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.
-- 188 --
Post.
No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost,
But that the heavens fought1 note: The king himself
Of his wings destitute2 note
, 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
With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards living
To die with lengthen'd shame.
Lord.
Where was this lane?
Post.
Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd with turf3 note
;
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,
-- 189 --
In doing this for his country;—athwart the lane,
He, with two striplings, (lads more like to run
The country base4 note
, than to commit such slaughter;
With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer
Than those for preservation cas'd, or shame5 note,)
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 (O, a sin 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' the hunters. Then began
A stop i' the chaser, a retire; anon,
A rout, confusion thick: Forthwith, they fly
-- 190 --
Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles; slaves,
The strides they victors made6 note: And now our cowards
(Like fragments in hard voyages,) became
The life o' the need7 note
; having found the back-door open
Of the unguarded hearts, Heavens, how they wound!
Some, slain before; some, dying; some, their friends
O'er-borne 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 bugs8 note
o' the field.
Lord.
This was strange chance:
A narrow lane! an old man, and two boys!
Post.
Nay, do not wonder at it9 note: You are made
-- 191 --
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:
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 lord1 note! 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,
And yet died too? I, in mine own woe charm'd2 note
,
-- 192 --
Could not find death, where I did hear him groan;
Nor feel him, where he struck: Being an ugly monster,
'Tis strange, he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds,
Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we
That draw his knives i' the war.—Well, I will find him:
For being now a favourer to the Roman3 note,
No more a Briton, I have resum'd again
The part I came in: Fight I will no more,
But yield me to the veriest hind, that shall
Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is
Here made by the Roman; great the answer be4 note
Britons must take; For me, my ransome's death;
On either side I come to spend my breath;
Which neither here I'll keep, nor bear again,
But end it by some means for Imogen.
Enter Two British Captains, and Soldiers.
1 Cap.
Great Jupiter be prais'd! Lucius is taken;
'Tis thought, the old man and his sons were angels.
2 Cap.
There was a fourth man, in a silly habit5 note
,
That gave the affront with them6 note
.
-- 193 --
1 Cap.
So 'tis reported:
But none of them can be found.—Stand7 note
! who is there?
Post.
A Roman;
Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds
Had answer'd him.
2 Cap.
Lay hands on him; a dog!
A leg of Rome shall not return to tell
What crows have peck'd them here: He brags his service
As if he were of note: bring him to the king.
Enter Cymbeline8 note, attended; Belarius, Guiderius,
Arviragus, Pisanio, and Roman Captives.
The Captains present Posthumus to Cymbeline,
who delivers him over to a Gaoler: after
which, all go out.
-- 194 --
James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
