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In eye of Imogen, that best

Could deem his dignity?

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, Desir’d, more than constrain'd: to satisfy, If of my freedom 't is 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 tentb, 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 ’t is 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. [He sleeps.

Moth. With marriage wherefore was lie 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 villany?
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 maintain. 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. Si 1. 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.

Selcan Music. Enter, as in an apparition, SICILIUS LEON. ATOs, father to POSTHUMUS, an old man, attired like a warrior; leading in his hand an ancient matron, his wife, and mother to PostHUMUS, with music before them. Then, after other music, follow the two young Leonati, brothers to POSTHUMITS, with wounds, as they died in the wars. They circle POSTHUMUS round, as he lies sleeping.

JUPITER descends in thunder and lightning, silling upon an

eagle: he throws a thunder-bolt. The Ghosts fall on their knees.

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

Atrending 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 lept not me her aid,

But took me in my throes; That from me was Posthumus ripp'd, Came crying 'mongst his foes,

A thing of pity!

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 retelling 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, delighted. Be content; Your low-laid son our god head 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 fadelHe 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.

Sici. Great nature, like his ancestry,

Moulded the stuff so fair, That he desery'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

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

Enter Gaoler.
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.-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 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 afterinquiry 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 prisoner to the king. Post. Thou bring'st 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.

[E.reunt 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 ferier 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; 0, there were desolation of gaolers and gal. lowses! I speak against my present profit; but my wish hath a preferment in 't. [Exeunt.

SCENE V.-Cymbeline's Tent. Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, AR

VIRAGUS, PISANIO, Lords, Officers, and Attendants. Cym. Stand by my side, you whom the gods

have made

Pangled. This word is very rarely used without the epithet new ; yet fungle means an innovation. We have it in Anthony Wood-"A hatred to fungles aud the French fooleries of his time."

* Prone-forward.

(ya.

Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart, And, but she spoke it dying, I would not
That the poor soldier that so richly fought, Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.
Whose rags sham'd gilded arms, whose naked Cor. You daughter, whom she bore in hand
breast

to love
Stepp'd before targes of proof, cannot be found : With such integrity, she did confess
He shall be happy that can find him, if

Was as a scorpion to her sight ; whose life, Our grace can make him so.

But that her flight prevented it, she had Bel.

I never saw - Ta'en off by poison. Such noble fury in so poor a thing;

Cym.

O most delicate fiend ! Such precious deeds in one that promis'd nought Who is 't can read a woman ?- Is there more? But beggary and poor looks.

Cor. More, sir, and worse. She did confess No tidings of him ?

she had Pis. He hath been search'd among the dead For you a mortal mineral; which, being took, and living,

Should by the minute feed on life, and, ling’ring, But no trace of him.

By inches waste you: In which time she purpos’d, To my grief, I am

By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to
The heir of his reward; which I will add O'ercome you with her show : yes, and in time,
To you the liver, heart, and brain of Britain, When she had fitted you with her craft, to work

. [To BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and Her son into the adoption of the crown:
ARVIRAGUS.

But, failing of her end by his strange absence, By whom I grant she lives :-'Tis now the time Grew shameless-desperate; open’d, in despite To ask of whence you are :-report it.

Of heaven and men, her purposes; repented Bel.

Sir, | The evils she hatch'd were not effected: so,
In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen : Despairing, died.
Further to boast were neither true nor modest, Cym. Heard you all this, her women ?
Unless I add we are honest.

Lady. We did, so please your highness.
Cym.
Bow your knees : Cym.

Mine eyes · Arise, my knights o' the battle; I create you

Companions to our person, and will fit you | Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart, With dignities becoming your estates.

That thought her like her seeming: it had been

vicious Enter CORNELIUS and Ladies.

To have mistrusted her : yet, O my daughter'

That it was folly in me, thou may'st say, There 's business in these faces :-Why so sadly

And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all ! Greet you our victory ? you look like Romans, And not o' the court of Britain.

Hail, great king!

Enter Lucius, LACIIMO, the Soothsayer, and other

Roman prisoners, guarded ; PostHUMUS behind, To sour your happiness, I must report

and IMOGEN. The queen is dead.

