Cymbeline (19 page)

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Authors: William Shakespeare

BOOK: Cymbeline
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Exit

POSTHUMUS
    Still
going?
This is a lord!
O noble misery
70
,

To be i’th’field and ask ‘What news?’ of me.

Today how many would have given their
honours
72

To have saved their carcasses?
Took heel to do’t
73
,

And yet died
too.
I,
in mine own woe charmed
74
,

Could not find death where I did hear him groan,

Nor feel him where he struck. Being an ugly monster,

’Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds,

Sweet words, or hath more
ministers
78
than we

That draw his knives i’th’war. Well, I will find him:

For being now a favourer to the Briton
80
,

No more a Briton, I have resumed again

The
part
82
I came in. Fight I will no more,

But yield me to the
veriest
hind
83
that shall

Once
touch my shoulder.
84
Great the slaughter is

Here
made
by th’
Roman
; great the
answer
be
85

Britons must take. For me, my ransom’s death,

On
either side
I come to
spend
87
my breath,

Which neither here I’ll
keep
nor
bear again
88
,

But end it by some means for Innogen.

Enter two Captains and Soldiers

FIRST CAPTAIN
    Great Jupiter be praised, Lucius is taken.

’Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels.

SECOND CAPTAIN
    There was a fourth man, in a
silly habit
92
,

That gave
th’affront
93
with them.

FIRST CAPTAIN
    So ’tis reported:

But none of ’em can be found. Stand, who’s there?

POSTHUMUS
    A Roman,

Who had not now been drooping here, if
seconds
97

Had
answered him.
98

SECOND CAPTAIN
    Lay hands on him: a dog,

A leg of Rome shall not return
100
to tell

What crows have pecked them here: he brags his service

As if he were of
note
102
: bring him to th’king.

Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, Pisanio and Roman
Captives [with Jailers]. The Captains present Posthumus to Cymbeline
,
who delivers him over to a Jailer

[
Exeunt all but Posthumus and two Jailers
]

FIRST JAILER
    You shall not now be stol’n,
you have locks upon you
103
;

So graze as you find pasture.

SECOND JAILER
    Ay, or a
stomach.
105

[
Exeunt Jailers
]

POSTHUMUS
    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
109
than be cured

By th’sure physician, death, who is the key

T’unbar
111
these locks. My conscience, thou art fettered

More than my
shanks
112
and wrists: you good gods give me

The penitent instrument to pick that bolt
113
,

Then free for ever.
114
Is’t enough I am sorry?

So children
temporal
115
fathers do appease;

Gods are more full of mercy.
Must I
116
repent,

I cannot do it better than in
gyves
117
,

Desired more than
constrained
: to
satisfy
118
,

If of my freedom ’tis the main part
119
, take

No stricter
render
120
of me than my all.

I know you are more
clement
than
vile men
121
,

Who
of
their
broken debtors
122
take a third,

A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again

On
their abatement
124
: that’s not my desire.

For Innogen’s dear life take mine, and though

’Tis not so dear, yet ’tis a life; you
coined
126
it.

’Tween man and man they weigh not every
stamp
127
:

Though
light
, take
pieces
for the
figure’s sake.
128

You rather mine, being yours
129
: and so, great powers,

If you will take this
audit
130
, take this life,

And cancel these cold
bonds.
131
O Innogen,

I’ll speak to thee in silence.

Sleeps

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, follows the two young Leonati, brothers
to Posthumus, with wounds as they died in the wars. They circle Posthumus round as he lies sleeping

SICILIUS
    No more,
thou thunder-master
133
, show

Thy spite on mortal
flies
134
:

With Mars fall out, with Juno chide,

That
136
thy adulteries

Rates
137
and revenges.

Hath my poor boy done
aught
138
but well,

Whose face I never saw?

I died whilst in the womb he stayed

Attending nature’s law
141
,

Whose father then — as men report

Thou orphans’ father art —

Thou shouldst have been, and shielded him

From this
earth-vexing smart.
145

MOTHER
    
Lucina
146
lent not me her aid,

But
took
me
in my throes
147
,

That
from me was Posthumus
ripped
148
,

Came crying ’mongst his foes,

A thing of pity.

SICILIUS
    Great nature, like his ancestry,

Moulded the
stuff
152
so fair,

That he deserved the praise o’th’world,

As great Sicilius’ heir.

