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And fit you to your manhood :- May the gods
Enter CYMBELINE, Queen, CLOTEN, LUCIUS, and
Thanks, royal sir.
Our subjects, sir,
So, sir, I desire of you
Cym. My lords, you are appointed for that
Your hand, my lord.
Sir, the event
Cym. Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my
[Exeunt Lucius and Lords. VOL. IX.
Queen. He goes hence frowning : but it honours.
us, That we have given him cause. Clo. .
'Tis all the better; Your valiant Britons have their wishes in' it.
Cym. Lucius hath wrote already to the emperor How it goes here. It fits us therefore, ripely, Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness: The powers that he already hath in Gallia , Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves His war for Britain. Queen.
'Tis not sleepy business ; But must be look'd to speedily, and strongly.
Cym. Our expectation that it would be thus,
[Exit an Attendant. Queen.
Royal sir, Since the exíle of Posthumus, most retir'd Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord, 'Tis time must do. 'Beseech your majesty, Forbear sharp speeches to her : she's a lady So tender of rebukes, that words are strokes, And strokes death to her.
Re-enter an Attendant.
Where is she, sir? How Can her contempt be answer'd ? Atten.
Please you, sir, Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer That will be given to the loud'st of noise we make.
Queen. My lord, when last I went to visit her, She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close;
Whereto constrain'd by her infirmity,
Her doors lock'd ? Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that, which I
[E.cit. Queen. Son, I say, follow the king.
Clo. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant, I have not seen these two days. Queen.
Go, look after.
[Exit CLOTEN. Pisanio, thou that stand’st so for Posthumus! He hath a drug of mine : I pray, his absence Proceed by swallowing that; for he believes It is a thing most precious.
But for her,
How now, my son ?
'Tis certain she is fled : Go in, and cheer the king ; he rages; none Dare
come about him. Queen.
All the better : May This night forestall him of the coming day !
[Exit Queen. Clo. I love, and hate her: for she’s fair and
royal; And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite
Than lady, ladies, woman ® ; from every one
O, good my lord !
Alas, my lord,
Where is she, sir ? Come nearer ;
Pis. O, my all-worthy lord !
8 Than any lady, than all ladies, than all womankind.
This paper is the history of my knowledge
Let's see't: I will pursue her
Or this, or perish.
Clo. Sirrah, is this letter true ?
Şir, as I think.
Clo. Wilt thou serve me? For since patiently
Pis. I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same
Pis. I shall, my
Clo. The first service thou dost me, fetch that