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A Plain, between the British and Roman Camps.

Enter Posthumus, with a bloody Handkerchief. Post. Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee; for I

Thou shouldst be colour'd thus. You married ones,
If each of you would take this course, how many
Must murder wives much better than themselves,
For wrying but a little !—O, Pisanio !
Every good servant does not all commands :
No bond, but to do just ones.—Gods ! if you
Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I never
Had liv'd to put on this : so had you

The noble Imogen to repent; and struck
Me-wretch !—more worth your vengeance.-
But Imogen is your own: Do your

best wills,
And make me bless'd to obey :—I am brought hither
Among the Italian gentry, and to fight
Against my lady's kingdom: "Tis enough
That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress; peace!
I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good Heavens,
Hear patiently my purpose: I have conceal'd
My Italian weeds, under this semblance of
A Briton peasant: so I'll fight
Against the part I come with; so I'll die
For thee, O Imogen ! even for whom my life
Is, every breath, a death : and thus, unknown,
Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril
Myself I'll dedicate.

[Drums, Trumpets, &c. Gods, put the strength oʻthe Leonati in me! To shame the guise o' the world, I will begin The fashion, less without, and more within.

[Drums, Trumpets, &c.—Exit.


The Field of Battle.


An Engagement between the Britons and the Romans

the Britons are repulsed.

Enter Posthumus and Iachimo, fighting.-- IACHIMO

is disarmed.

Post. Or yield thee, Roman, or thou diest !
Iach. Peasant, behold my breast !
Post. No; take thy life, and mend it.

[Exit. Iach. The heaviness and guilt within my

bosom Takes off my manhood: I have belied a lady, The princess of this country, and the air on't Revengingly enfeebles me; or could this carl, A very drudge of nature's, have subdu'd me In my profession? Knighthoods and honours, borne As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn. With Heaven against me, what is sword or shield ? My guilt, my guilt o'erpowers me, and I yield.

[Drums, Trumpets, &c.—Exit.

An Engagement between the Britons and the Romans,

in which the Romans fly before BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.


The Forest, near the Cave.

Drums, Trumpets, &c.

Enter Pisanio and Second Lord. 2 Lord. This is a day turn'd strangely. Cam'st thou from where they made the stand ?

Pisanio. I did : Though you,


seems, come from the fliers. 2 Lord. I did.

Pisanio. 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, struck down Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling Merely through fear; that the straight pass was

damn'd With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards living To die with lengthen'd shame.

2 Lord. Where was this lane ? • Pisanio. Close by the battle, ditch'd, and walld

with turf; Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier ; (An honest one, I warrant;)—athwart the lane, He, with two striplings, (lads, more like to run The country base, than to commit such slaughter), Made good the passage; cry'd to the fiers, " 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

three2 Lord. Were there but three? Pisanio, There was a fourth man, in a poor rustic

habit, That stood the front with them. These matchless

four, Accommodated by the place, gilded pale looks ; Part, shame; part, spirit renew'd ; that some, turn'd

But by example, '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 ; and the event,
A victory for us.

2 Lord. This was strange chance.-
An old man, two boys, and a poor rustic!

Pisanio. Nay, do not wonder :—go with me, and These wonders, sir, and join the general joy.

(Drums, Trumpets, &c.Exeunt.


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Enter Posthumus. Post. 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'd,

Could not find death, where I did hear him groan;
Nor feel him, where he struck.
Well, I will find him :
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
On either side. 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. [Exit.


Cymbeline's Tent.

A Retreat sounded.

Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus,

Pisanio, and British Soldiers, discovered. Cym. Stand by my side, you, whom the gods have

Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart,
That the poor soldier, that so richly fought,

rags shamed gilded arms, whose naked breast
Stepp'd before targe of proof, cannot be found :
He shall be happy, that can find him, if
Our grace can make him so.

Bel. I never saw
Such noble fury in so poor a thing.

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