Poft. Most welcome bondage! for thou art a way,

I think, to liberty; yet am I better

Than one that's fick o'th' gout, fince he had rather
Groan fo in perpetuity than be cur'd

By th' fure physician, death; who is the key

T'unbar thefe locks.

My confcience! thou art fetter'd

More than my shanks and wrifts; you good gods give me
The penitent inftrument to pick that bolt,

Then free for ever.

Is't enough I'm forry?

So children temp❜ral fathers do appease;
Gods are more full of mercy.

Muft I

repent?

I cannot do it better than in gyves,
Defir'd, more than constrain'd; to fatisfie
If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take
No ftricter render of me, than my all.
I know you are more clement than vile men,
Who of their broken debtors take a third,
A fixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again
On their abatement; that's not my defire.
For Imogen's dear life, take mine, and though
'Tis not fo 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 fake,

You rather, mine being yours: and fo, great powers,
If you will take this audit, take this life,

And cancel those old bonds. Oh Imogen!
I'll speak to thee in filence.

*

[He fleeps.

SCENE

**** Here follows a Vifion, a Mafque, and a Prophecy, which interrupt the Fable without the leaft neceffity, and unmeafurably lengthen this act. I think it plainly foifted in afterwards for meer show, and apparently not of Shakespear.

Solemn mufick: Enter as in an apparition, Sicilius Leonatus, father to Pofthumus, an old man, attired like a warrior, leading in his hand an ancient matron, his wife, and mother to Pofthumus, with mufick before them. Then after other mu

Ee 2

fick,

SCENE IV.

Cymbeline's Tent.

Enter Cymbeline, Bellarius, Guiderius, Arviragus,

Cym. STA

Pifanio, and lords.

TAND by my fide, you whom the gods have made
Prefervers of my throne. Wo is my heart,

That the poor foldier that fo richly fought,

(Whose rags fham'd gilded arms, whose naked breast

Stept

fick, follow the two young Leonati, brothers to Pofthumus, with wounds as they died in the wars. They circle Pofthumus round as he lyes fleeping.

Sici. No more thou thunder-mafter
Shew thy spite, on mortal flies:

With Mars fall out, with Juno chide, that thy adulteries

Rates and revenges.

Hath my poor boy done ought but well,

Whofe face I never faw?

I dy'd, whilft in the womb he ftay'd,
Attending nature's law.

Whofe father, Jove! (as men report,
Thou orphans father art)

Thou should't have been, and shielded him
From his earth-vexing smart.

Moth. Lucina lent not me her aid,

But took me in my throes,

That from me my Pofthumus ript;

Came crying 'mongst his foes,

A thing of pity!

Sici. Great nature, like his ancestry,

Moulded the stuff so fair;

That he deferv'd the praise o'th world,

As great Sicilius' heir.

1 Bro. When once he was mature for man,

In Britain where was he

That could ftand up his parallel,

Or rival object be,

In eye of Imogen, that beft

Could deem his dignity?

Moth. With marriage therefore was he mockt

To be exil'd, and thrown

From Leonatus' feat, and caft

From her his dearest one:

Sweet Imogen!

Sici.

Stept before shields of proof,) cannot be found:
He shall be happy that can find him, if
Our grace can make him so.

Bel. I never faw

Such noble fury in so poor a thing:

Such precious deeds in one that promis'd nought

But begg❜ry and poor looks.

Cym. No tidings of him?

Pif. He hath been search'd among the dead and living, But no trace of him.

Sici. Why did you fuffer Iachimo,
Slight thing of Italy,

To taint his noble heart and brain
With needless jealousie,

And to become the geek and scorn
O'th' other's villany?

2 Bro. For this, from stiller feats we came,
Our parents, and us twain,

That ftriking in our country's cause,

Fell bravely and were flain,

Our fealty and Tenantius' right,

With honour to maintain.

1 Bro. Like hardiment Pofthumus hath
To Cymbeline perform'd;

Then Jupiter, thou king of gods,

Why haft thou thus adjourn'd

The graces for his merits due,

Being all to dolours turn'd?

Sici. Thy cryftal window ope; look out;
No longer exercise,

Upon a valiant race, thy harsh

And potent injuries.

