Of many in the army: many years, From my remembrance. And, besides, the king Gui. Arv. By this sun that shines, A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel That which we've done, whose answer would be The hands of Romans! Arv. So say I; Amen. Bel. No reason I, since on your lives you set So slight a valuation, should reserve My crack'd one to more care. Have with you, boys: If in your country wars you chance to die, That is my bed too, lads, and there I'll lie: Lead, lead. The time seems long: their blood thinks scorn, Till it fly out, and show them princes born. [Aside. [Exeunt. ACT V. ones, Gods! if you If each of you would take this course, how many You snatch some hence for little faults; that's love, To have them fall no more: you some permi To second ills with ills, each elder worse; Among the Italian gentry, and to fight Hear patiently my purpose; I'll disrobe me SCENE II. The same. Enter at one side, LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and the Roman army; at the other side, the British army; LEONATUS POSTHUMUS following it, like a poor soldier. They march over, and go out. Alarums. 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, The princess of this country, and the air on't Revengia gly enfeebles me; Or, could this carl, A very drudge of nature's, have subdu'd me, in my profession? Knighthoods and honours, borne As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn. If that thy gentry, Britain, go before This lout, as he exceeds our lords, the odds Is, that we scarce are men, and you are goils. [Erit. The battle continues; the Britons fly; CYMBELINE is taken; then enter, to his rescue, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS. Bel. Stand, stand! We have the advantage of the ground; The lane is guarded; nothing routs us, but Stand, stand, and fight! Gui. Arv. Enter POSTHUMUS, and seconds the Britons: They rescue CYMBELINE, and exeunt. Then, enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and IMOGEN. Three thousand confident, in act as many, But by example (O, a sin in war, Damn'd in the first beginners!) 'gan to look A stop i'the chaser, a retire; anon, slaves, The strides they victors made: And now our cowards (Like fragments in hard voyages,) became The life o'the need; having found the back-door open Of the unguarded hearts, Heavens, how they wound! Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and save thy- The mortal bugs o'the field. self: Though you, it seems, come from the fliers. Lord. [ did; I did. Post. No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost, Lord. Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier, — Lord. This was strange chance A narrow lane! an old man, and two boys! 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, Preserv'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. 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! 'Tis strange, he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds, For being now a favourer to the Roman, Which neither here I'll keep, nor bear again, Enter Two British Captains, and Soldiers. 1 Cap. Great Jupiter be prais'd! Lucius is taken: 'Tis the ught, the old man and his sons were angels. 2 Cap. There was a fourth man, in a silly habit, the affront with them. That gave 1 Cap. But none of them can be found. there? Post. A Roman; So 'tis reported: Stand! who is Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds Had answer'd him. 2 Cap. Lay hands on him; a dog! service 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 Gaoler: after which, all go out. SCENE IV. -A Prison. Enter POSTHUMUS, and Two Gaolers. 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, Rates and revenges. Hath my poor boy done aught but well, I died, whilst in the womb he stay'd Whose father then (as men report, Thou orphans' father art,) Thou should'st have been, and shielded him Moth. Lucina lent not me her aid, Sici. Great nature, like his ancestry, That he deserv'd the praise o'the world, 1 Bro. When once he was mature for man, 1 Gaol. You shall not now be stolen, you have That could stand up his parallel; locks upon you; So, graze, as you find pasture. 2 Gaol. Ay, or a stomach. Post. Most welcome, bondage! for thou art a way, 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, Must I repent? I know, you are more clement than vile men, Or fruitful object be In eye of Imogen, that best Could deem his dignity? Moth. With marriage wherefore was he mock'd From Leonati' seat, and cast 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 caine, That, striking in our country's cause, Fell bravely, and were slain; With honour to maintain. 1 Bro. Like hardiment Posthumus hath Why hast thou thus adjourn'd Being all to dolours turn'd? Sici. Thy crystal window ope; look out Upon a valiant race, thy harsh And potent injuries. Moth. Since, Jupiter, our son is good, Sici. Peep through thy marble mansion; help! To the shining synod of the rest, 2 Bro. Help, Jupiter; or we appeal, 786 The JUPITER descends in thunder and lightning, sitting Jup. No more, you petty spirits of region low, Sky-planted, batters all rebelling coasts? No care of yours it is; you know, 'tis ours. His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent. 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; din And so, away: no further with your Express impatience, lest you stir up mine. · Sici. He came in thunder; his celestial breath All. Thanks, Jupiter! [Ghosts vanish. Post. [Waking.] Sleep, thou hast been a grand- A father to me: and thou hast created That have this golden chance, and know not why. one! Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment [Reads.] When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself Tis still a dream; or else such stuff as madmen Re-enter Gaolers. Gaol. Come, sir, are you ready for death? Post. Over-roasted rather: ready long ago. 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. 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. 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 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-enquiry 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 of blindness! I am sure, hanging's the way winking. Enter a Messenger. Mess. Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner 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 I would we were all of should I, if I were one. 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 [Exeunt. in't. Whose rags sham'd gilded arms, whose naked | (When she had fitted you with her craft,) to 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: Cym. She alone knew this: And, but she spoke it dying, I would not Cor. Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to love With such integrity, she did confess Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life, Is there more? O most delicate fiend! For you a mortal mineral; which, being took, waste purpos'd, you : By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to O'ercome you with her show: yes, and in time, work Her son into the adoption of the crown. But failing of her end by his strange absence, Cym. 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 suit, That their good souls may be appeas'd with slaughter Of you their captives, which ourselves 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 Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm, Сут. I have surely seen him : His favour 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. Imo. |