The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (847 page)

The strides they victors made; and now our cowards,

Like fragments in hard voyages, became

The life o' th' need. Having found the back-door open

Of the unguarded hearts, heavens, how they wound!

Some slain before, some dying, some their friends

O'erborne i' th' former wave. Ten chas'd by one

Are now each one the slaughterman of twenty.

Those that would die or ere resist are grown

The mortal bugs o' th' field.

Close to the battle, sunken and lined with turf,

which gave a good position for an ancient soldier–

a good one, I think, who deserved

a life as long as his white beard showed he had had,

for his actions for his country. Across the lane

he, with two boys–lads more likely to play

children's games than to commit such slaughter;

their faces were as lovely as those of ladies, in fact better,

who wear masks to preserve their skin or for modesty–

secured the road, crying to those that ran,

‘The deer of Britain die running away, not our men.

The souls that run away will fly to hell! Stand;

or we will become Romans and give you that

which you run away from like animals; you can avoid that

if you just turn around and show defiance. Stand, stand!’ These three,

as brave as three thousand, worth as many in action–

for three men formed the whole army while all

the rest did nothing–calling ‘stand, stand!’

more by virtue of their own nobleness than

their situation, could have turned

a woman into a soldier, brought blood back to the cheeks.

Partly from shame, partly from renewed spirits, some who had

been cowardly just by copying others–a sin for which

even novices in war are condemned!–began to copy

their behaviour and to snarl like lions

faced with the spears of the hunters. Then

the retreat came to a halt; soon

there was a rout, with great confusion. The ones

who had attacked like eagles now fled like chickens:

they had walked like victors and now were slaves: and now

our cowards, like scraps of food on long voyages

began to save lives: having found the back door

of their enemies unguarded, heavens, how they wounded them!

Some who seemed dead before, some who seemed wounded, some

who abandoned their friends in the previous attack, ten running away from one,

now each one was the slaughterman of twenty:

those who were going to die or run away, became

the mortal terrors of the battle.

LORD.

This was strange chance:

A narrow lane, an old man, and two boys.

This was a strange business:

a narrow lane, an old man, and two boys.

POSTHUMUS.

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 mock'ry? Here is one:

'Two boys, an old man (twice a boy), a lane,

Preserv'd the Britons, was the Romans' bane.'

No, don't be amazed; you are the type

who is amazed by miracles you hear about

rather than performing any.Will you make a song of it,

and sing it in fun?Here's one:

'Two boys, an old man (twice a boy), a lane,

saved the Britons, were the Roman's bane.'

LORD.

Nay, be not angry, sir.

No, do not be angry, sir.

POSTHUMUS.

'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.

Alas, why would I be?

Someone who flees the enemy is friend to me;

for if he acts as nature intended,

I know he'll soon leave me unfriended.

You have set me off rhyming.

LORD.

Farewell; you're angry.

Exit

Farewell; you're angry.

POSTHUMUS.

Still going? This is a lord! O noble misery,

To be i' th' field and ask 'What news?' of me!

To-day how many would have given their honours

To have sav'd their carcasses! took heel to do't,

And yet died too! I, in mine own woe charm'd,

Could not find death where I did hear him groan,

Nor feel him where he struck. Being an ugly monster,

'Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds,

Sweet words; or hath moe ministers than we

That draw his knives i' th' war. Well, I will find him;

For being now a favourer to the Briton,

No more a Briton, I have resum'd again

The part I came in. Fight I will no more,

But yield me to the veriest hind that shall

Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is

Here made by th' Roman; great the answer be

Britons must take. For me, my ransom's death;

On either side I come to spend my breath,

Which neither here I'll keep nor bear again,

But end it by some means for Imogen.

Enter two BRITISH CAPTAINS and soldiers

Still running?What a lord this is!What shame,

to be on the battlefield but have to ask me what happened!

How many today tried to sacrifice their honour

to save their skins!They fled to try it,

but they still died!I, lucky in my own sorrow,

couldn't find death where I heard his groans,

nor feel him where he struck others.Being an ugly monster,

it's strange that he should hide in fresh cups, soft beds,

sweet words; and that there are others who serve him apart

from we who draw our knives in war.Well, I will find him;

having fought for the Britons,

I'm a Briton no more, I've put the clothes I came in

back on.I shall fight no more,

but surrender to the weakest man who lays

his hand on my shoulder.The Romans have made

a great slaughter here; the Britons must take

great revenge.I want to pay the price of death;

I'll die here for either side,

I won't save my life or carry it away,

I'll die as payment for Imogen.

FIRST CAPTAIN.

Great Jupiter be prais'd! Lucius is taken.

'Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels.

Great Jupiter be praised!Lucius has been captured.

It's thought the old man and his sons were angels.

SECOND CAPTAIN.

There was a fourth man, in a silly habit,

That gave th' affront with them.

There was a fourth man, in peasant's clothes,

who stood with them.

FIRST CAPTAIN.

So 'tis reported;

But none of 'em can be found. Stand! who's there?

So it's said;

but none of them can be found.Stop!Who goes there?

POSTHUMUS.

A Roman,

Who had not now been drooping here if seconds

Had answer'd him.

A Roman, who wouldn't be slumped here if his supporters

had done as he said.

SECOND CAPTAIN.

Lay hands on him; a dog,

A leg of Rome shall not return to tell

What crows have peck'd them here. He brags his service,

As if he were of note. Bring him to th' King.

Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, and

Roman captives. The CAPTAINS present POSTHUMUS to CYMBELINE, who

delivers him over to a gaoler. Exeunt omnes

Seize him; a dog,

not even a leg of one, of Rome shall not return

to tell them how their army was routed.He talks as if

he's an important person.Bring him to the King.

Enter POSTHUMUS and two GAOLERS

FIRST GAOLER.

You shall not now be stol'n, you have locks upon

you;

So graze as you find pasture.

You can't be stolen now you've been chained,

so eat what you can find.

SECOND GAOLER.

Ay, or a stomach.

Exeunt GAOLERS

Yes, if you've a stomach for it.

POSTHUMUS.

Most welcome, bondage! for thou art a way,

I think, to liberty. Yet am I better

Than one that's sick o' th' gout, since he had rather

Groan so in perpetuity than be cur'd

By th' sure physician death, who is the key

T' unbar these locks. My conscience, thou art fetter'd

More than my shanks and wrists; you good gods, give me

The penitent instrument to pick that bolt,

Then, free for ever! Is't enough I am sorry?

So children temporal fathers do appease;

Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent,

I cannot do it better than in gyves,

Desir'd more than constrain'd. To satisfy,

If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take

No stricter render of me than my all.

I know you are more clement than vile men,

Who of their broken debtors take a third,

A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again

On their abatement; that's not my desire.

For Imogen's dear life take mine; and though

'Tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life; you coin'd it.

'Tween man and man they weigh not every stamp;

Though light, take pieces for the figure's sake;

You rather mine, being yours. And so, great pow'rs,

If you will take this audit, take this life,

And cancel these cold bonds. O Imogen!

I'll speak to thee in silence. [Sleeps]

Solemn music. Enter, as in an apparition, SICILIUS

LEONATUS, father to POSTHUMUS, an old man attired

 like a warrior; leading in his hand an ancient

matron, his WIFE, and mother to POSTHUMUS, with

music before them. Then, after other music, follows

 the two young LEONATI, brothers to POSTHUMUS,

with wounds, as they died in the wars.

They circle POSTHUMUS round as he lies sleeping

You chains are most welcome!You are my path,

I think, to freedom.I am better off

than someone sick with gout, since he

will groan in pain forever without being cured