Dead to my husband?

Pif. If you'll back to th' Court

Imo. No Court, no father; nor no more ado With that harsh, noble, fimple nothing, Cloten: That Cloten whofe love-fuit hath been to me

As fearful as a fiege.

Pif. If not at Court,

Then not in Britain muft you bide.

Where then?

Imo. Hath Britain all the fun that fhines? Day, night, Are they not but in Britain? i'th' world's volume

Our Britain feems as of it, but not in it;

In a great pool a fwan's neft.

There's living out of Britain,
Pif. I'm moft glad

Pr'ythee think

You think of other place: th' Ambassador,
Lucius the Roman comes to Milford-Haven
To-morrow. Now, if you could wear a + mien'
Dark as your fortune is, and but disguise
That which t'appear itfelf, muft not yet be,
But by felf-danger; you fhould tread a course
Pretty, and full of view; yea, haply near
The refidence of Pofthumus; fo nigh,
That though his action were not vifible,
Report should render him hourly to your ear,
As truly as he moves.

Imo. Oh! for fuch means,

(Though peril to my modefty, not death on't) I would adventure.

Pif. Well then, here's the point:

You must forget to be a woman, change
Command into obedience; fear and nicenefs,
(Th' handmaids of all women, or more truly
Woman its pretty felf,) to waggish courage,
Ready in gybes, quick-anfwer'd, fawcy, and
As quarrellous as the weazel: nay, you must
Forget that rareft treasure of your cheek,

3 Ime. Where then? Hath &c.
4 mind...old edit. Warb. emend.

Ex

5

Expofing it (but oh the harder hap!`
Alack, no remedy) to th' greedy touch
Of common-kiffing Titan; and forget
Your labourfome and dainty trims, wherein
You made great Juno angry.

Imo. Nay, be brief:

1 fee into thy end, and am almost A man already.

Pif. First, make your self but like one.
Fore-thinking this, I have already fit

('Tis in my cloak-bag) doublet, hat, hofe, all
That answer to them. Would you in their ferving,
And with what imitation you can borrow
From youth of such a seafon, before Lucius
Prefent your felf, defire his fervice; tell him

61

Wherein you're happy, which you'll make him know,
If that his head have ear in mufick, doubtlefs

With joy he will embrace you; for he's honourable,
And doubling that, moft holy, Your means abroad
You have me rich; and I will never fail

Beginning, nor fupply.

Imo. Thou'rt all the comfort The Gods will diet me with.

Pr'ythee away.

There's more to be confider'd; but we'll even
All that good time will give us. This attempt
I'm foldier'd to, and will abide it with

A Prince's courage. 7'Hafte away,` I pr'ythee.

Pif. Well, Madam, we must take a fhort farewel, Left, being mifs'd, I be fufpected of

Your carriage from the Court. My noble mistress,
Here is a box, I had it from the Queen,
What's in't is precious: if you're fick at fea,
Or ftomach-qualm'd at land, a dram of this
Will drive away diftemper.--To fome fhade,
And fit you to your manhood; may the Gods
Direct you to the best!

Imo. Amen! I thank thee.

5 heart

[Exeunt feverally. SCENE

...

old edit. Warb. emend.

6 will

7 away

Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, Lucius, Lords, and Attendants.

Hus far, and fo farewel.

Cym. Thu

Luc. Thanks, royal Sir.

My Emperor hath wrote; I muft from hence,

And am right forry, that I must report ye

My master's enemy.

Cym. Our fubjects, Sir,

Will not endure his yoak; and for our felf
To fhew less fovereignty than they, must needs
Appear un-kinglike.

Luc. So, Sir, I defire

A conduct over land, to Milford-Haven.
Madam, all joy befal your Grace, and you!

Cym. My Lords, you are appointed for that office;
The due of honour in no point omit:

So farewel, noble Lucius.

Luc. Your hand, my Lord.

Clot. Receive it friendly; but from this time forth

I wear it as your enemy.

Luc. Th'event

Is yet to name the winner. Fare you well.

Cym. Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my Lords,

'Till he have croft the Severn. Happiness!

[Exit Lucius, &c.

Queen. He goes hence frowning; but it honours us That we have giv'n him cause.

Clot. '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,

I defire of you

Our

Our chariots and our horfemen be in readiness ;
The powers that he already hath in Gallia

Will foon be drawn to head, from whence he moves His war for Britain.

Queen. 'Tis not fleepy business,

But must be look'd to fpeedily, and ftrongly,
Cym. Our expectation that it fhould be thus
Hath made us forward. But, my gentle Queen,
Where is our daughter? he hath not appear'd
Before the Roman, nor to us hath tender'd
The duty of the day. She looks as like
A thing more made of malice, than of duty;
We've noted it. Call her before us, for

We've been too light in fufferance. [Exit a Melenger.
Queen. Royal Sir,

Since th' exile of Pofthumus, most retir'd
Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my Lord,
'Tis time muft do. 'Befeech your Majefty,
Forbear fharp fpeeches to her. She's a Lady
So tender of rebukes, that words are ftrokes,
And ftrokes death to her.

Re-enter the Meffenger.

Cym. Where is he? 9 and how`

Can her contempt be answer'd?

Mef. Pleafe you, Sir,

Her chambers are all lock'd, and there's no answer
That will be giv'n to th' loudeft noise we make.
Queen. My Lord, when laft I went to vifit her,
She pray'd me to excufe her keeping close,

Whereto conftrain'd by her infirmity,

She fhould that duty leave unpaid to you

Which daily fhe was bound to proffer; this

She wifh'd me to make known; but our great Court
Made me to blame in mem'ry.

Cym. Her doors lock'd?

Not feen of late? grant heav'ns, that which I fear

Prove

Prove falfe!

I

Queen. Son, I fay; 'follow you the King.
Clot. That man of hers, Pifanio, her old fervant,
I have not feen these two days.

Queen. Go, look after

'Pifanio

[Exit.

[Exit:

[To the Meflenger.

he that standeth fo for Pofthumus,` He hath a drug of mine; I pray, his abfence Proceed by fwallowing that; for he believes

It is a thing moft precious. But for her,

Where is the gone? haply defpair hath feiz'd her ;
Or wing'd with fervor of her love, fhe's flown
To her defir'd Pofthumus; gone she is

To death, or to difhonour, and my end
Can make good ufe of either. She being down,
I have the placing of the British crown.

How now, my fon?

Re-enter Cloten.

Clot. 'Tis certain fhe is filed. ..

Go in and cheer the King, he rages, none
Dare come about him.

Queen. All the better; may

This night fore-ftall him of the coming day! [Exit Queen.
Clot. I love and hate her. For fhe's fair and royal,
And that he hath all courtly parts more exquifite

3 Than any lady, winning from each one'
The best she hath, and fhe of all compounded
Out-fells them all; I love her therefore: but
Difdaining me, and throwing favours on
The low Pofthumus, flanders fo her judgment,
That what's elfe rare is choak'd, and in that point
I will conclude to hate her, nay indeed

To be reveng'd upon her. For when fools
Shall

1 follow the King.

2 Pifanio, thou that ftands't fo for Pofthumus!

3 Than lady, ladies, woman, from each one. . . old edit. Warb. emend.

SCENE