Ev'n to the note o' th' King, or I'll fall in them:
All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd;
Fortune brings in fome boats that are not steer'd. [Exit.

SCENE IX.

Changes to the foreft.

Enter Belarius, Guiderus, and Arviragus.

Guid. The noise is round about us.

Bel. Let us from it.

Arv. What pleasure, Sir, find we in life, to lock it From action and adventure?

Guid. Nay, what hope

Have we in hiding us? this way the Romans
Muft or for Britons flay us, or receive us
For barb'rous and unnatural revolters

During their use, and flay us after.

Bel. Sons,

We'll higher to the mountains, there fecure us.
To the King's party there's no going; newness.
Of Cloten's death (we being not known, nor muster'd
Among the bands) may drive us to a render *

Where we have liv'd; and fo extort from us

That which we've done, whose answer would be death Drawn on with torture.

Guid. This is, Sir, a doubt

(In fuch a time) nothing becoming you,

Nor fatisfying us.

Aro. It is not likely,

That when they hear the Roman horfes neigh,

Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes.
And ears fo 'ploy'd † importantly as now,
That they will wafte their time upon our note
To know from whence we are.

Bel. Oh, I am known

Of many in the army; many years,

Though Cloten then but young, (you fee), not wore him From my remembrance. And, besides, the King

Hath not deferv'd my fervice, nor your loves,

Who find in my exile the want of breeding;

The certainty of this hard life, aye hopelets,

• a render, for a confeffian. † i., employed:

To have the courtefy your cradle promis'd;
But to be still hot fummer's tanlings, and
The fhrinking flaves of winter.

Guid. Than be fo,

Better to cease to be.

Pray, Sir, to th' army.

I and my brother are not known; yourself
So out of thought, and thereto fo o'er grown,
Cannot be question'd.

Arv. By this fun that shines,

I'll thither; what thing is it, that I never
Did fee man die, scarce ever look'd on blood,
But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison t
Never beftrid a horse fave one, that had

A rider like myself who ne'er wore rowel,
Nor iron on his heel? I am asham'd
To look upon the holy fun, to have
The benefit of his blessed beams, remaining
So long a poor unknown.

Guid. By heav'ns, I'll go.

If you will blefs me, Sir, and give me leave,
I'll take the better care: but if you will not,
The hazard therefore due fall on me, by
The hands of Romans !

Arv. So fay I, Amen.

Bel. No reafon I (fince of your lives you fet So flight a valuation) should reserve

My crack'd one to more care. Have with you, boys: If in your country-wars you chance to die,

That is my bed too, lads; and there I'll lie.

Lead, lead; the time feems long: their blood thinks

fcorn

[Afide Till it fly out, and fhew them princes born. [Exeunt.

ACT

V.

SCENE I.

A field between the British and Roman camps.
Enter Pofthumus, with a bloody handkerchief.

TEA, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee; for I wish'd
Thou should't be colour'd thus. You mar-

Poft. YE

ried ones,

If each of you would take this course, how many
Mult murder wives much better than themselves

For wrying but a little? Oh, Pifanio!
Every good fervant 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; so had you faved
The Noble Imogen to repent, and struck

Me, wretch, more worth your vengeance. But, alack,
You fnatch fome hence for little faults; that's love,
To have them fall no more:

-you fome permit

To fecond ills with ills, each worfe than other,

Peace!

And make them dreaded, to the doers' thrift.
But Imogen's your own: do your best wills,
And make me blefs'd 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.
I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heav'ns,
Hear patiently my purpose. I'll difrobe me
Of these Italian weeds, and fuit myself
As do's a Briton peafant; fo I'll fight
Against the part I come with; fo I'll die
For thee, O Imogen, for whom my life
Is, ev'ry breath, a death; and thus unknown,
Pitied, nor hated, to the face of peril
Myfelt I'll dedicate. Let me make men know
More valour in me than my habit fhews;
Gods, put the ftrength o' th' Leonati in me!
To fhame the guife o' th' world, I will begin
The fashion, lefs without, and more within.

[Exit, Enter Lucius, Iachimo, and the Roman army at one door; and the British army at another; Leonatus Pofthumus following like a poor foldier. They march over, and go out. Then enter again in skirmish lachimo and Posthumus; he vanquisheth and difarmeth lachimo, and then leaves him.

Iach. The heavinefs and guilt within my bofom
Takes off my manhood; I've bely'd a lady,
The princess of this country; and the air on't
Revengingly enfeebles me or could this carle,
A very drudge of nature, have fubdu'd me
In my profeffion! Knighthood, and honours born,

As I wear mine, are titles but of fcorn.

If that thy gentry, Britain, go before

This lowt, as he exceeds our lords, the odds

1s, that we scarce are men, and you are gods. [Exit. The battle continues; the Britons fly; Cymbeline is taken; then enter to his refcue, Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.

Bel Stand, ftand; we have th'advantage of the ground; That lane is guarded: nothing routs us, but The villany of our fears.

Guid. Arv. Stand, ftand, and fight.

Enter Pofthumus, and feconds the Britons. They refcue Cymbeline, and exeunt.

Then enter Lucius, Iachimo, and Imogen.

Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and fave thyself; For friends kill friends, and the diforder's fuch As war were hoodwink'd.

Iach. 'Tis their fresh supplies.

Luc. It is a day turn'd firangely. Or betimes Let's reinforce, or fly.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. Another part of the field of battle.

Enter Pofthumus, and a British Lord.

Lord. Cam'st thou from where they made the ftand? Poft. I did:

Though you, it feems, came from the fliers.

Lord. I did.

Poft. No blame be to you, Sir; for all was loft, But that the heavens fought the King hinfelf Of his wings deftitute, the army broken,

• And but the backs of Britons feen; all flying

Through a ftraight lane, the enemy full hearted, Lolling the tongue with flaughtering, having work • More plentiful, than tools to do't, ftruck down Some mortally, fome flightly touch'd, fome falling Merely through fear, that the ftraight pass was damm'd With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards living To die with lengthen'd fhame.

Lord. Where was this lane?

Poft, Clofe by the battle, ditch'd and wall'd with Which gave advantage to an ancient foldier, [turf,

(An honest one, I warrant), who deferv'd

So long a breeding as his white beard came to,
In doing this for's country. 'Thwart the lane,
He, with two ftripplings, lads, more like to run
The country-bafe, than to commit fuch flaughter;
With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer

Than thofe for prefervation cas'd, or fhame *),
Made good the paffage, cry'd to thofe that fled,
Our Britain's harts die flying, not our men;
To darkness fleet fouls that fly backwards! stand;
Or we are Romans, and will give you that
Like beafts which you fhun beaftly, and may fave
But to look back in frown: ftand, ftand,-Thefe three,
Three thousand confident, in act as many;
(For three performers are the file, when all

The reft do nothing), with this word, Stand, ftand,
Accommodated by the place, (more charming
With their own noblenefs, which could have turn'd
A distaff to a lance), gilded pale looks;

Part fhame, part fpirit renew'd; that fome turn'd
But by example, (oh, a fin in war,

Damn'd 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 ftop i' th' chafer, a retire; anon,

[cowards

A rout confufion-thick. Forthwith they ́fly
Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles: flaves,
The ftrides 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
Some flain before, fome dying; fome, their friends
O'erborne i' the former wave; ten, chas'd by one,
Are now each one the flaughterman of twenty;
Those that would die or ere refist, are grown
The mortal bugs o' th' field.

Lord. This was strange chance;

• Shame, for modesty.

+ Some, fox that part which

VOL, VII.

X