Dark as your fortune is, and but disguise
That, which, t' appear itself, must not yet be,
But by felf-danger; you should treat a courfe
Pretty and full of view +; yea, haply, near
The refidence of Pofthumus; fo nigh, at least,
That though his actions were not vifible,
Report fhould 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 moman; change

* Command into obedience; fear and nicenefs
(The handmaids of all women, or, more truly,
Woman its pretty felf) to waggifh courage;
Ready in gibes, quick-anfwer'd, faucy, and
'As quarrellous as the weazel: nay, you muft
Forget that rareft treasure of your cheek;
Expofing it (but, oh, the harder hap!
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.

Pif. Firit, make yourself but like one. Fore-thinking this, I have already fit,

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

That anfwer to them. 'Would you in their ferving,
And with what imitation you can borrow

From youth of fuch a season, 'fore noble Lucius
Prefent yourself, defire his fervice, tell him
Wherein you're happy: (which will make him so,
If that his head have ear in mufic), doubtless
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 supply.

Imo. Thou'rt all the comfort

The gods will diet me with. Pr'ythee, away.
There's more to be confider'd; but well 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 farewel;
Left, being mifs'd, I be suspected 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-To fome fhade,
And fit you to your manhood; may the gods
Direct you to the best!

Imo. Amen.

I thank thee.

[Exeunt feverally SCENE V. Changes to the palace of Cymbeline,

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

Cym. Thus far, and fo farewel

Luc. Thanks, Royal Sir.

My Emperor hath wrote; I muft 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 unking-like.

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;

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 crofs'd the Severn. Happiness!

[Exit Lucius, &c.

Queen

Queen. He goes hence frowning;

That we have giv'n him cause.

Clof. 'Tis all the better;

but it honours us,

Your valiant Britons have their wifhes in it.

Gym. 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 businefs;

But must be look'd to fpeedily, and ftrongly.
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 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.
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,
Forebear fharp 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 fhe, Sir? how

Can her contempt bè answer'd?

Ser. Please you, Sir,

Her chambers are all lock'd, and there's no anfwer
That will be given to th' loudeft noife we make.
Queen. My Lord, when laft I went to visit her,
She pray'd me to excufe her keeping clofe;
Whereto constrain'd by her infirmity,
She should that duty leave unpaid to you,
Which daily fhe was bound to proffer: this

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

Cym. Her doors lock'd?

Not

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

Queen. Son, I fay, follow the King.

[Exit.

[Exit.

[To the Servant.

Clot. That man of her's, Pifanio, her old fervant,

I have not feen these two days.

Queen. Go, look after

Pifanio, thou that stand'st so 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 fervour of her love, fhe'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.

How now, my son? ·

Re-enter Cloten.

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 fore-ftall him of the coming day!

[Exit Queen. Clot. I love and hate her ;-for fhe's fair and royal, And that the hath all courtly parts more exquifite Than lady ladies t; winning from each one The best she hath, and the of all compounded Outfells them all: I love her therefore.Difdaining me, and throwing favours on The low Pofthumus, flanders fo her judgment, That what's elfe rare is chok'd; and in that point I will conclude to hate her, nay i indeed

To be reveng'd upon her. For when fools

-But,

Shall

SCENE VI.

Enter Pifanio.

Who is here! what! are you packing, firrah?
Come hither; ah! you precious pander, villain,
Where is thy lady? in a word, or else

Thou'rt

lady is a plural verb, and ladies a noun governed by it.

Thou'rt ftraightway with the fiends.

Pif. Oh, my good Lord!

[Drawing his fword.

Clot. Where is thy Lady? or, by Jupiter,
I will not ask again. Clofe villain,

I'll have this fecret from thy heart, or rip
Thy heart to find it. Is fhe with Pofthumus?
From whose so many weights of bafenefs cannot
A dram of worth be drawn,

Pif. Alas, my Lord,

How can fhe be with him? when was fhe mifs'd?
He is in Rome,

Clot. Where is the, Sir? come nearer;
No farther halting; fatisfy me home
What is become of her.

Pif. Oh, my all-worthy Lord!
Clot. All-worthy villain!

Discover where thy miftrefs is, at once,
At the next word; no more of worthy Lord.
Speak, or thy filence on the inftant is
Thy condemnation and thy death.

Pif. Then, Sir,

This paper is the history of my knowledge
Touching her flight.

Clot. Let's fee't; I will purfue her.

Ev'n to Auguftus' throne.

Pif. Or this, or perish.

She's far enough; and what he learns by this, Afide.

My prove his travel, not her danger.

Clot. Humh.

}

Pif. I'll write to my Lord she's dead. Oh,

Imogen,

Safe may'ft thou wander, fafe return again!
Clot. Sirrah, is this letter true?

Pif. Sir, as I think.

Clot. It is Pofthumus's hand, I know't. Sirrah, if thou would't not be a villain, but do me true fervice; undergo thofe employments wherein I fhould have cause to use thee, with a ferious industry; that is, what villany foe'er I bid thee do, to perform it directly and truly; I would think thee an honeft man; thou should'st VOL. VII. neither.

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