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My poor boy.
Look here, love.
This ring was my mother's.
Take it, heart.
But keep it till you woo another wife, when Imogen is dead.
How?
How another? Give me but this.
I have.
Remain.
Remain thou here, while sense can keep it on.
For my sake...
wear this.
Thou basest thing, avoid hence, from my sight.
If after this command thou fraught the court with thy unworthiness,
thou diest.
Away.
Thou art poison to my blood.
Disloyal thing that shouldst repair my youth,
thou heapst a year's age on me.
- I chose an eagle. - Thou took'st a beggar,
wouldst have made my throne a seat of baseness.
It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus.
You bred him as my playfellow.
What, art thou mad?
Almost.
Thou foolish thing.
They were again together.
You have not done after our command.
Away with her and pen her up.
Leave us to ourselves,
and make yourself some comfort
out of your best advice.
Let her languish a drop of blood a day,
and, being aged, die of this folly.
No,
be assured you shall not find me,
after the slander of most stepmothers, evil-eyed unto you.
You are my prisoner,
but the jailer shall deliver you the key.
That she should love this fellow and refuse me.
She is damned.
Her brains and her beauty go not together.
She shines not upon fools.
He hath been your faithful servant.
I dare lay my honor he will remain so.
I beseech you,
be better known to this gentleman, whom I commend to you as a noble friend of mine.
- His father and I were soldiers together. - Sir, we have known each other in Orleans.
By your pardon, I was then a young traveler.
But upon my mended judgment, if I offend not to say it is mended,
my quarrel was not altogether slight.
Can we with manners ask what was the difference?
Safely, I think. It was a contention in public.
Where each of us fell in praise of our country mistresses,
this gentlemen at that time vouching...
And upon warrant of bloody affirmation...
His to be more fair, virtuous, wise,
chaste, constant, qualified, and...
less attemptable than any of the rarest of the ladies in France.
That lady is not now living, or that gentleman's opinion by this worn out.
She holds her virtue still, and I my mind.
If she went before others I have seen,
as that diamond of yours outlusters many I have beheld,
I could not but believe she excelled many.
But I have not seen the most precious diamond that is, nor you the lady.
I praised her as I rated her. So do I my stone.
What do you esteem it at?
More than the world enjoys.
Your mistress is now either dead or out-prized by a trifle.
You are mistaken.
The ring may be sold or given.
The other is not a thing for sale, and only a gift of the gods.
Which the gods have given you?
Which, by their graces, I will keep.
You may wear her in title yours,
but you know strange fowl light on neighboring ponds.
Let us leave here, gentleman.
No, no, no.
I dare pawn my estate to your ring,
which in my opinion overvalues it something.
But I make my wager rather against your confidence
than her reputation.
What lady would you choose to assail?
Yours, whom in constancy you think so safe.
I lay ten thousand to your ring
that, commend me to the court where your lady is,
with no more advantage than opportunity for a second conference,
and I will take that honor of hers from thence which you imagine so reserved.
Even if you buy ladies' flesh at a million a dram,
you cannot prevent it from tainting.
I dare you to this match. Here is my ring.
If I bring you no sufficient testimony that I have enjoyed
the dearest bodily part of your mistress,
my ten thousand are yours, and so your ring.
Enough of this. Let it die as it were born.
I embrace these conditions. Let us have articles betwixt us.
If you make your voyage upon her and give to me directly
you have prevailed, I am no further your enemy.
She is not worth the debate.
If she remains unseduced, for your ill opinion
and the assault you have made to her chastity...
You will answer my sword.
Your hand,
a covenant.
Master doctor.
Have you brought those drugs?
Pleaseth your highness, ay.
Here they are, madam.
But I beseech your grace,
my conscience bids me ask,
wherefore you have commanded of me these most poisonous compounds,
which are the movers of a languishing death,
but though slow, deadly.
I will test the forces of these thy compounds
on such creatures as we count not worth the hanging, but none human.
No further service, doctor, until I send for thee.
Good morrow to your majesty.
Ambassador's from Rome.
Caius Lucius. A most worthy fellow.
Albeit he comes on angry purpose now.
But that's no fault of his.
We must receive him according to the honor of his sender.
Our dear son, we will have need to employ you towards this Roman.
