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, L. CLOTEN. I love, and hate her; for she's fair and royal; And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite Than lady, ladies, woman; from every one 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 chok'd; and, in that point, I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed, To be reveng'd upon her. For when fools

Enter PISANIO, R.

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.

PISAN.
O, good, my lord!
CLOTEN. 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?
PISAN.
Alas, my lord.

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

CLOTEN.

Where is she, sir? Come nearer;

No further halting; satisfy me home
What is become of her?

PISAN. O, my all-worthy lord!

CLOTEN.

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.

PISAN.

Then, sir,

This paper is the history of my knowledge
Touching her flight. (presenting a letter)

CLOTEN.
Even to Augustus' throne. (crosses, R.)
Or this, or perish,

Let's see't. I will pursue her

PISAN. (aside)

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

CLOTEN. (reading)
Humph!
PISAN. I'll write to my lord she's dead. O Imogen,
Safe may'st thou wander, safe return again! (aside)
CLOTEN. Sirrah, is this letter true?

PISAN.
Sir, as I think.
CLOTEN. It is Posthumus' hand; I know't.—Sirral, if
thou wouldst not be a 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 shouldst neither
want my means for thy relief nor my voice for thy pre-
ferment.

PISAN. Well, my good lord.
CLOTEN. Wilt thou serve me?
PISAN. Sir, I will.

CLOTEN. Give me thy hand, here's my purse. IIast any of thy late master's garments in thy possession? PISAN. I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same suit he wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress. CLOTEN. The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit hither; let it by thy first service; go. PISAN. 1 shall, my lord.

Exit, R. I forgot to ask Even there, thou

CLOTEN. Meet thee at Milford Haven. him one thing; I'll remember't anon. 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 quali ties. With that suit upon my back will I enforce 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 love 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, R.

Be those the garments?

PISAN. Ay, my noble lord.

CLOTEN. How long is't since she went to Milford-Haven? PISAN. She can scarce be there yet.

CLOTEN. Bring this apparel to my chamber; that is the second thing that I have commanded thee; the third is, that thou wilt 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, L. PISAN. 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, L.

SCENE SECOND. Before the Cave. Sunset.

Enter IMOGEN, in boy's clothes, down path, R. 3 E.
IMOGEN. 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. (sits on bank, R. C.)
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
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
Is sorer than to lie for need; and falsehood
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.
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? (calling)
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 fearfully goes into the cave, L. 3 E. Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS, R. 3 E., the last two carry a deer slung on a spear-they put it down, R.

ELAR. You, Polydore, have prov'd best woodman, and 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 resty sloth
Finds the down pillow hard.-Now, peace be here,
Poor house that keep'st thyself! (going to entrance)
GUID. (sits on a bank)
I am thoroughly weary.

ARVIR. I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite.
GUID. There is cold meat i'the cave; we'll browze on that
Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd.

BELAR. (checking them)

GUID.

Stay; come not in.

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

What's the matter, sir?

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

An earthly paragon!-Behold divineness

No elder than a boy!

IMOGEN.

They retire to R., making way for IMOGEN, who enter from cave, L. 3 E.

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,

GUID.

I have stolen nought; nor would not, though I had

found

Gold strew'd o' the floor. Here's money for
I would have left it on the board, so soon
As I had made my meal; and parted
With prayers for the provider.

my meat.

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

IMOGEN.

I see you are angry.

Know, if you kill me for
Have died had I not made it.

my fault, I should'

Whither bound?

What is your name?

BELAR.

IMOGEN. To Milford-Haven.
BELAR.

IMOGEN. 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.

BELAR.

Pr'ythee, fair youth,
Think us no churls; nor measure our good mind;
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.
Boys, bid him welcome.

ARVIR. (crosses)

I'll love him as my brother:-
And such a welcome as I'd give to him
After long absence, such is yours.

GUID. (crosses)

Most welcome!

Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst friends.
IMOGEN. (L., aside)

'Mongst friends!
If brothers?-Would it had been so, that they
Had been my father's sons, then had my prize
Been less; and so more equal ballasting

To thee, Posthumus.

BELAR.

He wrings at some distress.

GUID. Would I could free 't!

ARVIR.

Or I; whate'er it be,

What pain it cost, what danger! Gods!
BELAR. Hark, boys. (they whisper)
IMOGEN. Great men,