Chapter 117

3513 Words

Enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, the SOOTHSAYER, and other Roman prisoners, guarded; POSTHUMUS behind, and IMOGEN Thou com'st not, Caius, now for tribute; that The Britons have raz'd out, though with the loss Of many a bold one, whose kinsmen have made suit That their good souls may be appeas'd with slaughter Of you their captives, which ourself have granted; So think of your estate. LUCIUS. Consider, sir, the chance of war. The day Was yours by accident; had it gone with us, We should not, when the blood was cool, have threaten'd Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives May be call'd ransom, let it come. Sufficeth A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer. Augustus lives to think on't; and so much For my peculiar care. This one thi

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