho! No outrage! Peace! The man is noble, and his fame folds in This orb o th Earth. His last offences to us Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius, And trouble not the peace. CORIOLANUS. O that I had | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016105 | him, With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe, To use my lawful sword. AUFIDIUS. Insolent villain! ALL CONSPIRATORS. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him! [_Draw the Conspirators, and kills Martius, who falls. Aufidius stands on him._] LORDS. Hold, hold, hold, hold! AUFIDIUS. My noble masters, hear me speak. FIRST LORD. O Tullus! SECOND LORD. Thou hast done a deed whereat | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016106 | valour will weep. THIRD LORD. Tread not upon him.Masters, all be quiet. Put up your swords. AUFIDIUS. My lords, when you shall knowas in this rage, Provoked by him, you cannotthe great danger Which this mans life did owe you, youll rejoice That he is thus cut off. Please it your Honours To call me to your senate, Ill deliver | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016107 | Myself your loyal servant, or endure Your heaviest censure. FIRST LORD. Bear from hence his body, And mourn you for him. Let him be regarded As the most noble corse that ever herald Did follow to his urn. SECOND LORD. His own impatience Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame. Lets make the best of it. AUFIDIUS. My rage | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016108 | is gone, And I am struck with sorrow.Take him up. Help, three o th chiefest soldiers; Ill be one. Beat thou the drum that it speak mournfully. Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he Hath widowed and unchilded many a one, Which to this hour bewail the injury, Yet he shall have a noble memory. Assist. [_Exeunt, bearing | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016109 | the body of Martius. A dead march sounded._] CYMBELINE Contents ACT I Scene I. Britain. The garden of Cymbelines palace. Scene II. The same. Scene III. Britain. A public place. Scene IV. Britain. Cymbelines palace. Scene V. Rome. Philarios house. Scene VI. Britain. Cymbelines palace. Scene VII. Britain. The palace. ACT II Scene I. Britain. Before Cymbelines palace. Scene II. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016110 | Britain. Imogens bedchamber in Cymbelines palace; a trunk in one corner. Scene III. Cymbelines palace. An ante-chamber adjoining Imogens apartments. Scene IV. Rome. Philarios house. Scene V. Rome. Another room in Philarios house. ACT III Scene I. Britain. A hall in Cymbelines palace. Scene II. Britain. Another room in Cymbelines palace. Scene III. Wales. A mountainous country with a cave. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016111 | Scene IV. Wales, near Milford Haven. Scene V. Britain. Cymbelines palace. Scene VI. Wales. Before the cave of Belarius. Scene VII. The same. Scene VIII. Rome. A public place. ACT IV Scene I. Wales. Near the cave of Belarius. Scene II. Wales. Before the cave of Belarius. Scene III. Britain. Cymbelines palace. Scene IV. Wales. Before the cave of Belarius. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016112 | ACT V Scene I. Britain. The Roman camp. Scene II. Britain. A field of battle between the British and Roman camps. Scene III. Another part of the field. Scene IV. Britain. A prison. Scene V. Britain. Cymbelines tent. Dramatis Person CYMBELINE, King of Britain CLOTEN, son to the Queen by a former husband POSTHUMUS LEONATUS, a gentleman, husband to Imogen | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016113 | BELARIUS, a banished lord, disguised under the name of Morgan GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS, sons to Cymbeline, disguised under the names of POLYDORE and CADWAL, supposed sons to Belarius PHILARIO, Italian, friend to Posthumus IACHIMO, Italian, friend to Philario CAIUS LUCIUS, General of the Roman forces PISANIO, servant to Posthumus CORNELIUS, a physician A SOOTHSAYER A ROMAN CAPTAIN TWO BRITISH CAPTAINS | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016114 | A FRENCH GENTLEMAN, friend to Philario TWO LORDS of Cymbelines 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 APPARITIONS Lords, Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes, a Dutch Gentleman, a Spanish Gentleman, Musicians, Officers, Captains, Soldiers, Messengers, and Attendants SCENE: Britain; Italy. ACT I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016115 | SCENE I. Britain. The garden of Cymbelines 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 Kings. SECOND GENTLEMAN. But whats the matter? FIRST GENTLEMAN. His daughter, and the heir ofs kingdom, whom He purposd to his wifes sole sona | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016116 | widow That late he marriedhath referrd herself Unto a poor but worthy gentleman. Shes wedded; Her husband banishd; she imprisond. All Is outward sorrow, though I think the King Be touchd at very heart. SECOND GENTLEMAN. None but the King? FIRST GENTLEMAN. He that hath lost her too. So is the Queen, That most desird the match. But not a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016117 | courtier, Although they wear their faces to the bent Of the Kings looks, hath a heart that is not Glad at the thing they scowl at. SECOND GENTLEMAN. And why so? FIRST GENTLEMAN. He that hath missd the Princess is a thing Too bad for bad report; and he that hath her I mean that married her, alack, good man! