Jail. Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the toothache. But a man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I 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. Jail. 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 jump1 the after-inquiry 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. Jail. 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. Post. Thou bringest good news ;-I am called to be made free. Jail. I'll be hanged then. Post. Thou shalt be then freer than a jailer; no bolts for the dead. [Exeunt POSTHUMUS and Messenger. Jail. 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 jailers and gallowses! I speak against my present profit; but my wish hath a preferment in't. [Exeunt. 1 i. e. hazard. 2 Prone here signifies ready, prompt. SCENE V. Cymbeline's Tent. Enter CYMBELINe, Belarius, GuIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, Lords, Officers, and Attendants. Cym. Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart, That the poor soldier, that so richly fought, He shall be happy that can find him, if Our grace can make him so. Bel. I never saw Such noble fury in so poor a thing; Such precious deeds in one that promised nought Cym. No tidings of him? Pis. He hath been searched among the dead and living, But no trace of him. 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, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS. By whom, I grant, she lives. 'Tis now the time To ask of whence you are ;-report it. Bel. Sir, In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen: Cym. Bow your knees. Arise, my knights o' the battle; I create you 1 In the scene before us, all the surviving characters are assembled; and at the expense of whatever incongruity the former events may have been produced, perhaps little can be discovered on this occasion to offend the most scrupulous advocate for regularity; and as little is found wanting to satisfy the spectator by a catastrophe which is intricate without confusion, and not more rich in ornament than nature." Companions to our person, and will fit you Enter CORNELIUS and Ladies. There's business in these faces.-Why so sadly Cor. Hail, great king! To sour your happiness, I must report Cor. With horror, madly dying, like her life; Cym. Pr'ythee, say. Cor. First, she confessed she never loved you; only Affected greatness got by you, not you; Married your royalty, was wife to your place; Abhorred your person. Cym. 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 hand1 to love With such integrity, she did confess Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life, But that her flight prevented it, she had Ta'en off by poison. Сут. O most delicate fiend! Who is't can read a woman?-Is there more? Cor. More, sir, and worse. had She did confess, she 1 "To bear in hand" is "falsely pretended." For you a mortal mineral; which, being took, But failing of her end by his strange absence, Cym. Heard you all this, her women? Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; Mine eyes Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart, vicious To have mistrusted her. Yet, O my daughter! And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all! Enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, the Soothsayer, and other Roman prisoners, guarded; POSTHUMUS behind, and IMOGEN. Thou com'st not, Caius, now for tribute; that So, think of your estate. The day Luc. Consider, sir, the chance of war. We should not, when the blood was cool, have threatened Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives May be called ransom, let it come. Sufficeth, A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer. So feat,' so nurselike. Let his virtue join With my request, which, I'll make bold, your highness Though he have served a Roman. Save him, sir, Cym. I have surely seen him; live: His favor is familiar to me.- Imo. I humbly thank your highness. Imo. Luc. The boy disdains me ; He leaves me, scorns me; briefly die their joys, Cym. What wouldst thou, boy? I love thee more and more; think more and more What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st on? speak, Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend? Feat is ready, dexterous. 2 Countenance. 3 "I know not what should induce me to say, Live, boy." The word nor was inserted by Rowe. |