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Thy condemnation and thy death.

Then, sir,
This paper is the history of my knowledge
Touching her flight. [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

Aside. this, May prove his travel, not her danger. Clo.

Humph! Pis. I'll write to my lord she's dead. O Imogen, Safe may'st 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 would'st not be villain, but do me true service; undergo those 'employments, wherein I should have cause to use thee, with a serious industry, that is, what villainy soe'er I bid thee do, to perform it, directly and truly,—I would think thee an honest man; thou shouldest neither want my means for thy relief, nor my voice for thy preferment.

Pis. Well, my good lood.

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.

She said upon


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. 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 last 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 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 Milford; 'Would I had wings to follow it!--Come, and be true,


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!



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

me, I could not miss my way: Will poor folks lie, T'hat have afflictions on them; knowing 'tis A punishment, or trial ? Yes; no wonder, When rich ones scarce tell true: To lapse in fulness Is sorer, than to lie for need; and falschood Is worse in kings, than beggars.--My dear lord ! 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:

To him that is most true.] Pisanio, notwithstanding his masters's letter, commanding the murder of Imogen, considers him as true, supposing, as he has already said to her, that Posthumus was abused by some villain, equally an enemy to them both.

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; 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.

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Bel. You, Polydore, have prov'd best woodman,

Are master of the feast: Cadwal, and I,
Will play the cook and servant; 'tis our match:
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!

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

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on that



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

Stay; come not in:

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

What's the matter, sir?
Bel. By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not,



If any thing that's civil,] Civil, for human creature.

woodman,] A woodman, in its common acceptation (as in the present instance) signifies a hunter.

'tis our match:] i. e. our compact.

An earthly paragon !-Behold divineness
No elder than a boy!

Here's money

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 o'the floor.


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. Gui.

Money, youth?
Aro. All gold and silver rather turn to dirt!
As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those
Who worship dirty gods.


see, you are angry :
Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should
Have died, had I not made it.

Whither bound?
Imo. To Milford-Haven, sir.

What is your name?
Imo. 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.5

Pr’ythee, 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 Ere you depart; and thanks, to stay and eat it.

5 I am fallen in this offence.] In, according to the ancient mode of writing, is here used instead of into.

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