Page 512 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

Thou art all the comfort
The gods will diet me with. Prithee away,
There’s more to be consider’d: but we’ll even
All that good time will give us. This attempt

I am soldier to, and will abide it with
A prince’s courage. Away, I prithee. [180]

PISANIO
Well, madam, we must take a short farewell,
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 are sick at sea, [185]
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!

IMOGEN
Amen: I thank thee.
[Exeunt severally.]

Scene V IT

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

CYMBELINE
Thus far, and so farewell.

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,