Post. I am merrier to die than thou art to live.

First Gaol. Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the tooth-ache: but a man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he would change places with his officer; for, look you, sir, you know not which way you shall go.

Post. Yes, indeed do I, fellow.

First Gaol. Your death has eyes in 's head then; I have not seen him so pictured: you must either be directed by some that take upon them to know, or do take upon yourself that which I am sure you do not know, or jump the after inquiry on your own peril: and how you shall speed in your journey's end, I think you'll never return to tell one. 191 Post. I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to direct them the way I am going, but such as wink and will not use them.

First Gaol. What an infinite mock is this, that a man should have the best use of eyes to see the way of blindness! I am sure hanging's the way of winking.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the king. 200

Post. Thou bring'st good news; I am called to be made free.

First Gaol. I'll be hang'd then. Post. Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; no bolts for the dead.

[Exeunt Posthumus and Messenger. First Gaol. Unless a man would marry a gallows and beget young gibbets, I never saw one so prone. Yet, on my conscience, there are verier knaves desire to live, for all he be a Roman: and there be some of them too that die against their wills; so should I, if I were one. I would we were all of one mind, and one mind good; O, there were desolation of gaolers and gallowses! I speak against my present profit, but my wish hath a preferment in 't [Exeunt.

SCENE V. Cymbeline's tent. Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, Lords, Officers, and Attendants.

Cym. Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made

Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart That the poor soldier that so richly fought, Whose rags shamed gilded arms, whose naked breast

Stepp'd before targes of proof, cannot be found:

IIe shall be happy that can find him, if
Our grace can make him so.

Bel.

I never saw Such noble fury in so poor a thing; Such precious deeds in one that promised nought

But beggary and poor looks.

Сут,

No tidings of him? 10

Pis. He hath been search'd among the
dead and living,

But no trace of him.
Сут.
To my grief, I am
The heir of his reward; [To Belarus, Guide-
rius, and Arviragus] which I will add
To you, the liver, heart and brain of Britain,
By whom I grant she lives. 'Tis now the
time

To ask of whence you are. Report it.
Bel.

Sir,
In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen:
Further to boast were neither true nor modest,
Unless I add, we are honest.
Сут.
Bow your knees.
Arise my knights o' the battle: I create you
Companions to our person and will fit you 21
With dignities becoming your estates.

Enter CORNELIUS and Ladies. There's business in these faces. Why so sadly

Greet you our victory? you look like Romans,
And not o' the court of Britain.
Cor.

Hail, great king!
To sour your happiness, I must report
The queen is dead.

Cym.
Who worse than a physician
Would this report become? But I consider,
By medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death
Will seize the doctor too. How ended she? 30
Cor. With horror, madly dying, like her
life,

Which, being cruel to the world, concluded
Most cruel to herself. What she confess'd
I will report, so please you: these her women
Can trip me, if I err; who with wet cheeks
Were present when she finish'd.
Cym.

Prithee, say.

Cor. First, she confess'd she never loved you, only

Affected greatness got by you, not you: Married your royalty, was wife to your place; Abhorr'd your person.

Cym.
She alone knew this; 40
And, but she spoke it dying, I would not
Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.
Cor. 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.
Cym.
O most delicate fiend!
Who is 't can read a woman? Is there more?
Cor. More, sir, and worse. She did con-
fess she had

For you a mortal mineral; which, being took,
Should by the minute feed on life and linger-

ing

51

Her son into the adoption of the crown:
But, failing of her end by his strange absence,
Grew shameless-desperate; open'd, in despite
Of heaven and men, her purposes; repented
The evils she hatch'd were not effected; so 60
Despairing died.

Cym. Heard you all this, her women?
First Lady. We did, so please your high-

ness.

Сут.

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, IACHIMO, the Soothsayer, and other Roman Prisoners, guarded; POSTHUMUS behind, and IMOGEN.

Thou comest not, Caius, now for tribute; that

The Britons have razed out, though with the loss

70

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.

