« НазадПродовжити »
Had liv'd to put on this : so had you
saved 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 permit To second ills with ills, each elder worse ; And make them dread it to the doer's thrift. But Imogen is your own: Do your best wills, And make me bless'd to obey !--I am brought hither Among the Italian gentry, and to fight Against my lady's kingdom: 'Tis enough That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress ; peaee! I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heavens, Hear patiently my purpose : I'll disrobe me Of these Italian weeds, and suit myself As does a Briton peasant : so I'll fight Against the part I come with ; so I'll die For thee, O Imogen, even for whom my life Is, every breath, a death : and thus, unknown, Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril Myself I'll dedicate. Let me make men know More valour in me, than my habits show. Gods put the strength o’the Leonati in me! To shame the guise o'the world, I will begin The fashion, less without, and more within. [Exit.
7 Incite, instigate:
Enter at one side, Lucius, IACHIMO, and the Roman
Army; at the other Side, the British Army;
out. Alarums. 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
manhood : I have belied a lady, The princess of this country, and the air on't Revengingly enfeebles me; Or could this carl, 8 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, GulDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS. Bel. Stand, stand! We have the advantage of the
ground; The lane is guarded: nothing routs us, but The villainy of our fears.
Enter PostHUMUS, and seconds the Britons. They
rescue CYMBELINE, and exeunt. Then, enter Lue CIUS, IACHIMO, and IMOGEN.
Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself: 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.
Another Part of the Field.
Enter PosTHUMUS and a British Lord.
Lord. Cam'st thou from where they made the stand? Post.
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, 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 9 With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards living
, Block'd up:
To die with lengthen'd shame.
Where was this lane?
Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier,
shun beustly; and may save,
"A country game called prison bars, vulgarly prison-bases
A rout, confusion thick : Forthwith they fly
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?
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 ! To-day, how many would have given their honours To have sav'd their carcasses ? took heel to do't,