You have me, rich; and I will never fail Imo. Thou art all the comfort The gods will diet me with. Pr'ythee, away: There's more to be considered; but we'll even All that good time will give us: This attempt I'm soldier to, and will abide it with A prince's courage. Away, I pr'ythee. Pis. Well, madam, we must take a short farewell; Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress, Imo. Amen: I thank thee. [Exeunt. SCENE V.-A room in Cymbeline's palace. Enter CYMBELINE, Queen, CLOTEN, LUCIUS, and Lords. Cym. Thus far, and so farewell. Luc. Thanks, royal sir. My emperor hath wrote; I must from hence; And am right sorry, that I must report ye My master's enemy. Cym. Our subjects, sir, Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself To show less sovereignty than they, must needs Luc. So, sir, I desire of you A conduct over land, to Milford-Haven.- Cym. My lords, you are appointed for that office; The due of honour in no point omit : So, farewell, noble Lucius. Luc. Your hand, my lord. Clo. 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 be 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. Clo. "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 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. Queen. Royal sir, [Exit an Attendant. Since the exile of Posthumus, most retir'd Hath her life been; the cure whereof, iny lord, 'Tis time must do. 'Beseech your majesty, Re-enter an Attendant, Cym. Where is she, sir? How Can her contempt be answer'd? Atten. Please you, sir, Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer, 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. Cym. Her doors lock'd? Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that, which I fear, Prove false! Queen. Son, I say, follow the king. [Exit. Clo. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant, I have not seen these two days. Queen. Go, look after. [Exit Cloten. Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthúmus!— To her desir'd Posthúmus: Gone she is To death, or to dishonour; and my end Can make good use of either: She being down, Re-enter CLOTEN. How now, my son? Clo. 'Tis certain, she is fled: Go in, and cheer the king; he rages; none Queen. All the better: May This night forestall him of the coming day! Exit Queen. Clo. I love, and hate her: for she's fair and royal; And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite Than lady, ladies, woman; from every one The best she hath, and she, of all compounded, Outsells them all: I love her therefore: But, Disdaining me, and throwing favours on The low Posthumus, slanders so her judgment, That what's else rare, is chok'd; and, in that point, I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed, To be reveng'd upon her. For, when fools Enter PISANIO. Shall-Who is here? What! are you packing, sirrah ? Clo. Where is thy lady? or, by Jupiter, I will not ask again. Close villain, I'll have this secret from thy heart, or rip Pis. Alas, my lord, How can she be with him? When was she miss'd? Clo. Where is she, sir? Come nearer; No further halting: satisfy me home, Pis. O, my all-worthy lord! Clo. All-worthy villain! Discover where thy mistress is, at once, At the next word,-No more of worthy lord,— Pis. Then, sir, This paper is the history of my knowledge Touching her flight. [Presenting a letter. Clo. Let's see't:-I will pursue her Even to Augustus' throne. Pis. Or this, or perish. She's far enough; and what he learns Aside. by this May prove his travel, not her danger. Pis. I'll write to my lord she's dead. O Imogen, Safe may'st thou wander, safe return again! [Aside. Clo. Sirrah, is this letter true? Pis. Sir, as I think. Clo. It is Posthumus' hand; I know't.-Sirrah, if thou would'st not be a villain, but do me true service; undergo those employments, wherein I should have cause to use thee, with a serious industry,-that is, what villainy soe'er I bid thee do, to perform it, directly and truly, I would think thee an honest man: thou should'st neither want my means for thy relief, nor my voice for thy preferment. Pis. Well, my good lord. Clo. Wilt thou serve me? For, since patiently and constantly thou hast stuck to the bare fortune of that beggar Posthumus, thou canst not, in the course of gratitude, but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou serve me? Pis. Sir, I will. |