< Imo. No court, no father; nor no more ado With that harsh, noble, simple, nothing; That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me As fearful as a siege. Pis. If not at court, Then not in Britain must you bide. Where then? Imo. In a great pool, a swan's nest; Pr'ythee, think Pis. I am most glad Imo. O, for such means! Though peril to my modesty, not death on't, I would adventure. Pis. Well then, here's the point: You must forget to be a woman; change Command into obedience; fear, and niceness, (The handmaids of all women, or, more truly, Woman its pretty self,) to a waggish courage: Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy, and As quarrelous as the weasel: nay, you must Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek, Exposing it (but, O, the harder heart! Alack, no remedy!) to the greedy touch Of common-kissing Titan; and forget Imo. I see into thy end, and am almost A man already. Pis. Nay, be brief: First, make yourself but like one, Fore-thinking this, I have already fit, ('Tis in my cloak-bag) doublet, hat, hose, all That answer to them: Would you, in their serving, And with what imitation you can borrow From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius Wherein you are happy, (which you'll make him know, Beginning, nor supplyment. A prince's courage. Away, I pr'ythee. Pis. Well, madam, we must take a short farewell; Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress, Imo. SCENE VA Room in Cymbeline's Palace. Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, Lucius, and Lords. Cym. Thus far; and so farewell. Luc. Thanks, royal sir. My emperor hath wrote; I must from here; My master's enemy. Cym. Our subjects, sir, Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself Luc. So, s I desire of you A conduct over land, to Milford-Haven.- 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. Clo. 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 cross'd the Severn.-Happiness! [Exeunt Lucius, and Lords. Queen. He goes hence frowning: but it honours us, That we have given him cause. 'Tis all the better; Clo. Cym. Lucius hath wrote already to the emperor Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves Queen. 'Tis not sleepy business; But must be look'd to speedily, and strongly. Cym. Our expectation that it would be thus, Queen. Royal sir, [Exit an Attendant. Since the exile of Posthumus, most retir'd Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer She wish'd me to make known; but our great court Cym. Her doors lock'd? Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that which I fear, Prove false ! Queen. Son, I say, follow the king. [Exit. Clo. That man of her's, 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 Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seiz'd her; To death, or to dishonour; and my end Re-enter Cloten. How now, my son? Clo. 'Tis certain she is fled: Go in, and cheer the king; he rages; none 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 The best she hath, and she, of all compounded, Outsells them all: I love her therefore; But, Disdaining me, and throwing favours on The low Posthumus, slanders so her judgement, That what's else rare, is chok'd; and, in that point, I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed, To be reveng'd upon her. For, when fools Enter Pisanio. Shall-Who is here? What are you packing, sirrali ? Come hither: Ah, you precious pander! Villain, Where is thy lady! In a word; or else Thou art straightway with the fiends. Pis. O, good my lord! Clo. Where is thy lady? or, by Jupiter |