Whom worse than a physician Thou com’st not, Caius, now for tribute; that Would this report become ? But I consider, The Britons have raz'd out, though with the loss By medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death Of many a bold one ; whose kinsmen have made Will seize the doctor too.-How ended she ?

suit Cor. With horror, madly dying, like her life, That their good souls may be appeas'd with Which, being cruel to the world, concluded

slaughter Most cruel to herself. What she confess'd Of you their captives, which ourself have I will report, so please you : These her women

granted : Can trip me, if I err; who, with wet cheeks, So, think of your estate. Were present when she finish’d.

Luc. Consider, sir, the chance of war: the day

Prithee, say. Was yours by accident; had it gone with us, Cor. First, she confess'd she never lov’d you : | We should not, when the blood was cool, have only

threaten'd Affected greatness got by you, not you ;

Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods Married your royalty, was wife to your place ; Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives Abhorr'd your person.

May be call'd ransom, let it come: sufficeth Cya. She alone knew this: A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer:

TRAGEDIES. -- Vol. I. R

Cor.

Cym.

Augustus lives to think on 't: and so much Gui. The same dead thing alive.
For my peculiar care. This one thing only

Bel. Peace, peace! see further; he eyes us I will entreat: my boy, a Briton born,

not; forbear; Let him be ransom'd: never master had

Creatures may be alike: were 't he, I am sure A page so kind, so duteous, diligent,

He would have spoke to us. So tender over his occasions, true,

Gui.

But we saw him dead. So feat, so nurse-like: let his virtue join

Bel. Be silent ; let's see further. With my request, which, I'!! make bold, your Pis.

It is my mistress. highness

[Aside. Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm, Since she is living, let the time run on Though he have serv'd a Roman : save him, sir, To good, or bad. And spare no blood beside.

[CYMBELINE and IMOGEN come forward. Cym.

I have surely seen him : Cym. Come, stand thou by our side ; His favour is familiar to me.

Make thy demand aloud.—Sir, [to LACH.] step Boy, thou hast look'd thyself into my grace,

you forth; And art mine own. I know not wby, nor Give answer to this boy, and do it freely; wherefore,

Or, by our greatness, and the grace of it, To say live boy : ne'er thank thy master ; live: Which is our honour, bitter torture shall And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt, Winnow the truth from falsehood.-01, speak to Fitting my bounty and thy state, I'll give it;

him. Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner,

Imo. My boon is, that this gentleman may The noblest ta'en.

render Imo.

I humbly thank your highness. Of whom he had this ring. Luc. I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad; | Post.

What's that to him? And yet, I know thou wilt.

(Aside. Imo.

No, no: alack, Cym. That diamond upon your finger, say There 's other work in hand; I see a thing How came it yours? Bitter to me as death : your life, good master, Iach. Thou 'lt torture me to leave unspoken Must shuffle for itself.

that Luc.

The boy disdains me, Which, to be spoke, would torture thee. He leaves me, scorns me: briefly die their joys, Cym.

How! me? That place them on the truth of girls and boys. Tach. I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that Why stands he so perplex'd ?

Which torments me to conceal. By villainy Cym..

What would'st thou, boy? I got this ring; 't was Leonatus' jewei : I love thee more and more ; think more and more Whom thou didst banish ; and (which more, mas What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st

grieve thee on ? speak,

As it doth me,) a nobler sir ne'er liv'd Wilt have him live ? Is he thy kin? thy friend ? | ’T wist sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, Imo. He is a Roman; no more kin to me

my lord ? Than I to your highness; who, being born your Cym. All that belongs to this. vassal,

Iach. That paragon, thy daughter,Am something nearer.

For whom my heart drops blood, and my false Cym, Wherefore ey'st him so ?

spirits Imo. I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please Quail to remember,—Give me leave; I faint. To give me hearing.

Cym. My daughter! what of her ? Renew thy Cym. Ay, with all my heart,

strength: And lend my best attention. What's thy name? I had rather thou should'st live while nature will, Imo. Fidele, sir.

