Proceed by fwallowing that; for he believes
It is a thing moft precious. But for her,
Where is the gone? haply defpair hath feized her;
Or winged with fervor of her love, fhe's flown
To her defired 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.

Re-enter CLOTEN.

How now, my fon?

Clat. '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 foreftall him of the coming day!

[Exit Queen.

Clot. I love and hate her ;------for the'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 the 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 choaked; and in that point
I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed,

To be revenged upon her. For when fools
Shall------

Enter PISANIO.

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.

[Drawing his Sword.

Pif. Oh, my good Lord!

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 whofe fo many weights of basenefs cannot
A dram of worth be drawn.

Pif. Alas, my Lord,

How can fhe be with him? when was fhe miffed? 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. All-worthy villain!

Discover where thy miftrefs is at once,

At the next word; no more of "worthy Lord." Speak, or thy filence on the instant is

Thy condemnation and thy death.

Pif. Then, Sir,

This paper is the history 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. Humph.

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

Oh, Imogen,

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

Pif. Sir, as I think.

Afide.

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 use thee, with a ferious industry; that is, what villainy foe'er I bid thee do, to perform it directly and truly, I would think thee an honest man; thou fhouldit neither want my means for thy relief, nor my voice for thy prefer

ment.

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 Pothumus, thou canst not in the courfe 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 maiter'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 miftrefs.

Clot. The first fervice thou doft me, fetch that fuit hither; let it be thy firft fervice, 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 thefe garments were come. She faid upon a time, (the bitterness 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 ravifh her; firft kill him, and in her eyes----(there fhall the 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 cloaths that she so praised) to the court I'll knock

her back, foot her home again. She hath defpifed me rejoicingly, and I'll be merry in my revenge.

Enter PISANIO, with a Suit of Cloaths.

Be thofe the garments?

Pif. Ay, my noble Lord.

Clot. How long is't fince fhe went to MilfordHaven?

Pif. She can fearce 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 due preferment fhall tender itfelf to thee. My revenge is now at Milford, 'would I had wings to follow it! come and be true.

[Exit.

Pif. Thou biddeft 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 purfueft. Flow, flow, You heavenly bleffings on her! this fool's fpeed Be croffed with flowness; labour be his meed!

SCENE changes to the Foreft and Cave.

Enter IMOGEN in Boy's Cloaths.

[Exit.

Imo. I fee a man's life is a tedious one: I've tired myself; and for two nights together Have made the ground my bed. I fhould be sick, But that my refolution helps me. Milford, When from the mountain-top Pifanio fhewed thee, Thou waft within a ken.-O Jove, I think, Foundations fly the wretched; fuch, I mean, [me Where they fhould be relieved. Two beggars told I could not mifs my way. Will poor folks lie,

That have afflictions on them, knowing 'tis
A punishment or trial? yes; no wonder,
When rich ones fcarce tell true. To lapfe in full-
Is forer than to lie for need; and falfehood [nefs
Is worfe in kings than beggars. My dear Lord!
Thou'rt one o' th' falfe ones: now I think on thec,
My hunger's gone; but even before I was
At point to fink for food. But what is this?

[Seeing the Cave. Here is a path to't-'tis fome favage hold; 'Twere belt not call; I dare not call; yet famine Ere it clean o'erthrow Nature, makes it valiant. Plenty and peace breeds cowards; hardness ever Of hardinefs is mether. 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 Heavens !

[She goes into the Cave. Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.

Bel. You, Paladour, have proved best woodman, Are mafter of the feaft; Cadwal and I [and Will play the cook, and fervant; 'tis our match : The sweat of industry would dry, and die, But for the end it works to. Coine, cur ftomachs Will make what's homely, favoury; wearinefs Can fnore upon the flint, when refty floth

Finds the down pillow hard. Now peace be here, Poor house, that keepeft thyfelf!

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 Whilft that we've killed be cooked.

Bel. Stay, come not in

[on that, [Looking in.