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016118 | And therefore banishdis 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016119 | himself; Crush him together rather than unfold His measure duly. SECOND GENTLEMAN. Whats his name and birth? FIRST GENTLEMAN. I cannot delve him to the root; his father Was calld Sicilius, who did join his honour Against the Romans with Cassibelan, But had his titles by Tenantius, whom He servd with glory and admird success, So gaind the sur-addition Leonatus; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016120 | And had, besides this gentleman in question, Two other sons, who, in the wars o th 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, deceasd As he was born. The King he takes the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016121 | 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 ministred, And ins spring became a harvest, livd in court Which rare it is to domost praisd, most lovd, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016122 | A sample to the youngest; to th more mature A glass that feated them; and to the graver A child that guided dotards. To his mistress, For whom he now is banishd, her own price Proclaims how she esteemd him and his virtue; By her election may be truly read What kind of man he is. SECOND GENTLEMAN. I honour | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016123 | him Even out of your report. But pray you tell me, Is she sole child to th King? FIRST GENTLEMAN. His only child. He had two sonsif this be worth your hearing, Mark itthe eldest of them at three years old, I th swathing clothes the other, from their nursery Were stoln; and to this hour no guess in knowledge | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016124 | Which way they went. SECOND GENTLEMAN. How long is this ago? FIRST GENTLEMAN. Some twenty years. SECOND GENTLEMAN. That a kings children should be so conveyd, So slackly guarded, and the search so slow That could not trace them! FIRST GENTLEMAN. Howsoeer tis strange, Or that the negligence may well be laughd at, Yet is it true, sir. SECOND GENTLEMAN. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016125 | I do well believe you. FIRST GENTLEMAN. We must forbear; here comes the gentleman, The Queen, and Princess. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. The same. Enter Queen, Posthumus and Imogen. QUEEN. No, be assurd you shall not find me, daughter, After the slander of most stepmothers, Evil-eyd unto you. Youre my prisoner, but Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys That lock | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016126 | up your restraint. For you, Posthumus, So soon as I can win th offended King, I will be known your advocate. Marry, yet The fire of rage is in him, and twere good You leand unto his sentence with what patience Your wisdom may inform you. POSTHUMUS. Please your Highness, I will from hence today. QUEEN. You know the peril. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016127 | Ill fetch a turn about the garden, pitying The pangs of barrd affections, though the King Hath chargd 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 fathers wrath, but nothing (Always reservd my holy duty) what His rage can do on me. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016128 | 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. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016129 | remain The loyalst husband that did eer plight troth; My residence in Rome at one Philarios, Who to my father was a friend, to me Known but by letter; thither write, my queen, And with mine eyes Ill drink the words you send, Though ink be made of gall. Enter Queen. QUEEN. Be brief, I pray you. If the King | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016130 | come, I shall incur I know not How much of his displeasure. [_Aside._] Yet Ill 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. Should we be taking leave As long a term as yet we have to live, The loathness to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016131 | 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 mothers; take it, heart; But keep it till you woo another wife, When Imogen is dead. POSTHUMUS. How, how? Another? You gentle gods, give me but this I have, And sear | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016132 | up my embracements from a next With bonds of death! Remain, remain thou here [_Puts on the ring._] 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016133 | love; Ill place it Upon this fairest prisoner. [_Puts a bracelet on her arm._] IMOGEN. O the gods! When shall we see again? Enter Cymbeline and Lords. POSTHUMUS. 