Imatges de pÓgina

A C T V.


A Field between the British and Roman Camps,
Enter Pofthumus with a bloody bandkerchief.

Post HU M U S.
YE A, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee ; for I wisht
Thou should'It be colour'd thus, You married

If each of you would take this course, how many
Must murther wives much better than themselves
For wrying but a little? oh Pisanio!
Every good servant does not all commands ;
No bond, but to do just ones. -

Gods! if you Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I never Had liv'd to put on this ; fo had you sayed The noble Imogen to repent, and struck Me, wretch, more worth your vengeance." But alack, You snatch some hence for little faults; that's love To have them fall no more; you some permis To second ills with ills, each worse than other And make them 3 dreaded, to the doers thrift. But imogen's your own: do your best wills, And make me blest t’obey! I am brought hither Among th' Italian gentry, and to fight Against my Lady's Kingdom ; 'tis enough That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress : Peace, I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heav'ns, Hear patiently my purpose. I'll disrobe me Of these Italian weeds, and fuit my felf As do's a Briton peasant.; so I'll fight Against the part I come with ; so l'il die For thee, O Imogen, for whom my life

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3 dread it.; i old edit, Theob. emend,

Is every breath a death ; and thus 4'not known,'
Pitied, sior' hated, to the face of peril
My self I'll dedicate. Let me make men know
More valour in me, than my habit shews;
Gods, put the strength o’th' Leonati in me!
To shame the guise o'th' world, I will begin
The fashion, less without, and more within. [Exit.
Enter Lucius, Iachimo, and the Roman army at one

door; and the British army at another: Leonatus Posthumus following like a poor Soldier. They march over, and go out. Then enter again in skirmish Tachimo, and Posthumus; be vanquisbeth and disarmeth Iachimo, and then leaves him.

Iach. The heaviness and guilt within my bosom Takes off my manhood ; I've bely'd a Lady, The Princess of this country; and the air on ́c Revengingly enfeebles me: or could this carle, A very drudge of nature, have subdu'd me In my profession? knighthoods, honours born, As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn; If that thy gentry, Britain, go before This lowt, as he exceeds our Lords, the odds Is, that we scarce are men, and you are Gods. [Exit. The battel continues; the Britons fly, Cymbeline is taken ; then enter to bis rescue, Bellarius, Guiderius, and

Arviragus. Bel. Stand, stand; we have th’ advantage of the ground, That lane is guarded : nothing routs us, but The villainy of our fears,

Guid. Arv. Stand, stand and fight. Enter Posthumus, and seconds the Britons. They rescue

Cymbeline, and exeunt. Then enter Lucius, Iachimo, and Imogen. Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and save thy felf; N 4

For 4 unknown

5 nor

For friends kill friends, and the disorders such
As war were hood-wink'd.

lach. 'Tis their freth supplies.

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



Another part of the field of Battle,

Enter Posthumus, and a British Lord.

, Am`st thou from where they made the stand ?

Post. I did.
Though you it secms came from the fliers.

Lord. I did.

Pojt. 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 straight lane, the enemy full-hearted, Lolling the tongue with Naught’ring, having work More plentiful, than tools to do'r, struck down Some mortally, some Nightly touch'd, fome falling Meerly through fear, that the strait pass was damm'd With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards living To die with lengthen'd shame.

Lord. Where was this lane?

Poft. Close by the battel, ditch'd, and walled with turf, Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier, An honest one I warrant, who deserv'd So long a breeding as his white beard came to, In doing this for’s country : 'thwart the lane, He, with two ftriplings, (lads more like to run The country Bafe, than to commit such Naughter, With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer


Than those 6/for preservation cas'd) For Mame
Make good the pasage, cry'd to those that fled,
Our Britain's 7 barts' die flying, not our men;
To darkness fleet fouls that fly backwards : stand,
Or we are Romans, and will give you that
Like beasts, which you fhun beastly, and may save
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
But by example (oh a sin in war,
Damnd in the first beginners) 'gan to look
The way that they did, and to grin like lions
Upon the pikes o’th' hunters. Then began
A stop i'th' chaser, a retire; anon
A rout confusion-thick, Forthwith they flie
Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles ; Naves,
The strides they victors made ; and now our cowards,
Like fragments in hard voyages, became
The life o'th' need ; having

found the back door open
Of the unguarded hearts, heav'ns, how they wound!
Şome Nain before, some dying, fome their friends
O'er-born i'th' former wave ; ten chac'd by one
Are now each one the Naughter-man of twenty i
Those that would die or e'er resist, are grown
The mortal bugs o'th' field.

Lord. This was strange chance ;
A narrow lane! an old man, and two boys!

Pot. Nay, do not wonder at it; s'tho you are made Rather to wonder at the things you hear,

Than 6 for preservation casid, or shame)

Made, c. 7 hearts , , , old edit. Theob. emend. 8 you are made

Than to work any. a
Lord. Farewel, you are angry.

Post. This is a Lord; oh noble misery
To be i'ch' field, and ask what news, of me!
To-day, how many would have given their honours
To've fav'd their carcasses ! took heel to do't,
And yet died too! I, in mine own woe charm’d, b
Could not find death where I did hear him groan,
Nor feel him where he struck. This ugly monster,
'Tis strange, he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds,
Sweet words ; 9 and hath more minifters than we
That draw his knives in war. Well, I will find him
For being now a favourer to the ''Roman,
No more a Briton ; I've resum'd again,
The part I came in ; fight I will no more,
But yield me to the veriest hind, that shall
Once touch my shoulder. · Great the Naughter is
Here made by th’ 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 Imnogen.

Enter two Captains, and Soldiers. 1 Cap. Great Jupiter be prais'd, Lucius is taken. 'Tis thought the old man, and his sons, were angels.

2 Cap. (a) Than to work any. Will you thyme upon't, And vent it for a mockery ? here is one : Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane, Prejerv'd the Britons, was the Romans bane,

Lord. Nay, ,be not angry, Sir.

Poft. '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 Ay my friendship too.
You have put me into rhymes.

Lord. Farewel, &c.

(b) Meaning that his woe seem'd as a charm which protected bin. Warburton.

1 Britain

9 Or

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