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 |
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 turf; |
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, |
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; 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 |
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 of 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 |
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'er-borne i' the former wave; ten, chas'd by one, |
Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty; |
Those that would die or ere resist are grown |
The mortal bugs o' 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 rime 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 rime. |
Lord. Farewell; you're 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 carcases! 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, |
'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 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 be |
Britons must take. For me, my ransom's death; |
On either side I come to spend my breath, |
Which neither here I'll keep nor bear agen, |
But end it by some means for Imogen. |
|
Enter two British Captains, and Soldiers. |
First Cap. Great Jupiter be prais'd! Lucius is taken. |
'Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels. |
Sec. Cap. There was a fourth man, in a silly habit, |
That gave th' affront with them. |
First Cap. So 'tis reported; |
But none of 'em can be found. Stand! who is there? |
Post. A Roman, |
Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds |
Had answer'd him. |
Sec. Cap. Lay hands on him; a dog! |
A lag 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, attended: BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, and Roman Captives. The Captains present POSTHUMUS to CYMBELINE, who delivers him over to a Gaoler; then exeunt omnes. |
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