a No bond, but to do just ones.-Gods! if you SCENE III.-Another Part of the Field. But, Enter POSTHUMUS and a Briton Lord. You snatch some hence for little faults; that's love, ens, Hear patiently my purpose. I'll disrobe me SCENE II.-The Same. [Exit. 8 Trumpets and Drums. Enter at one Side, LUCIUS, Iach. The heaviness and guilt within my bosom As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn. 5 [Exit. 6 Alarums. The Battle continues: the Britons fly; CYMBELINE is taken: then enter, to his rescue, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS. I did. Post. No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost, With dead men hurt behind, and cowards living t So long a breeding, as his white beard came to, A stop i' the chaser, a retire; anon, A rout, confusion thick: forthwith they fly, Bel. Stand, stand! We have the advantage of Those that would die or ere resist are grown the ground. The lane is guarded: nothing routs us, but The villainy of our fears. Stand, stand, and fight! The mortal bugs o' the field. 5 Alarums. Enter POSTHUMUS, and seconds the Bril-Rather to wonder at the things you hear, ons; they rescue CYMBELINE, and exeunt: then, Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself; Iach. 'Tis their fresh supplies. Luc. It is a day turn'd strangely: or betimes Let's re-enforce, or fly. [Exeunt. e That for so that.-d "Damm'd," i, e., blocked up.-"The country base," i. e, a country game; vulgarly called prison "To put on," i. e., to incite; to instigate. -b"This base.-"Shame," i, e., modesty; shamefacedness.-8" Buge," carl," i. e., this clown. i. e., bugbears; terrors. For if he'll do, as he is made to do, 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. Sici. No more, thou thunder-master, show With Mars fall out, with Juno chide, 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 Whose father, then, (as men report, Thou orphans' father art) Thou shouldst have been, and shielded him That from me was Posthumus ript, Sici. Great nature, like his ancestry, 1 Bro. When once he was mature for man, In Britain where was he, That could stand up his parallel, Or fruitful object be 1 Jail. You shall not now be stolen; you have In eye of Imogen, that best dlocks upon you: So, graze as you find pasture. 2 Jail. Ay, or a stomach. [Exeunt Jailors. By the sure physician, death, who is the key 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 her his dearest one, Sici. Why did you suffer Iachimo, To taint his nobler heart and brain 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 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, 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. 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! Cor. With horror, madly dying, like her life; 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 Cor. Your daughter, whom she bore in 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, Сут. Heard you all this, her women? Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; To have mistrusted her: yet, O my daughter! Thou com'st not, Caius, now for tribute: that Luc. Consider, sir, the chance of war: the day Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods 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? But we saw him dead. [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, 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? As it doth me) a nobler sir ne'er liv'd [lord? I had rather thou should'st live while nature will, For beauty, that made barren the swell'd boast All too soon I shall, [mus, Unless thou would'st grieve quickly.-This Posthu- And, not dispraising whom we prais'd, (therein Cym. In suit the place of his bed, and win this ring "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. |