Gary Taylor, John Jowett, Terri Bourus, and Gabriel Egan (eds), The New Oxford Shakespeare: Critical Reference Edition, Vol. 2
Enter Cymbeline, Queene, Cloten, Lucius, and Lords.1
Cym. Thus farre, and so farewell.
Luc. Thankes, Royall Sir:
2My Emperor hath wrote, I must from hence,
3And am right sorry, that I must report ye
4My Masters Enemy.
Cym. Our Subiects (Sir)
5Will not endure his yoake; and for our selfe
6To shew lesse Soueraignty then they, must needs
Luc. So Sir: I desire of you
8A Conduct ouer Land, to Milford-Hauen.
9Madam, all ioy befall your Grace, and you.10
Cym. My Lords, you are appointed for that Office:
11The due of Honor, in no point omit:
12So farewell Noble Lucius.
Luc. Your hand, my Lord.13
Clot. Receiue it friendly: but from this time forth
14I weare it as your Enemy.
Luc. Sir, the Euent
15Is yet to name the winner. Fare you well.16Critical ApparatusExit Lucius, &c
Cym. Leaue not the worthy Lucius, good my Lords
17Till he haue crost the Seuern. Happines.18
Qu. He goes hence frowning: but it honours vs
19That we haue giuen him cause.
Clot. 'Tis all the better,
20Your valiant Britaines haue their wishes in it.21
Cym. Lucius hath wrote already to the Emperor
22How it goes heere. It fits vs therefore ripely
23Our Chariots, and our Horsemen be in readinesse:
24The Powres that he already hath in Gallia
25Will soone be drawne to head, from whence he moues
26His warre for Britaine.
Qu. 'Tis not sleepy businesse,
27But must be look'd too speedily, and strongly.28
Cym. Our expectation that it would be thus
29Hath made vs forward. But my gentle Queene,
30Where is our Daughter? She hath not appear'd
31Before the Roman, nor to vs hath tender'd
Critical Apparatus32The duty of the day. She [lookes] vs like
33A thing more made of malice, then of duty,
34We haue noted it. Call her before vs, for
35We haue beene too slight in sufferance.Enter a Messenger.
Qu. Royall Sir,
36Since the exile of Posthumus, most retyr'd
37Hath her life bin: the Cure whereof, my Lord,
pg 340738'Tis time must do. Beseech your Maiesty,
39Forbeare sharpe speeches to her. Shee's a Lady
Critical Apparatus40So tender of rebukes, that words are [strokes];
41And strokes death to her.
Cym. Where is she Sir? How
42Can her contempt be answer'd?
Mes. Please you Sir,
43Her Chambers are all lock'd, and there's no answer
Critical Apparatus44That will be giuen to'th'[lowdst] of noise, we make.45
Qu. My Lord, when last I went to visit her,
46She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close,
47Whereto constrain'd by her infirmitie,
48She should that dutie leaue vnpaide to you
49Which dayly she was bound to proffer: this
50She wish'd me to make knowne: but our great Court
51Made me too blame in memory.Exit.
Cym. Her doores lock'd?
52Not seene of late? Grant Heauens, that which I
53Feare, proue false.
Qu. Sonne, I say, follow the King.54
Clot. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old Seruant
55I haue not seene these two dayes.
Qu. Go, looke after:Critical Apparatus[Exit.]
56Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus,
57He hath a Drugge of mine: I pray, his absence
58Proceed by swallowing that. For he beleeues
59It is a thing most precious. But for her,
60Where is she gone? Haply dispaire hath seiz'd her:
61Or wing'd with feruour of her loue, she's flowne
62To her desir'd Posthumus: gone she is,
63To death, or to dishonor, and my end
64Can make good vse of either. Shee being downe,
65I haue the placing of the Brittish Crowne.Enter Cloten.
66How now, my Sonne?
Clot. 'Tis certaine she is fled:
67Go in and cheere the King, he rages, none
68Dare come about him.Exit Qu.
Qu. All the better: may
69This night fore-stall him of the comming day.70
Clo. I loue, and hate her: for she's Faire and Royall,
71And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite
aaa5r Link 72Then Lady, Ladies, Woman, from euery one
73The best she hath, and she of all compounded
74Out-selles them all. I loue her therefore, but
75Disdaining me, and throwing Fauours on
76The low Posthumus, slanders so her iudgement,
77That what's else rare, is choak'd: and in that point
pg 340878I will conclude to hate her, nay indeede,
Critical Apparatus79To be reueng'd vpon her. For, when Fooles shall——Enter Pisanio.
