Act III.

Pis.
First, make yourself but like one. | His war for Brtain.
Fore-thinking this, I have already fit
Queen.
('Tis in my cloak-bag,) doublet, hat, hose, all
'Tis not sleepy business;
But must be look'd to speedily, and strongly.
That answer to them: Would you, in their serving, Cym. Our expectation that it would be thus,
And with what imitation you can borrow
Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen,
From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius Where is our daughter? She hath not appear'd
Present yourself, desire his service, tell him Before the Roman, nor to us hath tender'd
Wherein you are happy which you'll make him The duty of the day: She looks us like
know,
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.

If that his head have ear in music,) doubtless,
With joy he will embrace you; for he's honourable,
And, doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad
You have me, rich; and I will never fail
Beginning, nor supply ment.
Imo.
Thou art all the comfort
The gods will diet me with. Pr'ythee, away:
There's more to be consider'd; 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,
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.

[Exit an Attendant.. Royal sir,

Can her contempt be answer'd?
Cym.
Where is she, sir? How
Please you, sir,

Attend.
Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer
That will be given to the loud'st of 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.
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

Cym. My lords, you are appointed for that of To her desir'd Posthumus: Gone she is,

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 has in Gallia

Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves

(1) i. e. Wherein you are accomplished. (2) As for your subsistence abroad, you may rely on me.

Enter Pisanio.

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

sirrah?

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 O, good my lord! hath despised me rejoicingly, and I'll be merry in my revenge.

Come hither: Ah, you precious pander! Villain,
Where is thy lady? In a word; or else
Thou art straightway with the fiends.
Pis.

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.
Alas, iny lord,

Pis.
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.
This paper is the history of my knowledge,
Touching her flight.
Clo.

Then, sir,
[Presenting a letter.
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,
May prove his travel, not her danger. [Aside.
Clo.
Humph!
Pis. I'll write to my lord she's dead. O Imogen,
Safe may'st thou wander, safe return again!

Clo. Sirrah, is this letter true?
Pis.

[Aside. Sir, as I think.

Re-enter Pisanio, with the clothes.

Be those the garments?

Pis. Ay, my noble lord.

Clo. How long is't since she went to MilfordHaven?

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 Mil-
ford; 'Would I had wings to follow it!-Come,
and be true.
[Exit.

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!

[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 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: O'Jove! I think,
Foundations fly the wretched: such I mean,
Where they should be reliev'd. Two beggars told
me,

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 I could not miss my way: Will poor folks lie, have cause to use thee, with a serious industry,- That have afflictions on them; knowing 'tis that is, what villany soe'er I bid thee do, to per- A punishment, or trial? Yes; no wonder, form it, directly and truly, I would think thee an When rich ones scarce tell true: To lapse in fulness honest man: thou shouldest neither want my means Is sorer, than to lie for need; and falsehood for thy relief, nor my voice for thy preferment. Is worse in kings than beggars.-My dear lord! 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.

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:
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,1
and

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 Are master of the feast: Cadwal, and I, would these garments were come. She said upon a The sweat of industry would dry, and die, Will play the cook and servant; 'tis our match:2 time (the bitterness of it I now belch from my heart,) But for the end it works to. Come; our stomachs that she held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect than my noble and natural person, to- Will make what's homely, savoury: Weariness gether with the adornment of my qualities. With Can snore upon a flint, when restive sloth that suit upon my back, will I ravish her: First Finds the down pillow hard.-Now, peace be here, kill him, and in her eyes; there shall she see my Poor house, that keep'st thyself! (1) Best hunter. (2) Agreement.

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 | Boys, we'll go dress our hunt.-Fair youth, come in: on that, Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd.

We'll come to you after hunting.
Arv.

Are we not brothers?
Imo.

Brother, stay here:
[To Imogen.

So man and man should be;
But clay and clay differs in dignity,
Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick.

Gui. Go you to hunting, I'll abide with him.
Imo. So sick I am not;-yet am I not well:
But not so citizen a wanton, as

To seem to die, ere sick: So please you leave me;
Stick to your journal' course: the breach of custom
Is breach of all. I am ill; but your being by me
Cannot amend me: Society is no comfort
To one not sociable: I'm not very sick,

Enter Cloten.

Clo. I cannot find those runagates; that villain
Hath mock'd me :-I am faint.
Bel,
Those runagates!

Since I can reason of it. Pray you, trust me here: Means he not us? I partly know him; 'tis
I'll rob none but myself; and let me die,
Stealing so poorly.

Gui.
I love thee; I have spoke it:
How much the quantity, the weight as much,
As I do love my father.

Bel.

What? how? how?
Arv. If it be sin to say so, sir, I yoke me
In my good brother's fault: I know not why
I love this youth; and I have heard you say,
Love's reason's without reason; the bier at door,
And a demand who is't shall die, I'd say,
My father, not this youth.
Bel.
O noble strain! [Aside.
O worthiness of nature! breed of greatness!
Cowards father cowards, and base things sire base:
Nature hath meal, and bran; contempt, and grace.
I am not their father; yet who this should be,
Doth miracle itself, lov'd before me.-
'Tis the ninth hour o'the morn.
Arv.

Imo. I wish ye sport.
Arv.

Brother, farewell.

You health.-So please you, sir. Imo. [Aside.] These are kind creatures. Gods, what lies I have heard!

Our courtiers say, all's savage, but at court:
Experience, O, thou disprov'st report!

The imperious? seas breed monsters; for the dish,
Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish."
I am sick still; heart-sick:-Pisanic,
I'll now taste of thy drug.

Gui.

I could not stir him:

He said, he was gentle, but unfortunate;
Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest.

Arv. Thus did he answer me: yet said, hereafter
I might know more.

Bel.
To the field, to the field:
We'll leave you for this time; go in, and rest.
Arv. We'll not be long away.
Bel.

For you must be our housewife.
Imo.

I am bound to you.
-Bel.

Pray, be not sick,

Well, or ill,
And so shalt be ever.

[Exit Imogen.

This youth, howe'er distress'd, appears, he hath had

Good ancestors.

Arv.

How angel-like he sings!

Gui. Those that I reverence, those I fear; the

wise:
At fools I laugh, not fear them.
Clo.

Die the death:

Gui. But his neat cookery! He.cut our roots in When I have slain thee with my proper hand,

I'll follow those that even now fled hence,
And on the gates of Lud's town set your heads;
Yield, rustic mountaineer.. [Exeunt, fighting,

Enter Belarius and Arviragus,

Bel. No company's abroad.

Arv. None in the world: You did mistake him,

sure.

(4) Spurs are the roots of trees,

3 E

Or they so suffering: then on good ground we fear, Re-enter Arviragus, bearing Imogen as dead in his If we do fear this body hath a tail