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Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night,
In a great pool, a swan's nest; Pr'ythee, think
Pis. I am most glad
You think of other place. The embassador,
Imo. O, for such means!
Though peril to my modesty, not death on't,
Pis. Well then, here's the point:
You must forget to be a woman; change
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.
(Tis in my cloak-bag,) doublet, hat, hose, all
And with what imitation you can borrow
From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius
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.
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
Luc. So, sir, I desire of you
A conduct over land, to Milford-Haven.-
Cym. My lords, you are appointed for that office,
So, farewell, noble Lucius.
Luc. Your hand, my lord.
Clo. 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. Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords,
Till he hath cross'd the Severn.-Happiness!
[Exeunt LUCIUS, and Lords.
Queen. He goes hence frowning: but it honours us,
That we have given him cause.
Clo. '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 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 look'd to speedily, and strongly.
Queen. Royal sir,
[Exit an Attendant.
Since the exile of Posthumus, most retir'd
Re-enter an Attendant.
Cym. Where is she, sir? How
Can her contempt be answer'd?
Atten. Please you, sir,
Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer
That will be given to the loudest of noise we make.
Queen. My lord, when last I went to visit her,
She wish'd me to make known; but our great court
Cym. Her doors lock'd?
Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that, which I fear, Prove false!
Queen. Son, I say, follow the king.
Clo. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant,
I have not seen these two days.
Queen. Go, look after.—
Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus!-
Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seiz'd her;
To death, or to dishonour; and my end
How now, my son?
Clo. "Tis certain she is fled:
Go in, and cheer the king; he rages; none
Queen. All the better: May
This night forestall him of the coming day!
Clo. I love, and hate her: for she's fair and royal;