('Tis in my cloak-bag,) doublet, hat, hose, all From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius Wherein you are happy, (which you'll make him know, If that his head have ear in musick,) doubtless, Beginning, nor supplyment. Imo. Thou art all the comfort The gods will diet me with. Pr'ythee, away: 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. 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; My master's enemy. Cym. Our subjects, sir, Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself To show less sovereignty than they, must needs 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 office; The due of honour in no point omit: So, farewell, noble Lucius. 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 His war for Britain. Queen. Cym. Our expectation that it would be thus, Queen. [Exit an Attendant. Royal sir, Since the exile of Posthumus, most retir'd Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer 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? Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that, which I fear, Prove false! Queen. Son, I say, follow the king. [Exit. 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 Posthúmus! — Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seiz'd her; To death, or to dishonour; and my end Can make good use of either: She being down, Re-enter CLOTEN. 'Tis certain, she is fled: How now, my son? Clo. Go in, and cheer the king; he rages; none Dare come about him. 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 39; 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 Posthúmus, 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, sirrah? Come hither: Ah, you precious pandar! Villain, Where is thy lady! In a word; or else Thou art straightway with the fiends. O, good my lord! Pis. |