 | Cymbeline |  |
76
ACT V.
SCENE The Forest and Cave.Enter Palador, and Cadwal.
PALADOR.
Cadwal, once more all hail our happy home!
I've seen enough of this wide world to day,
To turn my back upon society—
Saving the manly hardiments of war,
There's nought on earth desirable—but come,
Do we our errand, and the cave prepare,
(For therefore were we will'd to speed us first)
For the reception of high majesty.—
CADWAL.
They will o'ertake us soon—
PALADOR.
(Looking into the cave)
Stay, come not in—
But that I know this figure, I should think
It were a fairy.
CADWAL.
What's the matter, brother?
PALADOR.
By Jupiter, a spirit!—Gods! one sand
Another doth not more resemble, than
This form the rosy lad who died, and was
Fidele—
CADWAL.
Ev'n the same dead thing alive—
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Peace, peace, see more—he eyes us not—forbear—
It is Fidele's ghost—
CADWAL.
Hist! it comes forward!
Enter Imogen from the cave.
PALADOR.
Cadwal, stand close—nay shake not—look, it smiles.
What art thou, beauteous vision, that dost take
So sweet a form—thou can'st not mean us harm.
Mischief ne'er travell'd in a shape like that—
Art thou Fidele? speak—why hast thou left
Thy flow'ry grave? why dost thou haunt our rock?
Or art some spirit in his borrow'd likeness,
That for thy merriment dost wear a semblance,
Deluding us poor mortals?—Gentle, speak.—
IMOGEN.
Give me your hands—I am your living brother,
The true Fidele—
CADWAL.
Can it be ye Gods!
This is a day of wonders—
PALADOR.
I'll no more
Witness the thing I see—art thou alive?
Dear boy, I feel thou art—
(Embracing Imogen.)
IMOGEN.
Sirs, I did take
A certain drowsy potion, that fast seiz'd
The present pow'r of life; but in short time
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Resume due functions.—Wherefore I took this,
Hereafter ask—and let me now demand,
Where's good Bellarius? where's my uncle? why
Those weapons at your sides? for thus you ne'er
Equip'd for hunting.
PALADOR.
No, my dearest brother,
We've been at better sport in the fair field,
Where honour chases danger—what we've done
Fame shall set down in brass, and shew't to Cæsar;
And then 'twill task arithmetic to count
All the wet cheeks in Rome.
IMOGEN.
How! have your rapiers
Been drawn in battle?
PALADOR.
To victorious purpose—
The king is coming hither—
IMOGEN.
Hah! the king!
What and who brings him?
PALADOR.
O your worthy uncle,
Unknown, and in disguise; my father too,
And a long lordly train; ere night, the book
Of fate, wide open'd to inspection,
Great secrets shall disclose.—Here comes Philario,
The rest are not far off.—Cadwal, we'll in—
Do you, Fidele, meet him here, and strike
New matter of amazement to his heart.
[Exeunt Palador and Cadwal into the cave.
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PHILARIO.
Fairest, and best of women, pardon me
(kneeling)
The tortures I have put thy virtue to
In trial, not in malice.—O forgive me;
For till thy lips have pass'd remission on me,
Mine must be lock'd in silence.
IMOGEN.
Rise, Philario!
Thy stratagem has more complexion in't
Of wisdom, than of guilt—my honour tried,
I'm serv'd, and not offended—That same drug,
Murd'rous awhile to sense, I thank'd thee for
With the first breath I wak'd with—hence of that
Put the remembrance by—My brothers tell me
Of something strange at hand.—
PHILARIO.
My gracious lady,
Since last we parted, the big hours have teem'd
With great, and sad events—pardon me, Gods,
One fiction more.—
(aside.)
IMOGEN.
Hast thou heard aught, Philario,
Of Leonatus? What is in thy mind
That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh
From th'inward of thee? Speak—where is my husband?
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Say he were dead—his villainous intent
Should cure thy present sorrow.
IMOGEN.
Thy supposing
Confirms his death, and my hereafter woe—
Thou tell'st me he was jealous, false, and cruel—
Grant he had faults, yet they were faults that others
Haply infus'd into his honest nature—
Grant he had faults, yet faults his future life
Might have amended all.—But, oh! this death
Chills mortally, and with the scythe of winter
Cuts down my spring of hope—O Leonatus!
PHILARIO.
