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Hear me with patience.

Imo. Talk thy tongue weary, fpeak,

I've heard I am a strumpet; and mine ear

(Therein false struck) can take no greater wound,
Nor tent to bottom that.
But speak.

Pif. Then, Madam,

I thought you would not back again.

Imo. Moft like,

Bringing me here to kill me.

Pif. Not fo neither;

But if I were as wife as honest, then

My purpose would prove well; it cannot be,
But that my master is abus'd; some villain,
And fingular in his art, hath done you both
This curfed injury.

Imo. Some Roman courtezan

Pif. No, on my life.

I'll give him notice you are dead, and send him
Some bloody fign of it: for 'tis commanded
I fhould do fo. You fhall be miss'd at court,
And that will well confirm it.

Imo. Why, good fellow,

What fhall I do the while? where 'bide? how live?
Or in my life what comfort, when I am

Dead to my husband?

Pif. If you'll back to th' court

Imo. No court, no father; nor no more ado.
With that harsh, noble, simple, nothing, Cloten ;;
That Cloten, whose love-fuit hath been to me
As fearful as a fiege:

Pif. If not at court,

Then not in Britain muft you 'bide.

Imo. Where then?

Hath Britain all the fun that fhines? day, night,

Are they not but in Britain? I' th' world's volume:

Our Britain feems as of it, but not in it;

In a great pool, a fwan's neft.

There's living out of Britain.

Pif. I'm moft glad,

Pr'ythee think

You think of other place: th' ambaffador,
Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-haven

To-morrow. Now, if you could wear a mien

Dark as your fortune is, and but difguise
That, which, t' appear itself, must not yet be,,
But by felf danger; you should tread a course
Pretty, and full of view*; yea, haply, near
The refidence of Pofthumus; fo nigh, at least,.
That though his actions were not visible,
Report fhould render him hourly to your ear,
As truly as he moves.

Imo. Oh! for fuch means,

Thongh 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 gibes, 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.

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Imo. Nay, be brief.

I fee into thy end, and am almost

A man already.

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

(Tis in my cloak-bag), doublet, hat, hofe, 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), doubtless
With joy he will embrace you; for he's honourable,
And, doubling that, molt holy. Your means abroad!
You have me, rich; and I will never fail

Beginning, nor fupply.

Imo. hou'rt all the comfort

i.e. likely to prove fuccessful.

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, 1 pr'ythee.

Pif. Well, Madam, we must 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 fea,
Or ftomach-qualm'd at land, a dram of this
Will drive away diftemper- 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 master's enemy.

Cym. Our fubjects, Sir,

Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself
To fhew lefs fovereignty than they, muit 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, &û.

Queen. He goes hence frowning;

That we have giv'n him cause.

Clot. 'Tis all the better;

but it honours us,

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 horfemen 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 business;

But must be look'd to speedily, and strongly.
Gym. Our expectations 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 must do. 'Beseech your Majefty,
For bear fharp fpeeches to her. She's a lady
So tender of rebukes, that words are strokes,
And strokes death to her.

Re-enter the Servant.

Cym. Where is fhe, Sir? how

Can her contempt be anfwer'd?
Ser. Please you, Sir,

Her chambers are all lock'd, and there's no answer
That will be given to th' loudest noise we make.
Queen. My Lord, when laft I went to vifit her,
She pray'd me to excufe her keeping close;
Whereto constrain'd by her infirmity,
She should that duty leave unpaid to you,
Which daily fhe was bound to profer: 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!

[Exit.

[Exit.

[To the Servant.

Queen. Son, I fay, follow the King.

Clot That man of her's, Pifanio, her old fervant, I have not seen these two days.

Queen. Go, look after

Pifanio, thou that stand'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 moft precious. But for her

Where is the gone? haply despair hath fiez'd her;
Or, wing'd with fervour of her love, fhe's flown
To her defir'd Pofthumus; gone she is
To death or to dishonour; and my end

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

How now, my fon?

Re-enter Cloten.

'Glot. '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-stall him of the coming day!

[Exit Queen Glot. I love and hate her ;-for fhe's fair and royal, And that the hath all courtly parts more exquifite Than lady ladies *; winning from each one The best the hath, and the of all compounded Outfells them all: I love her therefore. But, Difdaining me, and throwing favours on The low Polthumus, flanders fo her judgment, 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 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 elfe

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

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