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Dark as your fortune is, and but disguise
That, which, to appear itself, must not yet be,
But by felf-danger; you shall tread a course
Pretty, and s full of view; yea, haply, near
The residence of Posthumus; so nigh, at least,
That though his actions were not visible,
Report should render him hourly to your ear,
As truly as he moves.

Imo. Oh, 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 felf) to waggish courage;
Ready in gybes, quick-answerd, faucy, and
As quarrellous as the weazel : 7 nay, you must



mind to do with the concealment of person, which is here advised ? On the contrary, her mind was to continue unchanged, in order to support her change of fortune. Shakespeare wrote,

- Now, if you could wear a mein. Or according to the French orthography, from whence I prefume arose the corruption :

Now, if you could wear a mine. WARBURTON. To wear a dark mind, is to carry a mind impenetrable to the search of others. Darkness applied to the mind is secrecy, applied to the fortune is obscurity. The next lines are obscure, You must, says Pisanio, disgnise that greatness, which, to appear hereafter in its proper form, cannot yet appear without gre danger to itself. JOHNSON,

full of view;-] With opportunities of examining your affairs with your own eyes. JOHNSON. 6 Though peril to my modesty, -] I read,

Through peril
I would for such means adventure through peril of my modefly; !
would risque every thing but real dishonour. JOHNSON,

nay, you must
Forget that rarest treafure of your check;
Exposing it (but, ob, the harder heart !
Alack, no remedy) I think it very natural to reflė& in this


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Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek ;
Exposing it (but, oh, the harder heart !
Alack, no remedy) to the 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 yourself but like one.
Fore-thinking this, I have already fit
('Tis in my cloak-bag) doublet, hat, hose, all
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, defire his service, tell him
Wherein you are happy (8 which you'll make him

If that his head have ear in music) 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. Prythee, away.
There's more to be consider'd; but 9 we'll even.


distress on the cruelty of Pofthumus. Dr. WARRURTON proposes to read,

the harder hap!-- JOHNSON.

which you'll make him know,] This is HANMER'S reading. The common books have it,

which will make him know. Mr. THEOBALD, in one of his long notes, endeavours to prove, that it should be,

which will make him fo. He is followed by Dr. WARBURTON. Johnson.

All that good time -will give us.- -] We'll make our work even with our time; we'll do what time will allow.



we'll even

All that good time will give us.

1 This attempt I am soldier to, and will abide it with A prince's courage. Away, I pr’ythee.

Pis. Well, madam, we must take a short farewell ; Left, 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 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!

1:20. Amen: I thank thee, (Exeunt, severally.

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Enter Cymbeline, Queen, "Cloten, Lucius, and Lords.

Cvm. Thus far ; and so farewell.

L:16. Thanks, royal Sir.
My emperor hath wrote; I must from hence;
And am right forry, that I must report you
My master's enemy.

Cym. Our subjects, Sir,
Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself
To fnew less fovereignty than they, must needs
Appear un-kinglike.

Luc. 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;


This attempt

I am foldier 10,- -] i. e. I have inlisted and bound myself to it. WAR BURTON


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The due of honour in no point omit:
So farewell, noble Lucius.

Luc. Your hand, my lord.

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

Luc. The event
Is yet to name the winner. Fare


well. Cym. Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords, Till he have croft the Severn. - Happiness!

[Exit Lucius, &c. Queen. He goes hence frowning: but it honours us, That we have given him cause.

Ciot. 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 horferen 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 tender'd
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 light in sufferance. [Exit a servant.

Queen. Royal Sir,
Since the exile of Posthumus, most retir'd
Hath her life been ; the cure whereof, my lord,
'Tis time must do. 'Befeech your majesty,
Forbear sharp speeches to her. She's a lady
So tender of rebukes, that words are strokes,
And strokes death to her,

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Re-enter Re-enter the Servant.

Cym. Where is she, Sir? How Can her contempt be answer'd ?

Serv. Please you, Sir, Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer That will be given to the loud noise we make.

Queen. My lord, when last I went to visit her, She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close; Whereto constrain’d by her infirmity, She should that duty leave unpaid to you, Which daily she was bound to proffer : this She wish'd me to make known; but our great court Made me to blame in memory.

Cym. Her doors lock'd ? Not seen of late ? grant heavens, that, which I fear, Prove false !

[Exit. Queen. Son, I say, follow the king.

Clot. That man of hers, Pifanio, her old servant, I have not seen these two days.

[Exit. Queen. Go, look after Pisanio, that stands fo 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 feiz’d her; Or, wing'd with fervor of her love, she's flown To her defir'd Posthumus : gone fhe is To death, or to dishonour; 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 ?

Clot. 'Tis certain, she is fled.
Go in, and cheer the king: he rages; none
Dare come about him.


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