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.
You must know, till the injurious Romans did extort this tribute from us,
we were free.
Caesar's ambition, which swelled so much it almost stretched the sides of the world,
against all color here did put the yoke upon us,
which to shake off becomes a warlike people.
Whom we reckon ourselves to be.
I am sorry, Cymbeline, that I am to pronounce
Augustus Caesar thine enemy.
Our subjects, sir, will not endure his yoke,
and for ourself to show less sovereignty than they
must needs appear un-kinglike.
Receive it from me, then: War and confusion.
Fury not to be resisted.
The event is yet to name the winner.
Fare thee well.
We will nothing pay for wearing our noses.
He goes hence frowning,
but it honors us that we have given him cause.
O, that husband,
my supreme crown of grief.
A noble gentleman of Rome comes from my Lord with letters.
The worthy Posthumus is in safety
and greets your highness dearly.
Thanks, good sir.
You're kindly welcome.
- His health, beseech you? - Well, madam.
Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is.
There's none a stranger there so merry and so gamesome.
He is called the reveler.
When he was here he did incline to sadness,
and ofttimes not knowing why.
I never saw him sad.
You look on me.
What wrack discern you in me deserves your pity?
Lamentable.
Why do you pity me?
That others do.
I was about to say, enjoy...
but it is an office of the gods to avenge it, not mine to speak on it.
You do seem to know something of me,
or what concerns me.
Pray you, since fearing things go ill
often hurts more than to be sure they do,
for certainties are either past remedies or timely knowing,
the remedy then born, just...
discover to me what you both spur and stop.
Had I this cheek to bathe my lips upon;
This hand, whose touch, whose every touch,
Would force the feeler's soul to the oath of loyalty;
this object which takes prisoner the wild motions of mine eye,
and fixes it only here, should I, damned then,
slaver with lips as common as stairs that mount the capital,
it were fit all the plagues of hell
should at one time encounter such revolt.
O dearest soul, thy cause doth strike my heart with a pity that makes me sick.
A lady, so fair, and fastened to an empery
that would the greatest king double,
to be partnered with... with tomboys...
diseased ventures
and such boiled stuff as might well poison poison.
Be revenged,
or she that bore you was no queen,
and you recoil from your great stock.
Revenged?
How should I be revenged?
If this be true, how should I be revenged?
I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure.
More noble than that renegade from your bed.
And will continue fast to your affection still close as sure.
Let me my service tender
on your lips.
I do condemn mine ears that hath attended thee so long.
Pisanio.
The king my father shall be made acquainted of thy assault.
And if he shall think it fit a saucy stranger in his court
to expound his beastly mind to us, then he hath a court he little cares for
and a daughter who he not respects at all.
Give me your pardon.
I... I spoke this to know
if your affiance were deeply rooted,
and shall make your Lord that which he is, new o'er.
He is...
one of the truest mannered, he...
Such a holy witch
as might enchants societies unto him.
Half all men's hearts are his.
He sits among men like a descended God.
He hath a... a kind of honor about him,
sets him off more than a mortal seeming.
Be not angry, most mighty princess,
that I have adventured your taking of a false report.
The love I bear him
made me to fan you thus.
But the gods made you, unlike all the others.
Pray, your pardon.
All's well, sir.
Take my power in the court of yours.
I had but...
I almost forgot...
What is it?
Some dozen of us and your Lord, the best feather in our wing,
have mingled sums to buy a present.
And I am somewhat curious to have safe storage.
May it please you to take it in protection?
For this night only. I must aboard tomorrow.
Willingly.
Oh, the gentlemen are talking
And the midnight moon is on the riverside
They're drinking up
And walking
And it is time
For me to slide
I live in another world
Where life and death are memorized
Where the earth is strung
With lovers' pearls
And all I see
Are dark eyes
I do not like her.
She doth think she has strange,
lingering poisons.
I do know her spirit, and will not trust
one of her malice.
With a drug of such damned nature.
But I feel nothing
For their game
Where beauty goes unrecognized
All I feel is heat and flame
And all I see
Are dark eyes
The French girl, she's in paradise
And a drunken man is at the wheel
Hunger pays
A heavy price
To the fallen gods
Of speed and steel
The time is short
And the days are sweet
And passion rules
The arrow that flies
A million faces
At my feet
But all I see
Are dark
Eyes
The crickets sing,
and man's over-labored sense
repairs itself by rest.
