And but she spoke it dying, I would not
Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.
CORNELIUS
Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to love
With such integrity, she did confess
Was as a scorpion to her sight, whose life,
But that her flight prevented it, she had
Ta’en off by poison.
CYMBELINE
O most delicate fiend!
Who is’t can read a woman? Is there more?
CORNELIUS
More, sir, and worse. She did confess she had
For you a mortal mineral which, being took,
Should by the minute feed on life, and, ling‘ring,
By inches waste you. In which time she purposed
By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to
O’ercome you with her show; and in fine,
When she had fit you with her craft, to work
Her son into th’adoption of the crown;
But failing of her end by his strange absence,
Grew shameless-desperate, opened in despite
Of heaven and men her purposes, repented
The evils she hatched were not effected; so
Despairing died.
CYMBELINE
Heard you all this, her women?
⌈LADIES⌉
We did, so please your highness.
CYMBELINE
Mine eyes
Were not in fault, for she was beautiful;
Mine ears that heard her flattery, nor my heart
That thought her like her seeming. It had been vicious
To have mistrusted her. Yet, O my daughter,
That it was folly in me thou mayst say,
And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all!
Enter Lucius, Giacomo, Soothsayer, and other Roman prisoners, Posthumus behind, and Innogen dressed as a man, all guarded by Briton soldiers
Thou com’st not, Caius, now for tribute. That
The Britons have razed out, though with the loss
Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have made suit
That their good souls may be appeased with slaughter
Of you, their captives, which ourself have granted.
So think of your estate.
LUCIUS
Consider, sir, the chance of war. The day
Was yours by accident. Had it gone with us,
We should not, when the blood was cool, have
threatened
Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods
Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives
May be called ransom, let it come. Sufficeth
A Roman with a Roman’s heart can suffer.
Augustus lives to think on’t; and so much
For my peculiar care. This one thing only
I will entreat:
He presents Innogen to Cymbeline my boy, a Briton born,
Let him be ransomed. Never master had
A page so kind, so duteous, diligent,
So tender over his occasions, true,
So feat, so nurse-like; let his virtue join
With my request, which I’ll make bold your highness
Cannot deny. He hath done no Briton harm,
Though he have served a Roman. Save him, sir,
And spare no blood beside.
CYMBELINE
I have surely seen him.
His favour is familiar to me. Boy,
Thou hast looked thyself into my grace,
And art mine own. I know not why, wherefore,
To say ‘Live, boy’. Ne‘er thank thy master. Live,
And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt
Fitting my bounty and thy state, I’ll give it,
Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner
The noblest ta’en.
INNOGEN
I humbly thank your highness.
LUCIUS
I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad,
And yet I know thou wilt.
INNOGEN
No, no. Alack,
There’s other work in hand. I see a thing
Bitter to me as death. Your life, good master,
Must shuffle for itself.
LUCIUS
The boy disdains me.
He leaves me, scorns me. Briefly die their joys
That place them on the truth of girls and boys.
Why stands he so perplexed?
CYMBELINE (to Innogen) What wouldst thou, boy?
I love thee more and more; think more and more
What’s best to ask. Know‘st him thou look’st on?
Speak, no
Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin, thy friend?
INNOGEN
He is a Roman, no more kin to me
Than I to your highness, who, being born your vassal,
Am something nearer.
CYMBELINE
Wherefore ey’st him so?
INNOGEN
I’ll tell you, sir, in private, if you please
To give me hearing.
CYMBELINE
Ay, with all my heart,
And lend my best attention. What’s thy name?
INNOGEN
Fidele, sir.
CYMBELINE Thou’rt my good youth, my page.
I’ll be thy master. Walk with me, speak freely.
Cymbeline and Innogen speak apart
BELARIUS (aside to Guiderius and Arviragus)
Is not this boy revived from death?
ARVIRAGUS
One sand another
Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad
Who died, and was Fidele. What think you?
GUIDERIUS The same dead thing alive.
BELARIUS
Peace, peace, see further. He eyes us not. Forbear.
Creatures may be alike. Were’t he, I am sure
He would have spoke to us.
GUIDERIUS
But we see him dead.
BELARIUS
Be silent; let’s see further.
PISANIO (aside)
It is my mistress.
Since she is living, let the time run on
To good or bad.
CYMBELINE (to Innogen) Come, stand thou by our side,
Make thy demand aloud. (To Giacomo) Sir, step you
forth.
Give answer to this boy, and do it freely,
Or, by our greatness and the grace of it,
Which is our honour, bitter torture shall
Winnow the truth from falsehood.