Pif. If not at Court,

Then not in Britaine muft you 'bide.

Imo. Where then?

Hath Britaine all the Sun that fhines? Day, night,
Are they not but in Britaine? I'th' world's volume
Our Britaine feems as of it, but not in it;

In a great pool, a fwan's neft.
There's living out of Britaine.
Pif. I'm most glad,

Pr'ythee, think,

You think of other place: th' Ambaffador,
Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven
To-morrow.

(15) Now, if you could wear a Mien
Dark as your fortune is, and but disguise
That, which, t'appear itself, must not yet be,
But by felf-danger; you fhould tread a courfe
Pretty, and full of view; yea, haply, near
The refidence of Pofthumus; fo nigh, at leaft,
That though his actions were not visible,
Report fhould render him hourly to your ear,
As truly as he moves.

Imo. Oh! for fuch means,

(Though peril to my modesty, not death on't) I would adventure.

Pif. Well then, here's the point:

You muft forget to be a woman; change
Command into obedience; fear and nicenefs
(The handmaids of all women, or, more truly,
Woman its pretty felf,) to waggifh courage;
Ready in gybes, quick-answer'd, faucy, and

(15)

Now, if you could wear a Mind

Dark as your Fortune is,] But the Difguife of her Perfon is the only Thing which Pifanio is here advifing; not that the should fifle any Qualifications or Beauties of her Mind. I therefore think, we may fafely read;

Now, if you could wear a Mien

Dark as your Fortune is,

Or, according to the French Orthography, from whence, I prefume, arofe the Corruption;

Now, if you could wear a Mine.

Mr. Warburton.
As

As quarrellous as the weazel: (16) nay, you must
Forget that rareft treasure of your cheek;
Expofing it (but, oh, the harder Hap!
Alack, no remedy) to the greedy touch
Of common-kiffing Titan; and forget
Your labourfome and dainty trims, wherein
You made great Juno angry.

Imo. Nay, be brief:

I fee 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, hofe, all

That answer to them. 'Would you in their ferving,
And with what Imitation you can borrow

From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius
Prefent yourself, defire his service, (17) tell him

(16)

nay, you must

Cheek ;

Forget that rareft Treasure of your
Expofing it, (but ob the harder Heart,

Wherein

Alack, no Remedy.] Now, who does this barder Heart relate to? Poftbumus is not here talk'd of, befides, he knew Nothing of her being thus expos'd to the Inclemencies of Weather: He had enjoyn'd a Courfe, which would have fecur'd her from thefe incidental Hardships. I think, common fenfe obliges us to read :

But, ob, the harder Hap!

i. e. the more cruel your Fortune, that you must be oblig'd to fuch Shifts. Mr. Warburton.

(17)

tell him,

Wherein you're bappy, which will make him know,
If that his Head have ear in Mufick, doubtless

With joy be will embrace you ;] Thus, all the Editions: But, furely, the Paffage is faulty both in the Text and Pointing. Which will make him know, what? What Connection has this with the rest of the Sentence? Shakespeare can't be fufpected, certainly, of fo bald a Meaning as this; If you'll tell him qubherein you are happy, That will make him know wherein you're happy: and yet, this is the only Meaning, I think, the Words as they now ftand. I take the Poet's Senfe to be this. Pifanio tells Imogen, if she would disguise herself in the Habit of a Youth, prefent

can carry,

Wherein you're happy; (which will make him fo,
If that his head have ear in mufick ;) doubtless,
With joy he will embrace you; for he's honourable,
And, doubling that, moft holy. Your means abroad,
You have me rich; and I will never fail

Beginning, nor fupply.

Imo. Thou'rt all the comfort

The Gods will diet me with.

Pr'ythee, away.

There's more to be confider'd; but we'll even
All that good time will give us.

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,
Or ftomach-qualm'd at land, a dram of this.
Will drive away diftemper- To some shade,
And fit you to your manhood; may the Gods
Direct you to the best!

Imo. Amen: I thank thee.

[Exeunt, feverally.

SCENE changes to the Palace of Cymbeline. Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, Lucius, and Lords.

Cym. HUS far, and so farewel.

TH

Luc. Thanks, royal Sir.

My Emperor hath wrote; I must from hence;

prefent herself before Lucius the Roman General, offer her Service, and tell him wherein the was happy, i. e. what an excellent Talent fhe had in Singing; this would make him happy, if he had an Ear for Mufick, and he would gladly receive her. For, afterwards, Belarius and Arviragus, talking of Imogen, give this Description of her, whom they take for a Boy.

Bel. This Youth, howe'er diftreft, feems to have had

Good Ancestors.

Arv. How Angel-like be fings!

And

And am right forry, that I must report ye
My mafter's enemy.

Cym. Our Subjects, Sir,

Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself
To fhew lefs Sovereignty than they, must needs
Appear un-king like

Luc. So, Sir: I defire 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. 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!

Queen. He

[Exit Lucius, &c.

goes hence frowning; but it honours us, That we have giv'n him caufe.

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 Britaine.

Queen. "Tis not fleepy bufinefs;

But must be look'd to fpeedily, and ftrongly.

r'd

Cym. Our expectation, that it fhould be thus,
Hath made us forward. But, my gentle Queen,
Where is our Daughter? She hath not appear'
Before the Roman, nor to us hath tender'd
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.

[Exit a Servant.

Queen.

Queen. Royal Sir,

Since the exile of Pofthumus, moft retir'd
Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my Lord,
"Tis time muft do. 'Befeech your Majefty,
Forbear fharp fpeeches to her. She's a lady
So tender of rebukes, that words are ftrokes,
And ftrokes death to her.

Re-enter the Servant.

Cym. Where is the, 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 th' loudeft noise we make.
Queen. My Lord, when laft I went to vifit her,
She pray'd me to excufe her keeping clofe;
Whereto conftrain'd by her infirmity,

She should that duty leave unpaid to you,
Which daily fhe was bound to proffer; this

She wifh'd me to make known; but our great court Made me to blame in mem'ry.

Cym. Her doors lock'd?

Not feen of late? grant heav'ns, that, which I fear,

Prove falfe!

[Exit.

Queen. Son, I fay, follow the King.

Clot. That man of hers, Pifania, her old fervant,

I have not feen thefe two days.

[Exit.

Queen. Go, look after

Pifanio, thou that ftandit fo for Pofthumus!

He hath a drug of mine; I pray, his abfence
Proceed by fwallowing that; for he believes,
It is a thing moft precious. But for her,

Where is the gone? haply, defpair hath feiz'd' her;
Or, wing'd with fervor of her love, fhe's flown
To her defir'd Pofthumus; gone she is
To death, or to dishonour; and my end
Can make good ufe of either. She being down,
I have the placing of the British crown.

Re-enter