The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare, Adapted for Family Reading

Fri. Stay then, I'll go alone: -Fear comes upon O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing.

Bal. As I did sleep under this yew-tree here, I dreamt my master and another fought, And that my master slew him. Fri. Romeo?- [Advances. Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains The stony entrance of this sepulchre ?What mean these masterless and gory swords To lie discolour'd by this place of peace?

[Enters the Monument. Romeo O, pale!-Who else? what, Paris too? And steep'd in blood?-Ah, what an unkind hour Is guilty of this lamentable chance!The lady stirs. [JUL. wakes and stirs. Jul. O, comfortable friar ! where is my lord ? I do remember well where I should be, And there I am:-Where is my Romeo?

[Noise within.

Fri. I hear some noise. Lady, come from that nest

Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep ;
A greater Power than we can contradict

Hath thwarted our intents; come, come away:
Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead;
And Paris too; come, I'll dispose of thee
Among a sisterhood of holy nuns :
Stay not to question, for the watch is coming;
Come, go, good Juliet,-[Noise again.] I dare
stay no longer.
[Exit.
Jul. Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.-
What's here? a cup, clos'd in my true love's
hand?

Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end :-
O churl! drink all; and leave no friendly drop,
To help me after?-I will kiss thy lips;
Haply, some poison yet doth hang on them,
To make me die with a restorative. [Kisses him.
Thy lips are warm!

1 Watch. [Within.] Lead, boy:-Which way? Jul. Yea, noise?-then I'll be brief. O happy dagger! [Snatching Roм.'s Dagger. This is thy sheath; [Stabs herself.] there rust, and let me die.

[Falls on Rom.'s Body, and dies. Enter Watch, with the Page of PARIS. Page. This is the place; there, where the torch doth burn.

1 Watch. The ground is bloody; Search about the churchyard:

Go, some of you, whoe'er you find, attach. [Exeunt some. Pitiful sight ! here lies the county slain ; And Juliet bleeding; warm, and newly dead, Who here hath lain these two days buried.Go, tell the prince,-run to the Capulets,Raise up the Montagues,-some others search;[Exeunt other Watchmen. We see the ground whereon these woes do lie; But the true ground of all these piteous woes, We cannot without circumstance descry. Enter some of the Watch, with BALTHAZAR. 2 Watch. Here's Romeo's man; we found him in the churchyard. [ come hither. 1 Watch. Hold him in safety, till the prinee Enter another Watchman, with FRIAR LAURENCE.

3 Watch. Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs, and weeps :

We took this mattock and this spade from him, As he was coming from this churchyard side.

1 Watch. A great suspicion; Stay the friar too. Enter the Prince and Attendants. Prince. What misadventure is so early up, That calls our person from our morning's rest? Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, and Others. Cap. What should it be, that they so shriek abroad?

La. Cap. The people in the street cry-Romeo, Some--Juliet, and some-Paris; and all run, With open outcry, toward our monument. Prince. What fear is this which startles in our ears? [slain;

1 Watch. Sovereign, here lies the County Paris And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before, Warm and new kill'd.

Prince. Seareh, seek, and know how this foul murder comes. [meo's man;

1 Watch. Here is a friar, and slaughter'd RoWith instruments upon them, fit to open These dead men's tombs.

Cap. O, heavens!-O, wife! look how our daughter bleeds!

This dagger hath mista'en,-for, lo! his house* Is empty on the back of Montague,

And is mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom. La. Cap. O me! this sight of death is as a bell, That warns my old age to a sepulchre.

Enter MONTAGUE and Others.

Prince. Come, Montague; for thou art early To see thy son and heir more early down. [up, Mon. Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night; Grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her breath: What further woe conspires against mine age? Prince. Look, and thou shalt see.

[this,

Mon. O thou untaught! what manners is in To press before thy father to a grave? [while, Prince. Seal up the mouth of outrage for a Till we can clear these ambiguities, [descent ; And know their spring, their head, their true And then will I be general of your woes, And lead you even to death: Meantime forbear, And let mischance be slave to patience.Bring forth the parties of suspicion.

Fri. I am the greatest, able to do least, Yet most suspected, as the time and place Doth make against me, of this direful murder; And here I stand, both to impeach and purge Myself condemned and myself excus'd. [in this. Prince. Then say at once what thou dost know Fri. I will be brief, for my short date of breath Is not so long as is a tedious tale.

Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet; And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife: I married them; and their stolen marriage-day Was Tybalt's dooms-day, whose untimely death Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from this

city;

For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pin'd.
You-to remove that siege of grief from her,-
Betroth'd, and would have married her perforce,
To County Paris :-Then comes she to me;
And, with wild looks, bid me devise some means
To rid her from this second marriage,
Or, in my cell there would she kill herself.
Then gave I her, so tutor'd by my art,
A sleeping potion; which so took effect
As I intended, for it wrought on her
The form of death: meantime I writ to Romeo,
That he should hither come as this dire night,
To help to take her from her borrow'd grave,
Being the time the potion's force should cease.
+ Seat.

* i. e. The scabbard.

But he which bore my letter, Friar John,
Was staid by accident; and yesternight
Return'd my letter back: Then all alone,
At the prefixed hour of her waking,
Came I to take her from her kindred's vault;
Meaning to keep her closely at my cell,
Till I conveniently could send to Romeo:
But, when I came, (some minute ere the time
Of her awakening,) here untimely lay
The noble Paris, and true Romeo, dead.
She wakes; and I entreated her come forth,
And bear this work of heaven with patience :
But then a noise did scare me from the tomb;
And she, too desperate, would not go with me,
But (as it seems) did violence on herself.
All this I know; and to the marriage
Her nurse is privy: And, if aught in this
Miscarried by my fault, let my old life
Be sacrific'd, some hour before his time,
Unto the rigour of severest law. [man.-
Prince. We still have known thee for a holy
Where's Romeo's man? what can he say in
this?
[death;
Bal. I brought my master news of Juliet's
And then in post he came from Mantua,
To this same place, to this same monument.
This letter he early bid me give his father;
And threaten'd me with death, going in the vault,
If I departed not, and left him there.

Prince. Give me the letter, I will look on it. Where's the county's page, that rais'd the watch?

Sirrah, what made your master in this place?

Page. He came with flowers to strew his lady's

grave;

And bid me stand aloof, and so I did:
Anon, comes one with light to ope the tomb;
And by-and-by my master drew on him;
And then I ran away to call the watch. [words.
Prince. This letter doth make good the friar's
Their course of love, the tidings of her death:
And here he writes-that he did buy a poison
Of a poor 'pothecary, and therewithal
Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet.-
Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague!-
See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate,
That heaven finds means to kill your joys with
And I, for winking at your discords too, [love!
Have lost a brace of kinsmen :*-all are punish'd.
Cap. O, brother Montague, give me thy hand:
This is my daughter's jointure, for no more
Can I demand.

Mon.

But I can give thee more:

For I will raise her statue in pure gold;
That, while Verona by that name is known,
There shall no figure at such rate be set,
As that of true and faithful Juliet.

Cap. As rich shall Romeo by his lady lie;
Poor sacrifices of our enmity!

Prince. A glooming peace this morning with it
brings;

The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head :
Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;
Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished:
For never was a story of more woe,
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

[Exeunt.

