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I tremble still with fear: But if there be
The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovial face-
Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart,
Murd'rous to the senses? that confirms it home:
Cap. To them, the legions garrison'd in Gallia, After your will, have cross'd the sea; attending You here at Milford-Haven, with your ships: They are here in readiness.
This forwardness Makes our hopes fair. Command our present numbers
Thou mak'st thy bloody pillow? Or who was he,
Imo. I am nothing or if not, Nothing to be were better. This was my master, A very valiant Britain, and a good, That here by mountaineers lies slain :-Alas! There are no more such masters: I may From east to occident, cry out for service, Try many, all good, serve truly, never Find such another master. Luc. Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining, than Thy master in bleeding; say his name, good friend. Imo. Richard du Champ. If I do lie, and do No harm by it, though the go is hear, I hope They'll pardon it. Say you, sir?
'Lack, good youth!
Luc. Thou dost approve thyself the very same: Thy name well fits thy faith; thy faith, thy name. Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say, Thou shalt be so well master'd; but be sure, No less belov'd. The Roman emperor's letters, Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner Than thine own worth prefer thee: Go with me.
Imo. I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please the gods,
And on it said a century of prayers,
The boy hath taught us many duties: Let us
SCENE III.-A Room in Cymbeline's Palace.
Enter CYMBELINE, Lords, and PISANIO. Cym. Again; and bring me word,how 'tis with her. A fever with the absence of her son;
A madness, of which her life's in danger :-Heavens, How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen, The great part of my comfort, gone: my queen Upon a desperate bed; and in a time, When fearful wars point at me; her son gone, So needful for this present: It strikes me, past Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't.-Now, sir, The hope of comfort. But for thee, fellow, What have you dream'd, of late, of this war's pur-Who needs must know of her departure, and Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee By a sharp torture. Sir, my life is yours,
pose? [vision: Sooth. Last night the very gods shew'd me a (I fast, and pray'd, for their intelligence,) Thus :I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd From the spungy south to this part of the west, There vanish'd in the sunbeams: which portends, (Unless my sins abuse my divination,) Success to the Roman host.
I humbly set it at your will: But, for my mistress,
Hold me your loyal servant.
Good my liege,
The day that she was missing, he was here:
There wants no diligence in seeking him,
The time's troublesome :
We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy (To Pisanio.) Does yet depend. 1 Lord.
So please your majesty,
The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn,
Good my liege, Your preparation can affront no less
Than what you hear of: come more, for more you're ready:
The want is, but to put those powers in motion, That long to move.
Cym. I thank you: Let's withdraw; And meet the time, as it seeks us. We fear not What can from Italy annoy us; but We grieve at chances here.-Away.
Pis. I heard no letter from my master, since I wrote him, Imogen was slain: 'Tis strange: Nor hear I from my mistress, who did promise To yield me often tidings: Neither know I What is betid to Cloten; but remain Perplex'd in all. The heavens still must work : Wherein I am false, I am honest; not true, to be true. These present wars shall find I love my country, Even to the note o'the king, or I'll fall in them. All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd: Fortune brings in some boats, that are not steer'd. [Exit.
SCENE IV. Before the Cave. Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS. Gui. The noise is round about us. Bel.
Let us from it. Arv. What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it
From action and adventure?
Bel. We'll higher to the mountains; there secure as. To the king's party there's no going: newness Of Cloten's death (we being not known,not muster'd Among the bands) may drive us to a render Where we have liv'd; and so extort from us That which we've done, whose answer would be Drawn on with torture. [death
This is, sir, a doubt, In such a time, nothing becoming you,
Nor satisfying us.
It is not likely,
That when they hear the Roman horses neigh,
That they will waste their time upon our note,
O, I am known
A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel
Nor iron on his heel? I am asham'd
To look upon the holy sun, to have
The benefit of his bless'd beams, remaining
So say I; Amen.
My crack'd one to more care. Have with you, boys:
Enter POSTHUMUS, with a bloody handkerchief.