Moth. Since, Jupiter, our fon is good,

Take off his miferies.

Sici. Peep through thy marble mansion, help,

Or we poor ghosts will cry

To th' fhining fynod of the reft,

Againgft thy deity.

2 Breth. Help, Jupiter, or we appeal,

And from thy juftice flie.

Jupiter defcends in thunder and lightning, fitting upon an eagle; he throws a

thunder-bolt. The ghosts fall on their knees.

Jupit. No more you petty spirits of region low

Offend our hearing; hufh! how dare you ghosts

Cym.

Ac

Accufe the thunderer, whofe bolt, you know,
Sky-planted, batters all rebelling coafts.
Poor fhadows of Elizium, hence and reft
Upon your never-withering banks of flowers.
Be not with mortal accidents oppreft,

No care of yours it is, you know 'tis ours.
Whom beft I love, I crofs; to make my gift,
The more delay'd, delighted. Be content,
Your low-laid fon our godhead will uplift:
His comforts thrive, his tryals well are spent ;
Our Jovial ftar reign'd at his birth, and in

Our temple was he married: rife, and fade!
He fhall be lord of lady Imogen,

And happier much by his affliction made. This tablet lay upon his breaft, wherein

Our pleasure, his full fortune, doth confine,
And fo away, no farther with your din

Exprefs impatience, left you ftir up mine;
Mount eagle, to my palace crystalline.

Sici. He came in thunder, his coeleftical breath
Was fulphurous to fmell; the holy eagle

Stoop'd, as to foot us: his afcenfion is

More sweet than our bleft fields; his royal bird
Prunes the immortal wing, and clays his beak,
As when his god is pleas'd.

All. Thanks, Jupiter.

Sici. The marble pavement closes, he is enter'd

Let us with care perform his great beheft.

[Jup. drops a tablet.

[Afcends.

His radiant roof: away, and to be bleft

[Vanish.

Poft. Sleep, thou haft been a grandfire, and begot

A father to me: and thou haft created

Bel. Sir,

In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen:
Further to boast, were neither true nor modeft,
Unless I add, we're honest.

Cym. Bow your knees,

Arise my knights o'th' battel, I create you

Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment
Nobler than that it covers. Let thy effects
So follow, to be moft unlike our courtiers,
As good as promise.

[Reads.]

Com

HEN as the lion's whelp fhall, to himself unknown, without feeking find, and be embrac'd by a piece of tender air; and when from a fiately cedar fhall be lopt branches, which being dead many years, fhall after revive, be jointed to the old flock, and freshly grow, then fhall Pofthumus end his miferies, Britain be fortunate, and flourish in peace and plenty.

'Tis still a dream; or else fuch stuff as mad-men

Tongue, and brain not: do either both, or nothing;

Or fenfeless speaking, or a speaking fuch

As fenfe cannot untie. But what it is,

The action of my life is like it, which I'll keep
If but for fympathy.

Enter Goaler.

Goal. Come, Sir, are you ready for death?

Poft. Over-roafted rather: ready long ago.

Goal. Hanging is the word, Sir; if you be ready for that, you are well cookt. Poft. So if I prove a good repaft to the fpectators, the difh pays the fhot. Goal. A heavy reckoning for you, Sir, but the comfort is, you fhall be called to no more payments, fear no more tavern bills, which are often the fadness of parting, as the procuring of mirth; you came in faint for want of meat, depart reeling with too much drink; forry that you have paid too much, and forry that you are paid too much; purfe and brain, both empty; the brain the heavier, for being too light; the purfe too light, being drawn of heaviness. Oh, of this contradiction you fhall now be quit: oh the charity of a penny cord, it fums up thousands in a trice; you have no true debtor, and creditor, but it; of what's paft, is, and to come, the difcharge; your neck, Sir, is pen, book, and counters; fo the acquittance follows.

Poft. I am merrier to die, than thou art to live.

Goal. Indeed, Sir, he that fleeps, feels not the tooth-ache: but a man that were to fleep your fleep, 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 fhall go.

Poft. Yes indeed do I, fellow.

Goal. Your death has eyes in's head then; I have not feen him fo pictur'd: you must either be directed by fome that take upon them to know; or to

take