The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 105

Why fled you from the court? and whither? These, And your three motives to the battle, with I know not how much more, should be demanded, And all the other by-dependences, From chance to chance; but nor the time nor place Will serve our long interrogatories. 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.

[To BELARIUS] Thou art my brother; so we'll hold thee ever.

IMOGEN. You are my father too, and did relieve me To see this gracious season.

CYMBELINE. All o'erjoy'd Save these in bonds. Let them be joyful too, For they shall taste our comfort.

IMOGEN. My good master, I will yet do you service.

LUCIUS. Happy be you!

CYMBELINE. The forlorn soldier, that so n.o.bly fought, He would have well becom'd this place and grac'd The thankings of a king.

POSTHUMUS. I am, sir, 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, Iachimo. I had you down, and might Have made you finish.

IACHIMO. [Kneeling] I am down again; But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee, As then your force did. Take that life, beseech you, Which I so often owe; but your ring first, And here the bracelet of the truest princess That ever swore her faith.

POSTHUMUS. Kneel not to me.

The pow'r that I have on you is to spare you; The malice towards you to forgive you. Live, And deal with others better.

CYMBELINE. n.o.bly doom'd!

We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law; Pardon's the word to all.

ARVIRAGUS. You holp us, sir, As you did mean indeed to be our brother; Joy'd are we that you are.

POSTHUMUS. Your servant, Princes. Good my lord of Rome, Call forth your soothsayer. As I slept, methought Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back'd, Appear'd to me, with other spritely shows Of mine own kindred. When I wak'd, I found This label on my bosom; whose containing Is so from sense in hardness that I can Make no collection of it. Let him show His skill in the construction.

LUCIUS. Philarmonus!

SOOTHSAYER. Here, my good lord.

LUCIUS. Read, and declare the meaning.

SOOTHSAYER. [Reads] 'When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embrac'd by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopp'd 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.

[To CYMBELINE] The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter, 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.

CYMBELINE. This hath some seeming.

SOOTHSAYER. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, Personates thee; and thy lopp'd branches point Thy two sons forth, who, by Belarius stol'n, For many years thought dead, are now reviv'd, To the majestic cedar join'd, whose issue Promises Britain peace and plenty.

CYMBELINE. Well, My peace we will begin. And, Caius Lucius, Although the victor, we submit to Caesar 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.

SOOTHSAYER. The fingers of the pow'rs above do tune The harmony of this peace. The vision Which I made known to Lucius ere the stroke Of yet this scarce-cold battle, at this instant Is full accomplish'd; for the Roman eagle, From south to west on wing soaring aloft, Lessen'd herself and in the beams o' th' sun So vanish'd; which foreshow'd our princely eagle, Th'imperial Caesar, Caesar, should again unite His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, Which shines here in the west.

CYMBELINE. Laud we the G.o.ds; 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 b.l.o.o.d.y hands were wash'd, with such a peace. Exeunt

THE END

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1604

THE TRAGEDY OF HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK

by William Shakespeare

Dramatis Personae

Claudius, King of Denmark.

Marcellus, Officer.

Hamlet, son to the former, and nephew to the present king.

Polonius, Lord Chamberlain.

Horatio, friend to Hamlet.

Laertes, son to Polonius.

Voltemand, courtier.

Cornelius, courtier.

Rosencrantz, courtier.

Guildenstern, courtier.

Osric, courtier.

A Gentleman, courtier.

A Priest.

Marcellus, officer.

Bernardo, officer.

Francisco, a soldier Reynaldo, servant to Polonius.

Players.

Two Clowns, gravediggers.

Fortinbras, Prince of Norway.

A Norwegian Captain.

English Amba.s.sadors.

Getrude, Queen of Denmark, mother to Hamlet.

Ophelia, daughter to Polonius.

Ghost of Hamlet's Father.

Lords, ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Sailors, Messengers, Attendants.

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SCENE.- Elsinore.

ACT I. Scene I.

Elsinore. A platform before the Castle.

Enter two Sentinels-[first,] Francisco, [who paces up and down at his post; then] Bernardo, [who approaches him].

Ber. Who's there.?

Fran. Nay, answer me. Stand and unfold yourself.

Ber. Long live the King!

Fran. Bernardo?

Ber. He.