Lucius

 Saturninus and his followers at one door, and
 Bassianus and his followers at another door, with
 other Romans, Drums, and Trumpets.
Saturninus
Noble patricians, patrons of my right,
Defend the justice of my cause with arms.
And countrymen, my loving followers,
Plead my successive title with your swords.
I am his firstborn son that was the last
That wore the imperial diadem of Rome.
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Lucius
I am sorry, Cymbeline,
That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar—
Caesar, that hath more kings his servants than
Thyself domestic officers—thine enemy.
Receive it from me, then: war and confusion
In Caesar’s name pronounce I ’gainst thee. Look
For fury not to be resisted. Thus defied,
I thank thee for myself.

Receive it from me,
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Lucius
Ha! What has he sent? I am so much endeared
to that lord; he’s ever sending. How shall I thank
him, think’st thou? And what has he sent now?
Servilius
Has only sent his present occasion now, my
lord, requesting your Lordship to supply his
instant use with fifty talents.

O,
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Lucius
Now, sir,
What have you dreamed of late of this war’s purpose?
Soothsayer
Last night the very gods showed me a vision—
I fast and prayed for their intelligence—thus:
I saw Jove’s bird, the Roman eagle, winged
From the spongy south to this part of the west,
There vanished in the sunbeams,
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Cymbeline
Thou com’st not, Caius, now for tribute. That
The Britons have razed out, though with the loss
Of many a bold one, whose kinsmen have made suit
That their good souls may be appeased with slaughter
Of you their captives, which ourself have granted.
So think of your estate.

Briefly die their joys
That place them on the truth of girls and boys.
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