My purpose would prove well. It cannot be,
But that my master is abused;

Some villain, ay, and singular in his art,
Hath done you both this cursed injury.
Imo. Some Roman courtesan.

No, on my life.

Pis.
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 missed 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?
Pis.

1

If you'll 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,

Where then?

Then not in Britain must you bide.

Imo.

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.
There's livers out of Britain.

Pr'ythee, think

Pis.
I am most glad
You think of other place. The ambassador,
Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven
To-morrow. Now, if you could wear a mind
Dark as your fortune is; 2 and but disguise
That, which, to appear itself, must not yet be,

1 This line requires some word of two syllables to complete the measure. Steevens proposed to read :

"With that harsh, noble, simple, nothing, Cloten;

That Cloten," &c.

2 To wear a dark mind is to carry a mind impenetrable to the search of others. The next lines are obscure. "You must (says Pisanio) disguise that greatness which, to appear hereafter in its proper form, cannot yet appear without great danger to itself."

1

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.

2

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) into a waggish courage;
Ready in gibes, quick-answered, saucy, and
As quarrellous 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
Your laborsome and dainty trims, wherein
You made great Juno angry.

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,3 (which you'll make him know,
If that his head have ear in music,) doubtless,
With joy he will embrace you; for he's honorable,

1 Full of view appears to mean of ample prospect, affording a complete view of circumstances which it is your interest to know.

2 This character of the weasel is not mentioned by naturalists. Weasels were formerly, it appears, kept in houses instead of cats, for the purpose of killing vermin.

3 i. e. wherein you are accomplished.

And, doubling that, most holy.
You have me,' rich; and I will
Beginning, nor supplyment.
Imo.

The gods will diet me with.

Your means abroad never fail

Thou art all the comfort Pr'ythee, away; There's more to be considered; but we'll even 2 All that good time will give us. This attempt I am soldier to,3 and will abide it with

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

Pis. Well, madam, we must take a short farewell; Lest, being missed, 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-qualmed 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.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V. A 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 hence;

And am right sorry, that I must report ye

My master's enemy.

Cym. Our subjects, sir,

Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself

To show less sovereignty than they, must needs
Appear unkinglike.

Luc.

A conduct over land,
Madam, all joy befall

So, sir, I desire of you
to Milford-Haven.—
your grace, and

you!

4

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

2 We'll make our work even with our time; we'll do what time will allow. 3 i. e. equal to, or have ability for it.

4 We should, apparently, read "his grace and you," or "your grace and yours."

Cym. My lords, you are appointed for that office; The due of honor in no point omit.—

So, farewell, noble Lucius.

Luc.

Clo. Receive it friendly;

I wear it as your enemy.

Luc.

Your hand, my lord.

but from this time forth

Sir, the event

Is yet to name the winner; fare you well.

Cym. Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my

lords,

Till he have crossed the Severn.-Happiness!

[Exeunt LUCIUS and Lords.

Queen. He goes hence frowning; but it honors us,

That we have given him cause.

Clo.

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

Queen.
'Tis not sleepy business;
But must be looked 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 appeared
Before the Roman, nor to us hath tendered
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 retired
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.

Cym.

Re-enter an Attendant.

Where is she, sir? How

Can her contempt be answered?

Please you, sir,

Atten.
Her chambers are all locked; 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 prayed me to excuse her keeping close;
Whereto constrained by her infirmity,

She should that duty leave unpaid to you,
Which daily she was bound to proffer: this

She wished me to make known; but our great court
Made me to blame in memory.

Cym.

Her doors locked?

Not seen of late? Grant, Heavens, that which I
Fear, prove false !

Queen.

[Exit.

Son, I say, follow the king. Clo. That man of hers, 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
Proceed by swallowing that; for he believes
It is a thing most precious. But for her,

Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seized her;
Or, winged with fervor of her love, she's flown

To her desired Posthumus. Gone she is

To death or to dishonor; and my end

Can make good use of either. She being down,
I have the placing of the British crown.

Re-enter CLOTEN.

How now, my son?

Clo.

'Tis certain, she is fled;

Go in, and cheer the king. He rages; none

Dare come about him.

1 The first folio reads lowd.