Imágenes de páginas


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.

Sici. He came in thunder ; his celestial breath
Was sulphurous to smell : the holy eagle
Stoop'd, 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.

Thanks, Jupiter !
Sici. The marble pavement closes, he is enter'd 120
His radiant roof. Away! and, to be blest,
Let us with care perform his great behest.

[The Ghosts vanish. Post. [Waking] Sleep, thou hast been a grand

sire, and begot
A father to me; and thou hast created
A mother and two brothers : but, О 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 steep'd 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
116. his ascension is



118. cloys, claws, trims. sweet than our blest fields, he

129. swerve, go astray. ascends with an odour sweeter than that of the Elysian fields


bedizened, of asphodel.

gaudily arrayed.



Nobler than that it covers : let thy effects
So follow, to be most unlike our courtiers,
As good as promise.

[Reads] ‘When as 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 140 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.


Re-enter Gaolers. First Gaol. Come, sir, are you ready for death?

Post. Over-roasted rather ; ready long ago.

First Gaol. Hanging is the word, sir : if you be ready for that, you are well cooked.

Post. So, if I prove a good repast to the spectators, the dish pays the shot.

First Gaol. A heavy reckoning for you, sir. But the comfort is, you shall be called to no 160 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

147. Tongue and brain not, stances described, with mine. speak without any meaning. Shakespeare never uses the word

151. for sympathy, because of in the strict Greek sense, 'fellowthe agreement in the circum- feeling.'

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 thou- 170 sands 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.

Post. I am merrier to die than thou art to live.

First Gaol. Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the tooth-ache : 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 ; 180 for, look you, sir, you know not which way you

shall go.

Post. Yes, indeed do I, fellow.

First Gaol. 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 190 never return to tell one.

Post. 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 Gaol. 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. 165. are paid, are punished. 188. jump, hazard. 198. winking, closing the eyes.


Enter a Messenger. Mess. Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the king.

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

First Gaol. I'll be hang'd then.

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

(Exeunt all but the First Gaoler. First Gaol. 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 210 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. [Exit.

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

SCENE V. Cymbeline's tent.


VIRAGUS, PISANIO, Lords, Officers, and At-

Cym. Stand by my side, you whom the gods

have made Preservers of my throne.

Woe is
That the poor soldier that so richly fought,
Whose rags shamed gilded arms, whose naked


my heart

208. prone, ready, eager.

wish would spoil my profits as 215: my wish hath a prefer- gaoler, but get me a better ment in 't, the fulfilment of my place. VOL. IV



Stepp'd before targes of proof, cannot be found :
He shall be happy that can find him, if
Our grace can make him so.

I never saw
Such noble fury in so poor a thing ;
Such precious deeds in one that promised nought
But beggary and poor looks.

No tidings of him? 10 Pis. He hath been search'd among the dead

and living,
But no trace of him.

To my griet, I am
The heir of his reward; [To Belarius, Guiderius,

and Arviragus] which I will add
To you, the liver, heart and brain of Britain,
By whom I grant she lives. 'Tis now the time
To ask of whence you are.

Report it.

In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen :
Further to boast were neither true nor modest,
Unless I add, we are honest.

Bow your knees.
Arise my knights o' the battle : I create you
Companions to our person and will fit you
With dignities becoming your estates.


Enter CORNELIUS and Ladies.
There's business in these faces. Why so sadly
Greet you our victory? you look like Romans,
And not o' the court of Britain.

Hail, great king!
To sour your happiness, I must report
The queen is dead.

Who worse than a physician 5. targes of proof, shields of 14. the liver, regarded, like tried quality.

the heart, as the seat of courage.

« AnteriorContinuar »