Luc. 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 threaten'd

Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods

Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives
May be call'd ransom, let it come: sufficeth 80
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; my boy, a Briton born,
Let him be ransom'd: 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, 90 Though he have served a Roman : save him, sir,

And spare no blood beside.

[Cymbeline and Imogen converse apart. Bel. Is not this boy revived from death? Arv. One sand another 120 Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad Who died, and was Fidele. What think you? Gui. The same dead thing alive.

Bel. 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.

Gui.

But we saw him dead. Bel. Be silent; let's see further. Pis.

[Aside] It is my mistress : Since she is living, let the time run on To good or bad.

[Cymbeline and Imogen come forward. Сут. Come, stand thou by our side; Make thy demand aloud. [To Iachimo] Sir, step you forth; 130

Give answer to this boy, and do it freely;
Or, by our greatness and the grace of it,
Which is our honor, bitter torture shall
Winnow the truth from falsehood. On, speak
to him.

Imo. My boon is, that this gentleman may render

Of whom he had this ring.

Post. [Aside] What's that to him? Cym. That diamond upon your finger, say

How came it yours?

Iach. Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that

Which, to be spoke, would torture thee.
Сут.

How! me? 140 Iach. I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that

Which torments me to conceal. By villany
I got this ring: 'twas Leonatus' jewe;
Whom thou didst banish; and-which more
may grieve thee,

As it doth me-a nobler sir ne'er lived
"Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more,
my lord?

Cym. All that belongs to this.
Iach.

That paragon, thy daughter,

For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits

Quail to remember- Give me leave; I faint. Cym. My daughter! what of her? Renew thy strength :

150 I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will

Than die ere I hear more strive, man, and speak.

Iach. Upon a time,-unhappy was the clock

That struck the hour!-it was in Rome,-accursed

The mansion where !-'twas at a feast,-0, would

Our viands had been poison'd, or at least Those which I heaved to head!-the good Posthumus

What should I say? he was too good to be Where ill men were; and was the best of all Amongst the rarest of good ones,-sitting sadly,

Hearing us praise our loves of Italy

160

For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast

Of him that best could speak, for feature, laming

The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Mi

He spake of her, as Dian had hot dreams, 180 And she alone were cold: whereat I, wretch, Made scruple of his praise; and wager'd with him

Pieces of gold 'gainst this which then he wore Upon his honor'd finger, to attain

In suit the place of's bed and win this ring By hers and mine adultery. He, true knight, No lesser of her honor confident

Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring;
And would so, had it been a carbuncle
Of Phoebus' wheel, and might so safely, had
it
190
Been all the worth of's car. Away to Britain
Post I in this design: well may you, sir,
Remember me at court; where I was taught
Of your chaste daughter the wide difference
'Twixt amorous and villanous. Being thus
quench'd

Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain
'Gan in your duller Britain operate
Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent :
And, to be brief, my practice so prevail'd,
That I return'd with simular proof enough
To make the noble Leonatus mad,

201

By wounding his belief in her renown
With tokens thus, and thus; averring notes
Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her brace-
let,-

O cunning, how I got it !-nay, some marks
Of secret on her person, that he could not
But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd,
I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon-
Methinks, I see him now-

211

Post. [Advancing] Ay, so thou dost, Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool, Egregious murderer, thief, any thing That's due to all the villains past, in being, To come! O, give me cord, or knife, or poison,

Some upright justicer! Thou, king, send out
For torturers ingenious: it is I [amend

That all the abhorred things o' the earth
By being worse than they. am Posthumus,
That kill'd thy daughter-villain-like, I lie-
That caused a lesser villain than myself,
A sacrilegious thief, to do't: the temple 220
Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself.
Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set
The dogs o' the street to bay me: every
villain

Be call'd Posthumus Leonatus; and
Be villany less than 'twas! O Imogen !
My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen !

Imo.

Peace, my lord; hear, hearPost. Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful page,

There lie thy part. [Striking her: she falls. O, gentlemen, help!

Pis.

Mine and your mistress! O, my lord Posthumus! 230

You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now, Help, help J Mine honor'd lady!

Think that you are upon a rock; and now

Throw me again.

Post.

