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I am soldier too, and will abide it with

A prince's courage.

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,
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!

Imog. Amen! I thank thee.




Cymbeline's Palace.

Enter Cloten.

Cloten. I love, and hate her: for she's fair and royal,

I love her; but,

Disdaining me, and throwing favours on

The low Posthumus, slanders so her judgment,
I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed,
To be reveng'd upon her.


Who is here?


Ah, you precious pander! Villain,
Where is thy lady? In a word; or else
Thou art straightway with the fiends.
Pisanio. O, good my lord!

Cloten. Where is thy lady? or, by Jupiter,
I will not ask again. Close villain,
I'll have this secret from thy heart, or rip
Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus?
Pisanio. Alas, my lord,

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

Cloten. Where is she, sir?

Satisfy me home,—

What is become of her?

Pisanio. O, my all-worthy lord!
Cloten. All-worthy villain!

Speak, or thy silence on the instant is
Thy condemnation and thy death.

Pisanio. Then, sir,

This paper is the history of my knowledge

Touching her flight.

Cloten. Let's see't:—I will

Even to Augustus' throne.

[Presents a Letter.

pursue her

Pisanio. [Aside.] Or this, or perish.

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

I'll write to my lord she's dead. O, Imogen,
Safe may'st thou wander, safe return again!
Cloten. Sirrah, is this letter true?
Pisanio. Sir, as I think.

Cloten. It is Posthumus' hand; I know't.—Sirrah, if thou wouldst not be a villain, but do me true service, that is, what villany soe'er I bid thee do, to perform it, directly and truly, I would think thee an honest man: thou shouldst neither want my means for thy relief, nor my voice for thy preferment.

Pisanio. Well, my good lord.
Cloten. Wilt thou serve me?

Pisanio. Sir, I will.

Cloten. Give me thy hand, here's my purse. Hast any of thy late master's garments in thy possession? Pisanio. I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same suit he wore when he took leave of my lady and mis


Cloten. The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit hither: let it be thy first service; go.

Pisanio. I shall, my lord.

[Exit PISANIO. -Even

Haven :

Cloten. Meet thee at Milford there, thou villain Posthumus, will I kill thee.—I would, these garments were come. She said upon a time, that she held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect than my noble and natural person. With that suit upon my back, will I first kill him, and in her eyes: He on the ground, my speech of insultment ended on his dead body, when my appetite hath din'd, to the court I'll foot her home again.— My revenge is now at Milford :—'Would I had wings to follow it! [Exit.



The Forest and Cave.

Enter Imogen, in Boy's Clothes

Imog. 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: :

Two beggars told me,

I could not miss my way: Will poor folks lie,
That have afflictions on them; knowing 'tis
A punishment, or trial? Yes. no wonder,
When rich ones scarce tell true:

My dear lord!

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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?
Tis some savage hold:

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..

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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 :

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!

[Goes towards the Cave.

Guid. I am throughly weary. in

Arv. I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite. Guid. There's cold meat i'the cave; we'll browse

on that,

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

Bel. Stay come not in :—

But that it eats our victuals, I should think
Here were a fairy.

Guid. What's the matter, sir?

Bel. By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not, An earthly paragon!—Behold divineness No elder than a boy!

di Enter Imogen.

Imog. Good masters, harm me not: Before I enter'd here, I call'd; and thought

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To have begg'd, or bought, what I have took: Good

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

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Gold strew'd o' the floor. Here's money for thy meat: I would have left it on the board, so soon

As I had made my meal; and parted

With prayers for the provider.

Arv. Money, youth?

Guid. All gold and silver rather turn to dirt! As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those

Who worship dirty gods.

Imog. I see, you are angry;

Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should

Have died, had I not made it.

Bel. Whither bound?

Imog, To Milford Haven, sir.
Bel. What is your name?

Imog. 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.

Bel. 'Prithee, 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


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