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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:

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,

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, 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.

[Exit.

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.

Clown,

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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.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

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.
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 desery'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 Britain's harts die Aying, 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 beustly; 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,
Damnd 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 country game called prison bars, vulgarly prison-bases

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'erborne i’the former wave : ten, chac'd by one,
Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty :
Those, that would die or ere resist, are grown
The mortal bugso'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, u lane,
Preserv'd the Britons, was the Roman's bane.

Lord. Nay, be not angry, sir.
Post.

’Lack, to what end?
Who dares not stand his 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 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,

2 Terrors.

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