2 Lay hands on him: a Dogge, A legge of Rome shall not returne to tell What Crows haue peckt them here: he brags his seruice As if he were of note: bring him to'th' King. Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, Aruiragus, Pisanio, and Romane Captiues. The Captaines present Posthumus to Cymbeline, who deliuers him ouer to a Gaoler.
Enter Posthumus, and Gaoler.
Gao. You shall not now be stolne, You haue lockes vpon you: So graze, as you finde Pasture
2.Gao. I, or a stomacke
Post. Most welcome bondage; for thou art a way (I thinke) to liberty: yet am I better Then one that's sicke o'th' Gowt, since he had rather Groane so in perpetuity, then be cur'd By'th' sure Physitian, Death; who is the key T' vnbarre these Lockes. My Conscience, thou art fetter'd More then my shanks, & wrists: you good Gods giue me The penitent Instrument to picke that Bolt, Then free for euer. Is't enough I am sorry? So Children temporall Fathers do appease; Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent, I cannot do it better then in Gyues, Desir'd, more then constrain'd, to satisfie If of my Freedome 'tis the maine part, take No stricter render of me, then my All. I know you are more clement then vilde men, Who of their broken Debtors take a third, A sixt, a tenth, letting them thriue againe On their abatement; that's not my desire. For Imogens deere life, take mine, and though 'Tis not so deere, yet 'tis a life; you coyn'd it, 'Tweene man, and man, they waigh not euery stampe: Though light, take Peeces for the figures sake, (You rather) mine being yours: and so great Powres, If you will take this Audit, take this life, And cancell these cold Bonds. Oh Imogen, Ile speake to thee in silence.
Solemne Musicke. Enter (as in an Apparation) Sicillius Leonatus, Father to Posthumus, an old man, attyred like a warriour, leading in his hand an ancient Matron (his wife, & Mother to Posthumus) with Musicke before them. Then after other Musicke, followes the two young Leonati (Brothers to Posthumus) with wounds as they died in the warrs. They circle Posthumus round as he lies sleeping.
Sicil. No more thou Thunder-Master shew thy spight, on Mortall Flies: With Mars fall out with Iuno chide, that thy Adulteries Rates, and Reuenges. Hath my poore Boy done ought but well, whose face I neuer saw: I dy'de whil'st in the Wombe he staide, attending Natures Law. Whose Father then (as men report, thou Orphanes Father art) Thou should'st haue bin, and sheelded him, from this earth-vexing smart
Moth. Lucina lent not me her ayde, but tooke me in my Throwes, That from me was Posthumus ript, came crying 'mong'st his Foes. A thing of pitty
Sicil. Great Nature like his Ancestrie, moulded the stuffe so faire: That he deseru'd the praise o'th' World, as great Sicilius heyre
1.Bro. When once he was mature for man, in Britaine where was hee That could stand vp his paralell? Or fruitfull obiect bee? In eye of Imogen, that best could deeme his dignitie
Mo. With Marriage wherefore was he mockt to be exil'd, and throwne From Leonati Seate, and cast from her, his deerest one: Sweete Imogen? Sic. Why did you suffer Iachimo, slight thing of Italy, To taint his Nobler hart & braine, with needlesse ielousy, And to become the geeke and scorne o'th' others vilany? 2 Bro. For this, from stiller Seats we came, our Parents, and vs twaine, That striking in our Countries cause, fell brauely, and were slaine, Our Fealty, & Tenantius right, with Honor to maintaine
1 Bro. Like hardiment Posthumus hath to Cymbeline perform'd: Then Iupiter, y King of Gods, why hast y thus adiourn'd The Graces for his Merits due, being all to dolors turn'd?