ACT 1
Scene 1

...Queen and Princess.
Enter the Queen, Posthumus, and Imogen.
No, be assured you shall not find me, daughter,
After the slander of most stepmothers,
Evil-eyed unto you. You’re my prisoner, but
Your jailer shall deliver you the keys
That lock up your restraint.—For you, Posthumus,
So soon as I can win th’ offended king,
I will be known your advocate. Marry, yet
The fire of rage is in him, and ’twere good
You leaned unto his sentence with what patience
Your wisdom may inform you.

...from hence today.
You know the peril.
I’ll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying
The pangs of barred affections, though the King
Hath charged you should not speak together.
She exits.

...made of gall.
Enter Queen.
Be brief, I pray you.
If the King come, I shall incur I know not
How much of his displeasure. (Aside.)
Yet I’ll move him
To walk this way. I never do him wrong
But he does buy my injuries, to be friends,
Pays dear for my offenses.
She exits.

...Thou foolish thing!
Enter Queen.

...pen her up.
Beseech your patience.—Peace,
Dear lady daughter, peace.—Sweet sovereign,
Leave us to ourselves, and make yourself some comfort
Out of your best advice.

...of this folly.
Fie, you must give way.

Enter Pisanio.
Here is your servant.—How now, sir? What news?

...on my master.
Ha?
No harm, I trust, is done?

...gentlemen at hand.
I am very glad on ’t.

...to employ me.
to Imogen
This hath been
Your faithful servant. I dare lay mine honor
He will remain so.

...thank your Highness.
to Imogen
Pray, walk awhile.

...time leave me.
They exit.

Scene 5

...us follow ’em.
Enter Queen, Ladies, and Cornelius.
Whiles yet the dew’s on ground, gather those flowers.
Make haste. Who has the note of them?

... I, madam.
Dispatch.
Now, Master Doctor, have you brought those drugs?

...they are, madam.
He hands her a small box.

...though slow, deadly.
I wonder, doctor,
Thou ask’st me such a question. Have I not been
Thy pupil long? Hast thou not learned me how
To make perfumes, distil, preserve—yea, so
That our great king himself doth woo me oft
For my confections? Having thus far proceeded,
Unless thou think’st me devilish, is ’t not meet
That I did amplify my judgment in
Other conclusions? I will try the forces
Of these thy compounds on such creatures as
We count not worth the hanging—but none human—
To try the vigor of them and apply
Allayments to their act, and by them gather
Their several virtues and effects.

...noisome and infectious.
O, content thee.

Enter Pisanio.
Aside.
Here comes a flattering rascal. Upon him
Will I first work. He’s for his master
And enemy to my son.—How now, Pisanio?—
Doctor, your service for this time is ended.
Take your own way.

...do no harm.
to Pisanio
Hark thee, a word.

...false with her.
No further service, doctor,
Until I send for thee.

...take my leave.
Weeps she still, sayst thou? Dost thou think in time
She will not quench and let instructions enter
Where folly now possesses? Do thou work.
When thou shalt bring me word she loves my son,
I’ll tell thee on the instant thou art then
As great as is thy master; greater, for
His fortunes all lie speechless, and his name
Is at last gasp. Return he cannot, nor
Continue where he is. To shift his being
Is to exchange one misery with another,
And every day that comes comes to decay
A day’s work in him. What shalt thou expect,
To be depender on a thing that leans,
Who cannot be new built, nor has no friends
So much as but to prop him? (She drops the box and Pisanio picks it up.)
Thou tak’st up
Thou know’st not what. But take it for thy labor.
It is a thing I made which hath the King
Five times redeemed from death. I do not know
What is more cordial. Nay, I prithee, take it.
It is an earnest of a farther good
That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how
The case stands with her. Do ’t as from thyself.
Think what a chance thou changest on, but think
Thou hast thy mistress still; to boot, my son,
Who shall take notice of thee. I’ll move the King
To any shape of thy preferment such
As thou ’lt desire; and then myself, I chiefly,
That set thee on to this desert, am bound
To load thy merit richly. Call my women.
Think on my words. A sly and constant knave,
Not to be shaked; the agent for his master
And the remembrancer of her to hold
The handfast to her lord. I have given him that
Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her
Of liegers for her sweet, and which she after,
Except she bend her humor, shall be assured
To taste of too.

Enter Pisanio and Ladies carrying flowers.
To the Ladies.
So, so. Well done, well done.
The violets, cowslips, and the primroses
Bear to my closet.—Fare thee well, Pisanio.
Think on my words.
Queen and Ladies exit.

ACT 2
Scene 3

...can never amend.
Enter Cymbeline and Queen, with Attendants.

...then she’s yours.
to Cloten
You are most bound to th’ King,
Who lets go by no vantages that may
Prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself
To orderly solicits and be friended
With aptness of the season. Make denials
Increase your services. So seem as if
You were inspired to do those duties which
You tender to her; that you in all obey her,
Save when command to your dismission tends,
And therein you are senseless.

...our queen.
Cymbeline and Queen exit, with Lords and Attendants.

ACT 3
Scene 1

...plague them better.
Enter in state Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, and Lords at one door, and, at another, Caius Lucius and Attendants.

...Is left untendered.
And, to kill the marvel,
Shall be so ever.

...our own noses.
That opportunity
Which then they had to take from ’s, to resume
We have again.—Remember, sir, my liege,
The Kings your ancestors, together with
The natural bravery of your isle, which stands
As Neptune’s park, ribbed and palèd in
With rocks unscalable and roaring waters,
With sands that will not bear your enemies’ boats
But suck them up to th’ topmast. A kind of conquest
Caesar made here, but made not here his brag
Of “came, and saw, and overcame.” With shame—
The first that ever touched him—he was carried
From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping,
Poor ignorant baubles, on our terrible seas
Like eggshells moved upon their surges, cracked
As easily ’gainst our rocks. For joy whereof
The famed Cassibelan, who was once at point—
O, giglet Fortune!—to master Caesar’s sword,
Made Lud’s Town with rejoicing fires bright
And Britons strut with courage.

...remain is welcome.
They exit.

Scene 5

...I thank thee.
Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, Lucius, Lords, and Attendants.

...the Severn. Happiness!
He goes hence frowning, but it honors us
That we have given him cause.

...war for Britain.
’Tis not sleepy business,
But must be looked to speedily and strongly.

...slight in sufferance.
Royal sir,
Since the exile of Posthumus, most retired
Hath her life been, the cure whereof, my lord,
’Tis time must do. Beseech your Majesty,
Forbear sharp speeches to her. She’s a lady
So tender of rebukes that words are strokes
And strokes death to her.

...noise we make.
My lord, when last I went to visit her,
She prayed me to excuse her keeping close;
Whereto constrained by her infirmity,
She should that duty leave unpaid to you
Which daily she was bound to proffer. This
She wished me to make known, but our great court
Made me to blame in memory.

...Fear prove false!
Son, I say, follow the King.

...these two days.
Go, look after.
Aside.
Pisanio, thou that stand’st so for Posthumus—
He hath a drug of mine. I pray his absence
Proceed by swallowing that, for he believes
It is a thing most precious. But for her,
Where is she gone? Haply despair hath seized her,
Or, winged with fervor of her love, she’s flown
To her desired Posthumus. Gone she is
To death or to dishonor, and my end
Can make good use of either. She being down,
I have the placing of the British crown.

Enter Cloten.
How now, my son?

...come about him.
aside
All the better. May
This night forestall him of the coming day!
Queen exits, with Attendants.