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Q'er-borne i'th' 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'th' field.

Lord. This was strange chance,
A narrow lane ! an old man, and two boys !

Poft. Nay, do but wonder at it; you are made (26) Rather to wonder at the things you hear, Than to work any. Will you rhime 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.

Poft. 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 rhimes.
Lord. Farewel, you are angry,

[Exit. Poft. This is a Lord

-oh noble misery,
To be i'th' field, and ask what news, of me !
To-day, how many would have given their honours

To've sav'd their carcasses: 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. This ugly monster,-
"Tis strange he hides himn in fresh cups, soft 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 resum'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

Raiher to wonder at the Things you hear,

Than to work any.] Sure, this is mock reasoning with a Vengeance. What! because he was made fitter to wonder at great A&tions, than to perform any, is he therefore forbid to wonder ? Not and but are perpetually miltaken for one another in the old Editions,

Once

Once touch my

shoulder. Great the slaughter is Here made by th’ 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.

Enter two British Captains, and Soldiers. i 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 silly habit, That gave

th' affront with them. i 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 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 th’ King.
Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, Pi-

fanio, and Roman captives. The captains present Posthumus to Cymbeline, who delivers him over to a Gcaler. After zuhich, all

go out.

i Gaol.

Y ,

SCENE changes to a Prison.
Enter Posthumus, and two goalers.

OU shall not now be stoll'n, you've locks

upon you; So, graze, as you find pasure. 2 Goal. Ay, or itomach.

[Exeunt Goalers. Poft. Most welcome, bondage! for thou art a way, I think, to liberty; yet am I better Than one that's sick o'th' gout, since he had rather Groan so in perpetuity than be curd By th' sure physician, death; who is the key

N 2

T’unbar

me

T’unbar these locks. My conscience ! thou art fetter'd,
More than my thanks and wrifts; you good Gods, give
The penitent inftrument to pick that bolt;
Then, free for ever. Is't enough, I'm sorry ?
So children temp'ral fathers do appease;
Gods are more full of mercy.--Must I repent?
I cannot do it better than in

gyves,
Defir'd, more than contraind; to satisfy, (27)
I d'off my freedom ; 'tis the main

part; take No Itricter 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 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 7 hough light, take pieces for the figure's fake;

To satisfy,

(27)

If of my Freedom 'tis the main part, take

No ftriéter Render of me, than my all.] Nonsense has one happy Property, in that one needs not many Words to be made sensible of it; but 'tis in this respect, like ligiit, perceiv’d as soon as shewn. 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 surrender up all to appease his Creditor. This being the Sense in general, I may venture to say, the true Reading must have been thus.

To satisfy,
I d'off my Freedom; 'ris the main part; take
No ftrieter Render of me than my

all.

The Verb doff is too frequently used by our Author to need any Quotations in Proof; and, surely, here with peculiar Elegance. i. e. " To give all the Satisfaction I am able to your offended Godheads, I voluntarily divest myself of my Freedom: 'Tis the only Thing “ I have worth offering by way of Atonement, take no ftrieter “ 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 those old bonds. Oh Imogen!
I'll speak to thee in silence.

[He sleeps.

Solemn mufick : Enter, as in an apparition, Sicilius Leo

natus, father to Posthumus, an old man, attired like
a warrior; leading in his hand an ancient matron,
his wife, and mother to Posthumus, with mufick be-
fore them. Then, after other musick, follow the two
young Leonati, brothers to Posthumus, with wounds
as they died in the wars. They circle Posthumus round,
as he lyes sleeping
Sici. No more, thou thunder-master, thew

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,

Whole face I never saw ?
I dy'd, whilft in the womb he stay'd,

Attending Nature's Law.
Whose father, Jove! (as men report,

Thou orphans' father art ;)
Thou shouldst have been, and shielded him

From his earth-vexing smart.
Moth. Lucina lent not ne her aid,

But took me in my throes ;
That from me my Pojihumus ript,

Came crying 'mongst his foes,
A thing of pity!
Sici. Great Nature, like his ancestry,

Moulded the stuff fo fair;
That he deservd the praise o'th' world,

As great Sicilius' heir.
1 Bro. When once he was mature for man,

In Britaine where was he,
That could stand up his parallel,
Or rival object be

In eye of Imogen, that best

Could deem his dignity?
Moth. With marriage wherefore was he mockt,

To be exil'd, and thrown
From Leonatus' seat, and cast

From her his dearest one ?
Sweet Imogen!
Sici. Why did you suffer lachimo,

Slight thing of Italy,
To taint his noble heart and brain

With needless jealousy,
And to become the geek and scorn

O'th other's villany?
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.
i Bro. Like hardiment Pofthumus hath

To Cymbeline performid;
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 cryital window ope; look out;

No longer exercise,
Upon a valiant race, thy harsh

And poterit injuries.
Moth. Since, Jupiter, our son is good,

Take off his miseries.
Sici. Peep through thy marble mansion, help?

Or we poor ghosts will cry
To th' fhining synod of the rest,

Against thy Deity. 2 Breth. Help, Jupiter, or we appeal,

And from thy justice fly.

Jupiter

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