2980Lord. This was strange chance:

2981A narrow Lane, an old man, and two Boyes.

2982Post. Nay, do not wonder at it: you are made

2983Rather to wonder at the things you heare,

2984Then to worke any. Will you Rime vpon't,

2985And vent it for a Mock'rie? Heere is one:

2986"Two Boyes, an Oldman (twice a Boy) a Lane,

2987"Preseru'd the Britaines, was the Romanes bane.

2988Lord. Nay, be not angry Sir.

2989Post. Lacke, to what end?

2990Who dares not stand his Foe, Ile be his Friend:

2991For if hee'l do, as he is made to doo,

2992I know hee'l quickly flye my friendship too.

2993You haue put me into Rime.

2994Lord. Farewell, you're angry. Exit.

2995Post. Still going? This is a Lord: Oh Noble misery

2996To be i'th' Field, and aske what newes of me:

2997To day, how many would haue giuen their Honours

2998To haue sau'd their Carkasses? Tooke heele to doo't,

2999And yet dyed too. I, in mine owne woe charm'd

3000Could not finde death, where I did heare him groane,

3001Nor feele him where he strooke. Being an vgly Monster,

3002'Tis strange he hides him in fresh Cups, soft Beds,

3003Sweet words; or hath moe ministers then we

3004That draw his kniues i'th' War. Well I will finde him:

3005For being now a Fauourer to the Britaine,

3006No more a Britaine, I haue resum'd againe

3007The part I came in. Fight I will no more,

3008But yeeld me to the veriest Hinde, that shall

3009Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is

3010Heere made by'th' Romane; great the Answer be

3011Britaines must take. For me, my Ransome's death,

3012On eyther side I come to spend my breath;

3013Which neyther heere Ile keepe, nor beare agen,

3014But end it by some meanes for Imogen.

30161 Great Iupiter be prais'd, Lucius is taken,

3017'Tis thought the old man, and his sonnes, were Angels.

30182 There was a fourth man, in a silly habit,

3019That gaue th' Affront with them.

30201 So 'tis reported:

3021But none of 'em can be found. Stand, who's there?

3022Post. A Roman,

3023Who had not now beene drooping heere, if Seconds

3024Had answer'd him.

30252 Lay hands on him: a Dogge,

3026A legge of Rome shall not returne to tell

3027What Crows haue peckt them here: he brags his seruice

3028As if he were of note: bring him to'th' King.

3034Gao. You shall not now be stolne,

3035You haue lockes vpon you:

3036So graze, as you finde Pasture.

30372. Gao. I, or a stomacke.

3038Post. Most welcome bondage; for thou art a way

3039(I thinke) to liberty: yet am I better

3040Then one that's sicke o'th' Gowt, since he had rather

3041Groane so in perpetuity, then be cur'd

3042By'th' sure Physitian, Death; who is the key

3043T' vnbarre these Lockes. My Conscience, thou art fetter'd

3044More then my shanks, & wrists: you good Gods giue me

3045The penitent Instrument to picke that Bolt,

3046Then free for euer. Is't enough I am sorry?

3047So Children temporall Fathers do appease;

3048Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent,

3049I cannot do it better then in Gyues,

3050Desir'd, more then constrain'd, to satisfie

3051If of my Freedome 'tis the maine part, take

3052No stricter render of me, then my All.

3053I know you are more clement then vilde men,

3054Who of their broken Debtors take a third,

3055A sixt, a tenth, letting them thriue againe

3056On their abatement; that's not my desire.

3057For Imogens deere life, take mine, and though

3058'Tis not so deere, yet 'tis a life; you coyn'd it,

3059'Tweene man, and man, they waigh not euery stampe:

3060Though light, take Peeces for the figures sake,

3061(You rather) mine being yours: and so great Powres,

3062If you will take this Audit, take this life,

3063And cancell these cold Bonds. Oh Imogen,

3064Ile speake to thee in silence.

3072Sicil. No more thou Thunder-Master

3073 shew thy spight, on Mortall Flies:

3074With Mars fall out with Iuno chide, that thy Adulteries

3075 Rates, and Reuenges.

3076Hath my poore Boy done ought but well,

3077 whose face I neuer saw:

3078I dy'de whil'st in the Wombe he staide,

3079 attending Natures Law.

3080Whose Father then (as men report,

3081 thou Orphanes Father art)

3082Thou should'st haue bin, and sheelded him,

3083 from this earth-vexing smart.

3084Moth. Lucina lent not me her ayde,

3085 but tooke me in my Throwes,

3086That from me was Posthumus ript,

3087 came crying 'mong'st his Foes.

3088A thing of pitty.

3089Sicil. Great Nature like his Ancestrie,

3090 moulded the stuffe so faire:

3091That he deseru'd the praise o'th' World,

3092 as great Sicilius heyre.

30931. Bro. When once he was mature for man,

3094 in Britaine where was hee

3095That could stand vp his paralell?

3096 Or fruitfull obiect bee?

3097In eye of Imogen, that best could deeme

3098 his dignitie.

3099Mo. With Marriage wherefore was he mockt

3100 to be exil'd, and throwne

3101From Leonati Seate, and cast from her,

3102 his deerest one:

3103Sweete Imogen?

3104Sic. Why did you suffer Iachimo, slight thing of Italy,

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