ACT III
SCENE I Britain. A hall in Cymbeline's palace.


 [Enter in state, CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN,
 and Lords at one door, and at another,
 CAIUS LUCIUS and Attendants]

CYMBELINE Now say, what would Augustus Caesar with us?

CAIUS LUCIUS When Julius Caesar, whose remembrance yet
 Lives in men's eyes and will to ears and tongues
 Be theme and hearing ever, was in this Britain
 And conquer'd it, Cassibelan, thine uncle,--
 Famous in Caesar's praises, no whit less
 Than in his feats deserving it--for him
 And his succession granted Rome a tribute,
 Yearly three thousand pounds, which by thee lately
 Is left untender'd.

QUEEN And, to kill the marvel,
 Shall be so ever.

CLOTEN There be many Caesars,
 Ere such another Julius. Britain is
 A world by itself; and we will nothing pay
 For wearing our own noses.

QUEEN 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 paled in
 With rocks unscalable and roaring waters,
 With sands that will not bear your enemies' boats,
 But suck them up to the topmast. A kind of conquest
 Caesar made here; but made not here his brag
 Of 'Came' and 'saw' and 'overcame: ' with shame--
 That first that ever touch'd him--he was carried
 From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping--
 Poor ignorant baubles!-- upon our terrible seas,
 Like egg-shells moved upon their surges, crack'd
 As easily 'gainst our rocks: for joy whereof
 The famed Cassibelan, who was once at point--
 O giglot fortune!--to master Caesar's sword,
 Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright
 And Britons strut with courage.

CLOTEN Come, there's no more tribute to be paid: our
 kingdom is stronger than it was at that time; and,
 as I said, there is no moe such Caesars: other of
 them may have crook'd noses, but to owe such
 straight arms, none.

CYMBELINE Son, let your mother end.

CLOTEN We have yet many among us can gripe as hard as
 Cassibelan: I do not say I am one; but I have a
 hand. Why tribute? why should we pay tribute? If
 Caesar can hide the sun from us with a blanket, or
 put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute
 for light; else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now.

CYMBELINE You must know,
 Till the injurious Romans did extort
 This tribute from us, we were free:
 Caesar's ambition,
 Which swell'd so much that it did almost stretch
 The sides o' the world, against all colour here
 Did put the yoke upon 's; which to shake off
 Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon
 Ourselves to be.

CLOTEN |
 |                We do.
Lords |

CYMBELINE Say, then, to Caesar,
 Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which
 Ordain'd our laws, whose use the sword of Caesar
 Hath too much mangled; whose repair and franchise
 Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed,
 Though Rome be therefore angry: Mulmutius made our laws,
 Who was the first of Britain which did put
 His brows within a golden crown and call'd
 Himself a king.

CAIUS LUCIUS                   I am sorry, Cymbeline,
 That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar--
 Caesar, that hath more kings his servants than
 Thyself domestic officers--thine enemy:
 Receive it from me, then: war and confusion
 In Caesar's name pronounce I 'gainst thee: look
 For fury not to be resisted. Thus defied,
 I thank thee for myself.

CYMBELINE Thou art welcome, Caius.
 Thy Caesar knighted me; my youth I spent
 Much under him; of him I gather'd honour;
 Which he to seek of me again, perforce,
 Behoves me keep at utterance. I am perfect
 That the Pannonians and Dalmatians for
 Their liberties are now in arms; a precedent
 Which not to read would show the Britons cold:
 So Caesar shall not find them.

CAIUS LUCIUS Let proof speak.

CLOTEN His majesty bids you welcome. Make
 pastime with us a day or two, or longer: if
 you seek us afterwards in other terms, you
 shall find us in our salt-water girdle: if you
 beat us out of it, it is yours; if you fall in
 the adventure, our crows shall fare the better
 for you; and there's an end.

CAIUS LUCIUS So, sir.

CYMBELINE I know your master's pleasure and he mine:
 All the remain is 'Welcome!'

 [Exeunt]




 CYMBELINE


ACT III