Текст книги "William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition"

Автор книги: William Shakespeare

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3.4 Enter Pisanio, and Innogen in a riding-suit

INNOGEN

Thou told‘st me when we came from horse the place

Was near at hand. Ne’er longed my mother so

To see me first as I have now. Pisanio, man,

Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind

That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that

sigh

From th’inward of thee? One but painted thus

Would be interpreted a thing perplexed

Beyond self-explication. Put thyself

Into a haviour of less fear, ere wildness

Vanquish my staider senses. What’s the matter?

Pisanio gives her a letter

Why tender‘st thou that paper to me with

A look untender? If’t be summer news,

Smile to’t before; if winterly, thou need’st

But keep that count’nance still. My husband’s hand?

That drug-damned Italy hath out-craftied him,

And he’s at some hard point. Speak, man. Thy tongue

May take off some extremity which to read

Would be even mortal to me.

PISANIO

Please you read,

And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing

The most disdained of fortune.

INNOGEN (reads) ‘Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the strumpet in my bed, the testimonies whereof lies bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak surmises but from proof as strong as my grief and as certain as I expect my revenge. That part thou, Pisanio, must act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers. Let thine own hands take away her life. I shall give thee opportunity at Milford Haven. She hath my letter for the purpose, where if thou fear to strike and to make me certain it is done, thou art the pander to her dishonour and equally to me disloyal.’

PISANIO (aside)

What shall I need to draw my sword? The paper

Hath cut her throat already. No, ’tis slander,

Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue

Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose breath

Rides on the posting winds and doth belie

All corners of the world. Kings, queens, and states,

Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave

This viperous slander enters. (To Innogen) What cheer,

madam?

INNOGEN

False to his bed? What is it to be false?

To lie in watch there and to think on him?

To weep ’twixt clock and clock? If sleep charge nature,

To break it with a fearful dream of him

And cry myself awake? That’s false to ’s bed, is it?

PISANIO Alas, good lady.

INNOGEN

I false? Thy conscience witness, Giacomo,

Thou didst accuse him of incontinency.

Thou then lookedst like a villain; now, methinks,

Thy favour’s good enough. Some jay of Italy,

Whose mother was her painting, hath betrayed him.

Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion,

And for I am richer than to hang by th’ walls

I must be ripped. To pieces with me! O,

Men’s vows are women’s traitors. All good seeming,

By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought

Put on for villainy; not born where’t grows,

But worn a bait for ladies.

PISANIO

Good madam, hear me.

INNOGEN

True honest men being heard like false Aeneas

Were in his time thought false, and Sinon’s weeping

Did scandal many a holy tear, took pity

From most true wretchedness. So thou, Posthumus,

Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men.

Goodly and gallant shall be false and perjured

From thy great fail. (To Pisanio) Come, fellow, be thou

honest,

Do thou thy master’s bidding. When thou seest

him,

A little witness my obedience. Look,

I draw the sword myself. Take it, and hit

The innocent mansion of my love, my heart.

Fear not, ‘tis empty of all things but grief.

Thy master is not there, who was indeed

The riches of it. Do his bidding; strike.

Thou mayst be valiant in a better cause,

But now thou seem’st a coward.

PISANIO

Hence, vile instrument,

Thou shalt not damn my hand!

INNOGEN

Why, I must die,

And if I do not by thy hand thou art

No servant of thy master’s. Against self-slaughter

There is a prohibition so divine

That cravens my weak hand. Come, here’s my heart.

Something’s afore’t. Soft, soft, we’ll no defence;

Obedient as the scabbard. What is here?

She takes letters from her bosom

The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus,

All turned to heresy? Away, away,

Corrupters of my faith, you shall no more

Be stomachers to my heart. Thus may poor fools

Believe false teachers. Though those that are betrayed

Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor

Stands in worse case of woe. And thou, Posthumus,

That didst set up my disobedience ’gainst the King

My father, and make me put into contempt the suits

Of princely fellows, shalt hereafter find

It is no act of common passage but

A strain of rareness; and I grieve myself

To think, when thou shalt be disedged by her

That now thou tirest on, how thy memory

Will then be panged by me. (To Pisanio) Prithee,

dispatch.

The lamb entreats the butcher. Where’s thy knife?

