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Post. Nay, do not wonder at it: You are made Rather to wonder at the things you hear, Than to work any. Will you

rhyme upon't,
And vent it for a mockery? Here is one:
Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane,
Preseru'd the Britons, was the Romans' bane.

Lord. Nay, be not angry, sir.
Post.

Lack, to what end?
Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his friend :
For if he'll do, as he is made to do,
I know, he'll quickly fly my friendship too.
You have put me into rhyme.
Lord.

Farewell, you are angry.

[Erit. Post. Still going ? 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 sav'd 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, '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 Roman,
No more a Briton, I have resum'd again
The part I came in: Fight I will no more,
But yield me to the veriest hind, that shall
Once touch

my shoulder. Great the slaughter is:
Here made by the Roman ; great the answer be
Britons must take; For me, my ransom's death;
On either side I come to spend my breath ;
Which neither here I'll keep, nor bear again,
But end it by some means for Imogen.

i Cap.

Enter Two British Captains, and Soldiers. 1 Cap. Great Jupiter be prais'd! Lucius is taken: 'Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels.

2 Cap. There was a fourth man, in a silly habit, That gave the affront 3 with them.

So 'tis reported :
But none of them can be found. -- Stand! who is

there?
Post. A Roman;
Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds
Had answered him.

Lay hands on him; a dog!
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.

2 Cap.

Enter CYMBELINE, attended; BELARIUS, GUIDE

RIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIo, and Roman Captives, The Captains present Posthumus to CYMBELINE, who delivers him over to a Gaoler : after which, all go out.

SCENE IV.

19

A Prison.

Enter POSTHUMUS, and Two Gaolers. 1 Gaol. You shall not now be stolen, you have

locks upon you; So,

graze, as you find pasture. 2 Gaol.

Ay, or a stomach.

[Exeunt Gaolers.

[blocks in formation]

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 ra

ther Groan so in perpetuity, than be cur'd 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,
Then free for ever! Is't enough, I am sorry?
So children temporal fathers do appease;
Gods are more full of mercy.

Must I repent ?
I cannot do it better than in gyves 4,
Desir'd, more than constrain'd: to satisfy,
If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take
No stricter render of me than my all,
I know, you are more clement than vile men,
Who of their broken debtors take a third,
A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again
On their abatement ; that's not my desire :
For Imogen's dear life, take mine, and though
'Tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life ; you coin'd it :
'Tween man and man, they weigh not every

stamp; Though light, take pieces for the figure' sake : You rather mine, being yours : And so, great

powers,
If you will take this audit, take this life,
And cancel these cold bonds. O Imogen!
I'll speak to thee in silence.

[He sleeps.

4 Fetters.

Solemn Musick. Enter, as an Apparition, SICILIUS

LEONATUS, Father to PostHUMUS, an old Man, attired like a Warrior ; leading in his Hand an ancient Matron, his Wife, and Mother to PostHUMUS, with Musick before them. Then, after other Musick, follow the Two Young Leonati, Brothers to PosTHUMUS, with wounds, as they died in the Wars. They circle Posthumus round, as he lies sleeping.

Sici. No more, thou thunder master, show,

Thy spite on mortal flies:
With Mars fall out, with Juno chide,
That thy adulteries
Rates and

revenges.
Hath my poor boy done aught but well,

Whose face I never saw ?
I died, whilst in the womb he stay'd

Attending Nature's law.
Whose father then (as men report,

Thou orphans' father art,)
Thou should'st have been, and shielded him

From this earth-vexing smart.
Moth. Lucina lent not me her aid,

But took me in my throes :
That from me was Posthumus ript,
Came crying 'mongst his foes,

A thing of pity!
Sici. Great nature, like his ancestry,

Moulded the stuff so fair,
That he deserv'd the praise o’the world,

As great Sicilius' heir.
1 Bro. When once he was mature for man,

In Britain where was he That could stand up his parallel ;

Or fruitful object be s This Scene is supposed not to be Shakspeare's, but foisted in by the Players for mere show.

In eye of Imogen, that best

Could deem his dignity?
Moth. With marriage wherefore was he mock’d,

To be exil'd and thrown
From Leonati' seat, and cast
From her his dearest one,

Sweet Imogen ?
Sici. Why did you suffer Iachimo,

Slight thing of Italy,
To taint his nobler heart and brain

With needless jealousy;
And to become the geck and scorn

O'the other's villainy?
2 Bro. For this, from stiller seats we came,

Our parents, and us twain,
That, striking in our country's cause,

Fell bravely, and were slain;
Our fealty, and 'Tenantius' right,

With honour to mai ain. 1 Bro. Like hardiment Posthumus hath

To Cymbeline perform'd : Then Jupiter, thou king of gods,

Why hast thou thus adjourn'd The graces for his merits due ;

Being all to dolours turn'd ? Sici. Thy crystal window ope;

look out;
No longer exercise,
Upon a valiant race, thy harsh

And potent injuries :
Moth. Since, Jupiter, our son is good,

Take off his miseries.
Sici. Peep through thy marble mansion ; help!

Or we poor ghosts will cry
To the shining synod of the rest,

Against thy deity. 2 Bro. Help, Jupiter; or we appeal,

And from thy justice fly.

1

6 The fool,

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