Among the bands) may drive us to a render
Where we have liv'd; and fo extort from us

That which we've done, whose answer would be death Drawn on with torture.

Guid. This is, Sir, a doubt

(In fuch a time) nothing becoming you,

Nor fatisfying us.

Arv. It is not likely.

That when they hear the Roman horfes neigh,
Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes

And ears fo cloy'd importantly as now,

That they will waste their time upon our note
To know from whence we are.

Bel, Oh, I am known

Of many in the army; many years,

Though Cloten then but young, (you fee) not wore him
From my remembrance. And, befides, the King
Hath not deferv'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 courtefy your cradle promis'd;
But to be ftill hot fummer's tanlings, and
The fhrinking flaves of winter.

Guid. Than be so,

Better to cease to be. Pray, Sir, to th' army;
I and my brother are not known; yourself
So out of thought, and thereto fo o'ergrown,
Cannot be queftion'd.

Arv. By this fun that fhines,

I'll thither; what thing is it, that I never

Did fee man die, fcarce ever look'd on blood,

But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison ?
Never beftrid a horse fave one, that had

A rider like myfelf who ne'er wore rowel,
Nor iron on his heel? I am asham'd

To look upon the holy fun, to have
The benefit of his best beams, remaining
So long a poor unknown.

Guid. By heav'ns l'll go;

lf you will blefs 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 fay I, Amen.

Bel. No reafon I (fince of your lives you fet So flight a valuation) fhould referve

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 feems long: their blood thinks fcorn 'Till it fly out, and fhew them Princes born. [Exeunt.

A CT V.

SCENE, a Field between the British and Roman Camps.

Y

Enter Pofthumus, with a bloody handkerchief,

POSTHUMUS.

EA, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee; for I wish't,
Thou shouldft be colour'd thus. You married ones,
If each of you would take this courfe, how many
Muft murder wives much better than themselves,
For wrying but a little? oh, Pifanio!

Every good fervant does not all commands;
No bond, but to do juft ones.
Gods! if you

Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I ne'er
Had liv'd to put on this; fo had you fav'd
The noble Imogen to repent, and struck

Me, wretch, more worth your vengeance. But alack,
You fnatch from hence for little faults; that's love;
To have them fall no more :-you fome permit (48)

(48)

-you fome permit

Το

To fecond ills with ills, each worse than other, And make them dread it, to the doer's thri t.] The divinityschools have not furnish'd juster observations on the conduct of Pro

vidence,

To fecond ills with ills, each worse than other,
And make them dreaded to the doers' thrift-
But Imogen's your own: do your best wills,
And make me bleft t'obey! I am brought hither
Among th' Italian gentry, and to fight

Against my lady's kingdom; 'tis enough,
That, Britain, I have kill'd thy miftrefs: Peace!
I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heav'ns,
Hear patiently my purpose. I'll difrobe me
Of thefe Italian weeds, and fuit myself
As does a Briton peafant; fo I'll fight
Against the part I come with; fo I'll die
For thee, O Imogen, for whom my life
Is, every breath, a death; and thus unknown,
Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril

Ι

Myfelf I'll dedicate. Let me make men know
More valour in me, than my habits fhew;
Gods, put the ftrength o'th' Leonati in me!

vidence, than Posthumus gives us here in his private reflections. You Gods, fays he, act in a different manner with your different creatures; You fnatch fome bence for little faults ; that's love;

To bave them fall no more.

This feems a fine fhort comment on what St. Paul fays to the Hebrews, “Ον ἀγαπᾷ ΚύριΘι παιδεύει. The Lord chaftenerb whom he loveth. The philofopher Seneca is more ample upon the same subject; Hos Deus, quos probat, quos amat, indurat, recognofcit, exercet.— Others, fays our Poet, you permit to live on, to multiply and increase in crimes,

And make them dread it, to the doer's thrift. Here's a relative without an antecedent fubftantive; and a genitive cafe fingular, when all the other members of the fentence run in the plural. Both which are a breach of grammar. We must certainly read,

And make them dreaded, to the doers' thrift.

i. e. others you permit to aggravate one crime with more: which enormities not only make them revered and dreaded, but turn in other kinds to their advantage. Dignity, refpect, and profit, accrue to them from crimes committed with impunity.

-multi

Committunt eadem diverfo crimina fato:

Ille Crucem precium fceleris tulit, bic diadema. Juven. Sat. 13.
Criminibus debent bortos, prætoria, menfas,

Argentum vetus, & ftantem extrà pocula caprum. Idem. Sat. 1.

Το

[Exit.

To fhame the guife o'th' world, I will begin The fashion, lefs without, and more within. Enter Lucius, Tachimo, and the Roman army at one door; aud the British army at another: Leonatus Pofthumus following like a poor foldier. They march over, and go out. Then enter again in fkirmish Iachimo and Pofthumus; he vanquisheth and disarmeth Iachimo, and then leaves him.

Iach. The heavinefs, and guilt, within my bofom, Takes off my manhood; I've bely'd a lady, The Princess of this country; and the air on't Revengingly enfeebles me: or could this carle, A very drudge of nature, have fubdu'd me In my profeffion! Knighthoods, and honours borne, As I wear mine, are titles but of fcorn;

If that thy gentry, Britaine, go before

This lowt, 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 refcue, Belarius, Guiderius, and
Arviragus.

Bel. Stand, ftand; we have th' advantage of the ground;

That lane is guarded; nothing routs us, but
The villany of our fears.

Guid. Arv. Stand, ftand, and fight.

Enter Pofthumus, and feconds the Britons. They refue Cymbeline, and exeunt.

Then enter Lucius, Iachimo, and Imogen.

Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and fave thyself; For friends kill friends, and the disorder's fuch As war were hoodwink'd.

Iach. 'Tis their fresh fupplies.

Luc. It is a day turn'd ftrangely. Or betimes Let's reinforce, or fly.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

SCENE, another Part of the Field of Battle.

Enter Pofthumus, and a British Lord.

Lord. Poft. I did.
C

Am'st thou from where they made the stand

Though you, it feems, came from the fliers.
Lord. I did.

Poft. No blame be to you, Sir, for all was loft,
But that the heavens fought: the King himself
Of his wings deftitute, the army broken,
And but the backs of Britains feen; all flying
Through a ftraight lane; the enemy full-hearted,
Lolling the tongue with flaught'ring, having work
More plentiful, than tools to do't, ftruck down
Some mortally, fome flightly touch'd, fome falling
Merely through fear, that the straight pafs was damm'd
With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards living
To die with lengthen'd fhame.

Lord. Where was this lane?

Poft. Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd with turf, Which gave advantage to an ancient foldier, (An honeft one, I warrant) who deferv'd

So long a breeding as his white beard came to,
In doing this for's country. 'Thwart the lane,
He, with two ftriplings, (lads, more like to run
The country base, than to commit fuch flaughter;
With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer
Than thofe for prefervation cas'd, or fhame)
Made good the paffage, cry'd to thofe that fled;
"Our Britaine's harts die flying, not our men; (49)
"To darkness fleet fouls, that fly backwards! ftand;

(49) Our Britaine's hearts die flying, not our men;]

Thus all the editions, and thus Mr. Pope in his Quarto edition, moft implicitly obfequious to nonfenfe. I corrected the passage in the Appendix to my SHAKESPEARE Reftor'd, as I have now reform'd it in the text, (and as Dr. Thirlby likewife faw it should be) and Mr. Hope has follow'd my correction in his last edition of our Author. " Or

VOL. VII.

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