Than die ere I hear more: strive, man, and speak. Cym. Thou art my good youth, my page; Iach. Upon a time, (unhappy was the clock I'll be thy master: Walk with me; speak freely. That struck the hour!) it was in Rome, (accurs'd

[CYMBELINE and IMOGEN converse apart. The mansion where !) 't was at a feast, (O 'would Bel. Is not this boy reviv'd from death ? Our viands had been poison'd ! or, at least, Aro.

One sand another Those which I heav'd to head !) the good Pose Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad

thumus, Who died, and was Fidele :- What think you ? | (What should I say ? he was too good, to be

Where il men were ; and was the best of all Of secret on her person, that he could not
Among'st the rar'st of good ones,) sitting sadly, But think her bond of chastity quite crack’d,
Hearing us praise our loves of Italy

I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon,-
For beauty that made barren the swellid boast | Methinks, I see him now,
Of him that best could speak; for feature, laming Post.

Ay, so thou dost, The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva,

[Coming forward. Postures beyond brief nature ;: for condition, Italian fiend !-Ah me, most credulous fool, A shop of all the qualities that man

Egregious murderer, thief, any thing Loves woman for; besides, that hook of wiving, That's due to all the villains past, in being, Fairness, which strikes the eye :

To come !-0, give me cord, or knife, or poison, Cya.

I stand on fire : Some upright justicer !* Thou, king, send out Come to the matter.

For torturers ingenious : it is I lack.

All too soon I shall, That all the abhorred things o' the earth amend, Unless thou would'st grieve quickly.—This Pos By being worse than they. I am Posthumus, thumus

That kill'd thy daughter :- villain-like, I lie; (Most like a noble lord in love, and one

That caus’d a lesser villain than myself, That had a royal lover) took this hint;

A sacrilegious thief, to do't :-the temple And, not dispraising whom we prais'd, (therein Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself, He was as calm as virtue,) he began

Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set His mistress' picture ; which by his tongue being The dogs o' the street to bay me: every villain made,

Be call’d Posthumus Leonatus ; and
And then a mind pat in’t, either our brags Be villainy less than 't was!-Imogen!
Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his description | My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,
Prov'd as unspeaking sots.

Imogen, Imogen! Nay, nay, to the purpose. Ino. Peace, my lord; hear, hear! lack. Your daughter's chastity—there it Post. Shall's have a play of this ? Thou begins.

scornful page, He spake of her, as Dian had hot dreams, There lie thy part. [Striking her : she falls. And she alone were cold : Whereat, I, wretch! Pis.

O, gentlemen, help Made scruple of his praise; and wager'd with | Mine, and your mistress :-0, my lord Posthu

mus! Pieces of gold, 'gainst this which then he wore You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now :-Help, help!Upon his honour'd finger, to attain

Mine honour'd lady! In suit the place of his bed, and win this ring Cym.

Does the world go round? By bers and mine adultery : he, true knight, Post. How come these staggers on me? No lesser of her honour confident

Wake, my mistress ! Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring;

Cym. If this be so, the gods do mean to strike And would so, had it been a carbuncle

me Of Phæbus' wheel; and might so safely, had it To death with mortal joy. Been all the worth of his car. Away to Britain Pis.

How fares my mistress ? Post I in this design: Well may you, sir,

Imo. O, get thee from my sight; Remember me at court, where I was taught Thou gav'st me poison : dangerous fellow, hence ! of your chaste daughter the wide difference Breathe not where princes are ! "Twist amorous and villainous. Being thus Cym.

The tune of Imogen! quench'd

Pis. Lady, Of bope, not longing, mine Italian brain

The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if 'Gan in your duller Britain operate

That box I gave you was not thought by me Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent;

A precious thing; I had it from the queen. And, to be brief, my practice so prevail'd

Cym. New matter still ? That I return'd with simular proof enough

Imo.

It poison'd me. To make the noble Leonatus mad,

Cor.

O gods ! By wounding his belief in her renown

I left out one thing which the queen confess'd, With tokens thus, and thus; averring notes Which must approve thee honest: If Pisanio Of chainber-hanging, pictures, this ber bracelet,

* Justicer. This fine old word is used several times in (0, cunning, how I got it!) nay, some marks R 2

243

him

Pis.

Lear. It is found in our ancient law-books.

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