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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!
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
Appear unkinglike.

Luc. So, Sir, I desire of you
A conduct over land, to Milford Haven.-
Madam, all joy befall your grace, and you !

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 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.
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.

Cym. Our expectation that it would be thus,
Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen,
Where is our daughter? She hath not appeard
Before the Roman, nor to us hath tenderd
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 slight in sufferance. [Exit an ATTENDANT.

Queen. Royal Sir,
Since the exile of Posthumus, most retired
Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord,
"Tis time must do. 'Beseech your majesty,
Forbear sharp speeches to her: she's a lady
So tender of rebukes, that words are strokes,
And strokes death to her.

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
That will be given to the loud'st noise we make.

Queen. My Lord, when last I went to visit her,
She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close;
Whereto constrain’d by her infirmity,
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 !

[Exit. Queen. Son, I say, follow the king. člo. 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 seized her; Or, wing'd with fervour of her love, she's flown To her desired 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 ?

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

Queen. All the better: May
This night forestall him* of the coming day! [Exit QUEEN.

Clo. I love and hate her: for shes fair and royal;
And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite
Than lady, ladies, woman : t from every one

* Prevent his reaching,
+ Than any lady, all ladies, all womankind.

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 choked ; and in that point,
I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed,
To be revenged upon her. For, when fools

Enter PISANIO.
Shall-Who is here? What! are you packing, sirrah ?
Come hither : Ah, you precious pander! Villain,
Where is thy lady? In a word; or else
Thou art straightway with the fiends.
Pis. O, good

my lord !
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
Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus?
From whose so many weights of baseness cannot
A dram of worth be drawn.

Pis. Alas, my lord,
How can she be with him ? When was she miss'd ?
He is in Rome.

Clo. Where is she, Sir ? Come nearer;
No further halting: satisfy me home,
What is become of her ?

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

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 by this

[ Aside May prove his travel, not her danger.

Clo. Humph!
Pis. I'll write to my lord she's dead. Imogen,
Safe mayst 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 wouldst not be a villain, but do me true service; undergo those employments, wherein Í should have cause to use thee, with a serious industry,—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.

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.

Clo. Give me thy hand, here's my purse. Hast any of thy late master's garments in thy possession ?

Pis. I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same suit he wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress.

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

[Exit. Clo. Meet thee at Milford Haven :- I 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 Milford 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,

[Exit. Pis. Thou bid'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!

[Exit. SCENE VI.-Before the Cave of BELARIUS.

Enter IMOGEN, in Boy's Clothes.
Imo. I see, a man's life is a tedious one:
I have tired 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: 0 Jove! I think,

Is sorer,

Foundations fly the wretched : such, I mean,
Where they should be relieved. 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: To lapse in fulness

than to lie for need; and falsehood
Is worse in kings than beggars.- My dear lord !
Thou art one oʻthe 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:
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 anything 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, be'll scarcely look on't.
Such a foe, good heavens !

[She goes into the care.
Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.
Bel. You, Polydore, have proved best woodman, and
Are master of the feast: Cadwal, and I,
Will play the cook and servant; 'tis our match:t
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 thoroughly weary.
Arv. I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite.

Gui. There's cold meat i''the cave: we'll browze on that,
Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd.
Bel. 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,
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 oʻthe 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.
* Human,

+ Agreement. VOL. IV

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