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. [Exit. 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 honors To have sav'd their carcasses? 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 For being now a favorer to the Briton, 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.

[him;

Enter Two Briton Caplains, 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 th' affront with them.

b

1 Cap. So 'tis reported; But none of them can be found.-Stand! who is Post. A Roman, [there?

Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds Had answer'd him.

2 Cap. A leg of Rome shall not return to tell [service, What crows have peck'd them here. He brags his As if he were of note. Bring him to the king. Enter CYMBELINE, attended; BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, and Roman Captives. The Captains present POSTHUMUS to CYMBELINE, who delivers him over to a Jailor; after which, all go out.

Lay hands on him; a dog!

SCENE IV.-A Prison.

Enter POSTHUMUS, and Two Jailors.

Who of their broken debtors take a third, A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again

[He sleeps.

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's 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.
Solemn Music. Enter, as an Apparition, SICILIES
LEONATUS, Father to POSTHUMUS, an old Man
attired like a Warrior; leading in his Hand an
ancient Matron, his Wife and Mother to POSTHU-
MUS, with Music before them: then, after other
Music, 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 shouldst 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

dlocks upon you:

So, graze as you find pasture.

2 Jail.

Ay, or a stomach. [Exeunt Jailors.
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 cur'd

By the sure physician, death, who is the key
T'unbar these locks. My conscience, thou art fet-
ter'd
[give me
More than my shanks, and wrists: you good gods,
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 egyves,
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,

"Answer," i. e., retaliation.-b" Silly," i. e., simple; rustic; Affront," i. e., encounter.- An allusion to the custom of putting a lock on a horse's leg when he is turned out to pasture.-"In gyves," i. e., in letters.

Could deem his dignity?

Moth. With marriage wherefore was he mock'd,
From Leonati' seat, and cast
To be exil'd, and thrown

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 we twain,

That striking in our country's cause

Fell bravely, and were slain; Our fealty, and Tenantius' right, With honor to maintain.

1 Bro. Like hardiment Posthumus hath To Cymbeline perform'd:

Then, Jupiter, thou king of gods,

"The geck," i. e., the fool.

Why hast thou thus adjourn'd The graces for his merits due, Being all to dolors 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.

JUPITER descends in Thunder and Lightning, sitting upon an Eagle: he throws a Thunderboll; the Ghosts fall on their Knees.

Jup. No more, you petty spirits of region low, Offend our hearing: hush!-How dare you ghosts Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt you know,

Sky-planted, batters all rebelling coasts? 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. Whom best I love, I cross; to make my gift, The more delay'd, a 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; And so, away: no farther 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 More sweet than our bless'd fields. His royal bird Prunes the immortal wing, and cloys his beak, As when his god is pleas'd.

All.

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' favor, 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 favors; so am I,
That have this golden chance, and know not why.
[Finding the Tablet.
What fairies haunt this ground? A book? O, rare
Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment [one!
Nobler than that it covers: let thy effects
So follow, to be most unlike our courtiers,
As good as promise.

1

[Reads.] "When as a lion's whelp shall, to him

self unknown, without seeking find, and be em

braced by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopp'd 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

As sense cannot untie. Be what it is,
The action of my life is like it, which
I'll keep, if but for sympathy.

Re-enter Jailors.

Jail. Come, sir, are you ready for death? Post. Over-roasted, rather; ready long ago. Jail. 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.

Jail. 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 be ing 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. Jail. Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the toothache; 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.

Jail. 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.

Jail. 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.

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

Jail. I'll be hang'd, then.

Post. Thou shalt be then freer than a jailor; no bolts for the dead.

[Exeunt POSTHUMUS and Messenger. Jail. 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

"Tongue, and brain not," i. e., talk, and understand not. Paid here means subdued, overcome by the liquor. "Jump," i. e., hazard. "So prone," ie., so prompt, ready.

In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen.
Farther 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
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.
Whom 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?

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.

Pr'ythee, say. Cor. First, she confess'd she never lov'd 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;

And, but she spoke it dying, I would not
Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.

Cor. Your daughter, whom she bore in
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.

O most delicate fiend!

