Of many in the army: many years, wore him From my remembrance. And, besides, the king Gui. 30 Arv. By this sun that shifies, I'll thither what thing is it that I never Did see man die! scarce ever look'd on blood, But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison! Never bestrid a horse, save one that had A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel Nor iron on his heel! I am ashamed To look upon the holy sun, to have The benefit of his blest beams, remaining So long a poor unknown. Gui. By heavens, I'll go: If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave, I'll take the better care, but if you will not, The hazard therefore due fall on me by The hands of Romans!! So say I amen! 40 Aro. Bel. No reason I, since of your lives you set So slight a valuation, should reserve My crack'd one to more care. boys! Have with you, 50 If in your country wars you chance to die, That is my bed too, lads, and there I'll lie: Lead, lead. [Aside] The time seems long; their blood thinks scorn, Till it fly out and show them princes born. ACT V. [Exeunt. SCENE I Britain. The Roman camp. Enter POSTHUMUS, with a bloody handkerchief. Post. Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee; for I wish'd Thou shouldst be colour'd thus. You married ones, ΙΟ Me, wretch more worth your vengeance. But, alack, You snatch some hence for little faults; that's love, To have them fall no more: you some permit Hear patiently my purpose: I'll disrobe me 30 SCENE II. Field of battle between the British and Roman camps. Enter, from one side, LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and the Roman Army; from the other side, the British Army; LEONATUS POSTHUMUS following, like a poor soldier. They march over and go out. Then enter again, in skirmish, IACHIMO and POSTHUMUS: he vanquisheth and disarmeth IACHIMO, and then leaves him. Iach. The heaviness and guilt within my bosom Takes off my manhood: I have belied a lady, As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn. The lane is gitarded: nothing routs us but Gui. Arr.. } Stand, stand, and fight! Re-enter POSTHUMUS, and seconds the Britons: they rescue CYMBELINE, and exeunt. Then re-enter LUCIUS, and IACHIMO, with IMOGEN. Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself; For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such As war were hoodwink'd. Iach. 'Tis their fresh supplies. Luc. It is a day turn'd strangely: or betimes Let's re-inforce, or fly. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Another part of the field. Enter POSTHUMUS and a British Lord! Lord. Camest thou from where they made the stand? Post. No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost, With dead men hurt behind, and cowards living Where was this lane? Post. Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd with turf; 19 Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier, 30 Three thousand confident, in act as many-- Accommodated by the place, more charming With their own nobleness, which could have turn'd A distaff to a lance, gilded pale looks, Part shame, part spirit renew'd; that some, turn'd coward But by example-O, a sin in war, 40 A rout, confusion thick; forthwith they fly Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles; slaves, The strides they victors made: and now our cowards, Like fragments in hard voyages, became Lord. Post. Nay, be not angry, sir. 'Lack, to what end? Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his friend; 60 For if he'll do as he is made to do, I know he'll quickly fly my friendship too. Post. Still going? [Exit Lord.] This is a lord! O noble misery, To be i' the field, and ask what news?' of me! To-day how many would have given their honours To have saved their carcases! took heel to do't, And yet died too! I, in mine own woe charm'd, Could not find death where I did hear him groan, Nor feel him where he struck: being an ugly monster, 76 'Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds, Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we That draw his knives i' the war. Well, I will find him: For being now a favourer to the Briton, 81 Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds Had answer'd him. Sec. Cap. Lay hands on him; a' dog! 91 A leg of Rome shall not return to tell What crows have peck'd them here. He brags his service As if he were of note: bring him to the king. Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ArVIRAGUS, PISANIO, Soldiers, Attendants, and Roman Captives. The Captains present PoSTHUMUS to CYMBELINE, who delivers him over to a Gaoler: then exeunt omnes. SCENE IV. A British prison. Enter POSTHUMUS and two Gaolers. First Gaol. You shall not now be stol'n, you have locks upon you; So graze as you find pasture. Ay, or a stomach. [Exeunt Gaolers. Post. Most welcome, bondage for thou art a way, I think, to liberty: yet am I better Than one that's sick o' the gout; since he had rather Groan so in perpetuity than be cured Moth. By the sure physician, death, who is the key To unbar these locks. My conscience, thou art fetter'd More than my shanks and wrists: you good gods, give me The penitent instrument to pick that bolt, Sici. ΙΟ 20 I know you are more clement than vile men, If you will take this audit, take this life, [Sleeps. Attending nature's law: Whose father then, as men report Thou orphans' father art, 30 40 With marriage wherefore was he mock'd, From her his dearest one, Why did you suffer Iachimo, To taint his nobler heart and brain And to become the geck and scorn Sec. Bro. For this from stiller seats we came, That striking in our country's cause Our fealty and Tenantius' right First Bro. Like hardiment Posthumus hath Sici. Moth. Sici. Then, Jupiter, thou king of gods, Being all to dolours turn'd? Thy crystal window ope; look out; Upon a valiant race thy harsh And potent injuries. Since, Jupiter, our son is good, Take off his miseries. Peep through thy marble mansion; help; To the shining synod of the rest Both Bro. Help, Jupiter; or we appeal, 60 70 80 90 JUPITER descends in thunder and lightning, sitting upon an eagle: he throws a thunderbolt. The Ghosts fall on their knees. Jup. No more, you petty spirits of region low, ghosts Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt, you know, Thou shouldst have been, and shielded him Poor shadows of Elysium, hence, and rest Upon your never-withering banks of flowers: Be not with mortal accidents opprest; No care of yours it is; you know 'tis ours. 100 Whom best I love I cross; to make my gift, The more delay'd, delighted. Be content; Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift: His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent. Our Jovial star reign'd at his birth, and in Our temple was he married. Rise, and fade. He shall be lord of lady Imogen, And happier much by his affliction made. This tablet lay upon his breast, wherein Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine: 110 And so, away: no further with your din Express impatience, lest you stir up mine. Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline." [Ascends. Sici. He came in thunder; his celestial breath Was sulphurous to smell: the holy eagle Stoop'd, as to foot us: his ascension is Thanks, Jupiter! 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 All. 120 His radiant roof. Away! and, to be blest, A father to me; and thou hast created 130 And so I am awake. Poor wretches that depend Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment [Reads] 'When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches, which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty.' 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. 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 all but the First Gaoler. 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 150 gallowses! I speak against my present profit, but my wish hath a preferment in 't. [Exit. 'Tis still a dream, or else such stuff as madmen Re-enter Gaolers. First Gaol. Come, sir, are you ready for death? Post. Over-roasted rather; ready long ago. First Gaol. Hanging is the word, sir: if you be ready for that, you are well cooked. Post. So, if I prove a good repast to the spectators, the dish pays the shot. First Gaol. A heavy reckoning for you, sir. But the comfort is, you shall be called to no more payments, fear no more tavern-bills; which are often the sadness of parting, as the procuring of mirth: you come in faint for want of meat, depart reeling with too much drink; sorry that you have paid too much, and sorry that you are paid too much; purse and brain both empty; the brain the heavier for being too light, the purse too light, being drawn of heaviness: of this contradiction you shall now be quit. O, the charity of a penny cord! it sums up thousands in a trice: you have no true debitor and creditor but it; of what's past, is, and to come, the discharge: your neck, sir, is pen, book and counters; so the acquittance follows. Post. I am merrier to die than thou art to live. There's business in these faces. Why so sadly Cym. 30 Cor. With horror, madly dying, like her life, Сут. Prithee, say. Cor. First, she confess'd she never loved you, Affected greatness got by you, not you: Cym. She alone knew this; And, but she spoke it dying, I would not Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed. That it was folly in me, thou mayst say, Thou comest not, Caius, now for tribute; that 69 suit That their good souls may be appeased with Of you their captives, which ourself have granted: Luc. Consider, sir, the chance of war: the day 80 Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm, 90 Cym. Cor. Your daughter, whom she bore in hand To say 'live, boy:' ne'er thank thy master; live: to love Who is 't can read a woman? Is there more? For you a mortal mineral; which, being took, 50 By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to Cym. Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; To have mistrusted her: yet, O my daughter! And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt, Imo. I humbly thank your highness. 100 Imo. Cym. What wouldst thou, boy? I love thee more and more: think more and more on? speak, 110 Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend? Wherefore eyest him so? |