Imatges de pÓgina



The Forest.

Drums, Trumpets, fc.


Guid. The noise is round about us.

Bel. Let us from it. We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us. To the king's party there's no going; newness Of Cloten's death" (we being not known, nor muster'd Among the bands), may drive us to a render Where we have liv'd; and so extort from us That, which we have done, whose answer would be

Drawn on with torture.

Guid. This is, sir, a doubt,
In such a time, nothing becoming you,
Nor satisfying us.

Aro. It is not likely,
That, when they hear the Roman horses neigh,
Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes
And ears, so cloy'd importantly as now,
That they will waste their time upon our note,
To know from whence we are.

Bel. O, I am known
Of many in the army :

And, besides, the King
Hath not deserv'd

service nor your

Guid. 'Pray, sir, to the army:
I and my brother are not known; yourself,
So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown,
Cannot be question'd.

Arv. By this sun that shines,
I'll thither! What thing is it, that I never
Did see man die! scarce ever look'd on blood,
But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison !
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.

Guid. 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!

Bel. No reason I, since on your lives you set
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. [Exeunt.

Drums, Trumpets, &c.

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A Plain, between the British and Roman Camps.

Enter Posthumus, with a bloody Handkerchief.
Post. Yea, bloody cloth, i'll keep thee; for I

Thou shouldst be colour'd thus. You married ones,
If each of you would take this course, how many
Must murder wives much better than themselves,
For wrying but a little !-0, 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 sav'd
The noble Imogen to repent; and struck
Me, wretch !-more worth your vengeance.
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 have conceal’d
My Italian weeds, under this semblance of
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

Is, every breath, a death : and thus, unknown,
Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril
Myself I'll dedicate.

(Drums, Trumpets, &c.
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.

[Drums, Trumpets, &c.—Exit.


The Field of Battle.


An Engagement between the Britons and the Romans

the Britons are repulsed.

Enter Posthumus and IACHIMO, fighting.-IACHIMO

is disarmed.

Post. Or yield thee, Roman, or thou diest!
Iach. Peasant, behold my breast !
Post. No; take thy life, and mend it. [Exit.

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.
With Heaven against me, what is sword or shield ?
My guilt, my guilt o'erpowers me, and I yield.

[Drums, Trumpets, fc.-Exit.

An Engagement between the Britons and the Romans,

in which the Romans fly before BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.


The Forest, neur the Cave.

Drums, Trumpets, &c.

Enter PISANIO and Second LORD.

2 Lord. This is a day turn'd strangely. Cam’st thou from where they made the stand ?

Pisanio. I did:
Though you, it seems, come from the fliers.

2 Lord. I did,

Pisanio. 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 straight lane: the enemy full hearted, Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, struck down Some mortally, some slightly touch’d, some falling Merely through fear; that the straight pass was

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

2 Lord. Where was this lane? Pisanio. Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd

with turf; Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier ; (An honest one, I warrant;)--athwart the lane, He, with two striplings, (lads, more like to run The country base, than to commit such slaughter), Made good the passage; cry'd to the fiers, “ Stand ! Or we are Romans, and will give you that Like beasts, which you shun beastly; and may save,

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