If that thy gentry, Britaine, go before This lowt, as he exceeds our Lords, the odds Is, that we fcarce are men, and you are Gods. [Exit. The battle continues; the Britons fly, Cymbeline is taken; then enter to his refcue, Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus. Bel. Stand, ftand; we have th' advantage of the ground; That lane is guarded; nothing routs us, but Guid. Arv. Stand, ftand, and fight. Enter Pofthumus, and feconds the Britons. They rescue Cymbeline, and Exeunt, Then enter Lucius, Iachimo, and Imogen. Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and fave thyfelf; For friends kill friends, and the diforder's fuch As war were hood-wink'd. Iach. "Tis their fresh fupplies. Luc. It is a day turn'd strangely. Or betimes Let's re-inforce, or fly. [Exeunt. SCENE, another Part of the Field of Battle. Enter Pofthumus, and a British Lord. Lord. Poft. I did. Am'ft thou from where they made the stand? Though you, it feems, came from the fliers. Lord. I did. Poft. No blame be to you, Sir, for all was loft, But that the heavens fought: the King himself Of his wings deftitute, the army broken, And but the backs of Britaine feen; all flying Through a straight lane, the enemy full-hearted, Lolling the tongue with flaught'ring, having work More plentiful, than tools to do't, ftruck down Some mortally, fome flightly touch'd, fome falling Merely Merely through fear, that the ftraight pass was damn'd Lord. Where was this lane? Poft. Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd with turf, Which gave advantage to an ancient foldier, (An honeft one, I warrant,) who deferv'd So long a breeding as his white beard came to, In doing this for's country. 'Thwart the lane, He, with two ftriplings, (lads, more like to run The country bafe, than to commit fuch flaughter; With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer Than those for prefervation cas'd, or fhame,) Made good the paffage, cry'd to those that fled, "Our Britaine's harts die flying, not our men ; "To darkness fleet fouls, that fly backwards! ftand; "Or we are Romans, and will give you that "Like beafts, which you fhun beastly, and may "But to look back in frown: ftand, ftand."-These three, Three thousand confident, in act as many; (For three performers are the file, when all fave The reft do nothing;) with this word, "Stand, ftand,' Part,fhame, part, fpirit-renew'd; that fome, turn'd coward Damn'd in the first beginners!) 'gan to look A rout, confufion thick. Forthwith they fly The life o'th' need; having found the back door open Are Are now each one the flaughter-man of twenty; Lord. This was strange chance, A narrow lane! an old man, and two boys! Poft. '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. Farewel, you are angry. [Exit. Poft. This is a Lord-oh noble mifery, The part I came in. Fight I will no more, Great the flaughter is (26) Nay, do not wonder at it; you are made Rather to wonder at the Things you hear, Than to work any ] Sure, this is mock reafoning with a Vengeance. What! because he was made fitter to wonder at great Actions, than to perform any, is he therefore forbid to wonder? Not and but are perpetually mis. taken for one another in the old Editions. Here 1 Here made by th' Roman; great the answer be, Enter two British Captains, and Soldiers. 1 Cap. Great Jupiter be prais'd, Lucius is taken; 'Tis thought, the old man, and his fons, were angels. 2 Cap. There was a fourth man, in a filly habit, That gave th' affront with them. 1 Cap. So 'tis reported; But none of them can be found. Stand, who's there? Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds 2 Cap. Lay hands on him; a dog! A leg of Rome fhall not return to tell What crows have peck'd them here; he brags his fervice, As if he were of note; bring him to th' King. Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, Pifanio, and Roman captives. The captains prefent Posthumus to Cymbeline, who delivers him over to a Goaler. After which, all go out. 1 Gaol. SCENE changes to a Prifon. Enter Pofthumus, and two goalers. OU fhall not now be ftoll'n, you've locks You upon you; So, graze, as you find pasture. 2 Goal. Ay, or ftomach. 3 [Exeunt Goalers. Poft. Moft welcome, bondage! for thou art a way, I think, to liberty; yet am I better Than one that's fick o'th' gout, fince he had rather By th' fure phyfician, death; who is the key T'unbar thefe locks. My confcience! thou art fetter'd, More than my thanks and wrifts; you good Gods, give me Defir'd, more than conftrain'd; to fatisfy, (27) I know, you are more clement than vile men, And cancel thofe old bonds. Oh Imogen! If of my Freedom 'tis the main part, take [He fleeps. Nonfenfe has one happy Property, in that one needs not many Words to be made fenfible of it; but it is in this refpect, like light, perceived as foon as fhewn... Such is the glaring Nonsense of these Lines. What we can discover from them is this, that the Speaker, in a Fit of Penitency towards Heaven, compares his Circumstances with a Debtor's, who is willing to furrender up all to appease his Creditor. This being the Senfe in general, I may venture to fay, the true Reading must have been thus. -To fatisfy, I d'off my Freedom; 'tis the main part; take The Verb doff is too frequently ufed by our Author to need any Solemn |