Have we in hiding us? this way, the Romans Bel. Sons, We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us. Among the bands) may drive us to a render But to be still hot summer's tanlings, and Gui. Than be so, Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to the army: Arv. By this sun that shines, I'll thither what thing is it, that I never Did see man die? scarce ever look'd on blood, That which we've done, whose answer would be Never bestrid a horse, save one, that had death A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel To look upon the holy sun, to have Gui. By heavens, I'll go widely If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave, Arv. So say I; amen. Bel. No reason I, since on your lives you set So slight a valuation, should reserve Mizu[boys: My crack'd one to more care. Have with you, If in your country wars you chance to die, That is my bed too, lads, and there I'll lie: Lead, lead-The time seems long; their blood thinks scorn, [aside. Let it fly out, and show them princes born. [exeunt. ACT V. SCENE 1. A FIELD BETWEEN THE BRITISH AND ROMAN CAMPS. Enter Posthumus, with a bloody handkerchief. But, [love, You snatch some hence for little faults; that's Hear patiently my purpose: I'll disrobe me Is, every breath, a death: and thus, unknown, SCENE II. THE SAME. Enter at one side, Lucius, Iachimo, and the Roman army; at the other side, the British army; Leonatus Posthumus following it, like a poor soldier. They march over, and go out. Alarums. Then enter again in skirmish, Iachimo and Posthumus: he vanquisheth and disarmeth Iachimo, and then leaves him. [borne Iach. The heaviness and guilt within my bosom & Arv. Stand, stand, and fight! Enter Posthumus, and seconds the Britons: they | Those, that would die or ere resist, are grown rescue Cymbeline, and exeunt. Then, enter The mortal bugs o'the field. Lucius, Iachimo, and Imogen. [thyself: Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and save For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such As war were hood-wink'd. Iach. 'Tis their fresh supplies. Luc. It is a day turn'd strangely: or betimes Let's re-enforce, or fly. [ereunt. SCENE III. ANOTHER PART OF THE FIELD. Enter Posthumus and a British Lord. Lord. Cam'st thou from where they made the Post. I did: [stand? Though you, it seems, come from the fliers. Post. No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost, With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards living To die with lengthen'd shame. Lord. Where was this lane? [with turf; Post. Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd 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 his 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 cas'd, or shame), Made good the passage; cry'd to those that fled, Our Briton'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 thousand confident, in act as many [three, (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, But by example (O, a sin in war, [turn'd coward 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. Then began A stop i'the chaser, a retire; anon, 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 [open The life o'the need; having found the back-door Of the unguarded hearts, heavens, how they wound! Some, slain before; some, dying; some, their friends O'erborne i'the former wave: ten, chac'd by one, Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty: 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, Preserv'd the Britons, was the Romans' bane. Lord. Nay, be not angry, sir. Post. 'Lack, to what end? Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his friend : I know, he'll quickly fly my friendship too. Lord. Farewell, you are angry. [exit. Post. Still going?—This is a lord! O noble misery? To be i'the field, and ask, what news of me! 'Tis strange, he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds, Enter two British Captains and Soldiers. 1 Cap. Great Jupiter be prais'd! Lucius is taken i 'Tis thought, the old man and his sons were angels. 2 Cap. There was a fourth man, in a silly habit, That gave the affront with them. 1 Cap. So 'tis reported But none of them can be found.-Stand! who is 2. Cap. Lay hands on him; a dog! go out. SCENE IV. A PRISON. Enter Posthumus and two Gaolers. 1 Gaol. You shall not now be stolen, you have So, graze, as you find pasture. [locks upon you; 2 Gaol. Ay, or a stomach. [exeunt Gaolers. Post. Most welcome, bondage! for thou art a way, I think, to liberty. Yet am I better I know, you are more clement then vile men, Sici. No more, thou thunder-master, show With Mars fall out, with Juno chide, That thy adulteries Rates and revenges. Hath my poor boy done aught but well, I died, whilst in the womb he staid Whose father then (as men report, Thou orphans' father art), Thou should'st have been, and shielded him From this earth-vexing smart. Sici. Great nature, like his ancestry, That he deserv'd the praise o'the world, 1 Bro. When once he was mature for man, In Britain where was he That could stand up his parallel; Or fruitful object be In eye of Imogen, that best Could deem his dignity? Moth. With marriage wherefore was he mock'd, From Leonati's seat, and cast From her his dearest one, Sici. Why did you suffer Iachimo, To taint his nobler heart and brain And to become the geck and scorn 2 Bro. For this, from stiller seats we came, Our parents, and us twain, That, striking in our country's cause, With honour to maintain. 1 Bro. Like hardiment Posthumus hath To Cymbeline perform'd : Then, Jupiter, thou king of gods, Why hast thou thus adjourn'd The graces for his merits due ; Being all to dolours turn'd? Sici. Thy crystal window ope; look out; No longer exercise, Upon a valiant race, thy harsh And potent injuries: Moth. Since, Jupiter, our son is good, Take off his miseries. Sici. Peep through thy marble mansion; help! To the shining synod of the rest, 2 Bro. Help, Jupiter; or we appeal, And from thy justice fly. Jupiter descends in thunder and lightning, sitting upon an eagle; he throws a thunder-bolt. The ghosts fall on their knees. Jup. No more, you petty spirits of region low, Offend our hearing; hush!