Pif. But to win time.

To lofe fo bad employment, in the which
I have confider'd of a course. Good lady,
Hear me with patience.

Imo. Talk thy tongue weary, fpeak. I've heard I am a ftrumpet; and mine ear, Therein falfe ftruck, can take no greater wound, Nor tent to bottom that, But fpeak.

Pif. Then, Madam,

I thought you would not back again.
Imo. Moft like,

Bringing me here to kill me.

Pif. Not fo, neither;

But if I were as wife as honeft, then

My purpose would prove well. It cannot be
But that my mafter is abus'd; fome villain,
And fingular in his art, hath done you both
This curfed injury.

Imo. Some Roman courtezan

Pif. No, on my life.

I'll give him notice you are dead, and fend him
Some bloody fign of it: for 'tis commanded
I fhould do for You fhall be mifs'd at 'court,
And that will well confirm it.

Imo. Why, good fellow,

What shall I do the while? where 'bide? how live? Or in my life what comfort, when I am

Dead to my husband?

Pif. If you'll back to th' court

Inio. 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.

Imo. Where then?

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. Pr'ythee, think, There's livers out of Britain.

Pif I'm most glad

You think of other place. Th' ambaffador,
Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-haven
To-morrow. Now, if you could wear a mind
Dark as your fortune is, and but difguife
That which, t'appear itfelf, muft not yet be,
But by felf-danger, you fhould tread a courfe
Pretty, and full of view +; yea, haply, near
The refidence of Pofthumus; fo nigh, at least,
That though his actions were not visible,
Report fhould render him hourly to your ear,
As truly as he moves.

Imo. Oh! for fuch means,

Though peril to my modesty, 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,
The handmaids of all women, or, more truly,-
Woman its pretty felf, to waggifh courage;
Ready in gybes, quick-anfwer'd, faucy, and
As quarrelous as the weazel; nay, you must
Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek;
Expofing it (but, oh, the harder heart!
Alack, no remedy) to the greedy touch
Of common-killing 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.

Pif. Firft, make yourself but like one. Forethinking this, I have already fit,

'Tis in my cloak-bag, doublet, hat, hofe, all

That anfwer to them. Would you in your serving, And with what imitation you can borrow

From youth of fuch a feafon, 'fore noble Lucius Prefent yourself, defire his fervice, tell him Wherein you're happy; which you'll make him know,

If that his head have ear in mufic: doubtless, With joy he will embrace you; for he's honourable,

tie. Likely to prove fuccessful.

And, doubling that, moft holy. Your means abroad? You have ine rich; and I will never fail. Beginning, nor fupply.

Imo. Thou'rt all the comfort

The Gods will diet me with. Prythee, away. There's more to be confider'd; but we'll even + All that good time will give us.

This attempt

I'm foldier to, and will abide it with

A prince's courage. Away, I pr'ythee.

Pif. Well, Madam, we must take a fhort farewell Left, being mils'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 distemper.-

And fit you to your manhood;
Direct you to the best!

Imo. Amen: I thank thee.

SCENE

To fome fhade, may the Gods

[Exeunt feverally.

V.

Changes to the Palace of Cymbeline.

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

Cym. Thus far, and fo farewell.

Luc. Thanks, royal Sir.

My Emperor hath wrote: I must from hence,
And am right forry that I must report ye

My mafter's enemy.

Cym. Our fubjects, Sir,

Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself,
To fhew lefs fovereignty than they, must needs
Appear un-kinglike.

Luc. So, Sir: I defire of you

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

Cym. My Lords, you are appointed for that office

+ We'll make our work even with our time; we'll do what time will allow. Johnjon.

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. Th event

Is yet to name the winner. Fare you well.

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

Till he have crofs'd the Severn. Happiness!

[Exit Lucius, &c. Queen. He goes hence frowning; but it honours That we have giv'n him caufe.

Clat. 'Tis all the better;

Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it.

[us,

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

Queen. 'Tis not fleepy bufmefs,

But must be look'd to speedily and strongly.

Cym. Our expectation that it.fhould 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've noted it. Call her before us, for
We've been too light in fufferance.

Queen. Royal Sir,

[Exit a Servant. ↑

Since the exile of Pofthumus, most retir'd

Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my Lord,-.
'Tis time muft do. "Befeech your Majesty
Forbear tharp fpeeches 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, Sir? how

་ ་

.

Can her contempt be anfwer'd?

Serv. Please you, Sir,

Her chambers are allock'd, and there's no answer
That will be giv'n to th' loudest noife 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 infirinity,

She thould 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 falfe!

Queen. Son, I fay, follow the King.

[Exit.

Clot. That man of hers, Pifanio, her old fervant, I have not feen thefe two days.

Queen. Go, look after.

Pifanio, that stands fo for Pofthumus,

He hath a drug of mine; I pray his absence
Proceed by fwallowing that; for he believes
It is a thing most precious: but for her,

[Exit.

Where is the gone? haply despair hath feiz'd her;}
Or, wing'd with fervor of her love, the's flown
To her defir'd Pofthumus: gone the 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.

Re-enter Cloten.

How now, my fon?

"Clot. "Tis certain fhe 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

Clot. I love and hate her; -for the's fair and

roval,

And that the hath all courtly parts more exquifite-
Than lady, ladies, woman; from each one

The best the hath, and the of all compounded