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O'er-borne i’ the former wave: ten chac'd by one,
Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty:
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,
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 ;
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 honours
To have sav'd their carcases? took heel to do't,
And yet died too? I, in mine own woe charm’d,
Could not find death where I did hear him groan,
Nor feel him where he struck: being an ugly monster,
'Tis 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 Briton,
No more a Briton, I have resum'd again
The part I came in. Fight I will no more,

? The mortal bugs o' the field.] The mortal terrors of the field. See Vol. ïïi. p. 134 ; Vol. v. p. 323. In “ Hamlet,” Vol. vii. p. 334,“ bugs” and “ goblins” are coupled.

But yield me to the veriest hind, that shall
Once touch my shoulder.

shoulder. Great the slaughter is
Here made by the Roman ; 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.

1 Cap.

Enter Two British Captains, and Soldiers. 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 th' affront with them.

So 'tis reported;
But none of them can be found.Stand! who is 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
What crows have peck'd them here. He brags 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 Jailer ; after which, all go out.

3

after which, all go out.] It was not unusual on our old stage to begin a scene with a dumb show, as scene 2 of this Act; but it was by no means common to terminate a scene in this way. Ritson was evidently mistaken, when he said that “the business of the scene was entirely performed in dumb show,” unless he considered the dumb show a scene by itself.

SCENE IV.

A Prison.

Enter PostHUMUS, and Two Jailers.

1 Jail. You shall not now be stolen; you have locks

upon you: So, graze as you find pasture. 2 Jail.

Ay, or a stomach.

[Exeunt Jailers. 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 Tunbar 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;
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 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 Post-
HUMUS 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.
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 shouldst 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 Posthumus ript,
Came crying ʼmongst 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;
And to become the geck and scorn

O'the other's villainy?
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, look out:

No longer exercise,
Upon a valiant race, thy harsh

And potent injuries.

4 And to become the GECK and scorn] “Geck” is fool; and we have had it before used by Shakespeare in “ Twelfth Night,” Vol. iii. p. 418.

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