To the grave.

Arv.

Gui. By good Euriphile, our mother.
Arv.

Both. Quiet consummation have;
And renowned be thy grave!

Re-enter BELARIUS, with the body of CLOTEN. Gui. We have done our obsequies: Come, lay him down.

Bel. Here's a few flowers; but about midnight,

more:

The herbs, that have on them cold dew o'the night,

:

Say, where shall's lay him? Are strewings fitt'st for graves.—Upon their faces :-
You were as flowers, now wither'd even so
These herb'lets shall, which we upon you strow.—
Come on, away: apart upon our knees.
The ground, that gave them first, has them again:
Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain.
[Exeunt BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.
Imo. [Awaking.] Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven
Which is the way?

Be't so:
And let us, Polydore, though now our voices
Have got the mannish crack, sing him to the ground,
As once our mother; use like note, and words,
Save that Euriphile must be Fidele.

Gui. Cadwal,

I cannot sing: I'll weep, and word it with thee:
For notes of sorrow, out of tune, are worse
Than priests and fanes that lie.

Arv.

We'll speak it then.

Bel. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less: for
Cloten

Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys:
And, though he came our enemy, remember,
He was paid for that: Though mean and mighty,
otting

Together, have one dust; yet reverence,
(That angel of the world,) doth make distinction
Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely;
And though you took his life, as being our foe,
Yet bury him as a prince.

Gui.
Pray you, fetch him hither.
Thersites' body is as good as Ajax,
When neither are alive.

Gut. Fear no more the heat o'the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages:
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

Arv. Fear no more the frown o'the great,
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;

Care no more to clothe, and eat;

To thee the reed is as the oak:

The sceptre, learning, physick, must
All follow this, and come to dust.

Gui. Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Arv. Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone
Gui. Fear not slander, censure rash;
Arv. Thou hast finish'd joy and moan:
Both. All lovers young, all lovers must

Consign to thee, and come to dust.

Gut. No exorciser harm thee!
Arv. Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Gui. Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Arv. Nothing ill come near thee!

I tremble still with fear: But if there be
Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity
As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it!
The dream's here still: even when I wake, it is
Without me, as within me; not imagin'd, felt.
A headless man ! — The garments of Posthumus!
I know the shape of his leg: this is his hand;
His foot Mercurial: his Martial thigh;

The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovial face-
Murder in heaven? How?-'Tis gone.-Pisanio,
Begin. All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou,
Conspir'd with that irregulous devil, Cloten,
Hast here cut off my lord. To write, and read,
Be henceforth treacherous! - Damn'd Pisanio
Hath with his forged letters, - damn'd Pisanio-
From this most bravest vessel of the world
Struck the main-top! — O, Posthúmus! alas,
Where is thy head? where's that? Ah me! where's
that?

Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart,

And left this head on. How should this be?

'Tis he, and Cloten: malice and lucre in them
Have laid this woe here. O, 'tis pregnant, pregnant!
The drug he gave me, which, he said, was precious
And cordial to me, have I not found it
Murd'rous to the senses? That confirms it home:
This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's: O!-
Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood,
That we the horrider may seem to those
Which chance to find us: O, my lord, my lord!

Enter Lucius, a Captain, and other Officers, and a
Soothsayer.

Cap. To them, the legions garrison'd in Gallia,
After your will, have cross'd the sea; attending

That which we've done, whose answer would be The hands of Romans!

-

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 continves; 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
The villainy of our fears.

Gui. Arv.

Stand, stand, and fight!

Enter POSTHUMUS, and seconds the Britons: They rescue CYMBELINE, and exeunt. Then, enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and IMOGEN.

Made good the passage; cry'd to those that fied,
Our Britain's harts die flying, not our men:
To darkness fleet, souls that fly backwards! Stand;
Or we are Romans, and will give you that
Like beasts, which you shun beastly; and may 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 turn'd
A distaff to a lance,) gilded pale looks,
Part, shame, part, spirit renew'd; that some, turn'd
coward

But by example (O, a sin in war,
Damn'd in the first beginners!) 'gan to look
The way that they did, and to grin like lions
Upon the pikes o'the hunters.
Then began
A stop i'the chaser, a retire; anon,
A rout, confusion thick: Forthwith, they fly
Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles;
slaves,

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, chac'd by one,
Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty:
Those, that would die or ere resist, are grown

Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and save thy- The mortal bugs o'the field.

Post. 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 strait lane; the enemy full-hearted,
Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having work
More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down
Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling |
Merely through fear; that the strait pass was damm'd
With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards living
To die with lengthen'd shame.

Lord.

Where was this lane? Post. Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd with turf;

Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier,—
An honest one, I warrant; who deserv'd

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
The country base, than to commit such slaughter;
With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer
Than those for preservation cas'd, or shame,)

Lord.
This was strange chance:
A narrow lane! an old man, and two boys!
Post. Nay, do not wonder at it: You are made
Rather to wonder at the things you hear,
Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon't,
And vent it for a mockery? Here is one:
Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane,
Preserv'd the Britons, was the Romans' bane.
Lord. Nay, be not angry, sir.

Post.

'Lack, to what end?
Who dares not stand 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 rhyme.

Lord.

Farewell; you are angry.