Q'er-borne i'th' former wave; ten, chac'd by one,
Are now each one the flaughter-man of twenty;
Thofe, that would die or ere refift, are grown
The mortal bugs o'th' field.

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:
"Two boys, an old man, (twice a boy,) a lane,
Preferv'd the Britons, was the Romans' bane."
Lord. Nay, be not angry, Sir.

64

Poft. 'Lack! to what end?

Who dares not ftand 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 rhimes.

Lord. Farewel, you are angry.
Poft. This is a Lord-

oh noble mifery,

To be i'th' field, and ask what news, of me!

[Exit.

To-day, how many would have given their honours
To've fav'd their carcaffes? 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 ftruck. This ugly monster,-
'Tis ftrange he hides him in fresh cups, foft beds,
Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we,
That draw his knives i'th' war- -Well, I will find him:
For being now a favourer to the Briton,
No more a Briton, I've refum'd again
The part I came in. Fight I will no more,
But yield me to the veriest hind, that shall

(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
Here made by th' Roman; great the answer be,
Britons must take. For me, my ranfom's death;
On either fide I come to spend my breath;
Which neither here I'll keep, nor bear again,
But end it by fome means for Imogen.

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?
Poft. A Roman-

Who had not now been drooping here, if Seconds
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, 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
Groan fo in perpetuity than be cur'd

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?
So children temp'ral fathers do appease;
Gods are more full of mercy.

Muft I repent?
I cannot do it better than in gyves,

Defir'd, more than conftrain'd; to fatisfy, (27)
I d' off my freedom; 'tis the main part; take
No trifter 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;

(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,
If you will take this audit, take this life,
And cancel thofe old bonds. Oh Imogen!
I'll speak to thee in filence.-

[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
Thy fpite on mortal flies:

With Mars fall out, with Juno chide,

That thy Adulteries

Rates and revenges.

Hath my poor boy done aught but well,
Whofe face I never faw?

I dy'd, whilst in the womb he stay'd,
Attending Nature's Law.

Whofe father, Jove! (as men report,
Thou orphans' father art ;)

Thou shouldft have been, and shielded 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 'mongst his foes,

A thing of pity

Sici. Great Nature, like his ancestry,
Moulded the stuff so fair;

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,
To be exil'd, and thrown

From Leonatus' seat, and caft
From her his dearest one?

Sweet Imogen!.

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

To taint his noble heart and brain
With needlefs jealoufy,

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

2 Bro. 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?

Sici. Thy cryftal window ope; look out;
No longer exercise,

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