How now, my fon?

Re-enter Cloten.

Clot. 'Tis certain, fhe is filed.

Go in and cheer the King, he rages, none
Dare come about him.

Queen. All the better; may

-

This night fore-ftall him of the coming day! [Exit Queen.
Clot. I love, and hate her; for the's fair and royal,
And that he hath all courtly parts more exquifite
Than lady, ladies, woman; from each one
The best the hath, and fhe of all compounded
Out-fells them all: I love her therefore;
Difdaining me, and throwing favours on
The low Pofthumus, flanders fo her judgment,
That what's elfe 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
Shall

Enter Pifanio.

but,

Who is here? what! are you packing, firrah?
Come hither; ah! you precious pander, villain,
Where is thy lady? in a word, or else

Thou'rt ftraightway with the fiends.

Pif. Oh, my good Lord!

[Drawing bis Sword.

Clot. Where is thy lady? or, by Jupiter,

I will not ask again. Clofe villain,
I'll have this fecret from thy heart, or rip
Thy heart to find it. Is the with Pofthumus?
From whose so many weights of baseness cannot
A dram of worth be drawn.

Pif. Alas, my Lord,

How can fhe be with him? when was she miss'd?
He is in Rome.

Clot. Where is fhe, Sir? come nearer;
No farther halting; fatisfy me home,
What is become of her.

Pif. Oh, my all-worthy Lord!

Clot.

Clot. All-worthy villain!

Discover where thy mistress is, at once,
At the next word; no more of worthy Lord.
Speak, or thy filence on the inftant is
Thy condemnation and thy death.
Pif. Then, Sir,

This paper is the hiftory of my knowledge
Touching her flight.

Clot. Let's fee't; I will purfue her

Even to Auguftus' throne.

Pif. Or this, or perish.

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

Clot. Humh.

Pif. I'll write to my Lord, fhe's dead. Oh,

Imogen,

Safe may'ft thou wander, fafe return again!
Clot. Sirrah, is this letter true?

Pif. Sir, as I think.

}

[Afide.

Clot. It is Pofthumus's hand, I know't. Sirrah, if thou wouldst not be a villain, but do me true fervice; undergo thofe employments, wherein I fhould have caufe to ufe thee, with a serious industry; that is, what villany foe'er 1 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.

Pif. Well, my good Lord.

Clot. Wilt thou ferve me? for fince patiently and conftantly thou haft ftuck to the bare fortune of that beggar Pofthumus, thou can't not in the courfe of gratitude but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou ferve

me?

Pis. Sir, I will.

Clot. Give me thy hand, here's my purfe. Haft any of thy late mafter's garments in thy poffeffion?

Pif. I have, my Lord, at my lodging, the fame fuit he wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress. Clot. The first fervice thou doft me, fetch that fuit hither; let it be thy firft fervice, go.

[Exit. Pis. I fhall, my Lord. Clot. Meet thee at Milford-Haven? (I forgot to ask him one thing, I'll remember't anon;) even there, thou villain Pofthumus, will I kill thee. I would, thefe garments were come. She faid upon a time, (the bitternefs of it I now belch from my heart,) that the held the very garment of Pofthumus in more refpect than my noble and natural perfon, together with the adornment of my qualities. With that fuit upon my back will I ravish her; first kill him, and in her eyes (there fhall she fee my valour, which will then be a torment to her contempt.) He on the ground, my fpeech of infultment ended on his dead body; and when my luft hath dined, (which, as I fay, to vex her, I will execute in the clothes that the fo prais'd) to the court I'll knock her back, foot her home again. She hath despised me rejoycingly, and I'll be merry in my revenge.

Enter Pifanio, with a fuit of clothes.

Be thofe the garments?

Pif. Ay, my noble Lord.

Clot. How long is't fince fhe went to Milford-Haven ?
Pif. She can fcarce be there yet.

Clot. Bring this apparel to my chamber, that is the fecond thing that I have commanded thee. The third is, that thou wilt be a voluntary Mute to my defign. Be but duteous, and true preferment fhall tender itself to thee. My revenge is now at Milford, 'would I had wings to follow it! come and be true. [Exit. Pif. Thou bidd'ft me to my lofs: for true to thee, Were to prove falfe, which I will never be, To him that is moft true. To Milford go,

And find not her, whom thou purfu'ft. Flow, flow,
You heav'nly Bleffings on her! this fool's speed
Be croft with flowness; labour be his meed!

[Exit.

245 245

SCENE

SCENE changes to the Foreft and Cave.

Enter Imogen, in boy's cloaths.

Imo. I See, a man's life, is a tedious one;

I've tir'd myself; and for two nights together Have made the ground my bed. I fhould be fick, But that my refolution helps me. Milford, When from the mountain top Pifanio fhew'd thee, Thou waft within a ken. Foundations fly the wretched; fuch, I mean, O Jove, I think,

-

folks lye,

Where they should be reliev'd. Two beggars told me,
I could not mifs my way. Will
That have afflictions on them, knowing 'tis
poor
A punishment, or trial? yes; no wonder,
When rich ones fcarce tell true.

To lapfe in fullness

Is forer, than to lye for need; and falfhood
Is worfe in Kings, than Beggars. My dear Lord!
Thou'rt one o'th' false ones; now I think on thee,
My hunger's gone; but ev'n before, I was
At point to fink for food. But what is this?

1

[Seeing the Cave,

Here is a path to't-'tis fome favage hold;
'Twere beft, not call; I dare not call; yet famine,
Ere it clean o'er-throw 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, fpeak; if favage,

Take, or lend -ho! no anfwer? then I'll enter.
Beft draw my fword; and if mine enemy

But fear the fword like me, he'll fcarcely look on't.
Grant fuch a foe, good heav'ns! [She goes into the Cave!

Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.

Bel. You, Paladour, have prov'd best woodman, and Are mafter of the feaft; Cadwal and I

Will play the cook, and fervant; 'tis our match:
The fweat of induftry would dry, and die,
But for the end it works to. Come, our ftomachs

Will make what's homely favoury; weariness
Can fnore upon the flint, when resty sloth
Finds the down pillow hard. Now peace be here,
Poor house, that keep'ft thyself!

Guid. I'm thoroughly weary.

Arv. I'm weak with toil, yet ftrong in appetite. Guid. There is cold meat i'th' cave, we'll brouze on that, Whilft what, we've kill'd, be cook'd.

Bel. Stay, come not in

-

But that it eats our victuals, I fhould think,

It were a Fairy..

Guid. What's the matter, Sir?

Bel. By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not,

No elder than a boy.

An earthly Paragon.

Behold divineness

Enter Imogen.

[Looking in.

Imo. Good mafters, harm me not;

Before I enter'd here, I call'd; and thought

T have begg'd, or bought, what I have took: good troth, I have ftoll'n nought, nor would not, though I'd found Gold ftrew'd i'th' floor. Here's mony for my meat;

I would have left it on the board, fo foon

As I had made my meal; and parted thence
With prayers for the provider.

Guid. Mony, youth?

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

Who worship dirty Gods.

Imo. I fee, you're angry:

Know, if you kill me for

my fault, I fhould

Have dy'd, had I not made it.

Bel. Whither bound?

Imo. To Milford-Haven.

Bel. What's your name?

Imo. Fidele, Sir; I have a kinfman, who
Is bound for Italy: he embark'd at Milford;

To whom being going, almost spent with hunger,
I'm fall'n in this offence.