Imogen? Why did you suffer Iachimo, Slight thing of Italy, To taint his nobler heart and brain With needless jealosy; And to become the geck and scorn O' th' other's villany? 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. 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? Thy crystal window ope; look out; No longer exercise Upon a valiant race thy harsh And potent injuries. Since, Jupiter, our son is good, Take off his miseries. Peep through thy marble mansion; help; Or we poor ghosts will cry To the shining synod of the rest Against thy deity. Help, Jupiter; or we appeal, And from thy justice fly. 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 delay'd, delighted. Be content; Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift: His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent. Our Jovial star reign'd at his birth, and in Our temple was he married. Rise, and fade. He shall be lord of lady Imogen, And happier much by his affliction made. This tablet lay upon his breast, wherein Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine: and so, away: no further with your din Express impatience, lest you stir up mine. Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline. He came in thunder; his celestial breath Was sulphurous to smell: the holy eagle Stoop'd 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. Thanks, Jupiter! The marble pavement closes, he is enter'd His radiant root. Away! and, to be blest, Let us with care perform his great behest. 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