FIRST BROTHER
    
When once
he was
mature for man
155
,

In Britain where was he

That could stand up his parallel,

Or
fruitful
158
object be

In eye of Innogen, that best

Could
deem his dignity?
160

MOTHER
    With marriage
wherefore
161
was he mocked,

To be exiled, and thrown

From
Leonati seat
163
, and cast

From her his dearest one,

Sweet Innogen?

SICILIUS
    Why did you
suffer
166
Iachimo,

Slight
167
thing of Italy,

To
taint
168
his nobler heart and brain

With needless jealousy,

And to become the
geck
170
and scorn

O’th’other’s villainy?

SECOND BROTHER
    For this from
stiller seats
172
we came,

Our parents and us twain,

That striking in our country’s cause

Fell bravely and were slain,

Our
fealty
and
Tenantius’ right
176

With honour to maintain.

FIRST BROTHER
    
Like hardiment
178
Posthumus hath

To Cymbeline performed:

Then, Jupiter, thou king of gods,

Why hast thou thus
adjourned
181

The
graces
182
for his merits due,

Being all to
dolours
183
turned?

SICILIUS
    Thy
crystal
window
ope
184
, look out,

No longer exercise

Upon a valiant
race
186
thy harsh

And potent injuries.

MOTHER
    Since, Jupiter, our son is good,

Take off his miseries.

SICILIUS
    Peep through thy
marble mansion
190
, help,

Or we poor ghosts will cry

To th’shining
synod of the rest
192

Against thy deity.

BROTHERS
    Help, Jupiter, or we
appeal
194
,

And from thy justice fly.

Jupiter descends in thunder and lightning, sitting upon an eagle: he throws a thunderbolt. The Ghosts fall on their knees

JUPITER
    No more you petty spirits of
region low
196

Offend our hearing: hush! How dare you ghosts

Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt, you know,

Sky-planted
199
, batters all rebelling coasts?

Poor shadows of
Elysium
200
, hence, and rest

Upon your never-withering banks of flowers.

Be not with
mortal accidents
202
oppressed,

No care of yours it is, you know ’tis ours.

Whom best I love, I cross, to make my gift

The more delayed,
delighted.
205
Be content,

Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift:

His comforts thrive, his trials
well are spent.
207

Our
jovial star
208
reigned at his birth, and in

Our temple was he married. Rise, and fade.

He shall be lord of Lady Innogen,

And happier much by his affliction made.

This
tablet
212
lay upon his breast, wherein

Our pleasure his full fortune doth
confine.
213

And so away: no further with your din

Express impatience, lest you stir up mine.

Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline.

Ascends

SICILIUS
    He came in thunder, his celestial breath

Was
sulphurous
218
to smell: the holy eagle

Stooped as to foot us
219
: his ascension is

More
sweet
220
than our blest fields: his royal bird

Prunes
the immortal wing and
claws his beak
221

As when
222
his god is pleased.

ALL
    Thanks, Jupiter.

SICILIUS
    The
marble pavement
224
closes, he is entered

His radiant roof. Away, and to be blest,

Let us with care perform his great
behest.
226

[
The Ghosts
]
vanish

Wakes

POSTHUMUS
    Sleep, thou hast been a grandsire, and begot

A father to me: and thou hast created

A mother and two brothers. But,
O scorn
229
,

Gone! They went hence
so
230
soon as they were born:

And so I am awake. Poor wretches that depend

On
greatness’ favour
232
dream as I have done,

Wake and find nothing. But, alas, I
swerve
233
:

Many
dream not to find, neither deserve
234
,

And yet are steeped in favours; so am I,

That have this golden chance and know not why.

What fairies haunt this ground?
A book?
O
rare
237
one,

Be not, as is our
fangled
238
world, a garment

Nobler than that it covers. Let thy
effects
239

So follow, to be most unlike our courtiers,

As good as promise.
241

Reads


Whenas
a lion’s
whelp
242
shall, to himself unknown, without

seeking find, and be embraced by a
piece
of
tender air
243
: and

when from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches, which

being dead many years, shall after revive, be
jointed
245
to the

old
stock
246
, and freshly grow, then shall Posthumus end his

miseries, Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and

plenty.’

’Tis still a dream, or else such
stuff
249
as madmen

Tongue, and brain not
: either
both
250
or nothing,

Or senseless speaking, or a speaking such

As sense cannot untie. Be what it is,

The action of my life is like it,
which
253
I’ll keep,

If but for sympathy.

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