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Soldier. They march over, and

go out. Alarums. Then enter again in skirmish, Lachimo and Posthumus; he vanquisheth and disarmeth Lachimo, 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 subdued me In my profession? Knighthoods and honours,

borne As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn. 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.

[Exit.

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Some mortally, some slightly touched, sone

falling Merely through fear; that the strait pass wa

dammed With dead men hurt behind, and cowards living To die with lengthened shame.

Lord. Where was this lane?
Post. Close by the battle, ditched, and walled

with turf;
Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier,-
An honest one, I warrant; who deserved
So long a breeding as his white beard came to,
In doing this for his country; - athwart the

lane, He, with two striplings (lads more like to run The country base than to commit such slaughter; With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer Than those for preservation cased, or shame), Made good the passage; cried to those that fled, “ Our Britain's harts die flying, not our men: To darkness fleet, souls that fly backwards!

Stand; Or we are Romans, and will give you that Like beasts, which you shun beastly; and may

save, But to look back in frown. Stand, stand!"— These

three, Three thousand confident, in act as many (For three performers are the file when all The rest do nothing), with this word, “Stand,

stand !" Accommodated by the place, more charming With their own nobleness (which could have

turned A distaff to a lance), gilded pale looks, Part, shame,-part, spirit renewed; that some,

turned coward But by example (0, a sin in war Damned in the first beginners !), 'gan to look The way that they did, and to grin like lions Upon the pikes o'the hunters. Then began A stop i' the chaser, a retire; anon, A rout, confusion thick: forth with, they fly Chickens, the way which they stooped eagles:

slaves, The strides they victors made. And now our

cowards (Like fragments in hard voyages) became The life o' the need: having found the back-door

open Of the unguarded hearts, Heavens, how they

wound! Some, slain before; some, dying; some, their

friends O'er-borne i' the former wave: ten, chaced by

one, Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty:

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Scene III.- Another Part of the Field.

Enter Posthumus and a British Lord.
Lord. Cam'st thou from where they made the

stand?
Post. I did :
Though you, it seems, come from the fliers.

Lord. I did.

Post. No blame be to you, sir ; for all was lost But that the heavens fought. The king himself Of his wings destitute, the army broken, And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying Through a strait lane; the enemy full-hearted, Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having

work More plentiful than tools to do't struck down

Those that would die or ere resist, are grown
The mortal bugs o' the field.

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, Preserved 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 : For if he 'll do as he is made to do, I know he 'll quickly fly my friendship too. You have put me into rhyme.

Lord. 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! To-day, how many would have given their ho

Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds Had answered him. 2nd Cap.

Lay hands on him; a dog! A leg of Rome shall not return to tell What crows have pecked them here. He brags his

service As if he were of note: bring him to the king. Enter CYMBELINE, attended; BELARIUS, Gure

DERIUS, 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.

nours

To have saved their carcasses ? took heel to do't, And yet died too? I, in mine own woe charmed, Could not find Death where I did hear him groan, Nor feel him where he struck: being an ugly

monster, 'T is strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft

beds, Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we That draw his knives i' the war.-Well, I will find

him : For being now a favourer to the Roman, No more a Briton, I have resumed again The part I came in : fight I will no more, But yield me to the veriest hind that shall Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaugh

ter is Here made by the Romans; great the answer

be Britons must take: for me, my ransom's death; On either side I come to spend my breath ; Which neither here I'll keep, nor bear again, But end it by some means for Imogen

Enter Posthumus, and two Gaolers. 1st Gaol. You shall not now be stolen ; you have

locks upon you ; So graze, as you find pasture. 2nd 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 cured By the sure physician, Death, who is the key To unbar these locks. My conscience! thou art

fettered 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, Desired more than constrained: 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 tenth, letting them thrive again On their abatement; that's not my desire : For Imogen's dear life, take mine; and though 'T is not so dear, yet 't is a life; you coined 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.

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Then, Jupiter, thou king of gods,

Why hast thou thus adjourned
The
graces

for his merits due;
Being all to dolours turned ?
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.
2nd Bro. Help, Jupiter; or we appeal,

And from thy justice fly.

Solemn Music. 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 music before them. Then, after other music, 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

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 stayed,

Attending Nature's law.
Whose father then (as men report

Thou orphans' father art)
Thou shouldst have been, and shielded him

From this earth-vexing smart.
Mioth. Lucina lent not me her aid,

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 deserved the praise o' the world,

As great Sicilius' heir.
1st 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 mocked,

To be exiled, 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? 2nd 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.
Ist Bro. Like hardiment Posthumus hath

To Cymbeline performed:

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,

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 oppressed;

No care of yours it is; you know t'is ours. Whom best I love, I cross; to make my gift,

The more delayed, delighted. Be content; Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift:

His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent. Our Jovial star reigned 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 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 Stooped, as to foot us; his ascension is More sweet than our blessed fields: his royal bird Prunes the immortal wing, and cloys his beak, As when his god is pleased. AU.