CYMBELINE appears to have been written in the enduring wrong and suffering with the most full strength of our poet's maturity: it is at- touching patience and sweetness. The gentler tributed to the year 1605, and supposed to have sex should be always grateful to the memory of been composed immediately after King Lear, our great Shakespeare, for his genius did sweet and just before Macbeth. At such a period of homage to their character: he invests his female Shakespeare's life, he could scarcely give to the creations with all that is most pure and generous world any feeble production, and we conse- in humanity, picturing them, indeed, as beautiful quently find this play to be full of exquisite to the eye, but a thousand times more acceptable poetry, and also to contain the sweetest and to the heart. There is a moral dignity about his most tender female character ever drawn, even women, a holy strength of affection, which neiby his pen. Still there is, in Cymbeline, a singu- ther suffering nor death can pervert, that elevates lar confusion of times and customs, and the play them above the sterner nature of man, placing is full of anachronisms. The rude ancient them on an equality with angels. The advenBritons of the time of Augustus Cæsar are pictures of Imogen are like a beautiful romance: her tured as possessing the manners and luxuries of flight after her banished husband, her wretchthe Elizabethan period. The polished court of edness and forlorn condition when informed Cymbeline is altogether out of place in Britain that he believes her false and has given order for at such a time-it is an incredibility; so also is her death; her assumption of boy's attire, in the description of Imogen's chamber, with its which disguise she wanders among the mountapestry of silk and silver, so "rarely and exactly tains, at point to perish from hunger; her meetwrought;" and the chimney-piece, with its carving with her disguised brothers in the cave; ner ing of "chaste Diana bathing," its ornaments of supposed death, and recovery; and, finally, her silver, and the golden cherubins with which the discovery of her repentant husband, and throwing roof is fretted. Such things were seen in Eng- herself, without one reproach, upon his bosomland in Shakespeare's time; but were never are all beautifully pourtrayed. Imogen is, indreamed of in Augustus Cæsar's. In the fifth deed, a pattern of connubial love and chastity. act also, Posthumus, when condemned to death, Posthumus is an irritable and impatient chais told by his gaoler that " he shall fear no more racter; his love for Imogen is rather a selfish tavern bills." Schlegel makes a graceful apology one, or he would not have been so easily perfor these errors; but it does not greatly mend suaded that she was false: it undergoes some purithe matter to argue the poet's faults into beau-fication in his trouble, and we scarcely sympathise ties. In Shakespeare, as a poet and philosopher, we have implicit faith; but very little, as an antiquarian or historian.

Imogen is a personification of woman; woman enthroned in the holy temple of her pure and chaste affections, rejecting the tempter of her honour with the bitterest scorn and loathing, and

with him until his repentance of his rashness.

lachimo is an unconfirmed villain, as dishonest as Iago, but not so devilish, for he has the grace to repent of his treachery; he tries to compound with his conscience, and satisfy it with

* Mercutio and Paris.

Jesuitical sophistries. Iachimo's confession, in the last scene, is too wordy, and tediously prolonged, and the humility of it is scarcely in accordance with his character, as pourtrayed in the earlier scenes of the play.

These three characters are the principal ones of that group to which the attention is chiefly attracted; Cymbeline, himself, is represented as weak and vacillating-a mere tool of his wicked queen this woman is utterly villanous without any redeeming quality, unless affection for her foolish and unprincipled son be called one. Perhaps she is introduced to bring the sweet character of the pure and loving Imogen into greater prominence, by the power of contrast.

Cloten has been said to be so singular a character, and possessed of qualities so contradictory, that he has been supposed to form an exception to Shakespeare's usual integrity in copying from nature. I cannot see in what particular he is irreconcilable to humanity: he is a knave, a braggart, and a fool in most matters, but that is no reason why he should not possess some shrewd

CYMBELINE, King of Britain.

common-sense ideas occasionally. Nothing can be happier than his defiance of the Roman ambassador:-"If Cæsar can hide the sun from us with a blanket, or put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for light; else, sir, no more tribute." Respecting the character of Cloten, Hazlitt has remarked-"that folly is as often owing to a want of proper sentiments, as to a want of understanding."

