A strain of rareness: and I grieve myself,

To think, when thou shalt be dis-edg'd by her
That now thou tir'st on, how thy memory

-Pr'ythee, dispatch:

Will then be pang'd by me.—
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 receiv'd command to do this business,
I have not slept one wink.

Imo. Do't, and to bed then.

Pis. I'll wake mine eye-balls blind first.
Imo. Wherefore then

390

Did'st undertake it? Why hast thou abus'd
So many miles, with a pretence? this place?
Mine action and thine own? our horses' labour? 400
The time inviting thee? the perturb'd court,
For my being absent; whereunto I never
Purpose to 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 consider'd of a course; Good lady,
Hear me with patience.

Imo. Talk thy tongue weary; speak:

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,

Pis. Then, madam,

410

I thought

I thought you would not back again.

Imo. Most like;

Bringing me here to kill me.

Pis. Not so, neither:

But if I were as wise as honest, then

My purpose would prove well. It cannot be,
But that my master is abus'd:

420

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

Pis. No, on my life.

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 miss'd at court,
And that will well confirm it.

Imo. Why, good fellow,

430

What shall I do the while? Where bide? How live?

Or in my life what comfort, when I am

Dead to my husband?

Pis. 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,

Then not in Britain must you bide,

Imo. Where then ?

Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night,

440

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: Pr'ythee, think
There's livers out of Britain.

Pis. I am most glad

You think of other place. The embassador,
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,
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 gybes, quick-answer'd, saucy, and
As quarrellous as the weazel: nay, you must
Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek,
Exposing it (but, O, the harder heart!
Alack, no remedy) to the greedy touch

450

460

470

Of common-kissing Titan; and forget

Your laboursome 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 cloke-bag), doublet, hat, hose, all 480 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 (which you'll make him know,

If that his head have ear in musick), doubtless,
With joy he will embrace you; for he's honourable,
And, doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad
You have me, rich; and I will never fail
Beginning, nor supplyment.

Imo. Thou art all the comfort

The gods will diet me with. Pr'ythee, away:
There's more to be consider'd; but we'll even
All that good time will give us : This attempt
I am soldier to, and will abide it with

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

490

Pis. Well, madam, we must take a short farewel : Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of

500

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-qualm'd 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.

The Palace of CYMBELINE. Enter CYMBELINE, Queen, CLOTEN, LUCIUS, and Lords.

Cym. Thus far; and so farewel.

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 shew 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!

510

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.

520

Clot. Receive it friendly: but from this time forth I wear it as your enemy.

Luc. Sir, the event

Is yet to name the winner: Fare you well.

Cym.