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SCENE 1. A field between the British and Roman
Enter Posthumus, with a bloody handkerchief. Post. Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee; for I
• Deviating from the right way.
For thee, O Imogen, even for whom my life
Inter at one side, Lucius, Tachimo, and the Roman army; at the other side, the British army; Leo. Datus Posthumus following it, like a poor soldier. They march over, and go out. Alarums. Then enter again in skirmish, Iachimo and Posthumus ; he panquisheth and disarmeth Iachimo, and then leaves him.
lach. The heaviness and guilt withio 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 carlo, A very drudge of nature's, have subdu'd 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.
The battle continues; the Britons fly; Cymbeline is taken: then enter, to his rescue, Belarius, Gui. derius, and Arviragus.
Bel. Stand, stand! We have the advantage of the
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,
'Tis their fresh supplies. Luc. It is a day turn'ù strangely: Or betimes Let's re-enforce, or fly.
Another part of the field.
Enter Posthumus and a British Lord. Lord. Cam`st thou from where they made the
I did: 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,
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 deserv'd So long a breeding, as his white heard came to, In doing this for his country ;-athwart the lane, He, with two striplings (lads more like to run The country baset, than to commit such slaughter; With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer Than those for preservation cas'd, or shame), Made good the passage ; cry'd to those that fled, Our Britain's harts die flying, not our men : To darkness fleet, souls that fly backwards! Stand; Or we are Romans, and will give you that Like beasts, which you shun 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 (0, a sin in war,
• Block'd up.
+ A country.game called prison-bars, vulgarly prison-base.
Damn'd in the first beginners !) 'gan to look
This was strange chance : A narrow lane! an old man, and two boys!
Post. Nay, do not wonder at it: You are made
Lord. Nay, be not angry, sir.
'Lack, to what end?
Lord. Farewell, you are angry. (Erit.
Post. Still going?- This is a lord! O poble misery! To be i'the field, and ask, what news, of me! To-day, how many would have given their honours To have sav'd their carcasses ? took heel to do't, And yet died too? I, in mive owo wue charm'd, * Could not find death, where I did hear him groan; Nor feel him, where he struck : Being an ugly mon.