A strain of rareness; and I grieve myself,
To think, when thou shalt be disedged by her
That now thou tirest on, how thy memory
Will then be panged by me.-Pr'ythee, despatch.
The lamb entreats the butcher. Where's thy knife?
Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding,
When I desire it too.

Pis.

O gracious lady,

Since I received command to do this business,
I have not slept one wink.

Imo.

Do't, and to bed then.

Pis. I'll wake mine eyeballs blind first.
Imo.

Wherefore then

Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abused
So many miles with a pretence? this place?
Mine action, and thine own? our horses' labor?
The time inviting thee? the perturbed court,
For my being absent; whereunto I never
Purpose return? Why hast thou gone so far,
To be unbent, when thou hast ta'en thy stand,
The elected deer before thee?

Pis.
But to win time
To lose so bad employment; in the which
I have considered of a course. Good lady,
Hear me with patience.

Imo.
I have heard, I am a strumpet; and mine ear,
Therein false struck, can take no greater wound,
Nor tent to bottom that. But speak.

Talk thy tongue weary; speak.

Pis.

I thought you would not back again.
Imo.

Bringing me here to kill me.

Pis.

Then, madam,

Most like;

Not so, neither;

But if I were as wise as honest, then

1 It is probable that the first, as well as the last, of these metaphorical expressions is from falconry. A bird of prey may be said to be disedged, when the keenness of its appetite is taken away by tiring, or feeding upon some object given to it for that purpose.

2 Blind, which is not in the old copy, was supplied by Hanmer. 3 To have thy bow unbent; alluding to a hunter.

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 In a great pool, a swan's nest. There's livers out of Britain.

not in it;
Pr'ythee, think

I am most glad

Pis.
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; 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.

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: 2 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
This attempt

All that good time will give us.

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.

So, sir, I desire of

you

A conduct over land, to Milford-Haven.-
Madam, all joy befall your grace, and you!^

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.

Is yet to name the winner;

Your hand, my lord. but from this time forth

Sir, the event

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.

'Tis all the better:

Clo.
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.