b

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

. Imo. Nay, be brief:

I fee into thy end, and am almost

A man already.

Pij. First, make yourself 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

с

From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius

Present yourself, defire his fervice, tell him

Wherein you are 'happy, (which you'll make him know,
If that his head have ear in mufic) doubtless,

With joy he will embrace you; far he's honourable,
And, doubling that, moft holy. Your means abroad
"You have me, rich; and I will never fail
Beginning, nor fupplyment.

Imo. Thou art all the comfort

慶

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

• the barder beart !]—of Pofthumus-barder bap.

b

rays.

to the greedy touch of common-k fing Titan ;]—to the fun's scorching "Titan kifs a difh of butter."

HENRY IV. Part I. A&t II. S. 4. Prince. e labour fome]—in the fashioning whereof much labour and skill were beftowed. in their ferving,]-in that dress.

d

• of fuch a feafon,]-about your own standing. bappy,-killed. You bave me, rich;]-in me you shall find an ample fund for your fubfiftence. will diet me with ]-afford me.

we'll e'en]-we'll adjust matters as time will permit.
This attempt]I have enlifted myself to, am refolved to adopt this

fcheme, and to go through it.

I am foldier to, and will abide it with
A prince's courage. Away, I pr'ythee.

Pif. Well, madam, we must take a short farewell; Left, being miss'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 are fick at fea,
Or ftomach-qualm'd at land, a dram of this
Will drive away diftemper.

To fome shade,

And fit you to your manhood:-May the gods

direct you to the best!

Imo. Amen: I thank thee.

SCENE V.

The Palace of Cymbeline.

[Exeunt.

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

Cym. Thus far; and fo farewell,

Luc. Thanks, royal fir.

My emperor hath wrote: I muft from hence;

And am right forry, that I must report ye

My master's enemy.

Cym. Our fubjects, fir,

Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself

To fhew less fovereignty than they, must needs
Appear unkinglike.

Luc. So, fir, I defire of you

A conduct over land, to Milford-Haven.

Madam, all joy befal 'his grace,

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

So, farewell, noble Lucius,

Luc. Your hand, my lord.

Clot. Receive it friendly: but from this time forth I wear it as your enemy.

Luc. Sir, the 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 thence frowning; but it honours us, That we have given him caufe.

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,
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 strongly.
Cym. Our expectation that it should be thus,
Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen,
Where is our daughter? She hath not appear'd
Before the Roman, nor to us hath tender'd
The duty of the day: She looks us like
A thing more made of malice than of duty;
We have noted it,-Call her before us; for
We have been too light in fufferance.

Queen. Royal fir,

n

[Exit a fervant,

Since the exile of Pofthumus, moft retir'd
Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord,
'Tis time must do. 'Befeech your majesty,

Forbear sharp speeches to her: She's a lady

So tender of rebukes, that words are strokes,
And ftrokes death to her.

Re-enter the Servant.

Cym. Where is the, fir? How

Can her contempt be answer'd?

Serv. Please you, sir,

Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer
That will be given to the loudest noise we make.

Queen. My lord, when laft I went to vifit her,
She pray'd me to excufe her keeping close;
Whereto constrain'd by her infirmity,
She fhould that duty leave unpaid to you,

Which daily the was bound to proffer: this

She wish'd me to make known; but our great court
Made me to blame in memory.

Cym. Her doors lock'd?

Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that, which I fear,

Prove falfe!

[Exit.

Queen. Son, I fay, follow the king.

Clot. That man of hers, Pifanio her old fervant,

I have not seen these two days..

[Exit.

Queen, Go, look after.

Pifanio, thou that stand'st fo for Pofthumus !-
He hath a drug of mine: I pray, his abfence
Proceed by swallowing that; for he believes
It is a thing most precious. But for her,

Where is the gone? Haply, defpair hath seiz'd her;
Or, wing'd with fervour of her love, she's flown
To her defir'd Pofthumus: Gone fhe is

To death, or to dishonour; 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, she is filed:

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

Queen. All the better: May

This night fore-stall him of the coming day!

[Exit Queen.
Clot. I love, and hate her: for fhe's fair and royal;
And that she hath all courtly parts more exquifite
Than lady, ladies, woman; from every one
The best she hath, and fhe, of all compounded,
Outfells them all: I love her therefore; But
Difdaining me, and throwing favours on

The low Pofthumus, flanders so 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

Enter Pifanio,

Shall-Who is here? What! are you packing, firrah!
Come hither: Ah, you precious pandar! Villain,
Where is thy lady? In a word; or elfe
Thou art straightway with the fiends.
Pif. O, good my lord!

Clot. Where is thy lady? or, by Jupiter,

I will not ask again. Clofe villain,

I'H have this fecret from thy heart, or rip

Thy heart to find it. Is the with Posthumus?

P fore-ftall]-deprive.

Than lady, ladies, woman ;]-Than any lady, any number of ladies, the whole fex. "To any count, to all counts, to what is man.” ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL, Vol. II. p. 405.

Par.

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