Thou art too slow to do thy master’s bidding

When I desire it too.

PISANIO

O gracious lady,

Since I received command to do this business

I have not slept one wink.

INNOGEN

Do’t, and to bed, then.

PISANIO

I’ll wake mine eyeballs out first.

INNOGEN

Wherefore then

Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abused

So many miles with a pretence?—this place,

Mine action, and thine own? Our horses’ labour,

The time inviting thee? The perturbed court,

For my being absent, whereunto I never

Purpose return? Why hast thou gone so far

To be unbent when thou hast ta‘en thy stand,

Th’elected deer before thee?

PISANIO

But to win time

To lose so bad employment, in the which

I have considered of a course. Good lady,

Hear me with patience.

INNOGEN

Talk thy tongue weary. Speak.

I have heard I am a strumpet, and mine ear,

Therein false struck, can take no greater wound,

Nor tent to bottom that. But speak.

PISANIO

Then, madam,

I thought you would not back again.

INNOGEN Most like,

Bringing me here to kill me.

PISANIO

Not so, neither.

But if I were as wise as honest, then

My purpose would prove well. It cannot be

But that my master is abused. Some villain,

Ay, and singular in his art, hath done you both

This cursed injury.

INNOGEN Some Roman courtesan.

PISANIO No, on my life.

I’ll give but notice you are dead, and send him

Some bloody sign of it, for ’tis commanded

I should do so. You shall be missed at court,

And that will well confirm it.

INNOGEN

Why, good fellow,

What shall I do the while, where bide, how live,

Or in my life what comfort when I am

Dead to my husband?

PISANIO

If you’ll back to th’ court—

INNOGEN

No court, no father, nor no more ado

With that harsh, churlish, noble, simple nothing,

That Cloten, whose love suit hath been to me

As fearful as a siege.

PISANIO

If not at court,

Then not in Britain must you bide.

INNOGEN

Where then?

Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night,

Are they not but in Britain? I‘th’ world’s volume

Our Britain seems as of it but not in’t,

In a great pool a swan’s nest. Prithee, think

There’s livers out of Britain.

PISANIO

I am most glad

You think of other place. Th‘ambassador,

Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford Haven

Tomorrow. Now if you could wear a mind

Dark as your fortune is, and but disguise

That which t’appear itself must not yet be

But by self-danger, you should tread a course

Pretty and full of view; yea, haply near

The residence of Posthumus; so nigh, at least,

That though his actions were not visible, yet

Report should render him hourly to your ear

As truly as he moves.

INNOGEN

O, for such means,

Though peril to my modesty, not death on’t,

I would adventure.

PISANIO

Well then, here’s the point:

You must forget to be a woman; change

Command into obedience, fear and niceness—

The handmaids of all women, or more truly

Woman it pretty self—into a waggish courage,

Ready in gibes, quick-answered, saucy and

As quarrelous as the weasel. Nay, you must

Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek,

Exposing it—but O, the harder heart!—

Alack, no remedy—to the greedy touch

Of common-kissing Titan, and forget

Your laboursome and dainty trims wherein

You made great Juno angry.

INNOGEN

Nay, be brief.

I see into thy end, and am almost

A man already.

PISANIO

First, make yourself but like one.

Forethinking this, I have already fit—

’Tis in my cloak-bag—doublet, hat, hose, all

That answer to them. Would you in their serving,

And with what imitation you can borrow

From youth of such a season, fore noble Lucius

Present yourself, desire his service, tell him

Wherein you’re happy—which will make him know

If that his head have ear in music—doubtless

With joy he will embrace you, for he’s honourable,

And, doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad—

You have me, rich, and I will never fail

Beginning nor supplyment.

INNOGEN

Thou art all the comfort

The gods will diet me with. Prithee away.

There’s more to be considered, but we’ll even

All that good time will give us. This attempt

I am soldier to, and will abide it with

A prince’s courage. Away, I prithee.

PISANIO

Well, madam, we must take a short farewell

Lest, being missed, I be suspected of

Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress,

Here is a box. I had it from the Queen.

What’s in’t is precious. If you are sick at sea

Or stomach-qualmed at land, a dram of this

Will drive away distemper. To some shade,

And fit you to your manhood. May the gods

Direct you to the best.

