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She wish'd me to make known; but our great court
Made me to blame in memory.
Сут. .

Her doore lock'd? Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that, which I fear, Prove false!

[Exit. Queen. Son, I say, follow the king.

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 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 seiz'd her; Or, wing’d with fervour of her love, she's flown To her desir'd 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?

'Tis certain, she is fled :
Go in, and cheer the king; he rages; none
Dare coine about him.

All the better: May
This night forestall him of ihe coming day!"

[Exit Queer. Clo. I love, and hate her: for she's fair and royal; And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite

May This night forestall him of the coming day !] i. e. May his grief this night prevent him from ever seeing another day, by an anticipated and premature destruction!


Clo. The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit hither: let it be thy first service; go. Pis. I shall, my lord.

[Evit. Clo. Meet thee at Milford-Haven:--) forgot to ask him one thing; I'll remember't anon :-Even there thou villain, Posthumus, will I kill thee. I would, these garments were come.

She said

upon a time, (the bitterness of it I now belch from my heart,) that she held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect than my noble and natural person, together with the adornment of my qualities. With that suit upon my back, will I ravish her: First kill him, and in her eyes; there shall she see my valour, which will then be a torment to her contempt. He on the ground, my speech of insultment ended on his dead body,--and when my lust hath dined, (which, as I say, to vex her, I will execute in the clothes that she so praised,) to the court I'll knock her back, foot her home again. She hath despised me rejoicingly, and I'll be merry in my revenge.

Re-enter PISANIO, with the Clothes. Be those the garments ?

Pis. Ay, my noble lord.

Clo. How long is't since she went to Milfordo Haven:

Pis. She can scarce be there yet.

Clo. Bring this apparel to my chamber; that is the second thing that I have commanded thee: the third is, that thou shalt be a voluntary mute to my design. Be but duteous, and true preferment shall tender itself to thee.-My revenge is now at Milford; 'Would I had wings to follow it!--Come, and be true.


Pis. Thou bidd'st me to my loss: for, true to

thee, Were to prove false, which I will never be, To him that is most true.' To Milford go, And find not her whom thou pursu'st. Flow, flow, You heavenly blessings, on her! This fool's speed Be cross'd with slowness; labour be his meed!



Before the Cave of Belarius.

Enter IMOGEN, in Boy's Clothes. Imo. I see, a man's life is a tedious one: I have tir'd myself; and for two nights together Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick, But that my resolution helps me.-Milford, When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd thee, Thou wast within a ken: Jove! I think, Foundations fly the wretched : such, I mean, Where they should be reliev'd. Two beggars told

me, I could not miss my way: poor

folks lie, That have afflictions on them; knowing 'tis A punishment, or trial? Yes; no wonder, When rich ones scarce tell true: To lapse in fulness Is sorer, than to lie for need; and falsehood Is worse in kings, than beggars.—My dear lord! Thou art one o'the false ones: Now I think on thee, My hunger's gone; but even before, I was At point to sink for food. But what is this? Here is a path to it: 'Tis some savage hold:

way: Will

? To him that is most true.] Pisanio, notwithstanding his master's letter, commanding the murder of Imogen, considers him as true, supposing, as he has already said to her, that Posthumus was. abused by some villain, equally an enemy to them both.

I were best not call; I dare not call: yet famine,
Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant.
Plenty, and peace, breeds cowards; hardness ever
Of hardiness is mother.-Ho! who's here?
If any thing that's civil, speak; if savage,
Take, or lend.-Ho!-No answer? then I'll enter.
Best draw my sword; and if mine enemy
But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look on't.
Such a foe, good heavens! [She goes into the Cave.

Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS. Bel. You, Polydore, have prov'd best woodman,

and Are master of the feast: Cadwal, and I, Will play the cook and servant; 'tis our match :* The sweat of industry would dry, and die, But for the end it works to. Come; our stomachs Will make what's homely, savoury: Weariness Can snore upon the flint, when restive sloth Finds the down pillow hard.-Now, peace be here, Poor house, that keep'st thyself! Gui.

I am throughly weary. Arv. I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite. Gui. There is cold meat i'the cave; we'll browze

on that

Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd.

Stay; come not in:

[Looking in. But that it eats our victuals, I should think Here were a fairy. Gui.

What's the matter, sir? Bel. By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not,

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? If any thing that's civil,] Civil, for human creature.

woodman,] A woodman, in its common acceptation (as in the present instance) signifies a hunter.

'tis our match:] i. e, our compact.


An earthly paragon !-Behold divineness
No elder than a boy!

Enter Imogen.

Imo. Good masters, harm me not: Before I enter'd here, I call'd; and thought To have begg’d, or bought, what I have took:

Good troth, I have stolen nought; nor would not, though I had

found Gold strew'd o'the floor. Here's money for my

meat: I would have left it on the board, so soon As I had made my meal; and parted With prayers

for the provider. Gui.

Money, youth?
Arv. All gold and silver rather turn to dirt!
As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those
Who worship dirty gods,

I see, you are angry:
Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should
Have died, had I not made it.

Whither bound?
Imo. To Milford-Haven, sir.

What is your name?
Imo. Fidele, sir: I have a kinsman, who
Is bound for Italy; he embark'd at Milford;
To whom being going, almost spent with hunger,
I am fallen in this offence.5

Pr'ythee, fair youth, Think us no churls; nor measure our good minds By this rude place we live in. Well encounter'd! 'Tis almost night: you shall have better cheer Ere you depart; and thanks, to stay and eat it.


$ I am fallen in this offence.] In, according to the ancient mode of writing, is here used instead of into.

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