Nay, lady, mark me—He did leave the world
Without one drop of pity for your fate.
I saw him down in fight, whereto his rage
Had brought him, 'midst the hottest fumes of war
To make a desp'rate end; and first explaining
This hermit's garb, (which I to-day put on
To cheat the wary eye of Cymbeline)
Vow'd in the doing his will my heart
Rebell'd against my hand. “'Tis well, he cry'd,
“I go to meet the strumpet, and consign her
“To other fires than lust.” He said no more,
But to the last breath'd anger.
IMOGEN.
If 'tis so,—
Some dæmon, envious of his peace and mine,
Did witch his sober judgment; nought but magic
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Could ruin make of such a noble piece
Of heav'nly workmanship. Gods! what is man
When error outlives honour? Yet, Philario,
I will remember the good thing he was,
Ere fury bent him wrongwards—What he did
Let insolence, that wags his head in scorn
O'er virtue fall'n, proclaim—but never so
Shall his poor wife reproach him—O my lord,
Wise, valiant, gentle, constant, just, and true,
The world did tack to thy all-honour'd name;
Thou wert the mark that Jupiter did point to,
When he prais'd mortal beings.
PHILARIO.
Noblest princess,
What shall my wonder call thee?—thy great father
Yet knows not half thy worth—hither he's coming;
And I will put into his royal pow'r
The now-disposal of our destinies—
Lo, he is here—Be silent, and attend—
Hail to king Cymbeline.—
Enter Cymbeline, Bellarius, Leonatus, and Lords.
CYMBELINE.
We thank you, hermit.—
BELLARIUS.
Good heav'ns! Fidele living!
PHILARIO.
Hist—a word—
(Phil. whispers Bell.)
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In troth, this rock hath a most pleasant site
To tempt a king from home—O luxury,
How art thou put to shame, if comfort lives
Where lowliness inhabits—our good hosts,
Where are the valiant boys?
PHILARIO.
Dread sovereign,
They shall come forth.—Ho! Cadwal! Palador!
Enter Cadwal and Palador from the Cave.
And now, so please your highness, I will ope,
Before you do betake you to repast,
A volume of high marvels to your ear.
CYMBELINE.
Pray you begin.
PHILARIO.
First know then, mighty sir,
He, that addresses here your royal presence,
No hermit is, but your true slave Philario.—
Nay, start not, sir, but know all criminals,
And then proceed to justice—here is one
(pointing to Leonatus.)
Has travell'd far to meet your fierce displeasure,
Yet once deserv'd your grace—
LEONATUS.
Ay, I am he—
No beggar, king, but yet a wretch more curst
Than ever fortune spurn'd at.—Know'st me not?
Send for ingenious torturers; command
The art of cruelty to practise on me,
For I do all abhorred things amend
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The villain that did steal thy princely daughter;
(Yet that was theft for Gods!) the damned villain
That, in a fit of jealous lunacy,
Murder'd all precious qualities that man
Loves woman for—that—
IMOGEN.
(running, and laying hold of her.)
Peace, my lord, hear, hear—
LEONATUS.
Shall's have a play of this? thou scornful page
Come not athwart my grief—
(strikes her.)
PHILARIO.
Hold, Leonatus,
Or thou wilt murder do, who art so hurt
In a conceit 'tis done—Why gaze you so?
Didst thou not hear her speak? and know'st thou not
The tune of Imogen?
CYMBELINE.
The rock goes round.
PHILARIO.
Nay, wonder is the gen'ral word to all!
You that ne'er lov'd, look on that virtuous pair—
Mark! how he anchors upon Imogen!
See! how she hangs on Leonatus' arm!
While both are mute in sweet extremity
Of truest love, and joy!
LEONATUS
(after a pause.)
Joy! who names joy?—
It is a word too cold—What heav'n shall be
Hereafter, I feel now—Whom had I lost,
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But Imogen?—Whom did I drive to death,
But Imogen?—Yet Imogen is found—
Yet Imogen is purer than the star
That leads her virgin train to light the morn—
Yet Imogen still lives, and lives to love me!—
—Divide all matter of discourse among you—
What can I say or think but Imogen!
IMOGEN.
How do the gracious Gods hide kindness, 'neath
The fable veil of sad appearances?
O Leonatus! had we never parted,
Had I ne'er stood the mark of thy revenge,
Ne'er had we known what 'tis to meet again,
What 'tis to meet again in life, and love!
