The mansion where!) 'twas at a feast (O 'would
Our viands had been poison'd! or, at least,
Those which I heav'd to head!) the good Post-
humus
(What should I say? he was too good, to be
Where ill men were; and was the best of all
Amongst the rar'st of good ones), sitting sadly,
Hearing us praise our loves of Italy
For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast
Of him that best could speak; for feature, laming
The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva,
Postures beyond brief nature; for condition,
A shop of all the qualities that man
Loves woman for; besides, that hook of wiving,
Fairness, which strikes the eye :-
Cym.
Come to the matter. Iach.
Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This Posthumus
(Most like a noble lord in love, and one
That had a royal lover) took this hint;
And, not dispraising whom we prais'd (therein
He was as calm as virtue), he began
His mistress' picture; which by his tongue being made,
And then a mind put in't, either our brags
Were crack'd of kitchen trulis, or his description
Prov'd us unspeaking sots.
Nay, nay, to the purpose.
Iach. Your daughter's chastity-there it begins.
He spake of her, as Dian had hot dreams,
And she alone were cold: Whereat, I, wretch!
Made scruple of his praise; and wager'd with him
Pieces of gold, 'gainst this which then he wore
Upon his honour'd finger, to attain
In suit the place of his bed, and win this ring
By hers and mine adultery: he, true knight,
No lesser of her honour confident
Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring;
And would so, had it been a carbuncle
Of Phoebus' wheel, and might so safely, had it
Been all the worth of his car. A way to Britain
Post I in this design: Well may you, sir,
Remember ne at court, where I was taught
Of your chaste daughter the wide difference
'Twixt amorous and villainous. Being thus
quench'd
Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain
Gan in your duller Britain operate
Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent;
And, to be brief, my practice so prevail'd
That I return'd with simular proof enough
To make the noble Leonatus mad,
By wounding his belief in her renown
With tokens thus, and thus; averring notes
Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet,
(O, cunning, how I got it!) nay, some marks
Of secret on her person, that he could not
But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd,
I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon,-
Methinks, I see him now,-
Post. Ay, so thou dost, [Coming forward.
Italian fiend!-Ah me, most credulous fool,
Egregious murderer, thief, anything
That's due to all the villains past, in being,
To come!-0, give me cord, or knife, or poison,
Some upright justicer! Thou, king, send out
For torturers ingenious: it is I
That all the abhorred things o' the earth amend, By being worse than they. I am Posthumus, That kill'd thy daughter:-villain-like, I lie; That caus'd a lesser villain than myself,
A sacrilegious thief, to do't:-the temple
Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself.
Spit and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set
The dogs o' the streets to bay me: every villain
Be call'd Posthumus Leonatus; and
Be villainy less than 'twas!-O Imogen!
My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen!
Peace, my lord; hear, hear!Post. Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful page, There lie thy part. [Striking her: she falls. Pis. O, gentlemen, help
Mine, and your mistress :-O, my lord Posthumus! You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now:-Help, help!Mine honour'd lady!
Cym. Does the world go round? Post. How come these staggers on me? Pis. Wake, my mistress! Cym. If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me To death with mortal joy.
How fares my mistress? Imo. O, get thee from my sight;
Thou gav'st me poison: dangerous fellow, hence!
Breathe not where princes are!
The tune of Imogen!
The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if That box I gave you was not thought by me A precious thing; I had it from the queen. Cym. New matter still?
O gods!I left out one thing which the queen confess'd, Which must approve thee honest: if Pisanio Have, said she, given his mistress that confection Which I gave him for cordial, she is serv'd As I would serve a rat. Cym.
What's this, Cornelius?
Cor. The queen, sir, very oft importun'd me
To temper poisons for her; still pretending
The satisfaction of her knowledge only
In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs
Of no esteem: I, dreading that her purpose
Was of more danger, did compound for her
A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would cease
The present power of life; but, in short time,
All offices of nature should again
Do their due functions.-Have you ta'en of it?
Imo. Most like I did, for I was dead.
Bel.
They were not born for bondage. Cym.
Why, old soldier, Wilt thou undo the worth thou art un; aid for, By tasting of our wrath? How of descent As good as we?
Arv. In that he spake too far. Cym. And thou shalt de for't. Bel. We will die all three: But I will prove, that two of us are as good As I have given out him.-My sons, I must, For mine own part, unfold a dangerous speech, Though, haply, well for you. Arv.
Gui. And our good his. Bel.
Your danger's ours. Have at it then.