[love

hand to

Cym. Who is't can read a woman ?-Is there more? [had Cor. More, sir, and worse. She did confess, she

"Targe," i. e., target; shield.- To "bear in hand" is to delude by false appearances.

For you a mortal mineral; which, being took,
Should by the minute feed on life, and lingering
By inches waste you: in which time she purpos'd,
By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to
O'ercome you with her show; and in time
(When she had fitted you with her craft) to work
Her son into th' 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,
Despairing died.

Сут.

Heard you all this, her women?
Lady. We did so, please your highness.
Cym.
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 may'st 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 com'st not, Caius, now for tribute: that
The Britons have raz'd out, though with the loss
Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have made suit,
That their good souls may be appeas'd with shaughter
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,
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,
Though he have serv'd a Roman. Save him, sir,
And spare no blood beside.

Cym.

I have surely seen him: His favor is familiar to me.-Boy, Thou hast look'd thyself into my grace, And art mine own.-I know not why, nor wherefore, To say, live, boy: ne'er thank thy master; live, And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt, Fitting my bounty and thy state, I'll give it; Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner, The noblest ta'en.

Imo.

I humbly thank your highness. Luc. I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad, And yet I know thou wilt.

Imo.

No, no; alack! There's other work in hand.-I see a thing Bitter to me as death.-Your life, good master, Must shuffle for itself.

Luc.

The boy disdains me,

He leaves me, scorns me: briefly die their joys, That place them on the truth of girls and boys.— Why stands he so perplex'd?

And lend my best attention. What's thy name?
Imo. Fidele, sir.
Cym.
Thou art my good youth, my page;
I'll be thy master: walk with me; speak freely.
[CYMBELINE and IMOGEN converse apart.
Bel. Is not this boy reviv'd from death?
Arv.
One sand another
Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad,
Who died, and was Fidele.-What think you?
Gui. The same dead thing alive. [forbear.
Bel. Peace, peace! see farther; he eyes us not:
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 farther.
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.-Sir, [To IACHIMO.] step you forth;

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. Cym.

How! me?
Iach. I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that,
Torments me to conceal. By villainy [which
I got this ring: 'twas Leonatus' jewel;
Whom thou didst banish; and (which more may
grieve thee,

As it doth me) a nobler sir ne'er liv'd [lord?
'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my
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:

I had rather thou should'st 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, (accurs'd
The mansion where) 'twas at a feast, (Ó! would
Our viands had been poison'd, or at least
Those which I heav'd 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 rar'st of good ones) sitting sadly,
Hearing us praise our loves of Italy

For beauty, that made barren the swell'd boast
Of him that best could speak for "feature, laming
Feature is used here for proportion.

All too soon I shall,

[mus,

Unless thou would'st grieve quickly.-This Posthu-
(Most like a noble lord in love, and one
That had a royal lover) took his hint;

And, not dispraising whom we prais'd, (therein
He was as calm as virtue) he began [made,
His mistress' picture; which by his tongue being
And then a mind put in't, either our brags
Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his description
Prov'd us unspeaking sots.

Cym.
Nay, nay, to the purpose.
Iach. Your daughter's chastity-there it begins.
He spake of her as Dian had hot dreams,
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 his bed, and win this ring
By her's 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
Been all the worth of his 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 villainous. 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,
By wounding his belief in her renown
With tokens thus, and thus; averring notes
Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet,
(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,-
Post.
Ay, so thou dost.
[Coming forward.
Italian fiend!—Ah me! most credulous fool,
Egregious murderer, thief, any thing
That's due to all the villains past, in being,
To come!-0, give me cord, or knife, or poison,
Some upright justicer! Thou, king, send out
For torturers ingenious: it is I
That all the abhorred things o' the earth amend,
By being worse than they. I am Posthumus,
That kill'd thy daughter:-villain-like, I lie;
That caus'd a lesser villain than myself,
A sacrilegious thief, to do't-The temple
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 villainy less than 'twas!-O Imogen!
My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen!

"Straight-pight," i. e., straight-shaped.-" Condition," i. c., temper; quality.-"Crack'd," i. e., boasted. As for as if-Simular," i. e., specious; plausible; feigned.& Justicer was anciently used for justice.