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! Thourt poison to my blood. POSTHUMUS. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016134 | 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 heapst A years age on me! IMOGEN. I beseech you, sir, Harm not yourself with your vexation. I am senseless of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016135 | 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 blessed that I might not! I chose an eagle, And did avoid a puttock. CYMBELINE. Thou tookst a beggar, wouldst have made | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016136 | 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 lovd Posthumus. You bred him as my playfellow, and he is A man worth any woman; overbuys me Almost the sum he pays. CYMBELINE. What, art thou mad? IMOGEN. Almost, sir. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016137 | Heaven restore me! Would I were A neat-herds daughter, and my Leonatus Our neighbour shepherds son! Enter Queen. CYMBELINE. Thou foolish thing! [_To the Queen._] They were again together. You have done Not after our command. Away with her, And pen her up. QUEEN. Beseech your patience. Peace, Dear lady daughter, peace!Sweet sovereign, Leave us to ourselves, and make yourself | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016138 | 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. [_Exit with Lords._] Enter Pisanio. QUEEN. Fie! you must give way. Here is your servant. How now, sir! What news? PISANIO. My lord your son drew on my master. QUEEN. Ha! No harm, I trust, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016139 | is done? PISANIO. There might have been, But that my master rather playd than fought, And had no help of anger; they were parted By gentlemen at hand. QUEEN. I am very glad ont. IMOGEN. Your sons my fathers friend; he takes his part To draw upon an exile! O brave sir! I would they were in Afric both together; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016140 | Myself by with a needle, that I might prick The goer-back. Why came you from your master? 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, Whent pleasd you to employ me. QUEEN. This hath been Your faithful servant. I dare lay mine | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016141 | honour He will remain so. PISANIO. I humbly thank your Highness. QUEEN. Pray walk awhile. 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._] SCENE III. Britain. A public place. Enter Cloten and two Lords. FIRST LORD. Sir, I would advise you to shift | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016142 | a shirt; the violence of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice. Where air comes out, air comes in; theres none abroad so wholesome as that you vent. CLOTEN. If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Have I hurt him? SECOND LORD. [_Aside._] No, faith; not so much as his patience. FIRST LORD. Hurt him! His bodys | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016143 | a passable carcass if he be not hurt. It is a throughfare for steel if it be not hurt. SECOND LORD. [_Aside._] His steel was in debt; it went o th backside the town. CLOTEN. The villain would not stand me. SECOND LORD. [_Aside._] No; but he fled forward still, toward your face. FIRST LORD. Stand you? You have land | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016144 | enough of your own; but he added to your having, gave you some ground. SECOND LORD. [_Aside._] As many inches as you have oceans. Puppies! CLOTEN. I would they had not come between us. SECOND LORD. [_Aside._] So would I, till you had measurd how long a fool you were upon the ground. CLOTEN. And that she should love this | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016145 | fellow, and refuse me! SECOND LORD. [_Aside._] If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damnd. FIRST LORD. Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain go not together; shes a good sign, but I have seen small reflection of her wit. SECOND LORD. [_Aside._] She shines not upon fools, lest the reflection | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016146 | should hurt her. CLOTEN. Come, Ill to my chamber. Would there had been some hurt done! SECOND LORD. [_Aside._] I wish not so; unless it had been the fall of an ass, which is no great hurt. CLOTEN. Youll go with us? FIRST LORD. Ill attend your lordship. CLOTEN. Nay, come, lets go together. SECOND LORD. Well, my lord. [_Exeunt._] | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016147 | SCENE IV. Britain. Cymbelines palace. Enter Imogen and Pisanio. IMOGEN. I would thou grewst unto the shores o th haven, And questionedst every sail; if he should write, And I not have it, twere a paper lost, As offerd mercy is. What was the last That he spake to thee? PISANIO. It was: his queen, his queen! IMOGEN. Then wavd | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016148 | his handkerchief? PISANIO. And kissd it, madam. IMOGEN. Senseless linen, happier therein than I! And that was all? PISANIO. No, madam; for