Our tarquin thus
did softly press the rushes, ere he wakened
the chastity he wounded.
How bravely thou becomest thy bed, fresh lily,
and whiter than the sheets, that I might touch.
But kiss; one kiss.
Mmm...
But my design,
come off... come off...
On her left breast, a mole cinque-spotted,
like the crimson drops in the bottom of a cowslip:
Here's a voucher, stronger than ever law could make:
This secret will force him think I have pick'd the lock
and taken the treasure.
No more.
To what end?
I have enough.
I live in fear.
Though this a heavenly angel...
Hell is here.
I do think I saw it this morning.
Confident I am.
Last night 'twas on mine arm. I kissed it.
Twill not be lost.
Good morrow, fairest...
Sister. Your sweet hand.
Still I swear I love you.
I pray you, spare me.
I will unfold equal discourtesy to your best kindness.
- To leave you in your madness 'twere my sin. - Stop!
I shall not.
Fools cure not mad folks.
Your lady is one of the fairest I have looked upon.
For you.
Was caius Lucius in the court when you were there?
He was expected, but not approached.
I'll make a journey twice as far to enjoy a second night
of such sweet shortness which was mine.
For the ring is won.
Your lady being so easy.
If you can make it apparent
that you have tasted her in bed,
my hand and ring are yours.
If not, the foul opinion you had of her pure honor
gains or loses, your sword or mine.
First, her bedchamber,
where I confess I slept not,
but profess had that...
which was well worth watching.
Let it be granted you have seen all this,
the description of what is in her chamber nothing saves the wager you have laid.
See.
This must be married to your diamond.
Let me behold it.
Is it that which I left with her?
She gave it me, she said she prized it once.
Maybe she plucked it off to send to me.
She writes you so, doth she?
No.
'Tis true.
Here.
Take this too. It kills me to look on it.
Let there be no...
honor
where semblance, truth,
where beauty, love,
where there's another man. The vows of women...
Take your ring again.
'Tis not yet won.
It may be probable that she has lost it
or, who knows,
if one of her women, being corrupted, hath stolen it from her.
It's very true.
She would not lose it.
All of her attendants are sworn and honorable.
They induced to steal it, and by a stranger?
No!
He hath enjoyed her. She hath bought the name of whore thus dearly.
If you desire further satisfaction,
under her breast, worthy the pressing,
lies there a mole, right proud of that most delicate lodging.
By my life I swear...
I kissed it,
and though full it gave me present hunger to feed again.
Do you do remember this stain upon her?
Ay.
And it doth confirm another stain
- as big as hell can hold. - Shall you hear more?
O,
that I had her here, to tear her limbmeal.
I will go there, then do it in the court before her father!
From Posthumus.
"Justice and your father's wrath, should he take me in his dominion,
could not be so cruel to me as you, o dearest of creatures,
would even renew me with your eyes.
Take notice that I am at Milford Haven.
What your own love will out of this advise you, follow.
So he wishes you all happiness, that remains loyal to his vow,
and your increasing love."
O, for a horse with wings!
Hear'st thou? He is at Milford Haven.
Read, and tell me how far it is.
And how may we steal from hence, and for the gap and our return, to excuse.
But first, how get hence?
Speak. How many miles?
Twenty miles 'twixt sun and sun, madam.
It's enough for you and too much too.
We have seen nothing; we are beastly.
How you speak.
O boys, this story the world may read in me:
My body's marked with Roman swords.
My report was once first with the best of note:
Cymbeline loved me,
and when a soldier was the theme,
my name was not far off: Then was I as a tree.
Villains, whose false oaths prevailed before my perfect honor,
swore to Cymbeline I was confederate with the Romans:
O Cymbeline! Heaven and my conscience knows thou didst unjustly banish me:
Whereon, at three and two years old, I stole these boys.
And this twenty years this rock has been my world;
Where I have lived at honest freedom, paid more pious debts to heaven
than in all the fore-end of my time.
These boys know little they are sons to the king;
nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive.
They think they are mine; and though trained up thus meanly
their thoughts do hit the roofs of palaces.
