Q'er-borne i'th' former wave; ten, chac'd by one, Lord. This was ftrange chance, A narrow lane! an old man, and two boys! Post. Nay, do but wonder at it; you are made (26) Rather to wonder at the things you hear, Than to work any. Will rhime upon't? you And vent it for a mockery? here is one: 64 Poft. 'Lack! to what end? Who dares not ftand his foe, I'll be his friend; I know, he'll quickly fly my friendship too. Lord. Farewel, you are angry. oh noble mifery, To be i'th' field, and ask what news, of me! [Exit. To-day, how many would have given their honours (26) Nay, do not wonder at it; you are made Rather to wonder at the Things you hear, Than to work any.]. Sure, this is mock reafoning with a Vengeance. What! because he was made fitter to wonder at great Actions, than to perform any, is he therefore forbid to wonder? Not and but are perpetually miftaken for one another in the old Editions. Once Once touch my shoulder. Great the flaughter is Enter two British 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 them can be found. Stand, who's there? Who had not now been drooping here, if Seconds 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, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, Pifanio, and Roman captives. The captains prefent Posthumus to Cymbeline, who delivers him over to a Gealer. After which, all go out. 1 Gaol. SCENE changes to a Prifon. Enter Pofthumus, and two goalers. OU fhall not now be ftoll'n, you've locks upon you; You So, graze, as you find pafture. 2 Goal. Ay, or itomach. [Exeunt Goalers. Poft. Moft 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 By th' fure phyfician, death; who is the key N 2 T'unbar T'unbar thefe locks. My confcience! thou art fetter'd, More than my fhanks and wrifts; you good Gods, give me The penitent inftrument to pick that bolt; Then, free for ever. Is't enough, I'm forry? Muft I repent? Defir'd, more than conftrain'd; to fatisfy, (27) I know, you are more clement than vile men, (27) To fatisfy, If of my Freedom 'tis the main part, take No frister Render of me, than my all.] Nonfenfe has one happy Property, in that one needs not many Words to be made fenfible of it; but 'tis in this refpect, like light, perceiv'd as foon as fhewn. Such is the glaring Nonsense of these Lines. What we can discover from them is this, that the Speaker, in a Fit of Penitency towards Heaven, compares his Circumstances with a Debtor's, who is willing to furrender up all to appease his Creditor. This being the Senfe in general, I may venture to say, the true Reading must have been thus. The Verb doff is too frequently used by our Author to need any Quotations in Proof; and, furely, here with peculiar Elegance. i. e. To give all the Satisfaction I am able to your offended Godheads, "I voluntarily diveft myself of my Freedom: 'Tis the only Thing "I have worth offering by way of Atonement, take no ftricter "Render of me than my All," Mr. Warburton. You You rather, mine, being yours: and fo, great Powers, [He fleeps. 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, his wife, and mother to Pofthumus, with mufick before them. Then, after other mufick, follow the two young Leonati, brothers to Pofthumus, with wounds as they died in the wars. They circle Pofthumus round, as be lyes fleeping. Sici. No more, thou thunder-mafter, fhew With Mars fall out, with Juno chide, That thy Adulteries Rates and revenges. Hath my poor boy done aught but well, I dy'd, whilst in the womb he stay'd, Whofe father, Jove! (as men report, Thou shouldft have been, and shielded him Moth. Lucina lent not me her aid, That from me my Pofthumus ript, A thing of pity Sici. Great Nature, like his ancestry, That he deferv'd the praife o'th' world, As great Sicilius' heir. 1 Bro. When once he was mature for man, In Britaine where was he, That could ftand up his parallel, Or rival object be In eye of Imogen, that beft Could deem his dignity? Moth. With marriage wherefore was he mockt, From Leonatus' seat, and caft Sweet Imogen!. Sici. Why did you fuffer lachimo, To taint his noble heart and brain And to become the geek and scorn 2 Bro. For this, from stiller feats we came, Our fealty, and Tenantius' right, 1 Bro. Like hardiment Pofthumus hath Why haft thou thus adjourn'd The graces for his merits due, Being all to dolours turn'd? Sici. Thy cryftal window ope; look out; Upon a valiant race, thy harsh And potent injuries. Moth. Since, Jupiter, our fon is good, Take off his miferies. Sici. Peep through thy marble manfion, 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 fly. Jupiter |