so long As he could make me with his eye, or ear Distinguish him from others, he did keep The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief, Still waving, as the fits and stirs ofs mind Could best | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016149 | express how slow his soul saild on, How swift his ship. IMOGEN. Thou shouldst have made him As little as a crow, or less, ere left To after-eye him. PISANIO. Madam, so I did. IMOGEN. I would have broke mine eyestrings, crackd them but To look upon him, till the diminution Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016150 | Nay, followed him till he had melted from The smallness of a gnat to air, and then Have turnd mine eye and wept. But, good Pisanio, When shall we hear from him? PISANIO. Be assurd, madam, With his next vantage. IMOGEN. I did not take my leave of him, but had Most pretty things to say. Ere I could tell | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016151 | him How I would think on him at certain hours Such thoughts and such; or I could make him swear The shes of Italy should not betray Mine interest and his honour; or have chargd him, At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight, T encounter me with orisons, for then I am in heaven for him; or | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016152 | ere I could Give him that parting kiss which I had set Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father, And like the tyrannous breathing of the north Shakes all our buds from growing. Enter a Lady. LADY. The Queen, madam, Desires your Highness company. IMOGEN. Those things I bid you do, get them dispatchd. I will attend the Queen. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016153 | PISANIO. Madam, I shall. [_Exeunt._] SCENE V. Rome. Philarios house. Enter Philario, Iachimo, a Frenchman, a Dutchman and a Spaniard. IACHIMO. Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Britain. He was then of a crescent note, expected to prove so worthy as since he hath been allowed the name of. But I could then have lookd on him without | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016154 | the help of admiration, though the catalogue of his endowments had been tabled by his side, and I to peruse him by items. PHILARIO. You speak of him when he was less furnishd than now he is with that which makes him both without and within. FRENCHMAN. I have seen him in France; we had very many there could behold | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016155 | the sun with as firm eyes as he. IACHIMO. This matter of marrying his kings daughter, wherein he must be weighed rather by her value than his own, words him, I doubt not, a great deal from the matter. FRENCHMAN. And then his banishment. IACHIMO. Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this lamentable divorce under her colours are | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016156 | wonderfully to extend him, be it but to fortify her judgement, which else an easy battery might lay flat, for taking a beggar, without less quality. But how comes it he is to sojourn with you? How creeps acquaintance? PHILARIO. His father and I were soldiers together, to whom I have been often bound for no less than my life. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016157 | Enter Posthumus. Here comes the Briton. Let him be so entertained amongst you as suits with gentlemen of your knowing to a stranger of his quality. I beseech you all be better known to this gentleman, whom I commend to you as a noble friend of mine. How worthy he is I will leave to appear hereafter, rather than story | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016158 | him in his own hearing. FRENCHMAN. Sir, we have known together in Orleans. POSTHUMUS. Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies, which I will be ever to pay and yet pay still. FRENCHMAN. Sir, you oerrate my poor kindness. I was glad I did atone my countryman and you; it had been pity you should have been | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016159 | put together with so mortal a purpose as then each bore, upon importance of so slight and trivial a nature. POSTHUMUS. By your pardon, sir. I was then a young traveller; rather shunnd to go even with what I heard than in my every action to be guided by others experiences; but upon my mended judgement (if I offend not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016160 | to say it is mended) my quarrel was not altogether slight. FRENCHMAN. Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords, and by such two that would by all likelihood have confounded one the other or have falln both. IACHIMO. Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference? FRENCHMAN. Safely, I think. Twas a contention in public, which | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016161 | may, without contradiction, suffer the report. It was much like an argument that fell out last night, where each of us fell in praise of our country mistresses; this gentleman at that time vouching (and upon warrant of bloody affirmation) his to be more fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constant, qualified, and less attemptable, than any the rarest of our ladies | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016162 | in France. IACHIMO. That lady is not now living, or this gentlemans opinion, by this, worn out. POSTHUMUS. She holds her virtue still, and I my mind. IACHIMO. You must not so far prefer her fore ours of Italy. POSTHUMUS. Being so far provokd as I was in France, I would abate her nothing, though I profess myself her adorer, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016163 | not her friend. IACHIMO. As fair and as gooda kind of hand-in-hand comparisonhad been something too fair and too good for any lady in Britain. If she went before others I have seen as that diamond of yours outlustres many I have beheld, I could not but believe she excelled many; but I have not seen the most precious diamond | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016164 | that is, nor you the lady. POSTHUMUS. I praisd her as I rated her. So do I my stone. IACHIMO. What do you esteem it at? POSTHUMUS. More than the world enjoys. IACHIMO. Either your unparagond mistress is dead, or shes outprizd by a trifle. POSTHUMUS. You are mistaken: the one may be sold or given, if there were wealth | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016165 | enough for the purchase or merit for the gift; the other is not a thing for sale, and only the gift of the gods. IACHIMO. Which the gods have given you? POSTHUMUS. Which by their graces I will keep. IACHIMO. You may wear her in title yours; but you know strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds. Your ring may be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016166 | stoln too. So your brace of unprizable estimations, the one is but frail and the other casual; a cunning thief, or a that-way-accomplishd courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and last. POSTHUMUS. Your Italy contains none so accomplishd a courtier to convince the honour of my mistress, if in the holding or loss of that you term her | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016167 | frail. I do nothing doubt you have store of thieves; notwithstanding, I fear not my ring. PHILARIO. Let us leave here, gentlemen. POSTHUMUS. Sir, with all my heart. This worthy signior, I thank him, makes no stranger of me; we are familiar at first. IACHIMO. With five times so much conversation I should get ground of your fair mistress; make | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016168 | her go back even to the yielding, had I admittance and opportunity to friend. POSTHUMUS. No, no. IACHIMO. I dare thereupon pawn the moiety of my estate to your ring, which, in my opinion, oervalues it something. But I make my wager rather against your confidence than her reputation; and, to bar your offence herein too, I durst attempt it | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016169 | against any lady in the world. POSTHUMUS. You are a great deal abusd in too bold a persuasion, and I doubt not you sustain what yare worthy of by your attempt. IACHIMO. Whats that? POSTHUMUS. A repulse; though your attempt, as you call it, deserve more; a punishment too. PHILARIO. Gentlemen, enough of this. It came in too suddenly; let | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016170 | it die as it was born, and I pray you be better acquainted. IACHIMO. Would I had put my estate and my neighbours on th approbation of what I have spoke! POSTHUMUS. What lady would you choose to assail? IACHIMO. Yours, whom in constancy you think stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring that, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016171 | commend me to the court where your lady is, with no more advantage than the opportunity of a second conference, and I will bring from thence that honour of hers which you imagine so reservd. POSTHUMUS. I will wage against your gold, gold to it. My ring I hold dear as my finger; tis part of it. IACHIMO. You are | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016172 | a friend, and therein the wiser. If you buy ladies flesh at a million a dram, you cannot preserve it from tainting. But I see you have some religion in you, that you fear. POSTHUMUS. This is but a custom in your tongue; you bear a graver purpose, I hope. IACHIMO. I am the master of my speeches, and would | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016173 | undergo whats spoken, I swear. POSTHUMUS. Will you? I shall but lend my diamond till your return. Let there be covenants drawn betweens. My mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness of your unworthy thinking. I dare you to this match: heres my ring. PHILARIO. I will have it no lay. IACHIMO. By the gods, it is one. If I bring | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016174 | you no sufficient testimony that I have enjoyd the dearest bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats are yours; so is your diamond too. If I come off, and leave her in such honour as you have