William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition (552 page)

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Authors: William Shakespeare

Tags: #Drama, #Literary Criticism, #Shakespeare

BOOK: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition
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LORD
This was strange chance:
A narrow lane, an old man, and two boys.
POSTHUMUS
Nay, do not wonder at it. Yet you are made
Rather to wonder at the things you hear
Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon‘t,
And vent it for a mock’ry? Here is one:
‘Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane,
Preserved the Britons, was the Romans’ bane.’
LORD
Nay, be not angry, sir.
POSTHUMUS
’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 rhyme.
LORD
Farewell; you’re angry.
Exit
 
POSTHUMUS
Still going? This a lord? O noble misery,
To be i‘th’ field and ask ‘What news?’ of me!
Today how many would have given their honours
To have saved their carcasses-took heel to do’t,
And yet died too! I, in mine own woe charmed,
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 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 have resumed again
The part I came in. Fight I will no more,
But yield me to the veriest hind that shall
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 Innogen.
Enter two Briton 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 seely habit,
That gave th’affront 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
Had answered him.
SECOND CAPTAIN
(to soldiers)
Lay hands on him, a dog!
A leg of Rome shall not return to tell
What crows have pecked them here. He brags his
service
As if he were of note. Bring him to th’ King.
⌈
Flourish.
⌉
Enter Cymbeline
⌈
and his train
⌉
, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, Pisanio, and Roman captives. The Captains present Posthumus to Cymbeline, who delivers him over to a Jailer. Exeunt all but Posthumus and two Jailers,
⌈
who lock gyves on his legs
⌉
 
FIRST JAILER
You shall not now be stol’n. You have locks upon you,
So graze as you find pasture.
SECOND JAILER
Ay, or a stomach.
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 than be cured
By th’ sure physician, death, who is the key
T’unbar these locks. My conscience, thou art fettered
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
Desired more than constrained. To satisfy,
If of my freedom ‘tis the main part, take no
No stricter 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 Innogen’s dear life take mine, and though
’Tis not so dear, yet ‘tis a life; you coined it.
’Tween man and man they weigh not every stamp;
Though light, take pieces for the figure’s sake;
You rather mine, being yours. And so, great powers,
If you will make this audit, take this life,
And cancel these cold bonds. O Innogen,
I’ll speak to thee in silence!
He 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, show
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,
Whose face I never saw?
I died whilst in the womb he stayed,
Attending nature’s law,
Whose father then-as men report
Thou orphans’ father art-
Thou shouldst have been, and shielded him
From this earth-vexing smart.
 
MOTHER
Lucina lent not me her aid,
But took me in my throes,
That from me was Posthumus ripped,
Came crying ’mongst his foes,
A thing of pity.
 
SICILIUS
Great nature like his ancestry
Moulded the stuff so fair
That he deserved the praise o’th’ world
As great Sicilius’ heir.
 
FIRST BROTHER
When once he was mature for man,
In Britain where was he
That could stand up his parallel,
Or fruitful object be
In eye of Innogen, that best
Could deem his dignity?
 
MOTHER
With marriage wherefore was he mocked,
To be exiled, and thrown
From Leonati seat and cast
From her his dearest one,
Sweet Innogen?
 
SICILIUS
Why did you suffer Giacomo,
Slight thing of Italy,
To taint his nobler heart and brain
With needless jealousy,
And to become the geck and scorn
O’th’ other’s villainy?
 
SECOND BROTHER
For this from stiller seats we come,
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.
 
FIRST BROTHER
Like hardiment Posthumus hath
To Cymbeline Performed.
Then, Jupiter, thou king of gods,
Why hast thou thus adjourned
The graces for his merits due,
Being all to dolours turned?
 
SICILIUS
Thy crystal window ope; look out;
No longer exercise
Upon a valiant race thy harsh
And potent injuries.
 
MOTHER
Since, Jupiter, our son is good,
Take off his miseries.
 
SICILIUS
Peep through thy marble mansion. Help,
Or we poor ghosts will cry
To th’ shining synod of the rest
Against thy deity.
 
BROTHERS
Help, Jupiter, or we appeal,
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,
Offend our hearing. Hush! How dare you ghosts
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 not with mortal accidents 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. Be content.
Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift.
His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent.
Our Jovial star 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 lay upon his breast, wherein
Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine.
He gives the ghosts a tablet which they lay upon Posthumus’ breast
 
And so away. No farther with your din
Express impatience, lest you stir up mine.
Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline.
He ascends into the heavens
SICILIUS
He came in thunder. His celestial breath
Was sulphurous to smell. The holy eagle
Stooped, as to foot us. His ascension is
More sweet than our blest fields. His royal bird
Preens the immortal wing and claws his beak
As when his god is pleased.
ALL THE GHOSTS Thanks, Jupiter.
SICILIUS
The marble pavement closes, he is entered
His radiant roof. Away, and, to be blest,
Let us with care perform his great behest.
The ghosts vanish
Posthumus awakes
 
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,
Gone! They went hence so soon as they were born,
And so I am awake. Poor wretches that depend
On greatness’ favour dream as I have done,
Wake and find nothing. But, alas, I swerve.
Many dream not to find, neither deserve,
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 one,
Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment
Nobler than that it covers. Let thy effects
So follow to be most unlike our courtiers,
As good as promise.
He reads
 
‘Whenas a lion’s whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, 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 as madmen
Tongue, and brain not; either both, 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 I’ll keep,
If but for sympathy.
Enter Jailer
 
JAILER Come, sir, are you ready for death?
POSTHUMUS Over-roasted rather; ready long ago.
JAILER Hanging is the word, sir. If you be ready for that, you are well cooked.
POSTHUMUS So, if I prove a good repast to the spectators, the dish pays the shot.
JAILER A heavy reckoning for you, sir. But the comfort is, you shall be called to no more payments, fear no more tavern bills, which are as often the sadness of parting as the procuring of mirth. You come in faint for want of meat, depart reeling with too much drink, sorry that you have paid too much and sorry that you are paid too much; purse and brain both empty: the brain the heavier for being too light, the purse too light, being drawn of heaviness. Of this contradiction you shall now be quit. O, the charity of a penny cord! It sums up thousands in a trice. You have no true debitor and creditor but it: of what’s past, is, and to come the discharge. Your neck, sir, is pen, book, and counters; so the acquittance follows.
POSTHUMUS I am merrier to die than thou art to live.
JAILER Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the toothache; but a man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he would change places with his officer; for look you, sir, you know not which way you shall go.
POSTHUMUS Yes, indeed do I, fellow.
JAILER Your death has eyes in ’s head, then. I have not seen him so pictured. You must either be directed by some that take upon them to know, or take upon yourself that which I am sure you do not know, or jump the after-enquiry on your own peril; and how you shall speed in your journey’s end I think you’ll never return to tell on.

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