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, Foulest in the beginners!) 'gan to look The way that they did, and to grin like lions 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'erborne 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! 2 Bug-bears, terrors. 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, 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: I know, he'll quickly fly my friendship too. Lord. Post. Still going? misery! Farewell, you are angry. [Exit. This is a lord! O noble To be i' the field, and ask, what news, of me! 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. him : Well, I will find For being now a favourer to the Roman, 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 habit, That gave the affront3 with them. 1 Cap. So 'tis reported: But none of them can be found. Stand! who is there? Post. A Roman; Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds Had answered 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 CYMBELINE, 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. SCENE IV. A Prison. Enter POSTHUMUS, and Two Gaolers. 1 Gaol. You shall not now be stolen, you have locks upon you; So, graze, as you find pasture. 2 Gaol. Ay, or a stomach. [Exeunt Gaolers. Post. Most welcome bondage! for thou art a way, I think, to liberty: Yet am I better Than one that's sick o' the gout: since he had rather Groan so in perpetuity, than be cur'd By the sure physician, death; who is the key To unbar these locks. My conscience! thou art fetter'd More than my shanks, and wrists: You good gods, give me The penitent instrument, to pick that bolt, I know, you are more clement than vile men, Though light, take pieces for the figure' sake: You rather mine, being yours: And so, great powers, If you will take this audit, take this life, 4 Fetters. [He sleeps. Solemn Musick.' Enter, as an Apparition, SICILIUS LEONATUS, Father to POSTHUMUS, an old Man, attired like a Warrior; leading in his Hand an ancient Matron, his Wife, and Mother to POSTHUMUS, with Musick before them. Then, after other Musick, follow the Two Young Leonati, Brothers to PoSTHUMUS, with wounds, as they died in the Wars. They circle PoSTHUMUS round, as he lies sleeping. Sici. No more, thou thunder master, show, With Mars fall out, with Juno chide, That thy adulteries Rates and revenges. Hath my poor boy done aught but well, I died, whilst in the womb he stay'd Whose father then (as men report, Thou should'st have been, and shielded him Sici. Great nature, like his ancestry, That he deserv'd the praise o' the world, 1 Bro. When once he was mature for man, That could stand up his parallel ; Or fruitful object be 5 This Scene is supposed not to be Shakspeare's, but foisted in by the Players for mere show. |