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JUPITER descends in Thunder and Lightning, sitting
upon an Eagle: he throws a Thunder-bolt. The
-How dare you ghosts, Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt you know,
Sky-planted, batters all rebelling coasts?
Upon your never withering banks of flowers :
yours it is, you know, 'tis ours. 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;
Express impatience, lest you stir up mine.
Thanks, Jupiter ! Sici. The marble pavement closes, he is enter'd His radiant roof:-Away! and, to be blest, Let us with care perform his great behest.
[Ghosts vanish. Post. [Waking.] Sleep, thou hast been a grandsire,
and begot A father to me: and thou hast created A mother and two brothers : But (O scorn!) Gone! they went hence so soon as they were born. And so I am awake.- Poor wretches that depend On greatness' favour, dream as I have done ; Wake, and find nothing.–But, alas, I swerve: Many dream not to find, neither deserve, And yet are steep'd in favours ; so an I, That have this golden chance, and know not why. What fairies haunt this ground? A book? O, rare one! Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment Nobler than that it covers : let thy effects So follow, to be most unlike our courtiers, As good as promise.
[Reads.] When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself
known, 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. 'Tis still a dream; or else such stuff as madmen Tongue, and brain not : either both, or nothing:
Or senseless speaking, or a speaking such
Gaol. Come, sir, are you ready for death?
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.
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: O! of this contradiction you shall now be quit. -0 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,
Gaol. Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the toothach: 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,
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 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,
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 prisones to the king.
Post. Thou bringest good news ;-I am called to be made free,
Gaol. I'll be hanged then.
Post, Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; no bolts for the dead.
[Exeunt POSTHUMUS and Messenger, 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. [Efeunt,
Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, AR
VIRAGUS, PISANIO, Lords, Officers, and Atten-
I never saw
No tidings of him?
liying, But no trace of him. Сут. .
To my grief, I am The heir of his reward; which I will add
9 Target, shield.