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SCENE 1.- A Field between the British and Roman
Enter Posthumus, with a bloody Handkerchief. Post. Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee; for I wished Thou shouldst be coloured 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, alack, You snatch some hence for little faults; that's love, To have them fall no more: you some permit To second ills with ills, each elder worse; And make them dread it to the doer's thrift. 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 killed thy mistress; peace! I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heavens, Hear patiently my purpose : I'll disrobe me
Of these Italian weeds, and suit myself
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 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. If that thy gentry, Britain, go before This lout, 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, stand! We have the advantage of the
ground; The Jane is guarded: nothing routs us, but The villainy of our fears.
Gui. Aro. Stand, stand, and fight!
Enter Posthumus, and seconds the Britons : They rescue
CYMBELINE, and ereunt. Then, enter Lucius, laCHIMO, and Imogen.
Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself: For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such As war were hood-wink'd.
Iach. 'Tis their fresh supplies.
Luc. It is a day turn'd strangely: Or betimes Let's re-enforce, or fly.
SCENE III.- Another Part of the Field.
Enter PosTHUMUS and a British Lord.
Post. I did:
Lord. I did.
Post. No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost,
Through a strait lane; the enemy full-hearted,
Lord. Where was this lane?
Lord. This was strange chance :
Post. Nay, do not wonder at it: You are made
Lord. Nay, be not angry, sir.
Post. 'Lack, to what end?
[Erit. Post. Still going?—This is a lord ! O noble misery!