INNOGEN

Amen. I thank thee.

Exeunt severally

3.5 ⌈Flourish.⌉ Enter Cymbeline, the Queen, Cloten, Lucius, and lords

CYMBELINE (to Lucius)

Thus far, and so farewell.

LUCIUS Thanks, royal sir.

My emperor hath wrote I must from hence;

And am right sorry that I must report ye

My master’s enemy.

CYMBELINE

Our subjects, sir,

Will not endure his yoke, and for ourself

To show less sovereignty than they must needs

Appear unkinglike.

LUCIUS

So, sir, I desire of you

A conduct over land to Milford Haven.

(To the Queen) Madam, all joy befall your grace, ⌈to Cloten⌉ and you.

CYMBELINE

My lords, you are appointed for that office.

The due of honour in no point omit.

So farewell, noble Lucius.

LUCIUS

Your hand, my lord.

CLOTEN

Receive it friendly, but from this time forth

I wear it as your enemy.

LUCIUS

Sir, the event

Is yet to name the winner. Fare you well.

CYMBELINE

Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords,

Till he have crossed the Severn. Happiness.

Exeunt Lucius and lords

QUEEN

He goes hence frowning, but it honours us

That we have given him cause.

CLOTEN

’Tis all the better.

Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it.

CYMBELINE

Lucius hath wrote already to the Emperor

How it goes here. It fits us therefore ripely

Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness.

The powers that he already hath in Gallia

Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves

His war for Britain.

QUEEN

’Tis not sleepy business,

But must be looked to speedily and strongly.

CYMBELINE

Our expectation that it would be thus

Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen,

Where is our daughter? She hath not appeared

Before the Roman, nor to us hath tendered

The duty of the day. She looks us like

A thing more made of malice than of duty.

We have noted it. Call her before us, for

We have been too slight in sufferance.

Exit one or more

QUEEN Royal Sir,

Since the exile of Posthumus most retired

Hath her life been, the cure ,whereof, my lord,

’Tis time must do. Beseech your majesty

Forbear sharp speeches to her. She’s a lady

So tender of rebukes that words are strokes,

And strokes death to her.

Enter a Messenger

CYMBELINE

Where is she, sir? How

Can her contempt be answered?

MESSENGER

Please you, sir,

Her chambers are all locked, and there’s no answer

That will be given to th’ loud’st of noise we make.

QUEEN

My lord, when last I went to visit her

She prayed me to excuse her keeping close,

Whereto constrained by her infirmity,

She should that duty leave unpaid to you

Which daily she was bound to proffer. This

She wished me to make known, but our great

court

Made me to blame in memory.

CYMBELINE

Her doors locked?

Not seen of late? Grant heavens that which I

Fear prove false.

Exit

QUEEN

on, I say, follow the King.

CLOTEN

That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant,

I have not seen these two days.

QUEEN

Go, look after.

Exit Cloten

Pisanio, thou that stand’st so for Posthumus!

He hath a drug of mine. I pray his absence

Proceed by swallowing that, for he believes

It is a thing most precious. But for her,

Where is she gone? Haply despair hath seized her,

Or, winged with fervour of her love, she’s flown

To her desired Posthumus. Gone she is

To death or to dishonour, and my end

Can make good use of either. She being down,

I have the placing of the British crown.

Enter Cloten

How now, my son?

CLOTEN

’Tis certain she is fled.

Go in and cheer the King. He rages, none

Dare come about him.

QUEEN

All the better. May

This night forestall him of the coming day. Exit

CLOTEN

I love and hate her. For she’s fair and royal,

And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite

Than lady, ladies, woman—from every one

The best she hath, and she, of all compounded,

Outsells them all—I love her therefore; but

Disdaining me, and throwing favours on

The low Posthumus, slanders so her judgement

That what’s else rare is choked; and in that point

I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed,

To be revenged upon her. For when fools

Shall—

Enter Pisanio

Who is here? What, are you packing, sirrah?

Come hither. Ah, you precious pander! Villain,

Where is thy lady? In a word, or else

Thou art straightway with the fiends.

PISANIO

O good my lord!

