1    Camest thou from where they made the stand?

2    I did.
3    Though you, it seems, come from the fliers.

4    I did.

5    No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost,
6    But that the heavens fought: the king himself
7    Of his wings destitute, the army broken,
8    And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying
9    Through a straight lane; the enemy full-hearted,
10   Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having work
11   More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down
12   Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling
13   Merely through fear; that the straight pass was damm'd
14   With dead men hurt behind, and cowards living
15   To die with lengthen'd shame.

16   Where was this lane?

17   Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd with turf;
18   Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier,
19   An honest one, I warrant; who deserved
20   So long a breeding as his white beard came to,
21   In doing this for's country: athwart the lane,
22   He, with two striplings-lads more like to run
23   The country base than to commit such slaughter
24   With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer
25   Than those for preservation cased, or shame--
26   Made good the passage; cried to those that fled,
27   'Our Britain s harts die flying, not our men:
28   To darkness fleet souls that fly backwards. Stand;
29   Or we are Romans and will give you that
30   Like beasts which you shun beastly, and may save,
31   But to look back in frown: stand, stand.'
32   These three,
33   Three thousand confident, in act as many--
34   For three performers are the file when all
35   The rest do nothing--with this word 'Stand, stand,'
36   Accommodated by the place, more charming
37   With their own nobleness, which could have turn'd
38   A distaff to a lance, gilded pale looks,
39   Part shame, part spirit renew'd; that some,
40   turn'd coward
41   But by example--O, a sin in war,
42   Damn'd in the first beginners!--gan to look
43   The way that they did, and to grin like lions
44   Upon the pikes o' the hunters. Then began
45   A stop i' the chaser, a retire, anon
46   A rout, confusion thick; forthwith they fly
47   Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles; slaves,
48   The strides they victors made: and now our cowards,
49   Like fragments in hard voyages, became
50   The life o' the need: having found the backdoor open
51   Of the unguarded hearts, heavens, how they wound!
52   Some slain before; some dying; some their friends
53   O'er borne i' the former wave: ten, chased by one,
54   Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty:
55   Those that would die or ere resist are grown
56   The mortal bugs o' the field.

57   This was strange chance
58   A narrow lane, an old man, and two boys.

59   Nay, do not wonder at it: you are made
60   Rather to wonder at the things you hear
61   Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon't,
62   And vent it for a mockery? Here is one:
63   'Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane,
64   Preserved the Britons, was the Romans' bane.'

65   Nay, be not angry, sir.

66   'Lack, to what end?
67   Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his friend;
68   For if he'll do as he is made to do,
69   I know he'll quickly fly my friendship too.
70   You have put me into rhyme.

71   Farewell; you're angry.

72   Still going?
Exit Lord
73   This is a lord! O noble misery,
74   To be i' the field, and ask 'what news?' of me!
75   To-day how many would have given their honours
76   To have saved their carcasses! took heel to do't,
77   And yet died too! I, in mine own woe charm'd,
78   Could not find death where I did hear him groan,
79   Nor feel him where he struck: being an ugly monster,
80   'Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds,
81   Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we
82   That draw his knives i' the war. Well, I will find him
83   For being now a favourer to the Briton,
84   No more a Briton, I have resumed again
85   The part I came in: fight I will no more,
86   But yield me to the veriest hind that shall
87   Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is
88   Here made by the Roman; great the answer be
89   Britons must take. For me, my ransom's death;
90   On either side I come to spend my breath;
91   Which neither here I'll keep nor bear again,
92   But end it by some means for Imogen.

93   Great Jupiter be praised! Lucius is taken.
94   'Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels.

95   There was a fourth man, in a silly habit,
96   That gave the affront with them.

97   So 'tis reported:
98   But none of 'em can be found. Stand! who's there?

99   A Roman,
100  Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds
101  Had answer'd him.

102  Lay hands on him; a dog!
103  A leg of Rome shall not return to tell
104  What crows have peck'd them here. He brags
105  his service
106  As if he were of note: bring him to the king.