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Pif. I'll break mine eye-balls first.

Imo. Ah wherefore then
Didst undertake it? why haft thou abus’d
So many miles, with a pretence? this place?
Mine action and thine own? our horses labour ?
The time inviting thee? the perturb'd court
For my being absent? whereunto I never
Purpose return. Why halt thou gone so far

To be unbent? when thou hast ta’en thy stand,
Th' elected deer before thee?

Pif. 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've heard I am a strumpet, and mine ear
(Therein false struck) can take no greater wound,
Nor tent to bottom that. But speak.

Pif. Then, madam,
I thought you would not back again.

Imo. Most like
Bringing me here to kill me.

Pif. 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, some villain
And singular in his art, hath done you both
This cursed injury.

Imo. Some Roman curtezan?

Pif. No, on my life.
I'll give him 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,

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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?

Pif. If you'll back to th' court

Imo. No court, no father ; nor no more ado
With that harsh, noble, simple nothing, 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?
Are they not bur in Britain ? i'th' world's volume
Our Britain seems as of it, but not in it;
In a great pool a swan's nest. Proythee think
There's living out of Britain.

Pif. I'm most glad
You think of other place: th’ 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 t'appear it self, must not yet be,
But by felf-danger ; you should tread a course
Pretty, and full of view; yea haply near
The residence of Pofthumus; lo nigh, at least,
That though his action were not visible,
Report should render him hourly to your ear,
As truly as he moves.

Imo. Oh ! for such meaas,
(Though peril to my modesty, not death on’t,)
I would adventure.

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Pif. 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,) to waggish courage, * Ready in gybes, quick-answerd, fawcy, and • As quarrellous as the weazel: nay, you must • Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek,

Exposing it (but oh the harder heart, 'Alack, no remedy) to th' greedy touch "Of common-kisling 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

Pif. First, make your self but like one.
Fore-thinking this, I have already fit,
('Tis in my cloak-bag) doublet, hat, hose, ali
That answer to them. Would you in their serving,
And with what imitation you can borrow
From youth of such a season, before Lucius
Present your self, desire bis service; tell him
Wherein you're happy, which will make him know,
If that his head have ear io 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 supply

Imo. Thou’rt all the comfort
The gods will diet me with. Pr’ythee away.
There's more to be consider’d; but we'll evea.
All that good time will give us.

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This attempt

I'm soldier to, and will abide it with
A prince's courage. Away, I pr’ythee.

Pis. Well, madam, we must take a short farewel.
Lest being miss’d, 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're 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.

Cym. THVLoc." Thanks, royal

Sir

.

S CE N E V..

The Palace of Cymbeline.
Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, Lucius, and Lords.
HUS far, and .

. ,
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 yoak; and for our self
To Thew less soveraignty then they, must needs
Appear un-kinglike

Lic. So, Sir: I desire 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.

Fare you

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.

well.
Cym. Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords,
'Till he have crost the Severn. Happiness! (Exit Lucius, &c.

Queen. He goes hence frowning; but it honours us
That we have giv'n him cause.

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 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.

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 tenderd
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 sufferance.

Queen. Royal Sir,
Since th' exile of Posthumus, most retir’d
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.

Enter

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