(Embrace.)
PALADOR.
Why so, farewel
The boy Fidele! I begin to fear
I shall hold manhood vile, for sure the graces,
Which fair perfection is compounded of,
Are all bound up in woman! princely Imogen,
Altho' thou art the daughter of a king,
I have ambition in me, that could wish
To call thee sister.—
BELLARIUS.
Wond'rous nature still!
(aside.)
PALADOR.
My sword has from their hearts drawn the best blood
Of those you're little bound to—and I'll wear it,
Whilst it is mine, for your protection, lady—
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I do believ't—enough—now Cymbeline
Wait we your royal sentence—for myself,
That I have cover'd honesty with guile,
In which I had in aim the gen'ral good,
I rather sue for thanks from all, than pardon—
For this my friend, (points to Leonatus)
—dread Sir, your clearest judgment
Has seal'd his virtue sterling; and albeit
In jealous mood he did conceive an act
That tenderness calls terrible, yet think I,
His jealousy had ground more seeming sure,
Than common frenzy treads on—
PALADOR.
Sir, I know it.
PHILARIO.
Well, by-and-by—for this unparagon'd,
She'as cur'd me of some spleen against her sex;
I've prov'd her (as anon at large you'll hear
IMOGEN.
When we shall make past terrors our disport,)
PHILARIO.
The sweetest lady; and the truest wife,
That ever swore her faith—your sentence, sir,
Which I forestal a kind one.
CYMBELINE.
Since 'tis thus,
I will not counteract the mighty Gods
In what they have ordained—My children, take
Full pardon in a blessing—heaven's good gifts
Fall on your heads like dew!
LEONATUS.
Thus on our knees—
(Leonat. and Imogen kneel.)
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My Imogen!—
IMOGEN.
My Leonatus!
BOTH.
Oh!—
(Embracing.)
PHILARIO.
How glutton-like thou dost devour thy joy,
And can'st not spare one morsel to a friend!
LEONATUS.
O yes, to thee—for 'tis to thee I owe
The bliss that I am wild with—O believe me,
Scarce went that angry mandate from my hand,
But my repentance fetch'd it back, e'en tho'
I thought my bride-bed stain'd with violation—
I landed 'midst a herd of vulgar Romans,
In hope to intercept the fell revenge
That freighted thy commission, or myself
To barter life of future wretchedness
For death of present glory—
CYMBELINE.
Well resolv'd—
But still there doth remain behind Philario,
Long maze to be unravell'd—who are these?
This old man and his boys? How join'd you them?
Or knowst thou aught of Cloten, our dear son?
Upon whose widow'd hopes we're bound in honour
To shed some comfort—him we shall endow with
A moiety of this fair realm—
PALADOR.
What him!
Would you make puppets princes? I'm right glad
(Your pardon king) he will not heed your offer—
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Say'st thou bold boy?
PALADOR.
If honesty is boldness,
I am a lion—to be brief, my lord—
Wherefore that frown? I was not born to stand
In awe of eye-brows—Your son Cloten ranks
'Mongst those that were your subjects—
CYMBELINE.
How is this?
Stripling beware—who trifles with a king
Plays with his peril—
PALADOR.
He is dead—I slew him—
Upon the very spot thou standst, I slew him—
The foulest blood my hand has spilt is his—
Monarch, thou knew'st him not—
CYMBELINE.
Audacious boy!
Thou hast condemn'd thyself—and spight of all
That thou hast done to-day, dost from my lips
Pluck a hard sentence—thou must die—
PALADOR.
Hah! hah!
Die, Sir! why then let treason be true service,
And loyalty make capital—I'm sorry
To anger you—but the bare name of Cloten
Untunes my spirits; my enraged soul
Catches like tinder at it; it doth fret me,
And make me quarrelous and testy as
Infirmity untended—Good Philario,
Produce thy scroll—
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Marry, and willingly.
(Gives Cloten's letter.)
So please your grace read this. It doth contain
Matter important to the point. (Cymbeline reads.)
Good Sirs,
Comes it within the compass of belief,
Such wisdom and such valour e'er could grow
Beneath so poor a roof?—This virtuous hermit
Is fit to train up emperors—These youths—
But peace—the king
CYMBELINE.
This letter, sir, whence came it?
PALADOR.
My lord, Pisanio, with his dying hand
Lodg'd it in mine—
CYMBELINE.
