If that thy gentry, Britaine, go before

This lowt, 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, ftand; we have th' advantage of the ground;

That lane is guarded: nothing routs us, but

The villany of our fears.

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 thy felf;

For friends kill friends, and the diforder's fuch

As war were hood-wink'd:

lach. 'Tis their fresh fupplies.

Luc. It is a day turn'd ftrangely. Or betimes

Let's re-inforce, or fly.

[Exeunt

SCENE, another Part of the Field of Battel.

Enter Pofthumus, and a British lord.

Am'st thou from where they made the Stand?

Lord. Poft. I did.

Though you, it seems, 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 seen; all flying
Through a ftraight lane, the enemy full-hearted,
Lolling the tongue with flaught'ring, having work
More plentiful, than tools to do't, truck down
Some mortally, fome flightly touch'd, fome falling
Meerly through fear, that the ftraight Pafs was
damm'd

With

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

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 honest one, I warrant,) who deserv’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 Base, than to commit fuch slaughter; 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! stand ; "Or we are Romans, and will give you That

"Like beafts, which you fhun beaftly, and may fave "But to look back in frown: ftand, stand."

three,

Three thousand confident, in act as many; (For three performers are the file, when all

-Thefe

The reft do nothing;) with this word, "Stand, ftand,
Accommodated by the place, (more charming

With their own Nobleness, which could have turn'd
A diftaff to a lance) gilded pale looks;

Part, fhame, part, fpirit-renew'd; that some, turn'd

coward

But by example, (oh, a fin in war,

Damn'd in the firft beginners!) 'gan to look
The way that they did, and to grin like lions
Upon the pikes o'th' hunters. Then began
A ftop i'th' chafer, a retire; anon,

A rout, confufion thick. Forthwith they flie
Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles: flaves,
The ftrides they victors made; and now our cowards,
Like fragments in hard voyages, became

The life o'th' need; having found the back door
Of the unguarded hearts, heav'ns, how they wound
open
Some flain before, fome dying; fome, their friends
O'er-borne i'th' former wave; ten, chac'd by one,
VOL. VII.

N

Are

Are now each one the flaughter-man of twenty;
Thofe, that would die or ere refift, are grown
The mortal bugs o'th' field.

Lord. This was strange chance,

A narrow lane! an old man, and two boys!

Poft. Nay, do but wonder at it; you are made (26) Rather to wonder at the things you hear, Than to work any. Will you rhime upon't? And vent it for a mockery? here is one: "Two boys, an old man, (twice a boy,) a lane, "Preferv'd the Britons, was the Romans' bane. Lord. Nay, be not angry, Sir.

Poft. Lack! to what end?

Who dares not ftand 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.
You have put me into rhimes.

Lord. Farewel, you are angry.
Poft. This is a lord

oh noble mifery,

[Exit.

To be i'th' field, and ask what news, of me!
To day, how many would have given their honours
To've fav'd their carcaffes? 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 ftruck. This ugly monster,-
'Tis ftrange he hides him in fresh cups, foft beds,
Sweet words; or hath more minifters than we,
That draw his knives i'th' war- -Well, I will find

him:

For being now a favourer to the Briton,
No more a Briton, I've refum'd again
The part
I came in. Fight I will no more,
But yield me to the veriest hind, that shall

(26) Nay, do not wonder at it; you are made
Rather to wonder at the Things you bear,

Than to work any.]

Sure, this is mock reafoning with a Vengeance. What! becaufe he was made fitter to wonder at great Actions, than to perform any, is he therefore forbid to wonder? Not and but are perpetually mistaken for one another in the old Editions.

Once

Once touch my

fhoulder.

Great the flaughter is

Here made by th' Roman; great the answer be,
Britons must take. For me, my ranfom's death;
On either fide I come to spend my breath;
Which neither here I'll keep, nor bear again,
But end it by fome means for Imogen.

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.
Poft. A Roman

Stand, who's there?

Who had not now been drooping here, if Seconds

Had answer'd him.

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 service,

As if he were of note; bring him to th' King.

Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, Pifanio, and Roman captives. The captains prefent Pofthumus to Cymbeline, who delivers him over to a Goaler. After which, all go out.

SCENE changes to a Prifcn.

Enter Pofthumus, and two goalers.

YOU
YOU fhall not now be ftoln, you've locks

Geal. Y upon you;

So, graze, as you find pasture.

2 Goal. Ay, or ftomach.

[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
Groan fo in perpetuity than be cur'd

By th' fure phyfician, death; who is the key

N 2

T'unbar

T'unbar thefe locks. My confcience! thou art fetter'd,

More than my shanks and wrifts; you good Gods, give

me

The penitent inftrument to pick that bolt;
Then, free for ever. Is't enough, I'm forry?
So children temp'ral fathers do appease ;
Gods are more full of mercy.-

I cannot do it better than in gyves,

-Muft I repent?

Defir'd, more than constrain'd; to fatisfie, (27)
I d' off my freedom; 'tis the main part; take
No ftricter Render of me, than my all.

I know, you are more clement than vile men,
Who of their broken debtors take a third,
A fixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again
On their abatement; that's not my defire.
For Imogen's dear life, take mine; and though
'Tis not fo dear, yet 'tis a life; you coin'd it.
'Tween man and man, they weigh not every ftamp

(27).

-To fatisfy,

If of my Freedom 'tis the main part, take

No Stricter Render of me, than my all.]

Nonfenfe has one happy Property, in That one needs not many Words to be made fenfible of it; but 'tis, in this respect, like light, perceiv'd as foon as fhewn. Such is the glaring Nonfenfe of thefe Lines. What we can discover from them is this, that the Speaker, in a Fit of Penitency towards Heaven, compares his Circumftances 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 say, the true Reading muft have been thus.

-To fatisfy,

I d'off my Freedom; 'tis the main part ; take
No ftricter Render of me than my all.

The Verb doff is too frequently used by our Author to need
any Quotations in Proof; and, furely, here with peculiar Ele-
gance. i. e.
"To give all the Satisfaction I am able to your
"offended Godheads, I voluntarily diveft my felf of my
"Freedom: 'Tis the only Thing I have worth offering by
way of Atonement, take no ftricter Render of me than my
"All.
Mr. Warburton.

Though