 | Cymbeline |  |
SCENE opens, and discovers Imogen in her apartment, sitting by a table; a book on the table.
Enter Philario.
There she sits—
Sweet student! with a look as chaste as Dian's.—
If she's disloyal, falshood never yet
Hung out so fair a sign—yet seems, we know,
Is often read for is—I must disturb her—
Imogen—lady—
IMOGEN.
Hah! what now, Philario?
PHILARIO.
Dear lady, here are letters from your lord—
IMOGEN.
From whom? from Leonatus?—Let me see—
Oh! learn'd indeed were that astronomer,
That knew the stars as I his characters—
He'd lay the future open—You good Gods,
Let what is here contain'd relish of love;
Of my lord's health; of his content; yet not
That we two are apart—of his content
In all but that—good wax, thy leave—blest bees
That make these locks of counsel—Good news, Gods.
PHILARIO.
Now let me con her visage as she reads—
IMOGEN.
(Reading)
He is at Milford Haven—prithee tell me
How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs
May plod it in a day, why may not I
Glide thither in an hour? Then, good Philario,
Who long'st like me to see thy friend; who long'st
(O let me bate) but not like me, yet long'st,
But in a fainter kind—Oh! not like me—
For mine's beyond, beyond—tell me how far
To this same blessed Milford; and by the way
Tell me how Wales was made so happy as
T'inherit such a haven. But first of all,
How may we steal from hence? I prithee speak
How far to Milford?
PHILARIO.
Madam, we may reach it,
With horses swift and sure of foot, before
The sun has ended his day's journey.
IMOGEN.
Well—
But how to get from hence—
PHILARIO.
I have a thought—
Lady, a thousand eyes keep centinel
To watch your motions here—yet haply these
Unquestion'd we may pass—suppose you did
Assume another mien, and but disguise
That, which t'appear itself must not now be
But by self-danger—cannot you awhile
Forget to be a woman?
IMOGEN.
I'm almost
A man already.
PHILARIO.
Make yourself but like one,
And ev'ry gate shall kindly open to us,
Tho' Argus' self were porter.
IMOGEN.
In my closet
I have a suit of boy's apparel ready,
That was my page's—under which disguise,
And with what imitation I can borrow
From youth of such a season, I will quit
This castle's loathsome hold.
PHILARIO.
You are resolv'd then
To tie yourself to Leonatus' fortune,
And leave your father and the court behind you?
IMOGEN.
No court, no father now—(for what's a father
Whose mind my crafty stepdame poison'd, that
Bore all down with her brain) no, nor no more
Of that harsh, sullen, haughty, princeling Cloten,
That Cloten, whose love-suit has been to me
As fearful as a siege.
PHILARIO.
Hie to your chamber,
And fit you to your manhood—dull delay
Is sin 'gainst resolution.
IMOGEN.
I am arm'd
Ev'n for events of peril infinite,
And woman's love is courage.
PHILARIO.
I will hence,
And able horse and furniture prepare
For this adventure: I'll be with you, lady,
Before you're well equipp'd.
IMOGEN.
Do, good Philario:
The gracious Gods direct us!
[Exeunt severally.
A father cruel, and a suitor base,
A banish'd husband too—O that's the grief
That gives the deepest wound.—Then am I sure
The shes of Italy will not betray
Mine int'rest, and his honour?—Wicked fear!
Where he abides, falshood is out of fashion,
And truth the law to action.—Hark! the clock!
(Clock strikes.)
'Tis the tenth hour of morn—the very time
I bad him think on me, and combat heav'n
With prayers, as I would do.—O bless him Gods,
And sweeten all his cares with drops of comfort.
—Now to my book—Philosophy, best doctor,
Thou wisely dost prescribe to human woe
The lenitive of patience.—
(Reads.)
A banish'd husband too—O that's the grief
That gives the deepest wound.—Then am I sure
The shes of Italy will not betray
Mine int'rest, and his honour?—Wicked fear!
Where he abides, falshood is out of fashion,
And truth the law to action.—Hark! the clock!
(Clock strikes.)
'Tis the tenth hour of morn—the very time
I bad him think on me, and combat heav'n
With prayers, as I would do.—O bless him Gods,
And sweeten all his cares with drops of comfort.
—Now to my book—Philosophy, best doctor,
Thou wisely dost prescribe to human woe
The lenitive of patience.—
Enter Philario.
There she sits—
Sweet student! with a look as chaste as Dian's.—
If she's disloyal, falshood never yet
Hung out so fair a sign—yet seems, we know,
Is often read for is—I must disturb her—
Imogen—lady—
17
Hah! what now, Philario?
PHILARIO.
Dear lady, here are letters from your lord—
IMOGEN.
From whom? from Leonatus?—Let me see—
Oh! learn'd indeed were that astronomer,
That knew the stars as I his characters—
He'd lay the future open—You good Gods,
Let what is here contain'd relish of love;
Of my lord's health; of his content; yet not
That we two are apart—of his content
In all but that—good wax, thy leave—blest bees
That make these locks of counsel—Good news, Gods.
PHILARIO.
Now let me con her visage as she reads—
IMOGEN.
(Reading)
Justice and your father's wrath, should
he take me in his dominions, could not be so cruel to
me, but you, oh! the dearest of creatures, would
even renew me with your eyes. Take notice that I am
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 yours increasing in love,
Leonatus.
Oh! for a horse with wings—hear'st thou, Philario,He is at Milford Haven—prithee tell me
18
May plod it in a day, why may not I
Glide thither in an hour? Then, good Philario,
Who long'st like me to see thy friend; who long'st
(O let me bate) but not like me, yet long'st,
But in a fainter kind—Oh! not like me—
For mine's beyond, beyond—tell me how far
To this same blessed Milford; and by the way
Tell me how Wales was made so happy as
T'inherit such a haven. But first of all,
How may we steal from hence? I prithee speak
How far to Milford?
PHILARIO.
Madam, we may reach it,
With horses swift and sure of foot, before
The sun has ended his day's journey.
IMOGEN.
Well—
But how to get from hence—
PHILARIO.
I have a thought—
Lady, a thousand eyes keep centinel
To watch your motions here—yet haply these
Unquestion'd we may pass—suppose you did
Assume another mien, and but disguise
That, which t'appear itself must not now be
But by self-danger—cannot you awhile
Forget to be a woman?
IMOGEN.
I'm almost
A man already.
19
Make yourself but like one,
And ev'ry gate shall kindly open to us,
Tho' Argus' self were porter.
IMOGEN.
In my closet
I have a suit of boy's apparel ready,
That was my page's—under which disguise,
And with what imitation I can borrow
From youth of such a season, I will quit
This castle's loathsome hold.
PHILARIO.
You are resolv'd then
To tie yourself to Leonatus' fortune,
And leave your father and the court behind you?
IMOGEN.
No court, no father now—(for what's a father
Whose mind my crafty stepdame poison'd, that
Bore all down with her brain) no, nor no more
Of that harsh, sullen, haughty, princeling Cloten,
That Cloten, whose love-suit has been to me
As fearful as a siege.
PHILARIO.
Hie to your chamber,
And fit you to your manhood—dull delay
Is sin 'gainst resolution.
IMOGEN.
I am arm'd
Ev'n for events of peril infinite,
And woman's love is courage.
20
I will hence,
And able horse and furniture prepare
For this adventure: I'll be with you, lady,
Before you're well equipp'd.
IMOGEN.
Do, good Philario:
The gracious Gods direct us!
[Exeunt severally.
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