O, vengeance, vengeance.
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; fattering, hers;
deceiving, hers;
lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers;
revenges, hers.
Ambitions, covetings,
change of prides, disdain,
slanders, mutability.
All faults that have a name, hers.
Detest them,
curse them.
Where is Posthumus?
What is in thy mind, that thee stare thus?
"Thy mistress hath played the strumpet in my bed...
The testimonies whereof lie bleeding in me.
I speak not out of weak surmise but from proof as strong as my grief
and as certain as I expect my revenge.
That part, thou, Pisanio,
you must act for me."
"If thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers,
let thine own hand take away her life.
If thou fear to strike and to make me certain it is done,
thou art the pander to her dishonor and equally to me disloyal."
False to his bed?
What is it to be false?
To lie there in watch and to think on him?
No, no. No, no. On my life.
Where's thy knife? Where?!
Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding when I desire it too.
Since I received command to do this business,
I have not slept one wink.
Well, do it, and to bed, then.
I'll wake mine eyeballs blind first.
Why?
Why has thou abused so many miles with a pretense?
This place? Bring me here to kill me?
But to win time.
I have considered a course. Hear me. Hear me with patience.
It cannot be but that my master is abused.
Some villain, ay, and singular in his art,
hath done you both this... this cursed injury.
I'll give but notice you are dead,
and send him some bloody sign of it, for 'tis commanded I should do so.
You shall be missed at court,
and that will well confirm it.
Now, here's the point:
If you could wear a mind dark as your fortune is,
forget to be a woman.
Change.
I see into thy end...
And am almost a man already.
This attempt...
I am soldier to,
and will abide it with a prince's courage.
From the queen. What's in't is precious.
A dram of this will drive away distemper.
We must take a short farewell lest being missed,
I be suspected of your carriage from the court.
Away, I prithee.
Where is our daughter?
Call her before us.
Since the exile of Posthumus, most retired hath her life been,
the cure whereof, my Lord, 'tis time must do.
Where is she?
How can her contempt be answered?
That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant,
I have not seen these two days.
Go, look after.
Pisanio!
Come hither! Villain.
She said upon a time
the bitterness of it I now belch from my heart...
That she held the very...
garment of Posthumus
in more respect
than my noble
and natural person.
Where is she?
I will not ask again.
This is the history of my knowledge touching her flight.
Is she with Posthumus?
As I think.
How long is't she went to Milford Haven?
She can scarce be there yet.
Give me thy hand.
Hast any of thy master's garments in thy possession?
The same suit he wore when he took leave.
Fetch that suit hither.
Be a voluntary mute to my design.
Go.
With the suit upon my back,
I will ravish her.
First, kill Posthumus,
and in her eyes.
There shall she see my valor, which will then be a torment
to her contempt.
He on the ground,
my speech an insultment
ended on his dead body,
and once my lust hath dined,
which as I say to vex her
I will execute in the clothes that she so praised.
To the court I'll knock her back.
Who's there?
An angel here. No elder than a boy.
Good masters, harm me not.
Before I entered here, I thought to have begged or bought what I took.
Here's money.
I would have left it on the board as soon as I had made my meal
and parted with prayers for the provider.
Money?
All gold and silver rather turn to dirt.
As 'tis no better reckoned but of those who worship dirty gods.
- I see you're angry. - What's your name?
Fidel, sir.
Wither Bound?
To Milford Haven.
'Tis almost night.
You shall have better cheer ere you depart, and thanks to sit and eat.
Boys, bid him welcome.
I'll love him as a brother.
Mmm, mmm
Mmm, yeah
Mmm, mmm, mmm
Mmm, mmm
Mmm, mmm, yeah
It is you
Oh, yeah
It is you, you
Oh, yeah
It is you
Oh, yeah
I say pressure drop oh, pressure, oh yeah
Pressure gonna drop on you
I say pressure drop oh, pressure, oh yeah
Pressure gonna drop on you
I say when it drops oh, you're gonna feel it
Pressure, pressure, pressure, pressure
Pressure drop oh, pressure
Oh, yeah, it's gonna drop on you
Yeah, yeah, pressure, pressure
Pressure, pressure, pressure, pressure
Pressure gonna drop on you
Pressure, pressure, preassure, pressure, pressure...
