Cymbeline by William Shakespeare
Act 5 - Scene 3
Another part of the field.
Lord : Camest thou from where they made the stand?
Posthumus Leonatus : I did.
[p]Though you, it seems, come from the fliers.
Lord : I did.
Posthumus Leonatus : No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost,
[p]But that the heavens
fought: the king himself
[p]Of his wings destitute, the army
broken,
[p]And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying
[p]Through a
straight lane; the enemy full-hearted,
[p]Lolling the tongue with
slaughtering, having work
[p]More plentiful than tools to do't, struck
down
[p]Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling
[p]Merely
through fear; that the straight pass was damm'd
[p]With dead men hurt
behind, and cowards living
[p]To die with lengthen'd shame.
Lord : Where was this lane?
Posthumus Leonatus : Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd with turf;
[p]Which gave
advantage to an ancient soldier,
[p]An honest one, I warrant; who
deserved
[p]So long a breeding as his white beard came to,
[p]In doing
this for's country: athwart the lane,
[p]He, with two striplings-lads
more like to run
[p]The country base than to commit such
slaughter
[p]With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer
[p]Than those
for preservation cased, or shame--
[p]Made good the passage; cried to
those that fled,
[p]'Our Britain s harts die flying, not our
men:
[p]To darkness fleet souls that fly backwards. Stand;
[p]Or we
are Romans and will give you that
[p]Like beasts which you shun
beastly, and may save,
[p]But to look back in frown: stand,
stand.'
[p]These three,
[p]Three thousand confident, in act as
many--
[p]For three performers are the file when all
[p]The rest do
nothing--with this word 'Stand, stand,'
[p]Accommodated by the place,
more charming
[p]With their own nobleness, which could have
turn'd
[p]A distaff to a lance, gilded pale looks,
[p]Part shame, part
spirit renew'd; that some,
[p]turn'd coward
[p]But by example--O, a
sin in war,
[p]Damn'd in the first beginners!--gan to look
[p]The way
that they did, and to grin like lions
[p]Upon the pikes o' the
hunters. Then began
[p]A stop i' the chaser, a retire, anon
[p]A rout,
confusion thick; forthwith they fly
[p]Chickens, the way which they
stoop'd eagles; slaves,
[p]The strides they victors made: and now our
cowards,
[p]Like fragments in hard voyages, became
[p]The life o' the
need: having found the backdoor open
[p]Of the unguarded hearts,
heavens, how they wound!
[p]Some slain before; some dying; some their
friends
[p]O'er borne i' the former wave: ten, chased by one,
[p]Are
now each one the slaughter-man of twenty:
[p]Those that would die or
ere resist are grown
[p]The mortal bugs o' the field.
Lord : This was strange chance
[p]A narrow lane, an old man, and two boys.
Posthumus Leonatus : Nay, do not wonder at it: you are made
[p]Rather to wonder at the
things you hear
[p]Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon't,
[p]And
vent it for a mockery? Here is one:
[p]'Two boys, an old man twice a
boy, a lane,
[p]Preserved the Britons, was the Romans' bane.'
Lord : Nay, be not angry, sir.
Posthumus Leonatus : 'Lack, to what end?
[p]Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his
friend;
[p]For if he'll do as he is made to do,
[p]I know he'll
quickly fly my friendship too.
[p]You have put me into rhyme.
Lord : Farewell; you're angry.
Posthumus Leonatus : Still going?
[p][Exit Lord]
[p]This is a lord! O noble misery,
[p]To
be i' the field, and ask 'what news?' of me!
[p]To-day how many would
have given their honours
[p]To have saved their carcasses! took heel
to do't,
[p]And yet died too! I, in mine own woe charm'd,
[p]Could not
find death where I did hear him groan,
[p]Nor feel him where he
struck: being an ugly monster,
[p]'Tis strange he hides him in fresh
cups, soft beds,
[p]Sweet words; or hath more ministers than
we
[p]That draw his knives i' the war. Well, I will find him
[p]For
being now a favourer to the Briton,
[p]No more a Briton, I have
resumed again
[p]The part I came in: fight I will no more,
[p]But
yield me to the veriest hind that shall
[p]Once touch my shoulder.
Great the slaughter is
[p]Here made by the Roman; great the answer
be
[p]Britons must take. For me, my ransom's death;
[p]On either side
I come to spend my breath;
[p]Which neither here I'll keep nor bear
again,
[p]But end it by some means for Imogen.
First British Captain : Great Jupiter be praised! Lucius is taken.
[p]'Tis thought the old man
and his sons were angels.
Second British Captain : There was a fourth man, in a silly habit,
[p]That gave the affront
with them.
First British Captain : So 'tis reported:
[p]But none of 'em can be found. Stand! who's
there?
Posthumus Leonatus : A Roman,
[p]Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds
[p]Had
answer'd him.
Second British Captain : Lay hands on him; a dog!
[p]A leg of Rome shall not return to
tell
[p]What crows have peck'd them here. He brags
[p]his
service
[p]As if he were of note: bring him to the king.
[p][Enter
CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS,]
[p]PISANIO, Soldiers,
Attendants, and Roman Captives.
[p]The Captains present POSTHUMUS
LEONATUS to
[p]CYMBELINE, who delivers him over to a Gaoler:
[p]then
exeunt omnes]
Previous: Act 5 - Scene 2
Next: Act 5 - Scene 4