-How dare you ghosts Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt you know, No care of yours it is, you know, 'tis ours. His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent. Our jovial star reign'd at his birth, and in Our temple was he married.-Rise, and fade!He shall be lord of lady Imogen, And happier much by his affliction made, This tablet lay upon his breast; wherein Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine; And so, away: no further with your din Express impatience, lest you stir up mine.Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline. [ascends. Sici. He came in thunder; his celestial breath Was sulphurous to smell: the holy eagle Stoop'd, as to foot us: his ascension is More sweet than our bless'd fields: his royal bird Prunes the immortal wing, and cloys his beak, As when his god is pleas'd. All. Thanks, Jupiter! Sici. The marble pavement closes, he is enter'd 1 And so I am awake.-Poor wretches, that depend Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment [Reads] When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be opped branches, which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate, and flourish in peace and plenty. 'Tis still a dream; or else such stuff as madmen Re-enter Gaolers. Gaol. Come, sir, are you ready for death? Post. Over-roasted rather ready long ago. Gaol. Hanging is the word, sir; if you be ready for that, you are well cooked. Post. So, if I prove a good repast to the spectators, the dish pays the shot. Gaol. A heavy reckoning for you, sir: but the comfort is, you shall be called to no more payments, fear no more tavern bills; which are often the sadness of parting, as the procuring of mirth: you come in faint for want of meat, depart reeling with too much drink: sorry that you have paid too much; and sorry that you are paid too much : purse and brain both empty: the brain the heavier for being too light, the purse too light, being drawn of heaviness. O! of this contradiction you shall now be quit.-O the charity of a penny cord! it sums up thousands in a trice: you have no true debitor and creditor but it; of what's past, is, and to come, the discharge:-your neck, sir, is pen, book, and counters; so the aquittance follows. Post. I am merrier to die, than thou art to live. Gaol. Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the toothach but a man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think, he would change places with his officer: for, look you, sir, you know not which way you shall go. Post. Yes, indeed, do I, fellow. Gaol. Your death has eyes in's head then; I have not seen him so pictured: you must either be directed by some that take upon them to know; or take upon yourself that, which I am sure you do not know; or jump the after-inquiry on your own peril: and how you shall speed in your journey's end, I think, you'll never return to tell one. Post. I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to direct them the way I am going, but such as wink, and will not use them. be Gaol. What an infinite mock is this, that a man should have the best use of eyes, to see the way of blindness! I am sure hanging's the way of winking. Enter a Messenger. Mess. Knock off his manacles; bring your pri soner to the king. Post. Thou bringest good news :-I am called to be made free. Gaol. I'll be hanged, then. Post. Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler, no bolts for the dead. [exeunt Post. and Mess. Gaol. Unless a man would marry a gallows, and beget young gibbets, I never saw one so prone. Yet, on my conscience, there are verier knaves desire to live, for all he be a Roman: and there be some of them too, that die against their wills; so should I, if I were one. I would we were all of one mind, and one mind good; O, there were desolation of gaolers, and gallowses! I speak against my present profit; but my wish hath a preferment in't. [exeunt. SCENE V. CYMBELINE'S TENT. Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, Pisanio, Lords, Officers, and Attendants. by Cym. Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made Such noble fury in so poor a thing: Cym. No tidings of him? Pis. He hath been search'd among the dead and But no trace of him. [living Cym. To my grief, I am [to Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus. In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen: Further to boast, were neither true nor modest, Unless I add, we are honest. Cym. Bow your knees: Arise, my knights o'the battle: I create you Enter Cornelius and Ladies. Cor. Hail, great king! For you a mortal mineral; which, being took, But failing of her end by his strange absence, Cym. Heard you all this, her women? Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; Mine ears, that heard her flattery: nor my heart, That thought her like her seeming; it had been vicious, To have mistrusted her yet, O my daughter! Thou com'st not, Caius, now for tribute; that That their good souls may be appeas'd with slaughter Of you their captives, which ourself have granted: So think of your estate. Luc. Consider, sir, the chance of war: the day Was yours by accident; had gone with us, We should not, when the blood was cool, have threaten'd [gods Our prisoners with the sword. But since the Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives May be call'd ransome, let it come: sufficeth, Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm, Cym. I have surely seen him: His favour is familiar to me. Boy, thou hast look'd thyself into my grace, To say, live, boy: ne'er thank thy master; live: Imo. I humbly thank your highness. Imo. No, no: alack, |