Dark as your fortune is, and but difguife Imo. Oh! for fuch means, 8 Though peril to my modefty, not death on 't, I would adventure. Pif. Well then, here's the point: You must forget to be a woman; change You made great Juno angry. Imo. Nay, be brief: I fee into thy end, and am almost A man already. Pif. Firft, make yourself but like one. Fore-thinking this, I have already fit, 'Tis in my cloak-bag, doublet, hat, hofe, all know, If that his head have ear in mufick; doubtless, Imo. Thou 'rt all the comfort The Gods will diet me with. Pr'ythee, away. 3 This attempt I'm foldier to, and will abide it with A Prince's courage. Away, I pr'ythee. Pif. Well, Madam, we must take a fhort farewel; Left, being mifs'd, I be fufpected 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 fick at fea, Imo. Amen: I thank thee. [Exeunt, feverally. SCENE V. Changes to the Palace of Cymbeline. Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, Lucius, and Lords. Cym.HUS far, and fo farewel. Cym.TH Luc. Thanks, royal Sir. My Emperor hath wrote; I must from hence, Cym. Our Subjects, Sir, Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself Luc. S6, Sir: I defire of you A conduct over land, to Milford-Haven, 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. Clot. Receive it friendly; but from this time forth I wear it as your enemy. Luc. Th' event Is yet to name the winner. Fare you well. Cym. Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my Lords, 'Till he have croft the Severn. Happiness! [Exit Lucius, &f. Queen 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 horfemen be in readiness; The Powers, that he already hath in Gallia, Will foon be drawn to head, from whence he moves. His war for Britain. Queen. 'Tis not fleepy bufinefs; But must be look'd to fpeedily, and strongly. [Exit a Servant, Since the exile of Pofthumus, most retir'd Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my Lord, Re-enter the Servant. Cym. Where is fhe, Sir? how Her chambers are all lock'd, and there's no anfwer 7 Whereto Whereto constrain'd by her infirmity, She should that duty leave unpaid to you, She wifh'd me to make known; but our great court Cym. Her doors lock'd? Not feen of late? grant heav'ns, that, which I fear, Prove falfe! Queen. Son, I fay, follow the King. [Exit. Clot. That man of hers, Pifanio, her old fervant, I have not feen these two days. Queen. Go, look after. Pifanio, that ftands fo for Pofibumus, He hath a drug of mine; I pray, his abfence [Exit. Where is the gone? haply, defpair hath feiz'd her; To death, or to dishonour; and my end Re-enter Cloten. How now, my fon? Clot. 'Tis certain, she is fled. Go in and cheer the King, he rages, none Queen. All the better; may This night fore-ftall him of the coming day! [Exit Queen. Clot. I love, and hate her; - for fhe's fair and royal, And that the hath all courtly parts more exquifite And that she hath all courtly Than |