SCENE III.-A Room in CYMBELINE'S Palace. A fever with the absence of her son; A madness, of which her life's in danger.- How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen, 1st Lord. So please your majesty, The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn, Are landed on your coast; with a supply Of Roman gentleman, by the senate sent. That when they hear the Roman horses neigh, Cym. Now for the counsel of my son and And ears so cloyed importantly as now, From my remembrance. And besides, the king Gui. Perplexed in all. The heavens still must work. Cannot be questioned. And make me blessed to obey !-I am brought hither Among the Italtan gentry, and to fight Against my lady's kingdom: 't is enough heavens, Hear patiently my purpose: I'll disrobe me SCENE II.-The same. Enter, at one side, LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and the Roman army; at the other side, the British army; LEONATUS POSTHUMUS following it, 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 As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn. 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 Post. Close by the battle, ditched, and walled with turf; Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier,An honest one, I warrant; who deserved So long a breeding as his white beard came to, In doing this for his country; -athwart the lane, He, with two striplings (lads more like to run Or we are Romans, and will give you that 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 turned A distaff to a lance), gilded pale looks, But by example (O, a sin in war 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 O'er-borne i' the former wave: ten, chaced by one, Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty: To have saved their carcasses? took heel to do 't, And yet died too? I, in mine own woe charmed, Could not find Death where I did hear him groan, Nor feel him where he struck: being an ugly monster, 'Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds, Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we That draw his knives i' the war.-Well, I will find him : For being now a favourer to the Roman, Here made by the Romans; great the answer I think, to liberty: yet am I better Groan so in perpetuity, than be cured More than my shanks and wrists: you good gods, give me The penitent instrument, to pick that bolt, I know you are more clement than vile men, stamp; Though light, take pieces for the figure's sake: You rather mine, being yours: and so great powers, If you will take this audit, take this life, And cancel these cold bonds. O Imogen! I'll speak to thee in silence. [He sleeps. |