5.1 Enter Posthumus, dressed as an Italian gentleman, carrying a bloody cloth
POSTHUMUS
Yea, bloody cloth, I’ll keep thee, for I once wished
Thou shouldst be coloured thus. You married ones,
If each of you should take this course, how many
Must murder wives much better than themselves
For wrying but a little! O 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 lived to put on this; so had you saved
The noble Innogen 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 ill, to the doer’s thrift.
But Innogen is your own. Do your blest wills,
And make me blest to obey. I am brought hither
Among th’Italian gentry, and to fight
Against my lady’s kingdom. ’Tis enough
That, Britain, I have killed thy mistress-piece;
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.
⌈He disrobes himself⌉
So I’ll fight
Against the part I come with; so I’ll die
For thee, O Innogen, 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‘th’ Leonati in me.
To shame the guise o’th’ world, I will begin
The fashion-less without and more within. Exit
5.2 ⌈A march.⌉ Enter Lucius, Giacomo, and the Roman army at one door, and the Briton army at another, Leonatus Posthumus following like a poor soldier. They march over and go out. ⌈Alarums.⌉ Then enter again in skirmish Giacomo and Posthumus: he vanquisheth and disarmeth Giacomo, and then leaves him
GIACOMO
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
5.3 The battle continues. ⌈Alarums. Excursions. The trumpets sound a retreat.⌉ The Britons fly, Cymbeline is taken. Then enter to his rescue Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus
BELARIUS
Stand, stand, we have th’advantage of the ground.
The lane is guarded. Nothing routs us but
The villainy of our fears.
GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS Stand, stand, and fight.
Enter Posthumus like a poor soldier, and seconds the Britons. They rescue Cymbeline and exeunt
5.4 ⌈The trumpets sound a retreat,⌉ then enter Lucius, Giacomo, and Innogen
LUCIUS (to Innogen)
Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself;
For friends kill friends, and the disorder’s such
As war were hoodwinked.
GIACOMO
’Tis their fresh supplies.
LUCIUS
It is a day turned strangely. Or betimes
Let’s reinforce, or fly.
Exeunt
5.5 Enter Posthumus like a poor soldier, and a Briton Lord
LORD
Cam’st thou from where they made the stand?
POSTHUMUS I did,
Though you, it seems, come from the fliers.
LORD Ay.
POSTHUMUS
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 slaught‘ring, having work
More plentiful than tools to do’t, struck down
Some mortally, some slightly touched, some falling
Merely through fear, that the strait pass was dammed
With dead men hurt behind, and cowards living
To die with lengthened shame.
LORD
Where was this lane?
POSTHUMUS
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 ’s 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 cased, or shame-
Made good the passage, cried to those that fled
‘Our Britain’s harts die flying, not her 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