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, fimple, Nothing, Cloten : That Cloten, whofe love-fuit hath been to me As fearful as a fiege.

Pif. If not at Court,

Then not in Britaine muft you 'bide.
Imo. Where then?

Hath Britaine all the Sun that fhines? Day, night,
Are they not but in Britaine? I'th' world's volume
Our Britaine seems as of it, but not in it;

In a great pool, a fwan's neft.
There's living out of Britaine.
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 disguise
That, which, t'appear it self, muft not yet be,
But by self-danger; you should tread a course
Pretty, 7 and full of view; yea, haply, near
The refidence of Pofthumus; so nigh, at least,
That though his actions were not visible,

6

Now, if you could wear a MIND

Dark as your fortune is,-] What had the darkness of her mind to do with the concealment of perfon, which is the only thing here advised? On the contrary, her mind was to continue unchanged, in order to fupport her change of fortune. Shakespear

wrote,

Now, if you could wear a MIEN.

Or according to the French orthography, from whence I presume arofe the corruption;

7

Now, if you could wear a MINE. and full of view ;] i. e. likely to prove fuccessful.

Report

Report should render him hourly to your ear,
As truly as he moves.

Imo. Oh! for fuch means,

Though peril to my modefty, not death on't
I would adventure.

Pif. Well then, here's the point:

8

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 waggifh courage; • Ready in gybes, quick-answer'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. First, make your self 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 season, 'fore noble Lucius

8

nay, you must

Forget that rareft treasure of your cheek;
Expofing it, (but oh the harder Heart,

Alack, no remedy)] Who does this harder Heart relate to? Pofthumus is not here talk'd of; befides, he knew nothing of her being thus expos'd to the inclemencies of weather: he had enjoin'd a course, which would have fecur'd her from these incidental hardships. I think, common fenfe obliges us to read, But, ob, the harder Hap!

i.e. the more cruel your fortune, that you must be oblig'd to fuch fhifts.

U 4

Prefent

Prefent your felf, defire his fervice, tell him. Wherein you're happy; (which will make him (a) fo, If that his head have ear in mufick ;) doubtless,

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 Miftrefs,
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 some shade,
And fit you to your manhood; may the Gods
Direct you to the best!

9

Imo. Amen: I thank thee.

-Your means abroad

[Exeunt, feverally.

You have me, rich; -- -] i. e. you may depend upon my fupplying you to the utmost of my power.

I

This attempt

-] i. e. I have inlifted and bound my

[(a) fo. Mr. Theobald Vulg. know.]

SCENE

S CE NE E V.

Changes to the Palace of Cymbeline.

Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, Lucius, and Lords. 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 mafter's enemy.

Cym. Our Subjects, Sir,

Will not endure his yoak; and for our felf
To fhew less Sovereignty than they, must 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. 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 caufe.

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 horfemen be in readiness; The Powers, that he already hath in Gallia,

Will

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 fpeedily, and strongly.
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 muft do. 'Befeech your Majefty,
Forbear fharp fpeeches to her. She's a lady
So tender of rebukes, that words are ftrokes,
And strokes death to her.

Re-enter the Servant.

Cym. Where is fhe, Sir? how Can her contempt be anfwer'd? Serv. Please you, Sir,

Her chambers are all lock'd, and there's no answer
That will be given to th' loudeft 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 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.