Enter CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN, LUCIUS, Lords, and Attendants CYMBELINE Thus far; and so farewell. CAIUS LUCIUS Thanks, royal sir.
My emperor hath wrote, I must from hence;
And am right sorry that I must report ye My master's enemy. CYMBELINE Our subjects, sir, Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself To show less sovereignty than they, must needs Appear unkinglike. CAIUS LUCIUS So, sir: I desire of you A conduct over-land to Milford-Haven.
Madam, all joy befal your grace! QUEEN And you! CYMBELINE My lords, you are appointed for that office;The due of honour in no point omit.
So farewell, noble Lucius. CAIUS LUCIUS Your hand, my lord. CLOTEN Receive it friendly; but from this time forth I wear it as your enemy. CAIUS LUCIUS Sir, the event Is yet to name the winner: fare you well. CYMBELINE Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords, Till he have cross'd the Severn. Happiness!
Exeunt LUCIUS and Lords QUEEN He goes hence frowning: but it honours us That we have given him cause. CLOTEN 'Tis all the better;Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it. CYMBELINE 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. CYMBELINE Our expectation that it would 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 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.
Re-enter Attendant CYMBELINE Where is she, sir? How Can her contempt be answer'd? Attendant Please you, sir, Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer That will be given to the loudest 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. CYMBELINE Her doors lock'd?
Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that which Ifear Prove false!
Exit QUEEN Son, I say, follow the king. CLOTEN That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant, 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, wing'd with fervor of her love, she's flown To her desired Posthumus: gone she 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! CLOTEN 'Tis certain she is fled.
Go in and cheer the king: he rages; none Dare come about him. QUEEN [Aside] All the better: may This night forestall him of the coming day!