In the delineation of the two princes, Guiderius and Arviragus, Shakespeare propagates a doctrine which will find many opponents in the present day: he infers that there is an innate royalty of nature; and the young princes, brought up as simple rustics, are represented as feeling their high birth so strongly, that it impels them to acts of heroism.

According to Holinshed, Cymbeline, or Kimbeline, began his reign in the nineteenth year of that of Augustus Cæsar; and the play commences in or about the twenty-fourth year of Cymbeline's reign, which was the forty-second of that of Augustus, and the sixteenth of the Christian era.

Cymbeline.

CLOTEN, Son to the Queen by a former Husband.
LEONATUS POSTHUMUS, a Gentleman of Britain,
Husband to Imogen.
BELARIUS, a banished Lord, disguised under the
name of Morgan.
GUIDERIUS,

Sons of Cymbeline, disguised under the names of Polydore and CadARVIRAGUS, wal, supposed Sons to Belarius.

PHILARIO, Friend to Posthumus,
IACHIMO, Friend to Philario,

Italians.

A French Gentleman, Friend to Philario.
CAIUS LUCIUS, General of the Roman Forces.
A Roman Captain. Two British Captains.

PISANIO, Servant to Posthumus.
CORNELIUS, a Physician.
Two Gentlemen. Two Gaolers.

QUEEN, Wife to Cymbeline.

IMOGEN, Daughter to Cymbeline, by a former
Queen.

HELEN, an Attendant on Imogen.

Lords, Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes, Ap-
paritions, a Soothsayer, a Dutch Gentleman,
a Spanish Gentleman, Musicians, Officers,
Captains, Soldiers, Messengers, and other At-
tendants.

SCENE. Sometimes in Britain; sometimes in Italy.
Act First.

SCENE I.-Britain.

The Garden behind
CYMBELINE's Palace.
Enter two Gentlemen.

A Gent. You do not meet a man, but frowns:
our bloods*

No more obey the heavens, than our courtiers;
Still seem, as does the king's.

2 Gent.
But what's the matter?
1 Gent. His daughter, and the heir of his
kingdom, whom

He purpos'd to his wife's sole son, (a widow,
That late he married,) hath referr'd herself [ded;
Unto a poor but worthy gentleman: She's wed-
Her husband banish'd; she imprison'd: all
Is outward sorrow; though, I think, the king
Be touch'd at very heart.

2 Gent.

None but the king?

1 Gent. He, that hath lost her, too: so is the
queen,

That most desir'd the match: But not a courtier,
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.
2 Gent.

And why so?

* Inclination, natural disposition. +i.e. You praise him extensively.

1 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
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.

2 Gent.
You speak him far.+
1 Gent. I do extend him, sir, within himself;
Crush him together, rather than unfold
His measure duly.+
2 Gent.

What's his name, and birth?
1 Gent. I cannot delve him to the root: His
father

Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour,
Against the Romans, with Cassibelan;
But had his titles by Tenantius,? whom
He serv'd with glory and admir'd success:
So gain'd the sur-addition, Leonatus :
And had, besides this gentleman in question,
Two other sons, who, in the wars o' the time,
Died with their swords in hand; for which their
father

(Then old and fond of issue) took such sorrow,

My praise, however extensive, is within his
The father of Cymbeline.

merit.

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;
Breeds him, and makes him of his bed-chamber:
Puts him to all the learnings that his time
Could make him the receiver of; which he took,
As we do air, fast as 'twas minister'd; and
In his 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,
A child that guided dotards: to his mistress,
For whom he now is banish'd,-her own price
Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue;
By her election may be truly read,
What kind of man he is.

2 Gent.
I honour him
Even out of your report. But, 'pray you, tell me,
Is she sole child to the king?

His only child.

1 Gent. 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 [knowledge Were stolen; and to this hour, no guess in Which way they went. 2 Gent.

How long is this ago?

1 Gent. Some twenty years.

[convey'd! 2 Gent. That a king's children should be so So slackly guarded! And the search so slow, That could not trace them!