CLOTEN

Where is thy lady?—or, by Jupiter,

I will not ask again. Close villain,

I’ll have this secret from thy tongue or rip

Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus,

From whose so many weights of baseness cannot

A dram of worth be drawn?

PISANIO

Alas, my lord,

How can she be with him? When was she missed?

He is in Rome.

CLOTEN

Where is she, sir? Come nearer.

No farther halting. Satisfy me home

What is become of her.

PISANIO O my all-worthy lord!

CLOTEN All-worthy villain,

Discover where thy mistress is at once,

At the next word. No more of ‘worthy lord’.

Speak, or thy silence on the instant is

Thy condemnation and thy death.

PISANIO

Then, sir,

This paper is the history of my knowledge

Touching her flight.

He gives Cloten a letter

CLOTEN

Let’s see’t. I will pursue her

Even to Augustus’ throne.

PISANIO ⌈aside⌉

Or this or perish.

She’s far enough, and what he learns by this

May prove his travel, not her danger.

CLOTEN Hum!

PISANIO (aside)

I’ll write to my lord she’s dead. O Innogen,

Safe mayst thou wander, safe return again!

CLOTEN

Sirrah, is this letter true?

PISANIO

Sir, as I think.

CLOTEN It is Posthumus’ hand; I know’t. Sirrah, if thou wouldst not be a villain but do me true service, undergo those employments wherein I should have cause to use thee with a serious industry—that is, what villainy soe’er I bid thee do, to perform it directly and truly—I would think thee an honest man. Thou shouldst neither want my means for thy relief nor my voice for thy preferment.

PISANIO Well, my good lord.

CLOTEN Wilt thou serve me? For since patiently and constantly thou hast stuck to the bare fortune of that beggar Posthumus, thou canst not in the course of gratitude but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou serve me? 121

PISANIO Sir, I will.

CLOTEN Give me thy hand. Here’s my purse. Hast any of thy late master’s garments in thy possession?

PISANIO I have, my lord, at my lodging the same suit he wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress.

CLOTEN The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit hither. Let it be thy first service. Go.

PISANIO I shall, my lord. Exit

CLOTEN Meet thee at Milford Haven! I forgot to ask him one thing; I’ll remember’t anon. Even there, thou villain Posthumus, will I kill thee. I would these garments were come. She said upon a time—the bitterness of it I now belch from my heart—that she held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect than my noble and natural person, together with the adornment of my qualities. With that suit upon my back will I ravish her—first kill him, and in her eyes; there shall she see my valour, which will then be a torment to her contempt. He on the ground, my speech of insultment ended on his dead body, and when my lust hath dined—which, as I say, to vex her I will execute in the clothes that she so praised—to the court I’ll knock her back, foot her home again. She hath despised me rejoicingly, and I’ll be merry in my revenge.

Enter Pisanio with Posthumus’ suit

Be those the garments?

PISANIO

Ay, my noble lord.

CLOTEN

How long is’t since she went to Milford Haven?

PISANIO She can scarce be there yet.

CLOTEN Bring this apparel to my chamber. That is the second thing that I have commanded thee. The third is that thou wilt be a voluntary mute to my design. Be but duteous, and true preferment shall tender itself to thee. My revenge is now at Milford. Would I had wings to follow it. Come, and be true. Exit

PISANIO

Thou bidd’st me to my loss, for true to thee

Were to prove false, which I will never be

To him that is most true. To Milford go,

And find not her whom thou pursuest. Flow, flow,

You heavenly blessings, on her. This fool’s speed

Be crossed with slowness; labour be his meed. Exit

3.6 Enter Innogen, dressed as a man, before the cave

INNOGEN

I see a man’s life is a tedious one.

I have tired myself, and for two nights together

Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick,

But that my resolution helps me. Milford,

When from the mountain-top Pisanio showed thee,

Thou wast within a ken. O Jove, I think

Foundations fly the wretched—such, I mean,

Where they should be relieved. Two beggars told me

I could not miss my way. Will poor folks lie,

That have afflictions on them, knowing ‘tis

A punishment or trial? Yes. No wonder,

When rich ones scarce tell true. To lapse in fullness

Is sorer than to lie for need, and falsehood

Is worse in kings than beggars. My dear lord,

Thou art one o’th’ false ones. Now I think on thee

My hunger’s gone, but even before I was

At point to sink for food. But what is this?

