Post.

Ay, so thou dost,
[Coming forward.
Italian fiend!-Ah me, most credulous fool,
Egregious murderer, thief, any thing
That's due to all the villains past, in being,
To come!-0, give me cord, or knife, or poison,
Some upright justicer! Thou, king, send out
For tortarers ingenious: it is I

That all the abhorred things of the earth amend,
By being worse than they. I am Posthumus,
That kill'd thy daughter:-villain-like, I lie;
That caused a lesser villain than myself,
A sacrilegious thief, to do't:-the temple
Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself *.
Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set
The dogs o' the street to bay me: every villain
Be call'd Posthúmus Leonatus; and
Be villany less than 'twas!-O Imogen!
My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen!

Imo.
Peace, my lord; hear, hear-
Post. Shall's have a play of this? Thou
scornful page,
There lie thy part. [Striking her, she falls.
Pis.
O, gentlemen, help, help [mus!
Mine, and your mistress :-O, my lord Posthú-
You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now:-Help,
Mine honour'd lady!
[help!
Cym.
Does the world go round?
Post. How come these staggers on me?
Pis.
Wake, my mistress?
Cym. If this be so, the gods do mean to
To death with mortal joy.
[strike me
Pis.
How fares my mistress?
Imo. O, get thee from my sight; [hence!
Thou gavest me poison: dangerous fellow,
Breathe not where princes are.
Cym.
Pis. Lady,

The tune of Imogen !

The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if That box I gave you was not thought by me A precious thing; I had it from the queen. Cym. New matter still?

Imo.

It poison'd me. Cor. O Gods!I left out one thing which the queen confess'd, Which must approve thee honest: If Pisanio Have,said she,given his mistress that confection Which I gave him for a cordial, she is served As I would serve a rat. Cym.

What's this, Cornelius?
Cor. The queen, sir, very oft impórtuned me
To temper poisons for her; still pretending
The satisfaction of her knowledge, only
In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs
Of no esteem: I, dreading that her purpose
Was of more danger, did compound for her
A certain stuff, which, being ta'en would cease
The present power of life; but, in short time,
All offices of nature should again

Do their due functions.-Have you ta'en of it?
Imo. Most like I did, for I was dead.
Bel.
There was our error.

Gui.

My boys, Fidele. [from you? you throw your wedded lady

This is sure,

Imo. Why did

That we meet here so strangely: But her son
Is gone, we know not how, nor where.
Pis.

My lord, Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord Upon my lady's missing, came to me [Cloten, With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, and swore,

If I discover'd not which way she was gone,
It was my instant death: By accident,
I had a feigned letter of my master's
Then in my pocket; which directed him
To seek her on the mountains near to Milford;
Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments,
Which he inforced from me, away he posts
With unchaste purpose, and with oath to vio-
My lady's honour: what became of him, [late
I further know not.
Let me end the story:

Gui.

Why, old soldier,

A banish'd traitor.
Bel.
Assumed this age: indeed, a banish'd man;
I know not how, a traitor.

Сут.

Take him hence; The whole world shall not save him.

Bel. Not too hot: First pay me for the nursing of thy sons; And let it be confiscate all, so soon As I have received it. Cym. Nursing of my sons? Bel. I am too blunt, and saucy: Here's my Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons; [knee; Then, spare not the old father. Mighty sir, These two young gentlemen, that call me father, And think they are my sons, are none of mine; They are the issue of your loins, my liege, And blood of your begetting.

Cym.
How! my issue?
Bel. So sure as you your father's. I, old
Morgan,
[nish'd:
Am that Belarius whom you sometime ba-
Your pleasure was my mere offence, my pu-
nishment

Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd,
Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes
(For such, and so, they are,) these twenty years
Have I train'd up: those arts they have, as I
Could put into them; my breeding was, sir, as
Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile,
Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these chil-
Upon my banishment: I moved her to't; [dren
Having received the punishment before,
For that which I did then: Beaten for loyalty
Excited me to treason: Their dear loss,
The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shaped
Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious
Here are your sons again; and I must lose [sir,
Two of the sweet'st companions in the world:
The benediction of these covering heavens
Fall on their heads like dew! for they are
To inlay heaven with stars.
[worthy
Cym.
Thou weep'st, and speak'st.
The service that you three have done, is more
Unlike than this thou tell'st: I lost my chil-
If these be they, I know not how to wish [dren;
A pair of worthier sons.
Bel.

Be pleased a while.
This gentleman, whom I call Polydore,

• Vehement, rapid.

Bel.

[tion,

O, what am I

Imo.

