An open Place near the British Camp.
 Enter POSTHUMUS and 1st and 2nd GAOLERS.

1st Gaoler	[Chaining POSTHUMUS to a post.]
	You shall not now be stol'n, you have locks upon you;
	So graze, as you find pasture.

2nd 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'th' gout, since he had rather
	Groan so in perpetuity than be cured
	By th' 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 Innogen'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 Innogen,
	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			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.

Mother			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			Great nature like his ancestry
				Moulded the stuff so fair
			That he deserved the praise o'th' world
				As great Sicilius' heir.

1st Brother			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 Innogen, that best
				Could deem his dignity?

Mother			With marriage wherefore was he mocked,
				To be exiled, and thrown
			From Leonati seat, and cast
				From her his dearest one,
			Sweet Innogen?

Sicilius			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?

2nd Brother			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.

1st Brother			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			Thy crystal window ope; look out;
				No longer exercise
			Upon a valiant race thy harsh
				And potent injuries.

Mother			Since, Jupiter, our son is good,
				Take off his miseries.

Sicilius			Peep through thy marble mansion; help,
				Or we poor ghosts will cry
			To th' 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 opprest;
				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 Innogen,
				And happier much by his affliction made.
			This tablet lay upon his breast, wherein
				Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine.
													[Gives a book.
			And so away; no further with your din
				Express impatience, lest you stir up mine.
				Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline.
													[Ascends.

Sicilius			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			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 lay the book on Posthumus, and 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.]	"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."

	'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. But what it is,
	The action of my life is like it, which
	I'll keep, if but for sympathy.

                            Re-enter GAOLERS.

1st Gaoler	Come, sir, are you ready for death?

Posthumus	Overroasted rather; ready long ago.

1st 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.

1st 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 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.

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

1st 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.

1st 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.

1st 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.

                            Enter A MESSENGER.

Messenger	Knock off his manacles, bring your prisoner to the king.

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

1st Gaoler	I'll be hanged then.

Posthumus	Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; no bolts for the 
	dead.
												[Exeunt all but 1st GAOLER.

1st 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.
													[Exit.