'Tis cloten, the son o' the queen.
I fear some ambush.
Posthumus...
What's thy name?
I am son to the queen.
I am sorry for it,
not seeming so worthy as thy birth.
Art not afeard?
Those that I reverence, those I fear, the wise.
At fools I laugh, not fear them.
Die thy death!
I am sick.
Heartsick.
Pisanio, I'll now taste of thy drug.
What hast thou done?
With his own sword which he did wave against my throat,
I have taken his head from him.
I'll throw it into the creek behind our rock, and let it into the sea.
And tell the fishes he's the queen's son.
He must have some attendants.
Well, 'tis done.
I do fear this body hath a tail more perilous than the head.
Fidel!
Thou blessed thing.
Jove knows what man thou might'st have made.
Why, he but sleeps.
Let us bury him.
Fear no more
The heat o' the sun
Nor the furious
Winter rages
Thou thy worldly task
Hast done
Home art gone
And ta'en thy wages
Golden lads and girls
All must
As chimney sweepers
Come to dust
Imogen.
The prized part of my comfort, gone,
my queen upon a desperate bed,
and in a time when fearful wars point on me.
But for thee, fellow,
who needs must know of her departure and dost seem so ignorant.
I beseech your highness,
hold me your loyal servant.
The day that she went missing, he was here.
I dare be bound he's true, and shall perform all parts of his subjection loyally.
The time is troublesome.
We'll slip you for a second.
But our jealousy does yet depend.
I hope I dream.
The dream's here still.
Even when I wake, it is without me as within me.
Not imagined...
felt.
O Posthumus! Where is thy head?
Where's that?
Ay me, where's that?
And left this head on.
The king.
His daughter, whom he purposed to his wife's sole son,
a widow that late he married...
Hath referred herself to a poor but...
worthy gentleman.
She's wedded, her husband banished, she imprisoned.
All is outward sorrow, though...
I think the king be touched at very heart.
What's his name and birth?
His father was called Sicilius, who did join his honor against the Romans
and had, besides this gentleman in question, two other sons,
who in the wars of the time, died with their swords in hand.
For which their father,
then old and fond of issue,
took such sorrow that he quit being.
And his gentle lady, big of this gentleman our theme,
deceased as he was born.
The king...
He takes the babe to his protection,
calls him Posthumus Leonatus. Breeds him.
Puts to him all the learnings that his time could make him the receiver of,
which he took as we do air, fast as 'twas ministered,
and in it's spring became a harvest.
Lived in court, which rare it is to do.
More praised, most loved.
To his mistress, for whom he now is banished,
her own price proclaims how she esteemed him.
And his virtue by her election may be truly read what kind of man he is.
A banished rascal.
Return he cannot,
nor continue where he is.
'Tis strange.
Your service for this time is ended.
Take your own way.
Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes.
Some falls are means the happier to arise.
After laughter
Comes tears
- After laughter - After your laughter
- Comes tears - There'll be tears
- Ooh - When you're in love
You're happy
- Oh, and then - Ooh
When you're in an arm
You gaze
This doesn't last always
- After laughter - After your laughter
There'll be tears
My friends all say
- Don't... - Oh!
Know how I feel
Is it enough I am sorry?
For Imogen's dear life, take mine.
Sons.
We'll higher to the mountains, there secure us.
To the king's party there's no going. Newness of cloten's death...
It is not likely that they will waste their time upon our note,
- to know from whence we are. - I am known.
I and my brother are not known.
I scarce ever look on blood but that of hares, goats, and venison.
I am ashamed to look upon the sun,
to feel the benefit of his blest beams, remaining so long a poor unknown.
I'll go. If you will bless me, sir,
and give me leave, I'll take the better care.
So say I. Amen.
No reason I, since of your lives you set so slight a valuation,
should reserve my cracked one to more care.
Have with you, boys. If in your country wars you chance to die...
That is my bed, too, lads,
and there I'll lie.
Good my liege, your preparations can affront no less than what you hear of.
Come more, for more you're ready.
The want is but to put those powers in motion that long to move.
He's alive.
A rout, confusion thick.
Forthwith they fly.
Great the slaughter; an old man and two boys struck down some mortally,
some slightly touched, some falling merely through fear.
