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- $Unique_ID{SSP03675}
- $Title{Cymbeline: Act V, Scene III}
- $Author{Shakespeare, William}
- $Subject{}
- $Log{Dramatis Personae*03650.txt}
-
- Portions copyright (c) CMC ReSearch, Inc., 1989
-
- The Complete Works of William Shakespeare
-
- CYMBELINE
-
-
- ACT V
- ................................................................................
-
-
- SCENE III: Another part of the field.
- . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
-
- {Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and a British Lord.}
-
- Lord: Camest thou from where they made the stand?
-
- POSTHUMUS LEONATUS: I did.
- Though you, it seems, come from the fliers.
-
- Lord: I did.
-
- POSTHUMUS LEONATUS: 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 straight 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 10
- Merely through fear; that the straight pass
- was damm'd
- With dead men hurt behind, and cowards living
- To die with lengthen'd shame.
-
- Lord: Where was this lane?
-
- POSTHUMUS LEONATUS: Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd with turf;
- Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier,
- An honest one, I warrant; who deserved
- So long a breeding as his white beard came to,
- In doing this for's country: athwart the lane,
- He, with two striplings-lads more like to run
- The country base than to commit such slaughter 20
- With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer
- Than those for preservation cased, or shame--
- Made good the passage; cried 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 30
- 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 40
- 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 backdoor 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, chased by one,
- Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty:
- Those that would die or ere resist are grown 50
- The mortal bugs o' the field.
-
- Lord: This was strange chance
- A narrow lane, an old man, and two boys.
-
- POSTHUMUS LEONATUS: 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,
- Preserved the Britons, was the Romans' bane.'
-
- Lord: Nay, be not angry, sir.
-
- POSTHUMUS LEONATUS: 'Lack, to what end?
- Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his friend; 60
- 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're angry.
-
- POSTHUMUS LEONATUS: Still going?
-
- [Exit Lord.]
-
- 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 saved their carcasses! took heel to do't,
- And yet died too! I, in mine own woe charm'd,
- Could not find death where I did hear him groan,
- Nor feel him where he struck: being an ugly monster, 70
- '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 Briton,
- No more a Briton, I have resumed 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 be
- Britons must take. For me, my ransom's death; 80
- 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.}
-
- First Captain: Great Jupiter be praised! Lucius is taken.
- 'Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels.
-
- Second Captain: There was a fourth man, in a silly habit,
- That gave the affront with them.
-
- First Captain: So 'tis reported:
- But none of 'em can be found. Stand! who's there?
-
- POSTHUMUS LEONATUS: A Roman,
- Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds 90
- Had answer'd him.
-
- Second Captain: 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 CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS,
- PISANIO, Soldiers, Attendants, and Roman Captives.
- The Captains present POSTHUMUS LEONATUS to
- CYMBELINE, who delivers him over to a Gaoler:
- then exeunt omnes.}
-