Billeder på siden
PDF
ePub

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,

[ocr errors]

(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
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'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:
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.

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!
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.

him :

Well, I will find

For being now a favourer to the Roman,
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 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 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.

[ocr errors]

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.

[blocks in formation]

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,
Then free for ever! Is't enough, I am sorry?
So children temporal fathers do appease;
Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent?
I cannot do it better than in gyves*,
Desir'd, more than constrain'd: to satisfy,
If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take
No stricter render of me than my all.

I know, you are more clement than vile men,
Who of their broken debtors take a third,
A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again
On their abatement; that's not my desire:
For Imogen's dear life, take mine; and though
'Tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life; you coin'd it:
"Tween man and man, they weigh not every
stamp;

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,
And cancel these cold bonds. O Imogen!
I'll speak to thee in silence.

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,
Thy spite on mortal flies:

With Mars fall out, with Juno chide,

That thy adulteries

[ocr errors]

Rates and revenges.

Hath my poor boy done aught but well,
Whose face I never saw?

I died, whilst in the womb he stay'd
Attending Nature's law.

Whose father then (as men report,
Thou orphans' father art,)

Thou should'st have been, and shielded him
From this earth-vexing smart.
Moth. Lucina lent not me her aid,
But took me in my throes:
That from me was Posthúmus ript,
Came crying 'mongst his foes,.
A thing of pity!

Sici. Great nature, like his ancestry,
Moulded the stuff so fair,

That he deserv'd the praise o' the world,
As great Sicilius' heir.

1 Bro. When once he was mature for man,
In Britain where was he

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.

« ForrigeFortsæt »