ACT THE THIRD. SCENE I Britain. A Room of State in Cymbeline's Palace. Enter CYMBELINE, Queen, CLOTEN, and Lords, at one Door; and at another, CAIUS LUCIUS, and Attendants. Cym. Now us ? say, what would Augustus Cæsar with Luc. When Julius Cæsar (whose remembrance yet Lives in men's eyes; and will to ears, and tongues, Be theme, and hearing ever,) was in this Britain, And conquer'd it, Cassibelan, thine uncle, (Famous in Cæsar's praises, no whit less Than in his feats deserving it,) for him, And his succession, granted Rome a tribute, Yearly three thousand pounds; which by thee lately Is left untender'd. A world by itself; and we will nothing pay, For wearing our own noses. Queen. That opportunity, Which then they had to take from us, to resume We have again. Remember, sir, my liege, The kings your ancestors; together with The natural bravery of your isle; which stands With sands, that will not bear your enemies' boats, quest Cæsar made here; but made not here his brag Of, came, and saw, and overcame: with shame (The first that ever touch'd him,) he was carried From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping, (Poor ignorant baubles !) on our terrible seas, Like egg-shells mov'd upon their surges, crack'd As easily 'gainst our rocks: for joy whereof, The fam'd Cassibelan, who was once at point (O, giglot fortune!) to master Cæsar's sword, Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright, And Britons strut with courage. Clo. Come there's no more tribute to be paid: Our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time; and, as I said, there is no more such Cæsars: other of them may have crooked noses; but, to owe3 such straight arms, none. Cym. Son, let your mother end. Clo. We have yet many among us can gripe as hard as Cassibelan: I do not say, I am one; but I have a hand. Why tribute? why should we pay tribute? 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, pray you now. Cym. You must know, Till the injurious Romans did extort This tribute from us, we were free: Cæsar's ambition, (Which swell'd so much, that it did almost stretch 8 Own. Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed, Luc. I am sorry, Cymbeline, That I am to pronounce Augustus Cæsar (Cæsar, that hath more kings his servants, than Thyself domestick officers,) thine enemy: Receive it from me, then : War, and confusion, In Cæsar's name pronounce I 'gainst thee: look For fury not to be resisted: Thus defied, I thank thee for myself. Cym. Thou art welcome, Caius. Thy Cæsar knighted me; my youth I spent Much under him; of him I gather'd honour; Which he, to seek of me again, perforce, Behoves me keep at utterance; I am perfect ', That the Pannonians and Dalmatians, for Their liberties, are now in arms: a precedent Which, not to read, would show the Britons cold: So Cæsar shall not find them. Luc. Let proof speak. Clo. His majesty bids you welcome. Make pastime with us a day, or two, longer: If you seek us afterwards in other terms, you shall find us in our salt-water girdle: if you beat us out of it, it is yours; if you fall in the adventure, our crows shall fare the better for you; and there's an end. Luc. So, sir. Cym. I know your master's pleasure, and he mine: All the remain is, welcome. 9 At the extremity of defiance. [Exeunt. Well-informed. SCENE II. - Another Room in the same. Enter PISANIO. Pis. How! of adultery? Wherefore write you not What monster's her accuser? Leonatus! O, master! what a strange infection Is fallen into thy ear? What false Italian (As poisonous tongue'd, as handed,) hath prevail'd Thy fortunes. -How! that I should murder her? Upon the love, and truth, and vows, which I Have made to thy command? I, her? — her blood? If it be so to do good service, never Let me be counted serviceable. How look I, That I should seem to lack humanity, So much as this fact comes too? Do't: The letter [Reading. That I have sent her, by her own command Enter IMOGEN. I am ignorant in what I am commanded. 2 To take in a town, is to conquer it. 3 Confederate. Pis. Madam, here is a letter from my lord. Imo. Who? thy lord? that is my lord, Leonatus ? O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer, That knew the stars, as I his characters; yet not, That we two are asunder, let that grieve him, (Some griefs are med'cinable ;) that is one of them, For it doth physick love; of his content, All but in that! be, Good wax, thy leave: Bless'd You bees, that make these locks of counsel ! Lovers, Justice, and your father's wrath, should he take me in his dominion, could not be so cruel to me, as you, O the dearest of creatures, would not even renew me with your eyes. Take notice that I am in Cambria, at Milford-Haven. What your own love will, out of this, advise you, follow. So, he wishes you all happiness, that remains loyal to his vow, and your, increasing in love, LEONATUS POSTHUMUS. O, for a horse with wings! Hear'st thou, Pisanio? Glide thither in a day? Then, true Pisanio, (Who long'st, like me, to see thy lord; who long'st, O, let me 'bate, - but not like me : --- yet long'st, But in a fainter kind :-O, not like me; For mine's beyond beyond,) say, and speak thick, 4 Crowd one word on another, as fast as possible. |