Here is a path to’t. ‘Tis some savage hold.

I were best not call; I dare not call; yet famine,

Ere clean it o’erthrow nature, makes it valiant.

Plenty and peace breeds cowards, hardness ever

Of hardiness is mother. Ho! Who’s here?

If anything that’s civil, speak; if savage,

Take or lend. Ho! No answer? Then I’ll enter.

Best draw my sword, and if mine enemy

But fear the sword like me he’ll scarcely look on’t.

Such a foe, good heavens!

Exit into the cave

Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus

BELARIUS

You, Polydore, have proved best woodman and

Are master of the feast. Cadwal and I

Will play the cook and servant; ‘tis our match.

The sweat of industry would dry and die

But for the end it works to. Come, our stomachs

Will make what’s homely savoury. Weariness

Can snore upon the flint when resty sloth

Finds the down pillow hard. Now peace be here,

Poor house, that keep’st thyself.

GUIDERIUS I am throughly weary.

ARVIRAGUS

I am weak with toil yet strong in appetite.

GUIDERIUS

There is cold meat i’th’ cave. We’ll browse on that

Whilst what we have killed be cooked.

BELARIUS (looking into the cave) Stay, come not in.

But that it eats our victuals I should think

Here were a fairy.

GUIDERIUS What’s the matter, sir?

BELARIUS

By Jupiter, an angel—or, if not,

An earthly paragon. Behold divineness

No elder than a boy.

Enter Innogen from the cave, dressed as a man

INNOGEN

Good masters, harm me not.

Before I entered here I called, and thought

To have begged or bought what I have took. Good

truth,

I have stol’n naught, nor would not, though I had

found

Gold strewed i’th’ floor. Here’s money for my meat.

I would have left it on the board so soon

As I had made my meal, and parted

With prayers for the provider.

GUIDERIUS

Money, youth?

ARVIRAGUS

All gold and silver rather turn to dirt,

As ’tis no better reckoned but of those

Who worship dirty gods.

INNOGEN

I see you’re angry.

Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should

Have died had I not made it.

BELARIUS

Whither bound?

INNOGEN

To Milford Haven.

BELARIUS

What’s your name?

INNOGEN

Fidele, sir. I have a kinsman who

Is bound for Italy. He embarked at Milford,

To whom being going, almost spent with hunger,

I am fall’n in this offence.

BELARIUS

Prithee, fair youth,

Think us no churls, nor measure our good minds

By this rude place we live in. Well encountered.

’Tis almost night. You shall have better cheer

Ere you depart, and thanks to stay and eat it.

Boys, bid him welcome.

GUIDERIUS

Were you a woman, youth,

I should woo hard but be your groom in honesty,

Ay, bid for you as I’d buy.

ARVIRAGUS

I’ll make’t my comfort

He is a man, I’ll love him as my brother.

(To Innogen) And such a welcome as I’d give to him

After long absence, such is yours. Most welcome.

Be sprightly, for you fall ’mongst friends.

INNOGEN ’Mongst friends

If brothers. (Aside) Would it had been so that they

Had been my father’s sons. Then had my price

Been less, and so more equal ballasting

To thee, Posthumus.

The three men speak apart

BELARIUS

He wrings at some distress.

GUIDERIUS

Would I could free’t.

ARVIRAGUS

Or I, whate’er it be,

What pain it cost, what danger. Gods!

BELARIUS

Hark, boys.

They whisper

INNOGEN (aside) Great men

That had a court no bigger than this cave,

That did attend themselves and had the virtue

Which their own conscience sealed them, laying by

That nothing-gift of differing multitudes,

Could not outpeer these twain. Pardon me, gods,

I’d change my sex to be companion with them,

Since Leonatus’ false.

BELARIUS

It shall be so.

Boys, we’ll go dress our hunt. Fair youth, come in.

Discourse is heavy, fasting. When we have supped

We’ll mannerly demand thee of thy story,

So far as thou wilt speak it.

GUIDERIUS

Pray draw near.

ARVIRAGUS

The night to th’ owl and morn to th’ lark less welcome.

INNOGEN

Thanks, sir.

ARVIRAGUS I pray draw near.

Exeunt into the cave