A

On either fide I come to fpend my breath;
Which neither here I'll keep, nor bear again,
But end it by fome means for Imogen.

Enter two Captains, and Soldiers.

1 Cap Great Jupiter be prais'd, Lucius is taken. 'Tis thought the old man, and his fons, were angels. 2 Cap. There was a fourth man, in a filly habit, That gave th' affront, with them.

1 Cap. So 'tis reported;

But none of f 'em can be found. Stand, who's there? Poft. A Roman,

Who had not now been drooping here; if feconds Had anfwer'd him.

2 Cap. Lay hands on him; a dog, A leg of Rome fhall not return to tell

What crows have peck'd them here; he brags his fervice As if he were of note; bring him to th' king.

Enter Cymbeline, Bellarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, PiTanio, and Roman captives. The captains prefent Pofthumus to Cymbeline, who delivers him over to a goaler.

SCENE III.

A Prifon.

Enter Pofthumus, and two goalers.

OU fhall not now be stoln, you've locks

1 Goal.

upon you;

So graze, as you find pafture.

2 Goal. Ay, or ftomach.

[Exeunt Goalers.

Foft. 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 the fure phyfician, death; who is the key

T'unbar

T'unbar thefe locks. My confcience! thou art fetter'd More than my fhanks and wrifts; you good gods

give ine

The penitent inftrument to pick that bolt,
Then free for ever.

Is't enough I'm forry?
So children temp'ral fathers do appeafe;
Gods are more full of mercy. Must 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,
you will take this audit, take this life,
And cancel those old bonds. Oh Imogen!
I'll speak to thee in filence.

If

* * *

[He fleeps.

SCENE

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

tt t

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, bis wife, and mother to Pofthumus, with mufick be fore them. Then after other mufick, follow the two young Leonati, brothers to Pofthumus, with wounds

as

ds

SCENE IV.

Cymbeline's Trent.

Enter Cymbeline, Bellarius, Guiderius, Arvi
ragus, Pifanio, and lords.

Cym. STAND 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, (Whofe rags fham'd gilded arms, whofe naked breast

Stept

as they died in the wars. They circle Pofthumus round as he lyes fleeping.

Sici. No more thou thunder-mafter

Shew thy fpite, 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 Itay'd,
Attending nature's law

report,

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

Thou should't have been, and fhielded him

From his earth-vexing fmart.

Moth. Lucina lent not me her aid,

But took me in my throes,

That from me my Pofthumus ript;
Came crying 'mongft his foes,

A thing of pity!

Sici. Great nature, like his ancestry,

Moulded the stuff fo fair;

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

As great Sicilius' heir.

Bro

Stept before fhields of proof,) cannot be found:
He fhall be happy that can find him, if
Our grace can make him fo.

Bel. I never faw

Such noble fury in fo 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 fearch'd among the dead and living, But no trace of him.

I Bro. When once he was mature for man,
In Britain where was he

That could ftand up his parallel,

In

Or rival object be,

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 deareft one:

Sweet Imogen!

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

To taint his noble heart and brain
With needlefs jealouffe,

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

2 Bre. For this, from stiller feats we came,
Our parents, and us twain,
That ftriking in our country's caufe,

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 ?

Cym

Sici.

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 Bell, Guid. and Arvirag. By whom, I grant, fhe lives. 'Tis now the time To ask of whence you are. Report it.

Sici. Thy crystal window ope; look out;

No longer exercise,

Upon a valiant race, thy harfh

And potent injuries.

Moth. Since, Jupiter, our fon is good,

Take off his miferies.

Sici. Peep through thy marble mansion, help,
Or we poor ghofts will cry

To th' fhining fynod of the reft,
Against thy deity.

2. Breth. Help Jupiter, or we appeal,
And from thy juftice flie.

Bel

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 fpirits of region low
Offend our hearing; huh! how dare you ghofts
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 fpent;
Our Jovial ftar reign'd at his birth, and in
Our temple he was married: rife, and fade!
He fhall be lord of lady Imogen,

And happier much by his affliction made,

This