Authors: William Shakespeare
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
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
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,
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.