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 Revengingly enfeebles me; Or could this carl, A very drudge of nature's, have subdu'd me, In my profession? Knighthoods and honours, As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn. [borne 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 gods. [Exil. 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
Stand, stand, and fight'
Enter POSTHUMUS, and seconds the Britons: They | For if he'll do, as he is made to do, rescue Cymbeline, and exeunt. LUCIUS, LACHIMO, and IMOGEN.
Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself:
For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such
Iach. 'Tis their fresh supplies. Luc. It is a day turn'd strangely: Or betimes Let's re-enforce, or fly. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.-Another Part of the Field. Enter POSTHUMUS and a British Lord. Lord. Cam'st thou from where they made the stand?
I did: I did.
Post. No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost,
With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards living
The rest do nothing,) with this word, stand, stand,
Part, shame, part, spirit renew'd; that some,
A rout, confusion thick: Forthwith, they fly
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:
I know, he'll quickly fly my friendship too. You have put me into rhyme.
Farewell; you are angry. [Exit. 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,
Enter Two British Captains, and Soldiers. taken: "Tis thought, the old man and his sons were 1 Cap. Great Jupiter be prais'd! Lucius is 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 is
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 a'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 looks. My conscience! thou art fetter'd [give me More than my shanks, and wrists: You, good gods, 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 '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!
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,
That from me was Posthumus ript,
Sici. Great nature, like his ancestry,
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?
Offend our hearing; hush!-How dare you,
Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt, you know,
No care of yours it is; you know, 'tis ours.
His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent.
And happier much by his affliction made.
Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine;
Express impatience, lest you stir up mine.-
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!)
Moth. With marriage wherefore was he mock'd, Wake, and find nothing.-But, alas, I swerve:
To be exil'd, and thrown
From Leonati' seat, and cast
From her his dearest one,
Sici. Why did you suffer Iachimo,
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,
1 Bro. Like hardiment Posthumus hath
Then, Jupiter, thou king of gods,
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,
JUPITER descends in thunder and lightning, sitting upon an eagle; he throws a thunder-bolt. The Ghosts fall on their knees.
Jup. No more, you petty spirits of region low,
Many dream not to find, neither deserve,
(Reads.) When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself
'Tis still a dream; or else such stuff as madmen
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-ach: But a man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, 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 blindness! I am sure, hanging's the way of winking.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the king. [be made free. Post. Thou bringest good news;-I am called to Gaol. I'll be hanged then.
Post. Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; no bolts for the dead. [Exeunt Posthumus and Mess. 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 should I, if I were one. I would we were all of 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. SCENE V.-Cymbeline's Tent. Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, Lords, Officers, and Attendants. Cym. Stand by my side, you whom the gods
Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart,
Stepp'd before targe of proof, cannot be found:
I never saw Such noble fury in so poor a thing; Such precious deeds in one that promis'd nought But beggary and poor looks. Сут. No tidings of him? Pis. He hath been search'd among the dead and But no trace of him. [living, Cym. To my grief, I am The heir of his reward; which I will add To you, the liver, heart, and brain of Britain, (To Belarius, Guidernus, and Arviragus.) By whom, I grant, she lives: 'Tis now the time To ask of whence you are:-report it. Bel.
In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen: Further to boast, were neither true nor modest, Unless I add, we are honest.
Cym. Bow your knees: Arise, my knights o'the battle; I create you Companions to our person, and will fit you With dignities becoming your estates.
Enter CORNELIUS and Ladies.
There's business in these faces:-Why so sadly Greet you our victory? you look like Romans, And not o'the court of Britain.
Hail, great king!
To sour your happiness, I must report
Cor. With horror, madly dying, like her life;
She alone knew this: And, but she spoke it dying, I would not Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed. Cor. Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to With such integrity, she did confess [love Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life, But that her flight prevented it, she had Ta'en off by poison. Cym.
O most delicate fiend!
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
That their good souls may be appeas'd with Of you their captives, which ourself 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
Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods