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And am right forry, that I must report ye
My mafter's enemy.

Cym. Our Subjects, Sir,

Will not endure his yoak; and for our felf
To fhew lefs Sovereignty than they, muft needs
Appear un-kinglike.

Luc. So, Sir: I defire of you

A conduct over land, to Milford-Haven.
Madam, all joy befal your Grace, and you!

Cym. My lords, you are appointed for that office;
The due of Honour in no point omit:

So, farewel, noble Lucius.

Luc. Your hand, my Lord.

Clot. Receive it friendly; but from this time forth I wear it as your enemy.

Luc. Th' event

Is yet to name the winner.

Fare you well.

Cym. Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my Lords, 'Till he have croft the Severn. Happiness!

[Exit Lucius, &c. Queen. He goes hence frowning; but it honours us, That we have giv'n him cause.

Clot. '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 foon be drawn to head, from whence he moves
His war for Britaine.

Queen. 'Tis not fleepy bufinefs;

But must be look'd to fpeedily, and ftrongly.

Cym. Our expectation, that it should be thus,
Hath made us forward. But, my gentle Queen,
Where is our Daughter? She hath not appear'd
Before the Roman, nor to us hath tender'd
The duty of the day. She looks as like
A thing more made of malice, than of duty;
We've noted it. Call her before us, for

We've been too light in fufferance. [Exit a Servant.

Queen.

Queen. Royal Sir,

Since the exile of Pofthumus, moft retir'd

Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord,

'Tis time muft do.

'Befeech your Majesty,
She's a lady

Forbear fharp fpeeches to her.

So tender of rebukes, that words are strokes,

And ftrokes death to her.

Re-enter the Servant.

Cym. Where is fhe, Sir? how
Can her contempt be answer'd?
Serv. Please you, Sir,

Her chambers are all lock'd, and there's no answer
That will be given to th' loudeft noise we make.
Queen. My lord, when laft I went to visit her,
She pray'd me to excufe her keeping close ;
Whereto conftrain'd by her infirmity,

She should that duty leave unpaid to you,
Which daily fhe was bound to proffer; this

She wifh'd me to make known; but our great court
Made me to blame in mem❜ry.

Cym. Her doors lock'd ?

Not feen of late? grant heav'ns, That, which I fear,

Prove falfe!

Queen. Son, I fay, follow the King.

[Exit.

[Exit.

Clot. That man of hers, Pifanio, her old fervant,

I have not seen these two days.

Queen. Go, look after

Pifanio, thou that ftand'ft fo for Pofthumus!

He hath a drug of mine; I pray, his abfence
Proceed by fwallowing That; for he believes,
It is a thing moft precious. But for her,

Where is the gone? haply, despair hath seiz'd her;
Or, wing'd with fervor of her love, she's flown
To her defir'd Pofthumus; gone the is

To death, or to dishonour; and my end
Can make good ufe of either. She being down,
I have the placing of the British crown.

Enter

How now, my fon

Re-enter Cloten.

Clot. 'Tis certain, fhe is fled.

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 he's fair and royal,

And that the hath all courtly parts more exquifite

Than lady, ladies, woman; from each one
The best she hath, and fhe of all compounded
Out-fells them all: I love her therefore ;—but,
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.

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 his 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 fhe 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 mifs'd?
He is in Rome.

Clot. Where is the, Sir? come nearer;

No farther halting; fatisfie me home,

What is become of her.

Pi. 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,

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.

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[Afide.

Clot. It is Pofthumus's hand, I know't. Sirrah, if thou would'it not be a villain, but do me true fervice; undergo those employments, wherein I should have cause to use thee, with a serious induftry; that is, what villany foe'er I bid thee do, to perform it directly and truly, I would think thee an honeft man; thou shouldft 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'ft not in the course of gratitude but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou ferve me?

Pif. Sir, I will.

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

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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 service thou doft me, fetch that suit hither; let it be thy first service, go.

Pif. I fhall, my lord. [Exit. 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, these garments were come. She faid upon a time, (the bitternefs of it I now belch from my heart,) that she held the very garment of Pofthumus in more respect than my noble and natural perfon, together with the adornment of my qualities. With that fuit upon my back will I ravish her; firft kill him, and in her eyes- (there fhall fhe fee my valour, which will then be a torment to her contempt.) He on the ground, my speech 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 cloaths 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 cloaths.

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 fpeed
Be croft with flownefs; labour be his meed!

[Exit.

SCENE

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