Britain. A Room of State 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?

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 conquered 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 untendered.

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 unscaleable 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 egg-shells moved upon their surges, cracked
	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 more such Caesars. Other of them may have crooked 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 swelled so much that it did almost stretch
	The sides o'th' 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.

Cymbeline								Say then to Caesar,
	Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which
	Ordained 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 called
	Himself a king.

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 gathered 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.

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 saltwater 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.

Lucius	So, sir.

Cymbeline	I know your master's pleasure, and he mine.
	All the remain is 'Welcome'.
													[Exeunt.
