much * ; purfe and brain both empty, the brain the heavier for being too light; the parie too light, being drawn of heaviness. Oh, of this contradiction you fhall now be quit: oh, the charity of a penny cord, it fums 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; fo the ac quittance follows. Poft. I am merrier to die, than thou art to live. Goal. Indeed, Sir, he that fleeps, feels not the tooth-ache: but a man that were to fleep your fleep, 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 fhall go. Poft. Yes, indeed, do I, fellow. Goal. Your death has eyes in 's head then; I have not feen him fo pictur'd. You muft either be directed by fome that take upon them to know, or take upon yourself that, which, I am fure, you do not know; or jump the after-inquiry on your own peril and how you fhall tpeed in your journey'send, I think, you'll never return to tell one. Poft. I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to direct them the way I am going, but fuch as wink, and will not ufe them. Goal. What an infmite mock is this, that a man fhould have the beft ufe of eyes, to fee the way of blindness! I am fure hanging is the way of winking. Enter a MeJenger. Meff. Knock off his manacles. Bring your pri foner to the King. Poft. Thou bring'ft good news; I am called to be made free. Goal. I'll be hang'd hen. I read, And merry that you are paid fo much. I take the fecond paid to be paid, for appaid, filled, fatiated. Poft. Thou shalt be then freer than a goaler; no bolts for the dead. [Exeunt Pofthumus and Messenger. Goal. Unless a man would marry a gallows, and beget young gibbets, I never faw one fo prone. Yet, on my confcience, there are verier knaves defire to live, for all he be a Roman: and there be fome of them too that die against their wills; so fhould I, if I were one. I would we were all of one mind, and one mind good; O there were defolation of goalers and gallowfes; I speak against my prefent profit, but my wifh hath a preferment in't. [Exit. SCENE IV. Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, Pifanio, and Lords. Cym. Stand by my fide, you, whom the gods have made Prefervers of my throne. Woe is my heart, That the poor foldier, that fo richly fought, Our grace can make him fo. Bel. I never faw Such noble fury in fo poor a thing; Such precious deeds in one that promis'd nought But begg'ry and poor looks *. Cym. No tidings of him? Pif. He hath been fearch'd among the dead and But no trace of him. Cym. To my grief, I am The heir of his reward; which I will add [livings To you, the liver, heart, and brain of Britain; [To Relarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus • And poor luck. Warburton, By whom, I grant, fhe lives. 'Tis now the time Report it. In Cambria were we born, and gentlemen; Cym. Bow your knees. [They kneel Arife my knights o' th' battle; I create you Enter Cornelius, and Ladies. There's business in these faces. Why fo fadly Cor. Hail, great King! To four your happiness, I must report Cym. Whom worfe than a phyfician Cor. With horror, madly dying, like herself, Cym. Pr'ythee, fay. Cor. First, the confefs'd fhe never lov'd you; only Affected greatnefs got by you, not you; Married your royalty, was wife to your place, Cym. She alone knew this; And, but the spoke it dying, I would not Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed. Cor. Your daughter, whom he bore in hand to With fuch integrity, the did confess Was as a fcorpion to her fight, whofe life, But that her flight prevented it, he had Ta'en off by poifon. Cym. O molt delicate fiend! [love Who is 't can read a woman? is there more? Cor More, Sir, and worse. She did confess, she had For you a mortal mineral, which, being took, But failing of her end by his ftrange abfence, Cym. Heard you all this, her women? Were not in fault, for he was beautiful: Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart, That thought her like her feeming. It had been vicious To have mistrusted her. Yet, oh my daughter! Enter Lucius, Jachimo, and other Roman prifoners; Leonatus behind, and Imogen, Thou com'ft not, Caius, now for tribute; that The Britons have raz'd out, though with the lofs Of many a bold one, whose kinfmen have made fuit, That their good fouls may be appeas'd with flaughter Of you their captives, which ourself have granted. So think of your estate. Luc. Confider, Sir, the chance of war; the day Was yours by accident; had it gone with us, We thould not, when the blood was cold, have threatned Our prifoners with the fword. But fince the gods Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives. May be call'd ranfom, let it come. Sufficeth, 1 So feat, so nurle-like. Let his virtue join With my requett, which, I'll make bold, your . Highnets Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm, Though he hath ferv'd a Roman. Save him, Sit, And fpare no blood befide. Cym. I've furely feen him; His favour is familiar to me. Boy, thou hast look'd thyfelf into my grace, Imo. I humbly thank your Highness. Luc. I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad; And yet I know thou wilt. Imo. No, no, alack, There's other work in hand; I fee a thing Luc. The boy difdains me, He leaves me, fcorns me; briefly die their joys, That place them on the truth of girls and boys! Why ftands he fo perplex'd?! Gym. What wouldst thou, boy? I love thee more and more: think more and more' What's beft to ask. Know'ft him thou look'fl on? fpeak, Wilt have him live? is he thy kin? thy friend?" Imo. He is a Roman; no more kin to me, Than I to your Highness; who, being born your Am fomething nearer. [vaffal, |