[cye

Hath to it circumstantial branches, which
Distinction should be rich in t.-Where? bow
lived you?
[tive?
And when came you to serve our Roman cap-
How parted with your brothers? how first met
them?
[These,
Why fled you from the court? and whither?
And your three motives to the battle, with
I know not how much more, should be de-
And all the other by-dependancies. [manded;
From chance to chance; but nor the time, nor
Will serve our long intergatories. See, [place,
Posthúmus anchors upon Imogen;
And she, like harmless lightning, throws her
On him, her brothers, me, her master; hitting
Each object with a joy; the counterchange
Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground,
And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.-
Thou art my brother; So we'll hold thee ever.
[To BELARIUS.
Imo. You are my father too; and did re-
To see this gracious season. [lieve me,
Cym.
All o'erjoy'd,
Save these in bonds; let them be joyful too,
For they shall taste our comfort.
Imo.

I will yet do you service.

My good master,

Happy be you!

Luc. Cym. The forlorn soldier, that so nobly [graced He would have well becomed this place, and The thankings of a king.

fought,

Post.

I am, sir, The soldier that did company these three In poor beseeming; 'twas a fitment for I then follow'd ;-That I was he,

Speak,

Have made you finish.

Iach.

I am down again : [Kneeling. But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee, As then your force did. Take that life, 'beseech you, Which I so often owe: but, your ring first; And here the bracelet of the truest princess That ever swore her faith. Post.

Kneel not to me; The power that I have on you, is to spare you; The malice towards you, to forgive you: Live,

And deal with others better.
Cym.
Nobly doom'd:
We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law;
Pardon's the word to all.
Arv.
You holp us, sir.
As you did mean indeed to be our brother;
Joy'd are we, that you are. [lord of Rome,
Post. Your servant, princes.-Good my
Call forth your soothsayer: As I slept, me-
Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back, [thought,
Appear'd to me, with other spritely shows
Of mine own kindred: when I waked, I found
This label on my bosom; whose containing
Is so from sense in hardness, that I can
Make no collection of it; let him show
His skill in the construction.

Sooth. Here, my good lord. Luc. Read, and declare the meaning. Sooth. [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 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. Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp; The fit and apt construction of thy name,

Cym.

Being Leo-natus, doth import so much:
The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter,
[To CYMBELIND.
Which we call mollis aër; and mollis dër
Is this most constant wife: who, even now,
Answering the letter of the oracle,
Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about
With this most tender air.
This hath some seeming.
Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline,
Personates thee: and thy lopp'd branches point
Thy two sons forth: who, by Belarius stolen,
For many years thought dead, are now revived,
To the majestic cedar join'd; whose issue
Promises Britain peace and plenty.
Cym.
Well,
My peace we will begin :-And, Caius Lucius,
Although the victor, we submit to Cæsar,
And to the Roman empire; promising
To pay our wonted tribute, from the which
We were dissuaded by our wicked queen;
Whom heavens, in justice, (both on her and
Have laid most heavy hand.
[hers,)

Sooth. The fingers of the powers above do The harmony of this peace. The vision [tone Which I made known to Lucius, ere the stroke Of this yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant Is full accomplish'd: For the Roman eagle, From south to west on wing soaring aloft, Lessen'd herself, and in the beams o'the sun So vanish'd: which foreshow'd our princely The imperial Cæsar, should again unite [eagle, His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, Which shines here in the west.

Cym.

Laud we the gods; And let our crooked smokes climb to their

nostrils

+ Embraced.

SCENE I. Rome. Before the Capitol. The Tomb of the Andronici appearing: the Tribunes and Senators aloft, as in the Senate. Enter, below, SATURNINUS and his Followers, on one side; and BASSIANUS and his Followers, on the other;

with Drum and Colours.

Sat. Noble patricians, patrons of my right,
Defend the justice of my cause with arms;
And, countrymen, my loving followers,
Plead my successive title* with your swords:
I am his first born son, that was the last
That ware the imperial diadem of Rome;
Then let my father's honours live in me,
Nor wrong mine age with this indignity.
Bas. Romans, friends, followers, favourers
of my right,-

If ever Bassianus, Cæsar's son,
Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome,
Keep then this passage to the Capitol ;
And suffer not dishonour to approach
The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate,
To justice, continence, and nobility:
But let desert in pure election shine;
And, Romans, fight for freedom in your choice.
Enter MARCUS ANDRONICUs aloft, with
the Crown.

Mar. Princes, that strive by factions and
by friends

Chosen Andronicus, surnamed Pius,

For many good and great deserts to Rome;
Lives not this day within the city walls:
He by the senate is accited + home,
From weary wars against the barbarous Goths,
That, with his sons, a terror to our foes,
Hath yoked a nation strong, train'd up in arms.
Ten years are spent since first he undertook
This cause of Rome, and chastised with arme
Our enemies' pride. Five times he hath re-
turn'd

A nobler man, a braver warrior,

Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons
In coffins from the field;

And now, at last, laden with honour's spoils,
Returns the good Andronicus to Rome,
Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms.
Let us entreat,-By honour of his name,
Whom, worthily, you would have now succeed,
And in the Capitol and senate's right,
Whom you pretend to honour and adore,-
That you withdraw you, and abate your
strength;

Dismiss your followers, and, as suitors should,
Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness.
Sat, How fair the tribune speaks to calm
my thoughts!

