SCENE III Another part of the field.

[Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and a BRITISH LORD]

(1) LORD Camest thou from where they made the stand?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS           I did.

 Though you, it seems, come from the fliers.

LORD           I did.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS 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 straight lane; the enemy full-hearted,

 Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having work

 More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down

(10) Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling

 Merely through fear; that the straight pass was damm'd

 With dead men hurt behind, and cowards living

 To die with lengthen'd shame.

LORD           Where was this lane?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd 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

(20) 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 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--

(30) 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