First Gaoler

You shall not now be stol'n, you have locks upon you;

So graze as you find pasture.

Second Gaoler

Ay, or a stomach. Exeunt Gaolers.

Posthumus

Most welcome, bondage! for thou art a way,

I think, to liberty: yet am I better

Than one that's sick o' the gout; since he had rather

Groan so in perpetuity than be cured

By the sure physician, death, who is the key

To 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 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 Imogen'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 take this audit, take this life,

And cancel these cold bonds. O Imogen!

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

Sicilius Leonatus

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.

Wife

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 Leonatus

Great nature, like his ancestry,

Moulded the stuff so fair,

That he deserved the praise o' the world,

As great Sicilius' heir.

First of the Leonati

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 Imogen, that best

Could deem his dignity?

Wife

With marriage wherefore was he mocked,

To be exiled, and thrown

From Leonati seat, and cast

From her his dearest one,

Sweet Imogen?

Sicilius Leonatus

Why did you suffer Iachimo,

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 of the Leonati

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.

First of the Leonati

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 Leonatus

Thy crystal window ope; look out;

No longer exercise

Upon a valiant race thy harsh

And potent injuries.

Wife

Since, Jupiter, our son is good,

Take off his miseries.

Sicilius Leonatus

Peep through thy marble mansion; help;

Or we poor ghosts will cry

To the shining synod of the rest

Against thy deity.

Both 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 Imogen,

And happier much by his affliction made.

This tablet lay upon his breast, wherein

Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine:

And so, away: no further with your din

Express impatience, lest you stir up mine.

Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline. Ascends.

Sicilius Leonatus

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

Prunes the immortal wing and cloys his beak,

As when his god is pleased.

All

Thanks, Jupiter!

Sicilius Leonatus

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

Waking

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. Reads

'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. Re-enter Gaolers.

First Gaoler

Come, sir, are you ready for death?

Posthumus

overroasted rather; ready long ago.

First Gaoler

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.

First Gaoler

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 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. O, 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 debtor 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.

First Gaoler

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.

First Gaoler

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 to take upon yourself that which I am sure you do not know, or jump the after-inquiry on your own peril: and how you shall speed in your journey's end, I think you'll never return to tell one.

Posthumus

I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to direct them the way I am going, but such as wink and will not use them.

First Gaoler

What an infinite mock is this, that a man should have the best use of eyes to see the way of blindness! I am sure hanging's the way of winking.

Messenger

Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the king.

Posthumus

Thou bring'st good news; I am called to be made free.

First Gaoler

I'll be hanged then.

Posthumus

Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; no bolts for the dead.

First Gaoler

Unless a man would marry a gallows and beget young gibbets, I never saw one so prone. Yet, on my conscience, there are verier knaves desire to live, for all he be a Roman: and there be some of them too that die against their wills; so should I, if I were one. I would we were all of one mind, and one mind good; O, there were desolation of gaolers and gallowses! I speak against my present profit, but my wish hath a preferment in't.