Bas. Marcus Andronicus, so I do affy In thy uprightness and integrity, And so I love and honour thee and thine, Thy nobler brother Titus, and his sons, [all, And her, to whom my thoughts are humbled Gracious Lavinia, Rome's rich ornament, That I will here dismiss my loving friends; And to my fortunes, and the people's favour,

+ Summoned.

Commit my cause in balance to be weigh'd.
[Exeunt the Followers of BASSIANUS.
Sat. Friends that have been thus forward in
my right,

I thank you all, and here dismiss you all;
And to the love and favour of my country
Commit myself, my person, and the cause,
[Exeunt the Followers of SATURNINUS.
Rome, be as just and gracious unto me,
As I am confident and kind to thee.-
Open the gates, and let me in.

Bas. Tribunes! and me, a poor competitor. [SAT. and BAs. go into the Capitol, and exeunt with Senators, MARCUS, &c. SCENE II. The same.

Enter a Captain, and Others. Cap. Romans, make way; the good Andronicus,

Patron of virtue, Rome's best champion, Successful in the battles that he fights, With honour and with fortune is return'd, From where he circumscribed with his sword, And brought to yoke, the enemies of Rome. Flourish of Trumpets, &c., enter MUTIUS and MARTIUS: after them, two Men bearing a Coffin covered with black; then QUINTUS and Lucius. After them, TITUS ANDRONICUS; and then TAMORA, with ALARBUS, CHIRON, DEMETRIUS, AARON, and other Goths, prisoners, Soldiers and People, following. The Bearers set down the Coffin, and TITUS speaks.

Tit. Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning weeds! [fraught, Lo, as the bark that hath discharged her Returns with precious lading to the bay, From whence at first she weigh'd her anchorage,

Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs,
To re-solnte his country with his tears;
Tears of true joy for his return to Rome.-
Thou great defender of this Capitol +,
Stand gracious to the rites that we intend!-
Romans, of five-and-twenty valiant sons,
Half of the number that king Priam had,
Behold the poor remains, alive, and dead!
These, that survive, let Rome reward with
love;

These, that I bring unto their latest home,
With burial amongst their ancestors:
Here Goths have given me leave to sheath
my sword.

Titus, unkind, and careless of thine own,
Why suffer'st thou thy sons, unburied yet,
To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx?-
Make way to lay them by their brethren.

[The Tomb is opened.
There greet in silence, as the dead are wont,
And sleep in peace, slain in your country's
O sacred receptacle of my joys, [wars!
Sweet cell of virtue and nobility,
How many sons of mine hast thou in store,
That thou wilt never render to me more?

* Freight.

That we may hew his limbs, and, on a pile,
Ad manes fratrum sacrifice his flesh,
Before this earthly prison of their bones;
That so the shadows be not unappeased,
Nor we disturbed with prodigies on earth.
Tit. I give him you; the noblest that sur-
vives,

The eldest son of this distressed queen.
Tam. Stay, Roman brethren;-Gracious
conqueror,

Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed,
A mother's tears in passion for her son:
And, if thy sons were ever dear to thee,
O, think my son to be as dear to me.
Sufficeth not, that we are brought to Rome,
To beautify thy triumphs, and return,
Captive to thee, and to thy Roman yoke;
But must my sons be slaughter'd in the streets,
For valiant doings in their country's cause?
O! if to fight for king and common weal
Were piety in thine, it is in these.
Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood:
Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods?
Draw near them then in being merciful:
Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge
Thrice noble Titus, spare my first-born son.
Tit. Patient yourself, madam, and pardon

me.

[beheld These are their brethren, whom you Goths Alive, and dead; and for their brethren slain, Religiously they ask a sacrifice: To this your son is mark'd; and die he must, To appease their groaning shadows that are gone. [straight;

Luc. Away with him! and make a fire And with our swords, upon a pile of wood, Let's hew his limbs, till they be clean consumed.

[Exeunt LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS, and MUTIUS, with ALARBUS. Tam. O cruel, irreligious piety! Chi. Was ever Scythia half so barbarous? Dem. Oppose not Scythia to ambitions Alarbus goes to rest; and we survive [Rome. To tremble under Titus's threatening look. Then, madam, stand resolved; but hope withal, [Troy The self-same gods, that arm'd the queen of With opportunity of sharp revenge Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent, May favour Tamora, the queen of Goths, (When Goths were Goths, and Tamora was queen,)

To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes.
Re-enter LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS, and
MUTIUS, with their Swords bloody.
Luc. See, lord and father, how we have
perform'd

Our Roman rites: Alar bus' limbs are lopp'd,
And entrails feed the sacrificing fre,
Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the
sky.

Remaineth nought, but to inter our brethren

It was supposed that the Suffering.