To him the other two shall minister;

And we will fear no poison, which attends

In place of greater state. I'll meet you in the valleys.

SCENE III.

The Roman legions at length tread the British soil:

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 You here at Milford-Haven, with your ships: They are here in readiness.

Luc.

But what from Rome?

Cap. The senate hath stirred up the confiners, And gentlemen of Italy; most willing spirits That promise noble service: and they come Under the conduct of bold Iachimo,

Sienna's brother.

Luc.

When expect you them?

Cap. With the next benefit o' the wind.

Luc.

This forwardness
Makes our hopes fair. Command, our present numbers
Be muster'd; bid the captains look to 't.-Now, sir,
What have you dream'd, of late, of this war's purpose?

Sooth. Last night the very gods show'd me a vision :
(I fast, and pray'd, for their intelligence,) Thus :—
I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd
From the spungy south to this part of the west,
There vanish'd in the sunbeams: which portends
(Unless my sins abuse my divination)

Success to the Roman host.

Luc.

And never false.

Dream often so,

The cave of Belarius hears the din of the coming strife. One of the youths has slain Cloten, the queen's son. The old

man vainly strives to persuade them to fly to deeper recesses of their mountains :

BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARViragus.

Gui. The noise is round about us.

Bel.

Let us from it.

Arv. What pleasure, sir, find we in life to lock it From action and adventure?

Have we in hiding us? this way, the Romans

Must or for Britons slay us, or receive us
For barbarous and unnatural revolts

During their use, and slay us after.

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, not 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 death
Drawn on with torture.

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: many years,

Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore him
From my remembrance. And, besides, the king

Hath not deserv'd my service, nor your loves ;

Who find in my exile the want of breeding,
The certainty of this hard life; aye, hopeless
To have the courtesy your cradle promis'd,
But to be still hot summer's tanlings, and
The shrinking slaves of winter.

Gui.

Than be so,

Better to cease to be. 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 ?
Never bestrid a horse, save one, that had
A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel
Nor iron on his heel? 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.

Gui.

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 !

you set

Bel. No reason I, since of your lives

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 :

Lead, lead.—The time seems long: their blood thinks scorn, Till it fly out and show them princes born.

[Aside.

The Briton, Posthumus, who has landed with the Roman army, and believes that his lady, Imogen, has been put to death by his

own rash commands, through the falsehood of Iachimo, determines to take part with his countrymen :—

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'll disrobe me
Of these Italian weeds, and suit myself
As does 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 life
Is, every breath, a death: and thus, unknown,
Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril
Myself I'll dedicate. Let me make men know
More valour in me, than my habits show.
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.

The contest between the Roman and British armies is, in this play, exhibited in dumb show. The drama preceding Shakspere was full of such examples. But Shakspere uniformly rejected the practice, except in this instance. The stage directions of the original copy are very curious; and we therefore carry on the narrative by the aid of these stage directions :

Enter at one door LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and the Roman army, and the British army at another. LEONATUS POSTHUMUS following, like a poor soldier.

They march over and go out.

Then enter

again, in skirmish, IACHIMO aud 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 subdued 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 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.

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.

[Exeunt.

Luc. It is a day turn'd strangely: Or betimes Let's re-inforce, or fly.

Enter POSTHUMUS and a British Lord.

Lord. Cam'st thou from where they made the stand?
Post. I did;

Though you, it seems, come from the fliers.

Lord.

I did.

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