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

Luc. Sir, the 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! [Exeunt Lucius, &c.

Queen. He goes hence frowning: but it honours

us,

That we have given 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 Britain.

Queen. 'Tis not fleepy 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 fufferance.

[Exit a fervant.

Queen. Royal fir,
Since the exile of Pofthumus, most retir'd
Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord,
'Tis time must do. 'Beseech your majesty,
Forbear sharp fpeeches to her: She's a lady
So tender of rebukes, that words are ftrokes,
And ftrokes death to her.

Re

Re-enter the fervant.

Cym. Where is fhe, fir? How Can her contempt be anfwer'd? Serv. Please you, fir,

Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer
That will be given to the loud of noise we make.
Queen. My lord, when last I went to visit her,
She pray'd me to excufe her keeping clofe;
Whereto constrain'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 memory.

Cym. Her doors lock'd?

Not feen of late? Grant, heavens, that, which I fear, Prove falfe!

Queen. Son, 1 fay, follow the king.

[Exit.

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

I have not seen thefe two days.

Queen. Go, look after.

[Exit.

Pifanio, thou that stand'ft fo for Pofthumus!-
He hath a drug of nine: 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 fervour of her love, fhe's flown
To her defir'd Pofthumus: Gone she is

To death, or to difhonour; and my end
Can make good ufe of either: She being down,
I have the placing of the British crown.

Re-enter Cloten.

How now, my fon?

Clot. 'Tis certain, she is filed:

Go in, and cheer the king; he rages, none
Dare come about him.

Queen,

Queen. All the better: May

This night fore-ftall him of the coming day!

[Exit Queen. Clot. I love, and hate her: for fhe's fair and

royal;

5 And that the hath all courtly parts more exquisite
Than lady, ladies, woman; from every one
The beft fhe hath, and fhe, of all compounded,
Outfells them all: I love her therefore: But,
Difdaining me, and throwing favours on
The low Pofthumus, flanders fo her judgment,
That what's else rare, is choak'd; and, in that point,
I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed,
To be reveng'd upon her. For, when fools

Enter Pifanio.

Shall-Who is here? What are you packing, firrah?

Come hither: Ah, you precious pandar! Villain,
Where is thy lady? In a word; or elfe
Thou art ftraightway with the fiends.

Pif. O, good my lord!

Clot. Where is thy lady? or, by Jupiter,
I will not ask again. Clofe villain,

I'll have this fecret from thy heart, or rip
Thy heart to find it. Is fhe with Pofthumus?
From whose so many weights of baseness cannot
A dram of worth be drawn.

Pif. Alas, my lord,

And that he hath all courtly parts more exquifite

Than lady ladies woman; from each one

The best he hath,

She has all courtly parts, fays he, more exquifite than any lady,

than all ladies, than all womankind. JOHNSON.

There is a fimilar paffage in All's well that ends well, a&t II. fc. iii. To any count; to all counts; to what is man."

TOLLET.

How

How can fhe be with him? When was she miss'd?

He is in Rome.

Clot. Where is fhe, fir? Come nearer;

No further halting: fatisfy me home,
What is become of her?

Pif. O, my all-worthy lord!

Clot. All-worthy villain!

Discover where thy mistress is, at once,

At the next word,-No more of worthy lord,~
Speak, or thy filence on the instant is
Thy condemnation and thy death.

Pif. Then, fir,

This paper is the hiftory of my knowledge
Touching her flight.

Clot. Let's fee't:-I will purfue her
Even to Auguftus' throne.

Pif. Or this, or perish.

}

She's far enough; and what he learns by this, [Afide. May prove his travel, not her danger.

Clot. Humh!

Pif. I'll write to my lord, fhe's dead. O, Imo

gen,

Safe may'It thou wander, fafe return again!

Clot. Sirrah, is this letter true?

Pif. Sir, as I think.

[Afide.

Or this, or perish.] Thefe words, I think, belong to Cloten, who, requiring the paper, fays:

Let's fee't: I will pursue her

Even to Auguftus' throne. Or this, or perish.

Then Pifanio giving the paper, fays to himself:

She's far enough, &c. JOHNSON.

I own I am of a different opinion. Or this, or perish, properly belongs to Pifanio, who fays to himself, as he gives the paper into the hands of Cloten, I muft either give it him freely, or perish in my attempt to keep it: or elfe the words may be confidered as a reply to Cloten's boast of following her to the throne of Auguftus, and are added flily: You will either do what you say, or STEEVENS. perish, which is the more probable of the two.

Clot.

Clot. It is Pofthumus hand; I know't.—Sirrah, if thou wouldst not be a villain,, but do me true fervice; undergo thofe employments, wherein I should have cause to use thee, with a ferious induftry,that is, what villainy foe'er I bid thee do, to perform it, directly and truly,-I would think thee an honeft man: thou should'ft neither want my means for thy relief, nor my voice for thy preferment. Pif. Well, my good lord.

Clot. Wilt thou ferve me? For fince patiently and conftantly thou haft ftuck to the bare fortune of that beggar Pofthumus, thou can'ft not in the course of gratitude but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou ferve me?

Pif. Sir, I will.

Clot. Give me thy hand, here's my purse. Haft any of thy late mafter's garments in thy poffeffion? Pif. I have, my lord, at my lodging, the fame fuit he wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress.

Clot. The firft fervice thou doft me, fetch that fuit hither let it be thy firft fervice; go. Pif. I fhall, my lord.

[Exit. Clot. Meet thee at Milford-Haven :-I forgot to ask him one thing; I'll remember't anon :Even there, thou villain Pofthumus, will I kill thee. -I would, these garments were come. She faid upon a time, (the bitterness of it I now belch from my heart) that she held the very garment of Posthumus in more refpect than my noble and natural perfon, together with the adornment of my qualities. With that fuit upon my back, will I ravish her: First kill him, and in her eyes; there fhall she fee my valour, which will then be a torment to her contempt. He on the ground, my fpeech of infultment ended on his dead body,-and when my luft hath dined, (which, as I fay, to vex her, I will

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