University of Virginia Library

SCENE VI.

Enter Clodio with a Train of Romans.
Cymb.
First, Clodio, for thyself and those brave Romans,
Our Britain greets ye well—Our further answer
Waits to be measured by your errand—Say,
With us, what would Augustus?

Clod.
Thus, saith Cæsar:
Nature, through Heaven and earth, hath form'd her works
In due subordination. One Supreme
Rules each appointed province.—Sol, who now
Drinks at the nether ocean, through the round
Of the wide Empyreum, where he walks
Among ten thousand thousand lesser lights,
Beholds no rival!—In like manner, reigns
Jove over gods; and, over mortals, Cæsar—
But, not with lawless sway.—Rome, Cymbeline,
Whose empire gathers in the scatter'd realms
Of our remotest world, spreads forth her wings,
Even as a parent-bird, to shield her young,
And fosters while she rules—nor would leave out
Your distant Britain from the wide protection.

Cymb.
Protection! have we sought it?—Say to Cæsar,
That Britain is a world within herself,
Imperial, independent; from the birth
Of nature, set apart, fair, full, and free,
And all-sufficient ever. Britain is
Another sea-born Venus, girt around
With her cerulean cestus, her chaste zone,
Which Rome shall not untie.—Protection! where,
Where was this proud display of Rome's protection,
When every petty state of petty Latium,
Gave her to tremble for herself?—No, Roman!
Britain is likelier, o'er a subject world,
To stretch her own domain, than from that world
To learn the lesson of a vile subjection.
When Rome shall ask our help, our will and power
May answer to her wants; we want not her's,
Nor will accept such Greek-like gifts—Protection!
Britain, we trust, shall well protect herself
From such protectors.

Clod.
Your uncle Cassibelan, Cymbeline,
Would not have answer'd our first Cæsar thus.

Cymb.
My uncle Cassibelan, Clodio,
Did answer your first Cæsar thus—that Julius,
Whose boast of conquest over mighty nations,
Was, that “he came and saw.”—Was that his boast
O'er Britain also?—No.—At first, he smiled
At our small skill; but soon was taught to frown
At our great courage. Twice repuls'd, and driven
To hide his shame in Gaul, at length he learn'd,
By force of faction, rather than of steel,
With our own arms to win us.—If the gods
Shall ever doom us to a foreign yoke,
'Tis not the arms of Rome, or of the world,
We have to fear—Britain can only fall
By Britain!

Clod.
Your uncle, Cassibelan, in behalf
Of his succeeders in the British throne,
Did gage to Julius, his acknowledg'd lord,
A yearly rent of seventy golden talents.

Cymb.
Let Julius claim!—He laid his country, too,
Under like contribution.—Tell me, Roman,
Did Brutus well, when, by one godlike stroke,
He gave her freedom?

Clod.
We have nought with this.—
We come to claim the tribute—What's your answer?

Cymb.
That ye have ta'en us somewhat unprovided—
Of money?—no, but marshal'd men—with such
We mean to pay you.—Tribute! wherefore tribute?
When Cæsar can obscure the golden sun,
Or hold the winds from breathing upon Britain,
He may demand a tax for light and air—
Till then, no tribute, Clodio.

Clod.
Yet, bethink you.
Loth am I to pronounce the world's wide lord
An enemy to Britain; to call forth
Rome's thunder yet restrain'd, confusion, wrath,
And ruin, not to be resisted.—Cæsar,
Who numbers more of monarchs in his train,
Than Cymbeline of menial servitors,
Yet tenders peace and amity.

Cymb.
On terms
Of equal amity, we would embrace him.
But, why, with present menace, do we deem
Of future issues, which the gods, alone,
Have in their keeping?—
Let us be brief, and sum our last resolves.

Clod.
War, or submission?

Cymb.
Liberty, or death!—
Lords, give our guests such tendence, as befits
Their high condition—A good night to all.

[Exeunt severally, Cymbeline and his Attendants— Clodio and his train.
Queen.
Cloten, I do bethink me, that the gods,
If there are gods, or dæmons, or whate'er,
That may obtrude their influence, unask'd,
On mortal counsels, or concerns—I think,
We have no cause to thank them—Leonatus
Is now beyond our reach; and Cymbeline
Must not be laid to sleep, until the known
Events of war shall tell us when to strike.
His daughter, too!—but for thy foolish lusts,
That bar had been away, by this.

Clot.
My mother,
I ask you not to give her to my love—
Yet, spare her to my vengeance, to the chastening
That's due to her contempts!—By all the gods,
Should she escape inviolate, your Cloten
Must pine upon the throne.

Queen.
Well then, be speedy.

Clot.
The King has put me into large commission.

Queen.
The King, my child?—no matter for the King;
He's ours already. 'Tis the Roman power
That's yet in doubt—Both sides must be secured,
That fate may find no further way to cross us.

Clot.
And how may that—

Queen.
No more—but be attentive.—
With the first dawn, take this dispatch to Clodio.
It is addrest to Lucius, Rome's elect
For this high expedition; and imports
A tender, on our part, to great Augustus,
Of double tribute, and our Pictish bands,
In aid of Rome's thin legions—thus condition'd,
That Britain's crown should be confirm'd to us.
Be close and dark as night—Away, my son,
To bed, and dream of honours!

[Exeunt severally.