A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel,
Nor iron, on his heel? I am asham'd

To look upon the holy sun, to have

The benefit of his bless'd beams, remaining
So long a poor unknown.

Gui.

By heavens, I'll go.
If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave,
I'll take the better care; but if you will not,
The hazard therefore due fall on me by

The hands of Romans.

Arv.

So say I. Amen.

you set

Bel. No reason I, since of
your lives
So slight a valuation, should reserve
My crack'd one to more care.

Have with you, boys.
If in your country wars you chance to die,
That is my bed too, lads, and there I'll lie:

Lead, lead.-[Aside.] The time seems long; their blood

thinks scorn,

Till it fly out, and show them princes born.

[Exeunt.

ACT V. SCENE I.

A Field between the British and Roman Camps.

Enter POSTHUMUS, with a bloody Handkerchief.

Post. Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee; for I wish'd Thou should'st be colour'd thus. You married ones, If each of you should take this course, how many Must murder wives much better than themselves,

6 for I wish'd] "For I am wish'd" in the editions before that of Pope. Perhaps "I am wish'd" ought to be taken for "I have wish'd;" one auxiliary verb being used instead of another.

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 saved
The noble Imogen to repent, and struck

Me, wretch, more worth your vengeance. But, alack !
You snatch some hence for little faults; that's love,
To have them fall no more: you some permit
To second ills with ills, each elder worse;
And make them dread it, to the doer's thrift 3.
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'll disrobe me
Of these Italian weeds, and suit myself
As does 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. Let me make men know
More valour in me, than my habits show.
Gods, put the strength o' the Leonati in me!
To shame the guise o' the world, I will begin
The fashion, less without, and more within.

[Exit.

7 Had liv'd to PUT ON this:] To "put on" is to incite or instigate. See "Hamlet," Vol. vii. p. 348,

"Of deaths put on by cunning."

8 And make them dread it, to the doer's thrift.] This obscure line has occasioned dispute; but Monck Mason seems to have best given the sense of the original words, (from which some of the commentators have varied) when he says that they mean, " 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."

SCENE II.

The Same.

Enter at one Side, LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and the Roman Army: at the other Side, the British Army; LEONATUS POSTHUMUS following 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

This lout, as he exceeds our lords, the odds

Is, that we scarce are men, and you are gods. [Exit.

The Battle continues: the Britons fly; CYMBELINE is taken then enter, to his rescue, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.

Bel. Stand, stand! We have the advantage of the ground.

The lane is guarded: nothing routs us, but

The villainy of our fears.

Gui. Arv.

Stand, stand, and fight!

9 - or could this CARL,] "Carl" and churl seem to have been the same word, and both derived from the Saxon ceorl, or from the Gothic karl. It means a rustic or clown, and it is so used by Chaucer. We have had carlot in Vol. iii. p. 70.

Enter POSTHUMUS, and seconds the Britons; they rescue CYMBELINE, and exeunt: then, enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and IMOGEN.

Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself; For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such

As war were hood-wink'd.

Iach.

"Tis their fresh supplies.

[Exeunt.

Luc. It is a day turn'd strangely: or betimes

Let's re-enforce, or fly.

SCENE III.

Another Part of the Field.

Enter POSTHUMUS and a British Lord.

Lord. Cam'st thou from where they made the stand?

Post.

Though you, it seems, come from the fliers.

I did;

I did.

Lord.

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's 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; cry'd 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 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,

The country BASE,] i. e. The country game of prison-base, or prison-bars, mentioned by many old writers by the name of base; but by Drayton in his "Polyolbion," Song 30, called "prison-base."