An old man and two boys are grown the mortal bugs o' the field.
My poor boy...
Whose face I've never seen...
I died
whilst in the womb he stayed, awaiting nature's law.
Whose father then...
As men report thou orphans' father art,
thou shouldn't have been,
shielded him
from this earth-vexing smart.
"Of God we ask one favor,
that we may be forgiven...
from what, he is presumed to know...
the crime, from us,
is hidden...
immured the whole of life
within a magic prison."
Oh...
Come sir, are you ready for death?
I am merrier to die than you are to live.
I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to direct them where I am going,
but such as wink and will not use them.
What an infinite mock is this,
that a man should have the best use of eyes to see the way of blindness.
Knock off his manacles.
Bring your prisoner to the king.
Every good servant does not all commands:
No bond but to do just ones.
Gods.
If you should have ta'en vengeance on my faults,
I never had lived to put on this:
So had you saved Imogen and struck me,
wretch more worth your vengeance.
For thee,
o Imogen,
even for whom my life is every breath a death;
and thus, unknown,
pitied nor hated, to the face of peril myself I'll dedicate.
Let me make men know more valor in me than my habits show.
Gods, give me the strength
to shame the guise o' the world, I will begin the fashion,
less without
and more within.
Stand by my side,
you whom the gods have made preservers of my throne.
Knights of the battle,
I create you companions to our person,
and fit you with dignities befitting your estates...
Why so sadly greet you our victory?
Hail, great king.
To sour your happiness, I must report the queen is dead.
No!
How ended she?
With horror, madly dying, like her life,
which, being cruel to the world, concluded most cruel to herself.
These her women were present when she finished.
First, she confessed she never loved you,
only affected greatness got by you, not you;
married your royalty, wife to your place; abhorred your person.
She alone knew this.
Your daughter 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.
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.
O my daughter.
That it was my folly, thou mayst say.
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 let it come.
That diamond on your finger, how came it yours?
By villainy I got this ring.
The good Posthumus.
What can I say? He were too good to be where ill men were...
I stand on fire. Come to the matter.
Your daughter's chastity.
- There it begins! - My daughter?
I wagered with him pieces of gold against this
which then he wore upon his honored finger
to attain in suit the place of his bed...
To win this ring by hers and mine adultery.
At court, I learned your chaste daughter
and the wide difference 'twixt villainous and amorous.
And yet...
I returned with proof enough to make the noble Posthumus mad.
Ay.
Me,
most credulous fool, o, give me cord,
or knife, or poison.
I killed thy daughter.
Caused a lesser villain than myself to do it.
Spit and throw stones,
cast mire upon me.
Imogen.
My queen, my wife.
- My life... - Peace.
- O Imogen... - My Lord, hear, hear.
Shall's have a play of this?
You never killed Imogen... till now.
Get thee from my sight. Thou gavest me poison.
- I had it from the queen... - Oh, gods.
I left out one thing the queen confessed.
The queen, sir, very often importuned me to...
temper potions for her,
still pretending the satisfaction of her knowledge
only in killing creatures vile, cats and dogs.
I, dreading that her purpose was of more danger,
did compound for her a certain stuff
which being ta'en would cease the present power of life,
and in short time all offices of nature
should do their due function.
Have you ta'en of it?
I must have, for I was dead.
Hang there like fruit, my soul, till the tree die.
Imogen.
Your blessing, sir.
The queen's dead.
- I'm sorry for it. - She was naught.
Her son is gone, we know not how.
Let me end the story.
I slew him.
He did provoke me.
I cut off his head and am right glad he is not standing here to tell the tale.
Mighty sir,
these two young gentlemen that call me father and think they are my sons
are none of mine.
They are the issue of your loins, my liege, the blood of your begetting.
How?
I am Belarius whom you banished.
These gentle princes, for such and so they are,
these twenty years have I trained up, but here...
here are your sons again,
and I must lose two of the sweetest companions in the world.
Guiderius upon his neck had a... a mole,
a sanguine star.
This is he.
Caius Lucius.
Although the Victor,
we submit to Caesar and to the Roman empire...
Promising to pay our wonted tribute,
from which we were dissuaded by our wicked queen.
Pardon's the word to all.
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