1 Gent. Howsoe'er 'tis strange, Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at, Yet is it true, sir. 2 Gent.

I do well believe you.

1 Gent. We must forbear: Here comes the queen and princess.

SCENE II.-The same.

[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,
Evil-ey'd unto you: you are my prisoner, but
Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys
That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthúmus,
So soon as I can win the offended king,

I will be known your advocate: marry, yet
The fire of rage is in him; and 'twere good,
You lean'd unto his sentence with what patience
Your wisdom may inform you.

Post.

I will from hence to-day. Queen.

Please your highness,

You know the peril :I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying The pangs of barr'd affections; though the king Hath charg'd you should not speak together. [Exit QUEEN. Imo. 0 Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant 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;
And I shall bere 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.
My queen! my mistress!
O, lady, weep no more; lest I give cause

Post.

If the king come, I shall incur I know not
How much of his displeasure :-Yet I'll move
him
[Aside.

To walk this way: I never do him wrong,
But he does buy my injuries, to be friends;
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.
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;
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,
And sear up + my embracements from a next
With bonds of death!-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,
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.

Imo.

[Putting a Bracelet on her arm. O, the gods!

2 Lord. As many inches as you have oceans: Puppies! [Aside. Clo. I would they had not come between us. 2 Lord. So would I, till you had measured how long a fool you were upon the ground.

[Aside. Clo. And that she should love this fellow, and refuse me!

1 Lord. Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain go not together: She's a good sign, but I have seen small reflection of her wit.‡ 2 Lord. She shines not upon fools, lest the reflection should hurt her. [ Aside. Clo. Come, I'll to my chamber : 'Would there had been some hurt done!

2 Lord. I wish not so; unless it had been the fall of an ass, which is no great hurt. [Aside. Clo. You'll go with us?

1 Lord. I'll attend your lordship. Clo. Nay, come, let's go together. 2 Lord. Well, my lord.

[Exeunt.

[Erit.

Enter PISANIO.

Fie!-you must give way:

Here is your servant.-How now, sir? What

2 Lord. No, faith; not so much as his patience. [Aside. 1 Lord. Hurt him? his body's a passable carcass, if he be not hurt : it is a thoroughfare for steel, if it be not hurt.

2 Lord. His steel was in debt.
Clo. The villain would not stand me.

2 Lord. No; but he fled forward still, toward your face. [Aside. 1 Lord. Stand you! You have land enough of your own but he added to your having; gave you some ground.

* Cattle-keeper.

+ Consideration.

To understand the force of this idea, it should be remembered that anciently almost

SCENE IV.-A Room in CYMBELINE's Palace.

Enter IMOGEN and PISANIO.

Imo. I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' the haven,

And question'dst every sail: if he should write,
And I not have it, 'twere a paper lost,
As offer'd mercy is. What was the last
That he spake to thee?

Pis.

Twas, "his queen, his queen!" Imo. Then wav'd his handkerchief? Pis. And kiss'd it, madam. Imo. Senseless linen! happier therein than I!And that was all?

Pis. No, madam; for so long As he could make me with this 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 of his mind Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on, How swift his ship.

Imo.

Thou should'st have made him As little as a crow, or less, ere left To after-eye him.

Imo. I would have broke mine eye-strings; crack'd them, but

To look upon him, till the diminution
Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle;
Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from
The smallness of a gnat to air; and then
Have turn'd mine eye, and wept.--But, good Pi-
sanio,

When shall we hear from him?
Pis.

With his next 'vantage.}

Be assur'd, madam,

Imo. I did not take my leave of him, but had Most pretty things to say: ere I could tell him, How I would think on him, at certain hours, Such thoughts, and such; or I could make him The shes of Italy should not betray [swear Mine interest, and his honour; or have charg’d him,

At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight,
To encounter me with orisons, for then
I am in heaven for him; or 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.

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