1
V,4,3190
Lucina lent not me her aid, But took me in my throes; That from me was Posthumus ript, Came crying 'mongst his foes, A thing of pity!
2
V,4,3205
With marriage wherefore was he mock'd, To be exiled, and thrown From Leonati seat, and cast From her his dearest one, Sweet Imogen?
3
V,4,3232
Since, Jupiter, our son is good, Take off his miseries.