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.
LUCIUS.
So, sir. I desire of you
A conduct overland to Milford Haven.
Madam, all joy befall your Grace, and you!
CYMBELINE.
My lords, you are appointed for that office;
The due of honour in no point omit.
So farewell, noble Lucius.
LUCIUS.
Your hand, my lord.
CLOTEN.
Receive it friendly; but from this time forth
I wear it as your enemy.
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.