By leave-Thou hadst, great king, a subject who Was call'd Belarius.
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Then, spare not the old father. Mighty sir,
These two young gentlemen, that call me father,
And think they are my sons, are none of mine;
They are the issue of your loins, my liege,
And blood of your begetting.
Cym.
Bel. So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan,
Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd:
Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment
Itself, and all my treason: that I suffer d
Was all the harin I did. These gentle princes
(For such and so they are) these twenty years
Have I train'd up: those arts they have, as I
Could put into thein; my breeding was, sir, as
Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile,
Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children
Upon my banishinent: I mov'd her to't;
Having receiv'd the punishment before,
For that which I did then: Beaten for loyalty,
Excited me to treason: Their dear loss,
The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd
Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir,
Here are your sons again, and I must lose
Two of the sweet'st companions in the world:
The benediction of these covering heavens
Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy
To inlay heaven with stars.
Cym
Thou weep'st, and speak'st.
The service, that you three have done, is more
Unlike than this thou tell'st: I lost my children;
If these be they, I know not how to wish
A pair of worthier sons.
Bel.
Be pleas'd awhile.-
This gentleman, whom I call Polydore,
Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius
This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arvirágus,
Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lapp'd
In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand
Of his queen mother, which, for more probation
I can with ease produce.
Guiderius had Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star; It was a mark of wonder.
Bel. This is he; Who hath upon him still that natural stamp: It was wise Nature's end in the donation, To be his evidence now.
A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother
Rejoic'd deliverance more: -Bless'd may you be,
That, after this strange starting from your orbs,
You may reign in them now! O Imogen,
Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.
Imo.
No, my lord;
I have got two worlds by't. Omy gentle brothers,
Have we thus met? O never say hereafter
But I am truest speaker: you call'd me brother,
When I was but your sister; I you brothers,
When you were so indeed.
Arv. Ay, my good lord. Gui.
And at first meeting lov'd,
Continued so, until we thought he died.
Cor. By the queen's dram she swallow'd.
Cym.
O rare instinct!
When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridg-
Hath to it circumstantial branches, which Distinction should be rich in.- Where, how liv'd
Why fled you from the court? and whither? Make no collection of it; let him show
And your three motives to the battle, with
I know not how much more, should be demanded; And all the other by-dependencies,
From chance to chance; but nor the time, nor place,
Will serve our long intergatories. See,
Posthumus anchors upon Imogen;
And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye
On him, her brothers, me, her master, hitting
Each object with a joy; the counterchange
Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground,
And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.
Thou art my brother: So we'll hold thee ever.
[To BEL.
Imo. You are my father too; and did relieve me
To see this gracious season.
All o'erjoy'd, Save these in bonds; let them be joyful too, For they shall taste our comfort. Imo.
My good master, Happy be you!
I will yet do you service.
Luc.
Cym. The forlorn soldier that so nobly fought,
He would have well becom'd this place, and
grac'd
The soldier that did company these three
In poor beseeming; 'twas a fitment for
The purpose I then follow'd:-That I was he,
Speak, lachimo; I had you down, and might
Have made you finish.
I am down again: [Kneeling. But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee, As then your force did. Take that life, 'beseech
His skill in the construction.
Luc.
Sooth. Here, my good lord.
Luc.
Sooth. [Reads.]
Read, and declare the meaning.
When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown. without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air: and when from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches, which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate, and flourish in peace and plenty.
Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp;
The fit and apt construction of thy name,
Being Leo-natus, doth import so much:
The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter,
[To CYMBELINE.
Which we call mollis aer; and mollis aer
We term it mulier: which mulier I divine
Is this most constant wife; who, even now,
Answering the letter of the oracle,
Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about
With this most tender air.
Cym.
This hath some seeming.
Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, Personates thee: and thy lopp'd branches point Thy two sons forth: who, by Belarius stolen, For many years thought dead, are now reviv'd, To the majestic cedar join'd; whose issue Promises Britain peace and plenty.
Cym. Well, My peace we will begin :-And, Caius Lucius, Although the victor, we submit to Cæsar, And to the Roman empire; promising To pay our wonted tribute, from the which We were dissuaded by our wicked queen: Whom Heavens, in justice (both on her, and hers), Have laid most heavy hand.
Sooth. The fingers of the powers above do tune The harmony of this peace. The vision Which I made known to Lucius, ere the stroke Of this yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant Is full accomplished: For the Roman eagle, From south to west on wing soaring aloft, Lessen'd herself, and in the beams o' the sun So vanish'd: which foreshow'd our princely eagle The imperial Cæsar, should again unite His favour with the radiant Cymbeline. Which shines here in the west.
