MOTHER.
Lucina lent not me her aid,
But took me in my throes,
That from me was Posthumus ripp’d,
Came crying ’mongst his foes,
A thing of pity.
SICILIUS.
Great Nature like his ancestry
Moulded the stuff so fair
That he deserv’d 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 Imogen, that best
Could deem his dignity?
MOTHER.
With marriage wherefore was he mock’d,
To be exil’d and thrown
From Leonati seat and cast
From her his dearest one,
Sweet Imogen?
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?
SECOND 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.
FIRST BROTHER.
Like hardiment Posthumus hath
To Cymbeline perform’d.
Then, Jupiter, thou king of gods,
Why hast thou thus adjourn’d
The graces for his merits due,
Being all to dolours turn’d?
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.