Britons must take: For me, my ransom's death; Enter two British Captains, and Soldiers. 149 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 the affront with them. 1 Cap. So 'tis reported; But none of them can be found.-Stand! Who's there? Post. A Roman; Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds Had answer'd him. 2 Cap. Lay hands on him; A dog! A leg of Rome shall not return to tell 151 What crows have peck'd them here: He brags his service As if he were of note: bring him to the king. Enter CYMBELINE, 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 SCENE IV. A Prison. Enter POSTHUMUS, and two Gaolers. 119 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 160 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, Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent ? Desir'd, more than constrain'd: to satisfy, I know, you are more clement than vile men, 170 'Tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life; you coin'd it: And cancel these cold bonds. O Imogen ! [He sleeps. Solemn Musick. Enter, as in 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, shew With Mars fall out, with Juno chide, That thy adulteries Rates, and revenges. Hath my poor boy done ought but well, I dy'd, whilst in the womb he stay'd, Whose father then (as men report, Thou orphan's father art) Thou should'st have been, and shielded him From this earth-vexing smart. Moth. Lucina lent not me her aid, 190 But But took me in my throes; That from me was Posthumus 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, 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; And to become the geck and scorn 2 Bro. For this, from stiller seats we came, That, striking in our country's cause, Fell bravely, and were slain; Our fealty, and Tenantius' right, 200 210 220 With honour to maintain. 1 Bro. Like hardiment Posthumus hath 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 chrystal 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. 230 Sici. Peep through thy marble mansion; help! Or we poor ghosts will cry To the shining synod of the rest, Against thy deity. 2 Broth. Help, Jupiter; or we appeal, And from thy justice fly. 240 Jupiter descends in Thunder and Lightning, sitting upon an Eagle: he throws a Thunder-Bolt. on their Knees. The Ghosts fall Jupit. 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? and rest Poor shadows of Elysium, hence ; Upon your never-withering banks of flowers: 250 Be |