Solemn music. Enter, as in 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, show 30
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, 85 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,

40

Thou shouldst have been, and shielded

him

From this earth-vexing smart.

wherefore was he

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,

60

To taint his nobler heart and brain With needless jealousy;

65

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 out;
No longer exercise

Upon a valiant race thy harsh
And potent injuries.

Moth. Since, Jupiter, our son is good,
Take off his miseries.

70

15

85

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 [160 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 [165 paid too much; purse and brain both empty; the brain the heavier for being too light, the purse too light, being drawn of heaviness. Ó, of this contradiction you shall now be quit. O, the charity of a penny cord! It sums up thou- [1 sands 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.

live.

am merrier to die than thou art to

176

Gaol. 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.

183

Gaol. Your Death has eyes in 's head then; I have not seen him so pictur'd. You must either be directed by some that take upon them to know, or to take upon yourself that which I am sure you do not know, or jump 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.

191

[Exeunt all but the Gaoler.] Gaol. Unless a man would marry a gallows and beget young gibbets, I never saw one so Yet, on my conscience, there are verier

prone desire to live, for all he be a Roman;

and there be some of them too that die [no against their wills. So should I, if I were one. I would we were all of one mind, and one mind

Imo. Fidele, sir.

Cym. Thou 'rt my good youth, my page; I'll be thy master. Walk with me; speak freely.

[Cymbeline and Imogen talk apart.] Bel. Is not this boy, reviv'd from death, Arv. One sand another Not more resembles, that sweet rosy lad 121 Who died, and was Fidele? What think you? Gui. The same dead thing alive.

Bel. Peace, peace! see further. He eyes us not; forbear;

Creatures may be alike. Were 't he, I am

Which torments me to conceal. By villainy
I got this ring. 'T was Leonatus' jewel,
Whom thou didst banish; and which more
may grieve thee,

As it doth me- a nobler sir ne'er liv'd

145

"Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more,

my lord?

Cym. All that belongs to this.

Iach.

That paragon, thy daughter,

For whom my heart drops blood, and my false

spirits

Quail to remember,

Give me leave; I faint. Cym. My daughter! what of her? Renew

thy strength.

130

I had rather thou shouldst live while Nature will Than die ere I hear more. Strive, man, and speak.

Iach. Upon a time, unhappy was the clock That struck the hour!-it was in Rome,

accurs'd

The mansion where! -'t was at a feast, O, would

155

Our viands had been poison'd, or at least
Those which I heav'd to head!-the good

Posthumus

Cym. lach. Your daughter's chastity- there it begins.

Nay, nay, to the purpose.

180

He spake of her, as Dian had hot dreams,
And she alone were cold; whereat I, wretch,
Made scruple of his praise; and wager'd with
him

Pieces of gold 'gainst this which then he wore
Upon his honour'd finger, to attain

In suit the place of 's bed and win this ring 185
By hers and mine adultery. He, true knight,
No lesser of her honour confident

Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring;
And would so, had it been a carbuncle

Of Phoebus' wheel, and might so safely, had it

190

Been all the worth of 's car. Away to Britain Post I in this design. Well may you, sir, Remember me at court, where I was taught Of your chaste daughter the wide difference "Twixt amorous and villanous. Being thus quench'd

195

200

Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain
Gan in your duller Britain operate
Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent;
And, to be brief, my practice so prevail'd,
That I return'd with simular proof enough
To make the noble Leonatus mad,
By wounding his belief in her renown
With tokens thus, and thus; averring notes
Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her brace-
let,

O cunning, how I got it!-nay, some marks
Of secret on her person, that he could not
But think her bond of chastity quite crack'l,
I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon -
Methinks, I see him now-

206

Post. [Advancing.] Ay, so thou dost, Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool, 210 Egregious murderer, thief, anything That's due to all the villains past, in being, To come! O, give me cord, or knife, or poison, Some upright justicer! Thou, King, send out For torturers ingenious; it is I

215

Thas all the abhorred things o' the earth amend By being worse than they. I am Posthumus, That kill'd thy daughter:-villain-like, I

lie

Mine and your mistress! O, my Lord Posthu

mus!

230

You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now. Help, help!
Mine honour'd lady!
Cym.
Does the world go round?
Post. How comes these staggers on me?
Pis.
Wake, my mistress!
Cym. If this be so, the gods do mean to

strike me

To death with mortal joy. Pis.

236

How fares my mistress? Imo. O, get thee from my sight; Thougav'st me poison. Dangerous fellow, hence! Breathe not where princes are. The tune of Imogen !

Cym.

Pis. Lady,

The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if 240
That box I gave you was not thought by me
A precious thing. I had it from the Queen.
Cym. New matter still?

Imo. Cor.

It poison'd me. O gods! I left out one thing which the Queen confess'd, Which must approve thee honest. "If Pisanio Have," said she, "given his mistress that con

fection

Which I gave him for cordial, she is serv'd As I would serve a rat."

246

250

Cym. What's this, Cornelius? Cor. The Queen, sir, very oft importun'd me To temper poisons for her, still pretending The satisfaction of her knowledge only In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs, Of no esteem. I, dreading that her purpose Was of more danger, did compound for her A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would

Hang there like fruit, my soul,

Till the tree die !
Cym.
How now, my flesh, my child!
What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act?
Wilt thou not speak to me?

Imo. [Kneeling.] Your blessing, sir. 266
Bel. [To Guiderius and Arviragus.] Though
you did love this youth, I blame ye not;
You had a motive for 't.
Cym.
My tears that fall
Prove holy water on thee! Imogen,
Thy mother's dead.