« ElőzőTovább »
Britons must take : For me, my ransom's death;
Enter two British Captains, and Soldiers.
1 Cap. Great Jupiter be prais'd 1 Lucius is taken; 'Tis thought, the old man and his sons were angels. 2 Cap. There was a fourth man, in a silly habit, That gave the affront with them. 1 Cap. So 'tis reported; But none of them can be found.—Stand 1 Who's there r Post. A Roman; Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds Had answer'd him. 15t 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 the king.
Enter CYMBE LINE, BE LARIUs, Guide Rius, ArvirAGus, PIs A Nio, and Roman Captives. The Captains present Post HUMUs to CYMBE LINE, who delivers him over to a Gaoler: after which all go out.
SCENE SCENE IV.
4 Prison. Enter Posthu MUs, and two Gaolers.
1 Gaol. You shall not now be stolen, you have locks upon you; So, graze, as you find pasture. 2 Gaol. Ay, or a stomach. [Exeunt Gaolers. Post. Most welcome, bondage 1 for thou art a way, I think, to liberty: Yet am I better 16o Than one that's sick o'the gout ; since he had rather Groan so in perpetuity, than be cur'd By the sure physician, death; who is the key To unbar these locks. My conscience I thou art fetter'd More than my shanks, and wrists : You good gods, give me The penitent instrument, to pick that bolt, Then, free for ever! Is’t enough, I am sorry? So children temporal fathers do appease; Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent : I cannot do it better than in gyves, 170 Desir'd, more than constrain’d: to satisfy, If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take No strićter render of me, than my all. I know, you are more clement than vile men, Who of their broken debtors take a third, A sixth, 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:
Solemn Musick. Enter, as in an Apparition, Sicilius Leo NATU's, Father to Post H U MUs, an old Man, attired like a Warrior; leading in his Hand an ancient Matron, his Wife, and Mother to Post HUMUs, with Musick before them. Then, after other Musick, follow the two young LeoNAT1, Brothers to Post HUM Us, with Wounds as they died in the Wars. They circle Posthu Mus round, as he lies sleeping.
Sici. No more, thou thunder-master, shew Thy spite on mortal flies: With Mars fall out, with Juno chide, That thy adulteries Rates, and revenges. - 199 Hath my poor boy done ought but well, Whose face I never saw I dy'd, whilst in the womb he stay'd, Attending Nature's law. Whose father then (as men report, Thou orphan's father art) Thou should'st have been, and shielded him From this earth-vexing smart. Moth. Lucina lent not me her aid,
But took me in my throes; 2Oo That from me was Posthumus ript, Came crying 'mongst his foes, A thing of pity! Sici. Great nature, like his ancestry, Moulded the stuff so fair, That he deserv'd the praise o' the world, As great Sicilius' heir. 1 Bro. When once he was mature for man, In Britain where was he That could stand up his parallel; 21 o Or fruitful objećt be In eye of Imogen, that best Could deem his dignity Moth. With marriage wherefore was he mock'd, 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, 220 To taint his nobler heart and brain With needless jealousy; And to become the geck and scorn O' the other's villamy 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. 23o
Jupiter descends in Thunder and Lightning, sitting upon an Eagle; he throws a Thunder-Bolt. The Ghosts fall on their Knees.
Jupit. No more, you petty spirits of region low, Offend our hearing ; hush 1 – How dare you, ghosts, 259 Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt. you know, Sky-planted, batters all rebelling coasts: Poor shadows of Elysium, hence; and rest Upon your never-withering banks of flowers: Be