And, doubling that, most holy.

Your means abroad

You have me,1 rich; and I will never fail
Beginning, nor supplyment.

Imo.

The gods will diet me with.

Thou art all the comfort
Pr'ythee, away;

There's more to be considered; but we'll even
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.

2

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.

Thanks, royal sir

Luc.
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.

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

4

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.

Your hand, my lord.

but from this time forth

Sir, the event

Is yet to name the winner; 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.

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 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.

Cym.

Re-enter an Attendant.

Where is she, sir? How

Can her contempt be answered?

Please you, sir,

Atten.
Her chambers are all locked; and there's no answer
That will be given to the loud'st1 of noise we make.
Queen. My lord, when last I went to visit her,
She prayed me to excuse her keeping close;
Whereto constrained by her infirmity,

She should that duty leave unpaid to you,
Which daily she was bound to proffer: this

She wished me to make known; but our great court
Made me to blame in memory.

'Her doors locked?

Cym.
Not seen of late? Grant, Heavens, that which I
Fear, prove false !

[Exit

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.

[Exit CLOTEN.

Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus!-
He hath a drug of mine. I pray, his absence
Proceed by swallowing that; for he believes
It is a thing most precious. But for her,

Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seized her;
Or, winged with fervor of her love, she's flown

To her desired Posthumus. Gone she is

To death or to dishonor; and my end

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

Re-enter CLoten.

How now, my son?

Clo.

'Tis certain, she is fled;

Go in, and cheer the king. He rages; none

Dare come about him.

1 The first folio reads lowd.

Queen.

All the better; may

This night forestall him of the coming day!1

1

[Exit QUEEN.
Clo. I love and hate her; for she's fair and royal;
And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite
Than lady, ladies, woman; 2 from every one
The best she hath, and she, of all compounded,
Outsells them all. I love her therefore; but,
Disdaining me, and throwing favors on

The low Posthumus, slanders so her judgment,
That what's else rare, is choked; and, in that point,
I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed,

To be revenged upon her. For, when fools

Enter PISANIO.

v illain,

Shall-Who is here? What! are you packing, sirrah?
Come hither. Ah, you precious pander'
Where is thy lady? In a word; or else
Thou art straightway with the fiends.
Pis.

O, good my lord!
Clo. Where is thy lady? or, by Jupiter,
I will not ask again. Close villain,
I'll have the secret from thy heart, or rip

Thy heart to find it.

Is she with Posthumus ?

From whose so many weights of baseness cannot

A dram of worth be drawn.

Pis.

Alas, my lord,

How can she be with him? When was she missed?

He is in Rome.

Clo.

Where is she, sir? Come nearer;

No further halting. Satisfy me home,

What is become of her?

Pis. O, my all-worthy lord!

Clo.

All worthy villain !

Discover where thy mistress is, at once,

At the next word,-No more of worthy lord,—

1 i. e. may his grief this night prevent him from ever seeing another

day, by anticipated and premature destruction.

2 Than any lady, than all ladies, than all womankind.

Speak, or thy silence on the instant is
Thy condemnation and thy death.

Pis.

Then, sir,

Or this, or perish.1

She's far enough; and what he learns by this, Aside. May prove his travel, not her danger.

Clo.

Humph!

[Aside.

Pis. I'll write to my lord she's dead. O'Imogen, Safe mayst thou wander, safe return again! Clo. Sirrah, is this letter true? Pis. Sir, as I think. Clo. It is Posthumus' hand; I know't.-Sirrah, if thou wouldst not be a villain, but do me true service; undergo those employments, wherein I should have cause to use thee, with a serious industry,—that is, what villany soe'er I bid thee do, to perform it directly and truly,—I would think thee an honest man. Thou shouldst neither want my means for thy relief, nor my voice for thy preferment.

Pis. Well, my good lord.

Clo. Wilt thou serve me? For since patiently and constantly thou hast stuck to the bare fortune of that beggar Posthumus, thou canst not in the course of gratitude but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou serve me?

Pis. Sir, I will.

Clo. Give me thy hand; here's my purse. Hast any of thy late master's garments in thy possession? Pis. I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same suit he wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress. Clo.' The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit hither; let it be thy first service; go. Pis. I shall, my lord.

[Exit.

1 By these words, it is probable Pisanio means, "I must either practise this deceit upon Cloten, or perish by his fury." Dr. Johnson thought the words should be given to Cloten.