[Embracing him. Hang there like fruit, my soul,

Till the tree die !
Cym.
How now, my flesh, my child!
What, makest thou me a dullard in this act?
Wilt thou not speak to me?

Imo. [Kneeling] Your blessing, sir. Bel. [To Guiderius and Arviragus] Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not; You had a motive for't.

Cym.
My tears that fall
Prove holy water on thee! Imogen,
Thy mother's dead.
Imo.

I am sorry for't, my lord. 270 Cym. O, she was naught; and long of her

it was

That we meet here so strangely but her son
Is gone, we know not how nor where.
Pis.

My lord, Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord Cloten,

I thought had been my lord. Cym.

That headless man

Bind the offender, 300
And take him from our presence.
Bel.
Stay, sir king:
This man is better than the man he slew,
As well descended as thyself; and hath
More of thee merited than a band of Clotens
Had ever scar for. [To the Guard] Let his
arms alone;

They were not born for bondage.
Cym.
Why, old soldier,
Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for,
By tasting of our wrath? How of descent
As good as we ?
Arv.
In that he spake too far.
Cym. And thou shalt die for't.
Bel.
We will die all three : 310
But I will prove that two on's are as good
As I have given out him. My sons, I must,
For mine own part, unfold a dangerous speech,
Though, haply, well for you.

Arv.

Gui. And our good his. Bel.

Your danger's ours.

Have at it then, by leave.

Thou hadst, great king, a subject who
Was call'd Belarius.

Bel. I am too blunt and saucy: here's my knee :

Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons;
Then spare not the old father. 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,
And blood of your begetting.
331
Сут.
How! my issue!
Bel. So sure as you your father's. I, old
Morgan,
[ish'd:

Am that Belarius whom you sometime banYour pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment

Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd Was all the harm I did. These gentle princesFor such and so they are-these twenty years Have I train'd up: those arts they have as I Could put into them; my breeding was, sir,

phile, 340 Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children

Upon my banishment: I moved her to't,
Having received the punishment before,
For that which I did then: beaten for loy-
alty

Excited me to treason: their dear loss,

The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shaped Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir,

Here are your sons again; and I must lose
Two of the sweet'st companions in the world.
The benediction of these covering heavens 350
Fall on their heads like dew! for they are
worthy.

To inlay heaven with stars.
Сут.
Thou weep'st, and speak'st.
The service that you three have done is more
Unlike than this thou tell'st. I lost my chil-
dren :

If these be they, I know not how to wish
A pair of worthier sons.
Bel.
Be pleased awhile.
This gentleman, whom I call Polydore,
Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guide-
rius:

This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus,
Your younger princely son; he, sir, was
lapp'd

360

In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand

his queen mother, which for more proba

tion

That, after this strange starting from your orbs,

You may reign in them now! O Imogen,
Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.

Imo.

No, my lord; I have got two worlds by 't. O my gentle brothers,

Have we thus met? O, never say hereafter But I am truest speaker: you call'd me brother,

When I was but your sister; I you brothers, When ye were so indeed.

Сут. Did you e'er meet ? Arv. Ay, my good lord. Gui. And at first meeting loved; Continued so, until we thought he died. 380 Cor. By the queen's dram she swallow'd. Сут. O rare instinct ! When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridgement

Hath to it circumstantial branches, which Distinction should be rich in. Where? how [tive ?

lived you?

And when came you to serve our Roman capHow parted with your brothers? how first met them?

Why fled you from the court? and whither? These,

And your three motives to the battle, with I know not how much more, should be demanded;

390

And all the other by-dependencies,
From chance to chance: but nor the time nor
place

Will serve our long inter❜gatories. See,
Posthumus anchors upon Imogen,

And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye

On him, her brothers, me, her master, hitting Each object with a joy the counterchange Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground, And smoke the temple with our sacrifices. [To Belarius] Thou art my brother; so we'll hold thee ever.

Imo. You are my father too, and did relieve me, 400 To see this gracious season. Cym. All o'erjoy'd, Save these in bonds : let them be joyful too, For they shall taste our comfort.

Imo.

My good master,

Happy be you!