If you will make this audit, take this life,

And cancel these cold bonds. O Innogen,

I’ll speak to thee in silence!

He 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, follows 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.

FIRST 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 Giacomo,

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 BROTHER

For this from stiller seats we come,

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 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.

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 Innogen,

And happier much by his affliction made.

This tablet lay upon his breast, wherein

Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine.

He gives the ghosts a tablet which they lay upon Posthumus’ breast

And so away. No farther with your din

Express impatience, lest you stir up mine.

Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline.

He ascends into the heavens

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

Preens the immortal wing and claws his beak

As when his god is pleased.

ALL THE GHOSTS 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 vanish

Posthumus awakes

POSTHUMUS

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,