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Imo.

Wherefore then
Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abus'd
So many miles, with a pretence? this place?
Mine action, and thine own? our horses' labour?
The time inviting thee? the perturb'd court,
For iny being absent; whereunto I never
Purpose return? Why last thou gone so far,
To be unbent, when thou hast ta'en thy stand,
The elected deer before thee?
Pis.

But to win time
To lose so bad employment: in the which
I have consider'd of a course; Good lady,
Hear me with patience.
Imo.

Talk thy tongue weary; speak :
I have heard, I am a strumpet; and mine ear,
Therein false struck, can take no greater wound,
Nor tent to bottom that. but speak.
Pis.

Then, madam, I thought you would not back again. Imo.

Most like;
Bringing me here to kill me.
Pis.

Not so, neither:
But if I were as wise as honest, then
My purpose would prove well. It cannot be,
But that my master is abus'd:
Some villain, ay, and singular in his art,
Hath done you both this cursed injury.

Imo. Some Roman courtezan.
Pis.

No, on my life.
I'll give but notice you are dead, and send him
Some bloody sign of it; for 'tis commanded
I should do so: You shall be miss'd at court,
And that will well confirm it.
Imo.

Why, good fellow,
What shall I do the while? Where bide? How live ?
Or iy my life what comfort, when I am
Dread to my husband ?
Pis.

If
you

back to the court, 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.
Imo.

Where then? Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night, Are they not but in Britain? I'the world's volume Our Britain seems as of it, but not in it; In a great pool, a swan's nest; Prythee, think There's livers out of Britain. Pis.

I am most glad
You think of other place. The embassador,
Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven
To.morrow: Now, if you

could wear a mind
Dark as your fortune is; and but disguise
That, which, to appear itself, must not yet be,
But by self-danger; you should tread a course
Pretty, and full of view: yea, haply, near
The residence of Posthumus: so nigh, at least,
That though his actions were not visible, yet
Report should render him hourly to your ear,
As truly as he moves.
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 quarrellous as the weasel : nay, you must
Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek,
Exposing it (but, 0, the harder heart !
Alack no remedy!) to the greedy touch
Of coinmon-kissing Titan*; and forget
Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein
You made great Juno angry.

# The sull.

Imo.

Nay, be brief:
I see into thy end, and am almost
A man already.
Pis.

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
Present yourself, desire his service, tell him
Wherein you are happy* (which you'll make him

know, If that his head have ear in musick), doubtless, With joy he will embrace you; for he's honourable, And, doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad You have met, rich; and I will never fail Begioning, nor supplyment. Imo.

Thou art all the comfort The gods will diet me with. Pr’ythee, away: There's more to be consider'd; but we'll even All that good time will give us : This attempt I'm soldier tot, and will abide it with 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, Here is a box; I had it from the queen; What's in't is precious; if you are sick at sea, Or stomach-qualm'd at land, a dram of this Will drive away distemper.-To some shade, And fit you to your manhood: May the gods Direct you to the best ! Imo.

Amen: I thank thee.

[Exeunto

• i. e. Wherein you are accomplished.

+ As for your subsistence abroad, you may rely on me.

| Equal to.

SCENE V.

Aroom 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;

must from hence;
And am right sorry, that I must report ye
My master's enemy.
Сут. .

Our subjects, sir,
Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself
To show less sovereignty than they, must needs
Appear unkinglike.
Luc.

So, sir, I desire 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 of.

fice;

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 pame the winner; Fare you well. Cym. Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my

lords, Till he have cross'd the Severn.-Happiness !

[Ereunt Lucius, and Lords. Queen. He goes hence frowning: but it honours

us, That we have given him cause. clo.

'Tis all the better; Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it.

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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 soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves His war for Britain. Queen.

'Tis not sleepy business; But must be look'd to speedily, and strongly.

Cym. Our expectation that it would be thus,
Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen,
Where is our daughter? She hath not appear'd
Before the Romay, 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 slight in sufferance.

[Exit an Attendant. Queen.

Royal sir, Since the exile of Posthumus, most retir'd Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord, 'Tis time must do. 'Beseech your majesty, Forbear sharp speeches to her: she's a lady So tender of rebukes, that words are strokes, And strokes death to her.

Re-enter an Attendant.

Cym.

Where is she, sir? How Can her contempt be answer'd ? Atten.

Please you, sir, Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer That will be given to the loud'st of noise we make.

Queen. My lord, when last I went to visit her, She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close; Whereto constrain'd by her infirmity, She should that duty leave unpaid to you, Which daily she 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 ?

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