Thanks, Jupiter! Sici. The marble pavement closes, he is entered His radiant roof. Away! and, to be blessed, Let us with care perform his great behest.

[Ghosts vanish. Post. [waking]. Sleep, thou hast been a grand

sire, 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.

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And so I am awake.—Poor wretches that depend of this contradiction you shall now be quit.-0,
On greatness' favour, dream as I have done; the charity of a penny cord ! it sums up thou-
Wake, and find nothing.—But, alas, I swerve: sands in a trice: you have no true debitor and
Many dream not to find, neither deserve, creditor but it; of what's past, is, and to come,
And yet are steeped in favours; so am I, the discharge :-your neck, sir, is pen, book,
That have this golden chance, and know not why. and counters; so the acquittance follows.
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 himself un-
known, 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.

Re-enter Gaolers.
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 spec tators, the dish pays the shot.

Gaol. A heavy reckoning for you, sir : but the comfort is, you shall be called to no more pay ments, 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!

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Post. I am merrier to die than thou art to live. He shall be happy that can nnd him, if

Gaol. Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the Our grace cars make him so. tooth-ache : but a man that were to sleep your Bel. I never saw sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think Such noble fury in so poor a thing; he would change places with his officer; for, look Such precious deeds in one that promised nought you, sir, you know not which way you shall go. But beggary and poor looks. Post. Yes, indeed do I, fellow.

Сут. No tidings of him? Gaol. Your death has eyes in 's head then; I Pisa. He hath been searched among the dead have not seen him so pictured : you must either

and living, be directed by some that take upon them to But no trace of him, know; or take upon yourself that which I am

Сут. To my grief, I am sure you do not know; or jump the after-inquiry The heir of his reward; which I will add on your own peril: and how you shall speed in To you, the liver, heart, and brain of Britain, your journey's end, I think you'll never return [To Belarius, GUIDERius, and Arviragus. to tell one.

By whom, I grant, she lives. 'Tis now the time

I Post. I tell thee, fellow, there are none want To ask of whence you are : report it. eyes to direct them the way I am going, but Bel. Sir, such as wink, and will not use them.

In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen : Gaol. What an infinite mock is this, that a Further to boast were neither true r.or modest, man should have the best use of eyes, to see the Unless I add, we are honest, way of blindness! I am sure hanging 's the way Сут. Bow your knees : of winking.

i Arise, my knights o' the battle; I create you

Companions to our person, and will fit you Enter a Messenger.

| With dignities becoming your estates. Mess. Knock off his manacles; bring your

Enter Cornelius and Ladies. prisoner to the king.

Post. Thou bringest good news: I am called There's business in these faces.— Why so sadly to be made free.

Greet you our victory? you look like Romans, Gaol. I 'll be hanged, then.

And not o'the court of Britain. Post. Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; Cor. Hail, great king! no bolts for the dead.

To sour your happiness, I must report [Exeunt Posthumus and Messenger. The queen is dead. Gaol. Unless man would marry a gallows, Cym. Whom worse than a physician and beget young gibbets, I never saw one so Would this report become? But I consider, prone. Yet, on my conscience, there are verier By medicine life may be prolonged, yet death knaves desire to live, for all he be a Roman : Will seize the doctor too,--How ended she? and there be some of them too that die against Cor. With horror, madly dying, like her life; their wills; so should I, if I were one. I would Which, being cruel to the world, concluded we were all of one mind, and one mind good; | Most cruel to herself. What she confessed 0, there were desolation of gaolers and gal- I will report, so please you: these her women lowses! I speak against my present profit; but Can trip me, if I err; who, with wet cheeks, my wish hath a preferment in 't. [Exeunt. Were present when she finished.

Cym. Pr'y thee, say.
Cor. First, she confessed she never loved you;

only
SCENE V.-Cymbeline's Tent.

Affected greatness got by you, not you:

Married your royalty; was wife to your place; Enter CYMBELINE, BELarius, Guiderius, Arvi.

Abhorred your person. RAGUS, Pisanio, Lords, Officers, and At

Cym. She alone knew this: tendants,

And but she spoke it dying, I would not Cym. Stand by my side, you whom the gods Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed. have made

Cor. Your daughter, whom she bore in hand Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart

to love That the poor soldier that so richly fought, With such integrity, she did confess Whose rags shamed gilded arms, whose naked Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life, breast

But that her flight prevented it, she bed Stepped before targe of proof, cannot be found: Ta'en off my poison,

Gut

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