Cym. Laud we the gods, And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils From our bless'd altars! Publish we this peace To all our subjects. Set we forward: Let A Roman and a British ensign wave Friendly together: so through Lud's town march: And in the temple of great Jupiter Our peace we'll ratify; seal it with feasts. Set on there:-Never was a war did cease, Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a peace. [Exeunt
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DEMETRIUS, son to Tamora.
AARON, a Moor.
TAMORA, Queen of the Goths.
LAVINIA, daughter to Titus Andronicus.
A Nurse.
Kinsmen of Titus, Senators, Tribunes, Offoers,
Soldiers and Attendants.
SCENE-Rome and the Country near it.
Flourish. Enter the Tribunes and Senators, aloft;
and then enter SATURNINUS and his Followers at
one door, and BASSIANUS and his Followers at the
other, with drum and colours.
Sat. Noble patricians, patrons of my right,
Defend the justice of my cause with arms;
And, countrymen, my loving followers,
Plead my successive title with your swords:
I am his first-born son, that was the last
That wore the imperial diadem of Rome:
Then let my father's honours live in me,
Nor wrong mine age with this indignity.
Bass. Romans, friends, followers, favourers of
my right,
If ever Bassianus, Cæsar's son,
Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome,
Keep, then, this passage to the Capitol;
And suffer not dishonour to approach
Th'imperial seat; to virtue consecrate,
To justice, continence, and nobility:
But let desert in pure election shine;
And, Romans, fight for freedom in your choice.
Enter MARCUS ANDRONICUS, aloft, with the crown.
Marc. Princes, that strive by factions and
by friends
Ambitiously for rule and empery,
Know that the people of Rome, for whom we
stand
A special party, have by common voice,
In election for the Roman empery,
Chosen Andronicus, surnamed Pius,
For many good and great deserts to Rome:
A nobler man, a braver warrior,
Lives not this day within the city walls.
He by the senate is accited home,
From weary wars against the barbarous Goths,
That with his sons, a terror to our foes,
Hath yok'd a nation strong, train'd up in arms.
Ten years are spent, since first he undertook
This cause of Rome, and chastised with arms
Our enemies pride: five times he hath return'd
Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons
In coffins from the field;
And now at last, laden with honour's spoils,
Returns the good Andronicus to Rome,
Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms.
Let us entreat,-by honour of his name,
Whom worthily you would have now succeed,
And in the Capitol and senate's right,
Whom you pretend to honour and adore,-
That you withdraw you, and abate your strength;
Dismiss your followers, and, as suitors should,
Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness.
Sat. How fair the tribune speaks to calm my
thoughts!
Bass. Marcus Andronicus, so I do affy
In thy uprightness and integrity,
And so I love and honour thee and thine,
Thy noble brother Titus and his sons,
And her to whom my thoughts are humbled all,
Gracious Lavinia, Rome's rich ornament,
That I will here dismiss my loving friends;
And to my fortunes and the people's favour
Commit my cause in balance to be weigh'd.
[Exeunt Followers of BASSIANUS.
Sat. Friends, that have been thus forward in my
right,
I thank you all, and here dismiss you all;
And to the love and favour of my country
Commit myself, my person, and my cause.
[Exeunt Followers of SATURNINUS.
Rome, be as just and gracious unto me,
As I am confident and kind to thee.
Open the gates and let me in.
Bass. Tribunes, and me, a poor competitor.
[Flourish. They go up into the Senate-houss
SCENE II.-The same.
Enter a Captain and others.
Cap. Romans, make way: the good Andronicus Patron of virtue, Rome's best champion, Successful in the battles that he fights.
Luc. Away with him, and make a fire straight;
And with our swords, upon a pile of word,
Let's hew his limbs, till they be clean consum'd.
[Exeunt TITUS Sons with ALARBUS.
Tam. O cruel, irreligious piety!
With nonour and with fortune is return'd
From where he circumscribed with his sword,
And brought to yoke, the enemies of Rome.
[Sound drums and trumpets, and then enter two of
TITUS' Sons. After them two Men bearing a
coffin covered with black: then two other Sons.
After them TITUS ANDRONICUS; and then
TAMORA, the Queen of Goths, and her two Sons,
CHIRON and DEMETRIUS, with AARON the Moor,
and others, as many as can be. They set down the
coffin, and Trrus speaks.
