SCENE II.

Field of battle between the British
and Roman camps.

Enter, from one side, LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and the Roman Army; from the other side, the British Army; LEONATUS POSTHUMUS fol lowing, like a poor soldier. They march over and go out. Then enter again, in skirmish, IACHIMO and POSTHUMUS: he vanquisheth and disarmeth IACHIMO, and then leaves him. Iach. The heaviness and guilt within my bosom

Takes off my manhood: I have belied a lady,
The princess of this country, and the air on 't
Revengingly enfeebles me; or could this carl,
A very drudge of nature's, have subdued me
In my profession? Knighthoods and honours,
borne

As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn.
If that thy gentry, Britain, go before

This lout as he exceeds our lords, the odds
Is that we scarce are men and you are gods.

[Exit.

The battle continues; the Britons fly; CYmbeLINE is taken: then enter, to his rescue, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.

Bel. Stand, stand! We have the advantage of the ground:

The lane is guarded: nothing routs us but

The villany of our fears.

Gui.

and }

Stand, stand, and fight!

10

4. carl, churl.

12. lane, narrow defile.

Re-enter POSTHUMUS, and seconds the Britons: they rescue CYMBELINE, and exeunt. Then re-enter LUCIUS, and IACHIMO, with IMOGEN.

Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself;

For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such
As war were hoodwink'd.

Iach.

'Tis their fresh supplies.

[Exeunt.

Luc. It is a day turn'd strangely or betimes Let's re-inforce, or fly.

SCENE III. Another part of the field.

Enter POSTHUMUS and a British Lord.

Lord. Camest thou from where they made the

Though you, it seems, come from the fliers.

Lord.

I did.

Post. No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost,
But that the heavens fought: the king himself
Of his wings destitute, the army broken,
And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying
Through a strait lane; the enemy full-hearted,
Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having work
More plentiful than tools to do 't, struck down
Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling
Merely through fear; that the strait pass was
damm'd

With dead men hurt behind, and cowards living
To die with lengthen'd shame.

8. Lolling the tongue; a mark of bloodthirstiness in wild beasts.

IO

Lord.

Where was this lane?

Post. Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd

with turf;

Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier,
An honest one, I warrant; who deserved
So long a breeding as his white beard came to,
In doing this for's country: athwart the lane,
He, with two striplings-lads more like to run
The country base than to commit such slaughter;
With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer
Than those for preservation cased, or shame,-
Made good the passage; cried to those that fled,
'Our Britain's harts die flying, not our men :
To darkness fleet souls that fly backwards.
Or we are Romans and will give you that
Like beasts which you shun beastly, and may

save,

Stand;

But to look back in frown: stand, stand.' These

three,

Three thousand confident, in act as many—

For three performers are the file when all

The rest do nothing-with this word 'Stand, stand,'

Accommodated by the place, more charming

With their own nobleness, which could have turn'd

A distaff to a lance, gilded pale looks,

Part shame, part spirit renew'd; that some, turn'd coward

20

30

30. the file, the whole force. 32. charming, prevailing as by a charm.

34. gilded, flushed. The word was idiomatically used for 'to make red,' especially with blood or wine.

But by example-O, a sin in war,
Damn'd in the first beginners!-gan to look
The way that they did, and to grin like lions
Upon the pikes o' the hunters.

A stop i' the chaser, a retire, anon

Then began

A rout, confusion thick; forthwith they fly Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles;

slaves,

The strides they victors made: and now our cowards,

Like fragments in hard voyages, became

The life o' the need: having found the back-door

open

Of the unguarded hearts, heavens, how they wound!

Some slain before; some dying; some their friends
O'er-borne i' the former wave: ten, chased by one,
Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty:
Those that would die or ere resist are grown
The mortal bugs o' the field.

Lord.
This was strange chance:
A narrow lane, an old man, and two boys.
Post. Nay, do not wonder at it: you are made
Rather to wonder at the things you hear
Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon 't,
And vent it for a mockery? Here is one:
'Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane,
Preserved the Britons, was the Romans' bane.'
Lord. Nay, be not angry, sir.

43. they; Theobald's excellent correction of Ff the. The bold use of apposition is one of the marks of Shakespeare's latest style.

44. fragments, remnants of food.

44. became the life o' the need,

40

50

preserved us in the emergency. 51. mortal bugs, deadly terrors.

53. Nay, do not wonder at it: you are made, etc., i. e. the deed was only wonderful in the eyes of weaklings who could do nothing but wonder.

Post.

'Lack, to what end? Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his friend; For if he'll do as he is made to do,

I know he'll quickly fly my friendship too.
You have put me into rhyme.

Lord.

Farewell; you 're angry.

Post. Still going? [Exit Lord.] This is a

lord! O noble misery,

To be i' the field, and ask 'what news?' of me!
To-day how many would have given their honours
To have saved their carcases! took heel to do 't,
And yet died too! I, in mine own woe charm'd,
Could not find death where I did hear him groan,
Nor feel him where he struck: being an ugly
monster,

'Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds,
Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we
That draw his knives i' the war.

him :

Well, I will find

Great the slaughter is

For being now a favourer to the Briton,
No more a Briton, I have resumed again
The part I came in fight I will no more,
But yield me to the veriest hind that shall
Once touch my shoulder.
Here made by the Roman; great the answer be
Britons must take. For me, my ransom 's death ;
On either side I come to spend my breath;
Which neither here I'll keep nor bear again,
But end it by some means for Imogen.

Enter two British Captains and Soldiers. First Cap. Great Jupiter be praised! Lucius is taken.

Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels.

75. No more a Briton; i.e. at heart, resumes the Roman side, Posthumus, though still a Briton and perhaps the Roman dress.