trust in, she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are yours: provided I have your commendation for my more | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016175 | free entertainment. POSTHUMUS. I embrace these conditions; let us have articles betwixt us. Only, thus far you shall answer: if you make your voyage upon her, and give me directly to understand you have prevaild, I am no further your enemy; she is not worth our debate; if she remain unseducd, you not making it appear otherwise, for your ill | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016176 | opinion and th assault you have made to her chastity you shall answer me with your sword. IACHIMO. Your hand, a covenant! We will have these things set down by lawful counsel, and straight away for Britain, lest the bargain should catch cold and starve. I will fetch my gold and have our two wagers recorded. POSTHUMUS. Agreed. [_Exeunt Posthumus | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016177 | and Iachimo._] FRENCHMAN. Will this hold, think you? PHILARIO. Signior Iachimo will not from it. Pray let us follow em. [_Exeunt._] SCENE VI. Britain. Cymbelines palace. Enter Queen, Ladies and Cornelius. QUEEN. Whiles yet the dews on ground, gather those flowers; Make haste; who has the note of them? LADY. I, madam. QUEEN. Dispatch. [_Exeunt Ladies._] Now, Master Doctor, have | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016178 | you brought those drugs? CORNELIUS. Pleaseth your Highness, ay. Here they are, madam. [_Presenting a box._] But I beseech your Grace, without offence, (My conscience bids me ask) wherefore you have Commanded of me these most poisonous compounds Which are the movers of a languishing death, But, though slow, deadly? QUEEN. I wonder, Doctor, Thou askst me such a question. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016179 | Have I not been Thy pupil long? Hast thou not learnd me how To make perfumes? distil? preserve? yea, so That our great king himself doth woo me oft For my confections? Having thus far proceeded (Unless thou thinkst me devilish) ist not meet That I did amplify my judgement in Other conclusions? I will try the forces Of these | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016180 | thy compounds on such creatures as We count not worth the hanging (but none human) To try the vigour of them, and apply Allayments to their act, and by them gather Their several virtues and effects. CORNELIUS. Your Highness Shall from this practice but make hard your heart; Besides, the seeing these effects will be Both noisome and infectious. QUEEN. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016181 | O, content thee. Enter Pisanio. [_Aside._] Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him Will I first work. Hes for his master, An enemy to my son. How now, Pisanio! Doctor, your service for this time is ended; Take your own way. CORNELIUS. [_Aside._] I do suspect you, madam; But you shall do no harm. QUEEN. [_To Pisanio._] Hark thee, a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016182 | word. CORNELIUS. [_Aside._] I do not like her. She doth think she has Strange lingring poisons. I do know her spirit, And will not trust one of her malice with A drug of such damnd nature. Those she has Will stupefy and dull the sense awhile, Which first perchance shell prove on cats and dogs, Then afterward up higher; but | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016183 | there is No danger in what show of death it makes, More than the locking up the spirits a time, To be more fresh, reviving. She is foold With a most false effect; and I the truer So to be false with her. QUEEN. No further service, Doctor, Until I send for thee. CORNELIUS. I humbly take my leave. [_Exit._] | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016184 | QUEEN. Weeps she still, sayst thou? Dost thou think in time She will not quench, and let instructions enter Where folly now possesses? Do thou work. When thou shalt bring me word she loves my son, Ill tell thee on the instant thou art then As great as is thy master; greater, for His fortunes all lie speechless, and his | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016185 | name Is at last gasp. Return he cannot, nor Continue where he is. To shift his being Is to exchange one misery with another, And every day that comes comes to decay A days work in him. What shalt thou expect To be depender on a thing that leans, Who cannot be new built, nor has no friends So much | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016186 | as but to prop him? [_The Queen drops the box. Pisanio takes it up._] Thou takst up Thou knowst not what; but take it for thy labour. It is a thing I made, which hath the King Five times redeemd from death. I do not know What is more cordial. Nay, I prithee take it; It is an earnest of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016187 | a further good That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how The case stands with her; dot as from thyself. Think what a chance thou changest on; but think Thou hast thy