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Thou should'st be colour'd thus. You married ones,
then tries to disburden himself by imputing part of the crime to Pisanio; he next sooths his mind to an artificial and momentary tranquillity, by trying to think that he has been only an instrument of the gods for the happiness of Imogen. He is now grown reasonable enough to determine, that having done so much evil, he will do no more ; that he will not fight against the country which he has already injured; but as life is not longer supportable, he will die in a just cause, and die with the obscurity of a man who does not think himself worthy to be remembered. JOHNSON.
6- to put on-] Is to incite, to instigate.
7 And make them dread it to the doers' thrift.] Of the various meanings assigned by the commentators, the following appears the most intelligible :-" Some you snatch from hence for little faults ; others you suffer to heap ills on ills, and afterwards make them dread their having done so, to the eternal welfare of the doers.”
The whole speech is in a religious strain.-Thrift signifies a state of prosperity. It is not the commission of the crimes that is supposed to be for the doer's thrift, but his dreading them afterwards, and of course repenting, which ensures his salvation.
Hear patiently my purpose ; I'll disrobe me
Enter at one Side, Lucius, IACHIMO, and the
Roman Army; at the other side, the British Army; LEONATUS POSTHUMUS following it, like a poor Soldier. They march over, and go out. Alarums. Then enter again in skirmish, IACHIMO and PostHUMUS: he vanquisheth and disarmeth IACHIMO, and then leaves him.
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. If that thy gentry, Britain, go before
8- this carl,] Carl or churl (ceonl, Sax.) is a clown or husbandman.
This lout, as he exceeds our lords, the odds
The Battle continues; the Britons fly ; CYMBELINE
is taken ; then enter, to his rescue, BELARIUS,
Stand, stand, and fight! Enter POSTHUMUS, and seconds the Britons: They
rescue CYMBELINE, and exeunt. Then, enter
'Tis their fresh supplies. Luc. It is a day turn'd strangely: Or betimes Let's re-enforce, or fly.
But that the destitute, the artsen, all flying
But that the heavens fought: The king himself
Where was this lane?
So long a breeding, as his white beard came to,
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,
9 The country base,] i. e. a rustick game called prison-bars, vulgarly prison-base.
for preservation cas’d, or shame,)] Shame for modesty, Part, shame, part, spirit renew'd; that some, turn'd
coward But by example (0, 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, 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, chac'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:3 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, Presero'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.
2 bug's -] Terrors.
s Nay, do not wonder at it:] Posthumus first bids him not wonder, then tells him in another mode of reproach, that wonder is all that he was made for.