Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and a British Lord
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
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'