mistress still; to boot, my son, Who shall take notice of thee. Ill move the King To any shape of thy preferment, such As thoult desire; and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016188 | then myself, I chiefly, That set thee on to this desert, am bound To load thy merit richly. Call my women. Think on my words. [_Exit Pisanio._] A sly and constant knave, Not to be shakd; the agent for his master, And the remembrancer of her to hold The hand-fast to her lord. I have given him that Which, if | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016189 | he take, shall quite unpeople her Of liegers for her sweet; and which she after, Except she bend her humour, shall be assurd To taste of too. Enter Pisanio and Ladies. So, so. Well done, well done. The violets, cowslips, and the primroses, Bear to my closet. Fare thee well, Pisanio; Think on my words. [_Exeunt Queen and Ladies._] PISANIO. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016190 | And shall do. But when to my good lord I prove untrue Ill choke myself: theres all Ill do for you. [_Exit._] SCENE VII. Britain. The palace. Enter Imogen alone. IMOGEN. A father cruel and a step-dame false; A foolish suitor to a wedded lady That hath her husband banishd. O, that husband! My supreme crown of grief! and those | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016191 | repeated Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stoln, As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable Is the desire thats glorious. Blessed be those, How mean soeer, that have their honest wills, Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fie! Enter Pisanio and Iachimo. PISANIO. Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome Comes from my lord with letters. IACHIMO. Change you, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016192 | madam? The worthy Leonatus is in safety, And greets your Highness dearly. [_Presents a letter._] IMOGEN. Thanks, good sir. Youre kindly welcome. IACHIMO. [_Aside._] All of her that is out of door most rich! If she be furnishd with a mind so rare, She is alone th Arabian bird, and I Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend! Arm | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016193 | me, audacity, from head to foot! Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight; Rather, directly fly. IMOGEN. [_Reads._] _He is one of the noblest note, to whose kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon him accordingly, as you value your trust. LEONATUS._ So far I read aloud; But even the very middle of my heart Is warmd by | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016194 | th rest and takes it thankfully. You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I Have words to bid you; and shall find it so In all that I can do. IACHIMO. Thanks, fairest lady. What, are men mad? Hath nature given them eyes To see this vaulted arch and the rich crop Of sea and land, which can distinguish twixt | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016195 | The fiery orbs above and the twinnd stones Upon the numberd beach, and can we not Partition make with spectacles so precious Twixt fair and foul? IMOGEN. What makes your admiration? IACHIMO. It cannot be i th eye, for apes and monkeys, Twixt two such shes, would chatter this way and Contemn with mows the other; nor i th judgement, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016196 | For idiots in this case of favour would Be wisely definite; nor i th appetite; Sluttery, to such neat excellence opposd, Should make desire vomit emptiness, Not so allurd to feed. IMOGEN. What is the matter, trow? IACHIMO. The cloyed will That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub Both filld and runningravening first the lamb, Longs after for the garbage. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016197 | IMOGEN. What, dear sir, Thus raps you? Are you well? IACHIMO. Thanks, madam; well. Beseech you, sir, Desire my mans abode where I did leave him. Hes strange and peevish. PISANIO. I was going, sir, To give him welcome. [_Exit._] IMOGEN. Continues well my lord? His health beseech you? IACHIMO. Well, madam. IMOGEN. Is he disposd to mirth? I hope | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016198 | he is. IACHIMO. Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there So merry and so gamesome. He is calld The Briton reveller. IMOGEN. When he was here He did incline to sadness, and oft-times Not knowing why. IACHIMO. I never saw him sad. There is a Frenchman his companion, one An eminent monsieur that, it seems, much loves A Gallian girl at | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000016199 | home. He furnaces The thick sighs from him; whiles the jolly Briton (Your lord, I mean) laughs froms free lungs, cries O, Can my sides hold, to think that man, who knows By history, report, or his own proof, What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose But must be, wills free hours languish for Assured bondage? IMOGEN. Will my | 60 | gutenberg |
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