It doth appear by this,
That Cloten villainous connection held
With the new-beaten Cæsar—I'm abus'd,
And fool is he that thinks the heart of man
Hangs at his tongue—loudly this caitif roar'd
For Britain, and for me; and when he breath'd
His am'rous plaints, pin'd like a nightingale.—
This mischief-breeding serpent! Palador,
We thank thy valour, tho' thy tongue was rude
In roughness of reply.
PALADOR.
If I have valour,
It is my nature, sir, for my harsh language
I learn'd it 'mongst these rocks.
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We would know more
Of who, and what thou art—Bellarius speak,
Make full discov'ry of yourselves, and fortunes,
And end our present wonders.
BELLARIUS.
It is meet
Your will should be obey'd—My sons, I must
For my own part unfold much dang'rous truth,
Tho' haply well for you—
PALADOR.
Your danger's ours.
CADWAL.
And our good your's.
BELLARIUS.
Most mighty Cymbeline!
Thou hadst a subject that was Edwin call'd.
CYMBELINE.
Edwin! ay, what of him? a banish'd traitor—
BELLARIUS.
Indeed, a banish'd man, but not a traitor;
For I am he—
CYMBELINE.
The whole world shall not save him!
Lords bear him hence—
BELLARIUS.
Nay, not so hot, great king—First pay me for
The breeding of thy sons—
CYMBELINE.
Breeding my sons!
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I am too blunt, and saucy; here's my knee;
E'er I arise, I will prefer my sons,
(kneels.)
Then spare not the old father. Mighty sir,
These two young gentlemen, that call me father,
Are the true issue of your royal loins,
And blood of your begetting.
CYMBELINE.
How! my issue!
BELLARIUS.
So sure, as you your sire's. These noble princes
(For such and so they are) these twenty years
Have I train'd up; such arts they have as I
Could put into them—Sir, my breeding was
As your grace knows—Their nurse Euriphile,
Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children
Upon my banishment. The loss of these
The more by you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd
Unto my end of stealing them; the vengeance
Of slander'd loyalty—but, royal sir,
Here are your sons again; and I must lose
Two of the sweet'st companions in the world—
Heaven's grace be with them both, for they are worthy
To in-lay heav'n with stars.
CYMBELINE.
Thou weep'st, and speak'st—
I lost my children, and if these be they
They are a pair of worthies.
BELLARIUS.
Sir, your patience—
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Most worthy prince, as your's, is true Guiderius;
This gentleman, my Cadwal, is Arviragus,
Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lapt
In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand
Of his queen mother, which for more probation
I can with ease produce.
CYMBELINE.
Guiderius had
Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star;
It was a mark of wonder.
BELLARIUS.
This is he,
Who hath upon him still that nat'ral stamp;
It was wife nature's end in the donation
To be his evidence now.
CYMBELINE.
'Tis he! 'tis he!
O sure to-day the Gods do mean to strike me
To death with mortal joy— (Embracing Palador and Cadwal.)
My sons! my sons!
O Imogen! my child, thou'st found two brothers,
But thou hast lost a kingdom.
IMOGEN.
No, my lord,
I've got two worlds by this. O my dear brothers,
Do we meet thus? oh! 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.
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Why e'en let honour
Come, as the Gods foresay it; I'm a prince
But still the British Palador a sweet sister,
The moiety my father meant for Cloten
Is thine, and thy brave lord's, if my request,
The first I make, be granted—thee, Bellarius,
We must at leisure thank; and you, Philario,
We shall set down our friend; dear brother Cadwal,
(I can't yet call thee by that other name)
Thou shalt be part'ner of my royalty;
We'll turn our hermitage into a temple,
And yearly smoak it with our sacrifices.
CADWAL.
Agreed! O never was a day like this!
CYMBELINE.
Laud we the Gods!—Bellarius, be our brother.
Sirs, we are much indebted to you all,
And we will shew it in our courtesies—
Come, let us in, and to more joyous feast
Than princes e'er regal'd at—In your stories,
Of which th' abridgement fills us with amazement,
Distinction shall be rich—to-morrow, sirs,
We will to Lud's Town march—Cæsar shall pay
Large ransom for the lives we have in hold,
And sue to us for terms—ne'er war did cease,
With fairer prospect of a glorious peace.
[Exeunt omnes.
FINIS.
| Cymbeline | |