That, which, t'appear itself, muft not yet be,
But by felf-danger; you should 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 vifible,
Report should render him hourly to your car,
As truly as he moves.

Imo. Oh! for such 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 woman; change
Command into obedience; fear and nicenefs
(The handmaids of all women, or, more truly,
Woman its pretty felf.) to waggish courage;
Ready in gybes, quick-anfwer'd, faucy, and
As quarrellous as the weazel: nay, you must
Forget that rarest 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. Firft, make yourfelf 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 ferving,
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 will make him so,
If that his head have ear in mufic,) doubtlefs,
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 fupply.

Imo. Thou'rt all the comfort

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

I'm foldier to, and will abide it with

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

Pif. Well, Madam, we muft take a fhort farewel; Left, being mifs'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 sea,
Or ftomach-qualm'd at land, a dram of this
Will drive away diftemper-To some shade,
And fit you to your manhood; may the Gods
Direct you to the beft!.

Imo. Amen: I thank thee.

SCENE

[Exeunt, feverally.

V.

Changes to the Palace of Cymbeline.

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

HUS far, and fo farewel.:

Cym. THE

Luc. Thanks, royal Sir.

My Emperor hath wrote; I muft from hence;
And am right forry, that I muft report ye

My mafter's enemy.

Cym. Our Subjects, Sir,

Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself
To fhew lefs Sovereignty than they, muft 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; The due of Honour in no point omit:

So, farewel, noble Lucius.

Luc. Your hand, my Lord.

Clot.

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 croft the Severn. Happiness!

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

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 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 Britaine.

Queen. 'Tis not fleepy business;

But must be look'd to speedily, 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. [Exit a Servant.
Queen. Royal Sir,

Since the exile of Pofthumus, most retir'd

Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord,
'Tis time must do. 'Befeech your Majefly,
Forbear fharp fpeeches to her. She's a lady
So tender of rebukes, that words are ftrokes,
And ftrokes death to her.

Re-enter the Servant.

Cym. Where is fhe, Sir? 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 th' loudeft noife we make.
Queen. My lord, when last I went to visit her,
She pray'd me to excufe her keeping close;
Whereto conftrain'd by her infirmity,
She should 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 these two days.

Queen. Go, look after

Pifanio, thou that ftand'ft 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, defpair hath feiz'd her;
Or, wing'd with fervor of her love, fhe's flown
To her defir'd Pofthumus; gone fhe 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 fore-ftall him of the coming day!

[Exit Queen.

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

royal,

* And

And that he hath all courtly parts more exquifite
*Than lady Ladies; winning from each one
The best fhe hath, and the of all compounded
Out-fells them all: I love her therefore;-but,
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, indeed,

To be reveng'd upon her.

Shall

For when fools

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 elfe

Thou'rt ftraightway with the fiends.

Pif. Oh, my good lord!

[Drawing his Sword.

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

I will not afk again. Clofe villain,
I'll have this fecret from thy heart, or rip
Thy heart to find it. Is fhe with Pofthumus?
From whofe fo many weights of baseness 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 fhe, Sir? come nearer;

No farther halting; fatisfy me home,

What is become of her.

-]This Line is Non

*Than lady Ladies woman; from each onefense. It should be read and pointed thus,- -Than lady Ladies ; winning from each one]The Sense of the Whole is this, I love her because she has, in a more exquifite Degree, all thofe courtly Parts that ennoble [Lady] Women of Quality [Ladies] winning from cach of them the best of their good Qualities, &c.

Q 6

Pif.