Tit. Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning
Lo, as the bark that hath discharg'd her fraught,
Returns with precious lading to the bay
From whence at first she weigh'd her anchorage,
Cometh Andronicus, bound with laural boughs,
To re-salute his country with his tears,
Tears of true joy for his return to Rome.
Thou great defender of this Capitol,
Stand gracious to the rites that we intend !
Romans, of five-and-twenty valiant sons,
Half of the number that king Priam had,
Behold the poor remains, alive and dead!
These that survive, let Rome reward with love:
These that I bring unto their latest home,
With burial amongst their ancestors.
Here Goths have given me leave to sheath my
sword.
Titus, unkind, and careless of thine own,
Why suffer'st thou thy sons, unburied yet,
To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx?
Make way to lay them by their brethren.
[They open the tomb.
There greet in silence, as the dead are wont,
And sleep in peace, slain in your country's wars:
O sacred receptacle of my joys,
Sweet cell of virtue and nobility,
How many sons of mine hast thou in store,
That thou wilt never render to me more!
Chi. Was ever Scythia half so barbarous ?
Demet. Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome.
Alarbus goes to rest, and we survive
To tremble under Titus' threatening look.
Then, madam, stand resolv'd; but hope withal,
The self-same gods that arm'd the queen of Troy
With opportunity of sharp revenge
Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent,
May favour Tamora, the queen of Goths
(When Goths were Goths, and Tamora was queen),
To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes.
Enter the Sons of ANDRONICUS again.
Luc. See, lord and father, how we have
perform'd
Our Roman rites: Alarbus' limbs are lo p'd,
And entrails feed the sacrificing fire,
Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the sky.
Remaineth nought, but to inter our brethren,
And with loud larums welcome them to Rome.
Tit. Let it be so, and let Andronicus
Make this his latest farewell to their souls.
[Flourish. Sound trumpets, and they lay the
coffin in the tomb.
In peace and honour rest you here, my sons;
Rome's readiest champions, repose you here in rest,
Secure from worldly chances and mishaps:
Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells,
Here grow no damned grudges; here are no
storms,
No noise, but silence and eternal sleep.
In peace and honour rest you here, my sons.
Enter LAVINIA.
Lav. In peace and honour live lord Titus long;
My noble lord and father, live in fame!
Lo, at this tomb my tributary tears
Luc. Give us the proudest prisoner of the I render for my brethren's obsequies:
That we may hew his limbs, and on a pile,
Ad manes fratrum, sacrifice his flesh,
Before this earthy prison of their bones;
That so the shadows be not unappeas'd
Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth.
Tit. I give him you, the noblest that survivos,
The eldest son of this distressed queen.
Tam. Stay, Roman brethren, gracious conqueror,
Victorius Titus, rue the tears I shed,
A mother's tears in passion for her son:
And if thy sons were ever dear to thee,
O think my son to be as dear to me.
Sufficeth not, that we are brought to Rome
To beautify thy triumphs, and return
Captive to thee, and to thy Roman yoke;
But must my sons be slaughter'd in the streets,
For valiant doings in their country's cause?
O, if to fight for king and cominonweal
Were piety in thine, it is in these.
Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood.
Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods?
Draw near them, then, in being merciful:
Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge.
Thrice-noble Titus, spare my first-born son.
Tit. Patient yourself, madam, and pardon me.
These are the brethren, whom you Goths beheld
Alive and dead, and for their brethren slain
Religiously they ask a sacrifice:
To this your son is mark'd, and die ne must,
T'appease their groaning shadows that are gone.
And at thy feet I kneel, with tears of joy
Shed on the earth for thy return to Rome.
O bless me here with thy victorious hand,
Whose fortunes Rome's best citizens applaud.
Tit. Kind Rome, thou hast thus lovingly reserv'd
The cordial of mine age to glad my heart!
Lavinia, live! outlive thy father's days,
And fame's eternal date, for virtue's praise.
Enter MARCUS ANDRONICUS, SATURNINUS,
BASSIANUS, and others.
Marc. Long live lord Titus, my beloved brother
Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome!
Tit. Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother
Marcus.
Marc. And welcome, nephews, from successful
You that survive, and you that sleep in fame:
Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all,
That in your country's service drew your swords.
But safer triumph is this funeral pomp,
That hath aspir'd to Solon's happiness,
And triumphs over chance in honour's bed.
Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome,
Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been,
Send thee by me, their tribute and their trust,
This palliament of white and spotless hue,
And name thee in election for the empire,
With these our late deceased emperor's sons
Be candidatus then, and put it on,
And help to set a head on headless Romo
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