80Who is heere? What, are you packing sirrah?
81Come hither: Ah you precious Pandar, Villaine,
82Where is thy Lady? In a word, or else
83Thou art straightway with the Fiends.
Pis. Oh, good my Lord.84
Clo. Where is thy Lady? Or, by Iupiter,
85I will not aske againe. Close Villaine,
Critical Apparatus86Ile haue this Secret from thy heart, or rip
87Thy heart to finde it. Is she with Posthumus?
88From whose so many waights of basenesse, cannot
89A dram of worth be drawne.
Pis. Alas, my Lord,
90How can she be with him? When was she miss'd?
91He is in Rome.
Clot. Where is she Sir? Come neerer:
92No farther halting: satisfie me home,
93What is become of her?94
Pis. Oh, my all-worthy Lord.95
Clo. All-worthy Villaine,
96Discouer where thy Mistris is, at once,
97At the next word: no more of worthy Lord:
98Speake, or thy silence on the instant, is
99Thy condemnation, and thy death.
Pis. Then Sir:
100This Paper is the historie of my knowledge
101Touching her flight.
Clo. Let's see't: I will pursue her
102Euen to Augustus Throne.
Pis. Or this, or perish.
103She's farre enough, and what he learnes by this,
104May proue his trauell, not her danger.
Clo. Humh.Critical Apparatus105
Pis. Ile write to my Lord she's dead: Oh [Innogen],
106Safe mayst thou wander, safe returne agen.107
Clot. Sirra, is this Letter true?
Pis. Sir, as I thinke.108
Clot. It is Posthumus hand, I know't. Sirrah, if thou would'st not be 109a Villain, but do me true seruice: vndergo those Imployments wherin 110I should haue cause to vse thee with a serious industry, that is, what 111villainy soere I bid thee do to performe it, directly and truely, I would 112thinke thee an honest man: thou should'st neither want my meanes for 113thy releefe, nor my voyce for thy preferment.pg 3409 114
Pis. Well, my good Lord.115
Clot. Wilt thou serue mee? For since patiently and constantly thou 116hast stucke to the bare Fortune of that Begger Posthumus, thou canst 117not in the course of gratitude, but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt 118thou serue mee?119
Pis. Sir, I will.120
Clo. Giue mee thy hand, heere's my purse. 121Hast any of thy late Masters Garments in thy possession?122
Pisan. I haue (my Lord) at my Lodging, the same Suite he wore, when he 123tooke leaue of my Ladie & Mistresse.124
Clo. The first seruice thou dost mee, fetch that Suite hither, let it be 125thy first seruice, go.126Exit.
Pis. I shall my Lord.127
Clo. Meet thee at Milford-Hauen: (I forgot to aske him one thing, 128Ile remember't anon:) euen there, thou villaine Posthumus will I kill 129thee. I would these Garments were come. She saide vpon a time (the 130bitternesse of it, I now belch from my heart) that shee held the very 131Garment of Posthumus, in more respect, then my Noble and naturall 132person; together with the adornement of my Qualities. With that Suite 133vpon my backe wil I rauish her: first kill him, and in her eyes; there 134shall she see my valour, which wil then be a torment to hir contempt. Critical Apparatus135He on the ground, my speech of [insultment] ended on his dead bodie, 136and when my Lust hath dined (which as I say, to vex her, I will execute 137in the Cloathes that she so prais'd:) to the Court Ile knock her backe, 138foot her home againe. She hath despis'd mee reioycingly, and Ile bee 139merry in my Reuenge.Enter Pisanio.
140Be those the Garments?
Pis. I, my Noble Lord.141
Clo. How long is't since she went to Milford-Hauen?142
Pis. She can scarse be there yet.143Exit
Clo. Bring this Apparrell to my Chamber, that is the second thing 144that I haue commanded thee. The third is, that thou wilt be a voluntarie 145Mute to my designe. Be but dutious, and true preferment shall tender 146it selfe to thee. My Reuenge is now at Milford, would I had wings to 147follow it. Come, and be true.148Exit
Pis. Thou bid'st me to my losse: for true to thee,
149Were to proue false, which I will neuer bee
150To him that is most true. To Milford go,
151And finde not her, whom thou pursuest. Flow, flow
152You Heauenly blessings on her: This Fooles speede
153Be crost with slownesse; Labour be his meede.