Cymbeline

Britain. The garden of Cymbeline’s palace.

Enter two Gentlemen.

First Gentleman

You do not meet a man but frowns: our bloods No more obey the heavens than our courtiers Still seem as does the king.

Second Gentleman

But what’s the matter?

First Gentleman

His daughter, and the heir of’s kingdom, whom He purposed to his wife’s sole son⁠—a widow That late he married⁠—hath referr’d herself Unto a poor but worthy gentleman: she’s wedded; Her husband banish’d; she imprison’d: all Is outward sorrow; though I think the king Be touch’d at very heart.

Second Gentleman

None but the king?

First Gentleman

He that hath lost her too; so is the queen, That most desired the match; but not a courtier, Although they wear their faces to the bent Of the king’s looks, hath a heart that is not Glad at the thing they scowl at.

Second Gentleman

And why so?

First Gentleman

He that hath miss’d the princess is a thing Too bad for bad report: and he that hath her⁠— I mean, that married her, alack, good man! And therefore banish’d⁠—is a creature such As, to seek through the regions of the earth For one his like, there would be something failing In him that should compare. I do not think So fair an outward and such stuff within Endows a man but he.

Second Gentleman

You speak him far.

First Gentleman

I do extend him, sir, within himself, Crush him together rather than unfold His measure duly.

The same. A public place.

Enter Cloten and two Lords.

First Lord

Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the violence of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice: where air comes out, air comes in: there’s none abroad so wholesome as that you vent.

Cloten

If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Have I hurt him?

Second Lord

Aside. No, ’faith; not so much as his patience.

First Lord

Hurt him! his body’s a passable carcass, if he be not hurt: it is a thoroughfare for steel, if it be not hurt.

Second Lord

Aside. His steel was in debt; it went o’ the backside the town.

Cloten

The villain would not stand me.

Second Lord

Aside. No; but he fled forward still, toward your face.

First Lord

Stand you! You have land enough of your own: but he added to your having; gave you some ground.

Second Lord

Aside. As many inches as you have oceans. Puppies!

Cloten

I would they had not come between us.

Second Lord

Aside. So would I, till you had measured how long a fool you were upon the ground.

Cloten

And that she should love this fellow and refuse me!

Second Lord

Aside. If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damned.

First Lord

Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain go not together: she’s a good sign, but I have seen small reflection of her wit.

Second Lord

Aside. She shines not upon fools, lest the reflection should hurt her.

Rome. Philario’s house.

Enter Philario, Iachimo, a Frenchman, a Dutchman, and a Spaniard.

Iachimo

Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Britain: he was then of a crescent note, expected to prove so worthy as since he hath been allowed the name of; but I could then have looked on him without the help of admiration, though the catalogue of his endowments had been tabled by his side and I to peruse him by items.

Philario

You speak of him when he was less furnished than now he is with that which makes him both without and within.

Frenchman

I have seen him in France: we had very many there could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he.

Iachimo

This matter of marrying his king’s daughter, wherein he must be weighed rather by her value than his own, words him, I doubt not, a great deal from the matter.

Frenchman

And then his banishment.

Iachimo

Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this lamentable divorce under her colours are wonderfully to extend him; be it but to fortify her judgment, which else an easy battery might lay flat, for taking a beggar without less quality. But how comes it he is to sojourn with you? How creeps acquaintance?

Philario

Posthumus

What lady would you choose to assail?

Iachimo

Yours; whom in constancy you think stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring, that, commend me to the court where your lady is, with no more advantage than the opportunity of a second conference, and I will bring from thence that honour of hers which you imagine so reserved.

Posthumus

I will wage against your gold, gold to it: my ring I hold dear as my finger; ’tis part of it.

Iachimo

You are afraid, and therein the wiser. If you buy ladies’ flesh at a million a dram, you cannot preserve it from tainting: but I see you have some religion in you, that you fear.

Posthumus

This is but a custom in your tongue; you bear a graver purpose, I hope.

Iachimo

I am the master of my speeches, and would undergo what’s spoken, I swear.

Posthumus

Will you? I shall but lend my diamond till your return: let there be covenants drawn between’s: my mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness of your unworthy thinking: I dare you to this match: here’s my ring.

Philario

I will have it no lay.

Iachimo

By the gods, it is one. If I bring you no sufficient testimony that I have enjoyed the dearest bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats are yours; so is your diamond too: if I come off, and leave her in such honour as you have trust in, she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are yours: provided I have your commendation for my more free entertainment.

Is there no way for men to be but women Must be half-workers? We are all bastards; And that most venerable man which I Did call my father, was I know not where When I was stamp’d; some coiner with his tools Made me a counterfeit: yet my mother seem’d The Dian of that time: so doth my wife The nonpareil of this. O, vengeance, vengeance! Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain’d And pray’d me oft forbearance; did it with A pudency so rosy the sweet view on’t Might well have warm’d old Saturn; that I thought her As chaste as unsunn’d snow. O, all the devils! This yellow Iachimo, in an hour⁠—was’t not?⁠— Or less⁠—at first?⁠—perchance he spoke not, but, Like a full-acorn’d boar, a German one, Cried “O!” and mounted; found no opposition But what he look’d for should oppose and she Should from encounter guard. Could I find out The woman’s part in me! For there’s no motion That tends to vice in man, but I affirm It is the woman’s part: be it lying, note it, The woman’s; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers; Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers; Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain, Nice longing, slanders, mutability, All faults that may be named, nay, that hell knows, Why, hers, in part or all; but rather, all; For even to vice They are not constant, but are changing still One vice, but of a minute old, for one Not half so old as that. I’ll write against them, Detest them, curse them: yet ’tis greater skill In a true hate, to pray they have their will: The very devils cannot plague them better. Exit.