What crows have peck'd them here: Hebrags his 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.

1 Gaol. You shall not now be stolen, you have locks

upon you;

So, graze, as you find pasture.

2 Gaol.

Ay, or a stomach.

[Exeunt Gaolers.

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

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 ;

8 Enter Cymbeline, &c.] This is the only instance in these plays of the business of the scene being entirely performed in dumb show. The direction must have proceeded from the players, as it is perfectly unnecessary, and our author has elsewhere [in Hamlet] expressed his contempt of such mummery. RITSON.

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 'tis 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 tenth, 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 '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.

[He sleeps.

Solemn Musick 9. Enter, as an Apparition, SICILIUS LEONATUS, Father to POSTHUMUS, an old Man, attired like a Warrior; leading in his hand an ancient Matron, his Wife, and Mother to POSTHUMUS, with Musick before them. Then, after other Musick, 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.

9 Solemn musick, &c.] It is the universal opinion that this vision, masque, and prophecy, were the interpolation of the players. One would think that, Shakspeare's style being too refined for his audiences, the managers had employed some playwright of the old school to regale them with a touch of " King Cambyses' vein." The margin would be too honourable a place for so impertinent an interpolation.

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 should'st 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 Posthúmus 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

In eye of Imogen, that best

Could deem his dignity?

Moth. With marriage wherefore was he 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;

9

And to become the geck and scorn

O'the other's villainy?

9 And to become the geck:] A geck is a fool.

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.

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 Thunder-bolt.

:

fall on their knees.

The Ghosts

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, 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 further 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' 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.

to foot us:] i. e. to grasp us in his pounces.