At three, and two years old, I stole these babes: Thou 'reftst me of my land. Euriphile, Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for their mo ther, And every day do honour to thy grave: [The Horn sounds again. [Exit. SCENE V. The Palace of CYMBELINE. Flourish of Trumpets. Enter CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN, the Two Cym. Thus far; and so farewell. Luc. Thanks, royal sir. I am right sorry, that I must report ye My master's enemy. I desire of you A conduct over land, to Milford Haven. Cym. My lords, you are appointed for that office; The due of honour in no point omit : So farewell, noble Lucius. Luc. Your hand, my lord. Cloten. Receive it friendly: but, from this time forth, I wear it as your enemy. Luc. Sir, the event Is yet to name the winner: Fare you well. [Exeunt LUCIUS, FIRST LORD, &c. Queen. He goes hence frowning: but it honours us, That we have given him cause. Cloten. 'Tis all the better; Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it. But must be look'd to speedily, and strongly. Queen. Royal sir, [Exit SECOND Lord. Since the exile of Posthumus, most retir'd Enter SECOND LORD. Cym. Where is she, sir? How Can her contempt be answer'd? 2 Lord. Please you, sir, Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer Which daily she was bound to proffer; this She wish'd me to make known; but our great court Made me to blame in memory. Cym. Her doors lock'd? Not seen of late? Grant, Heavens, that, which I fear, Prove false ! [Exeunt CYMBELINE and SECOND LORD. Queen. Son, I say, follow the king. Cloten. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant, I have not seen these two days. Queen. Go, look after. [Exit CLOTEN. Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus!— He hath a drug of mine: I pray, his absence Can make good use of either: She being down, [Exit. SCENE VI. A Wood near Milford Haven. Enter PISANIO and IMOGEN. Imog. Thou told'st me, when we came from horse, the place Was near at hand. Pisanio! Man! Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind, That makes thee stare thus ? One, but painted thus, Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd Beyond self-explication. What's the matter? Why tender'st thou that paper to me? If it be summer news, Smile to't before: if winterly, thou need'st But keep that countenance still.-My husband's hand! That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him, May take off some extremity, which, to read, Pisanio. Please you, read; And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing The most disdain'd of fortune. Imog. [Reads.] Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the strumpet in my bed; the testimonies whereof lie bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak surmises; but from proof as strong as my grief, and as certain as I expect my revenge. That part, thou, Pisanio, must act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers. Let thine own hands take away her life: I shall give thee opportunities at Milford Haven: she hath my letter for the purpose: where, if thou fear to strike, and to make me certain it is done, thou art the pander to her dishonour, and equally to me disloyal. Pisanio. What shall I need to draw my sword? the paper Hath cut her throat already.-No, 'tis slander; What cheer, madam? Imog. False to his bed! What is it, to be false? To lie in watch there, and to think on him? To weep 'twixt clock and clock? If sleep charge na ture, To break it with a fearful dream of him, And cry myself awake? That's false to his bed, Pisanio. Alas, good lady! Imog. I false? Thy conscience witness:-Iachimo, Thou didst accuse him of incontinency; Thou then look'dst like a villain; now, methinks, I must be ripp'd:-to pieces with me!-Oh, Pisanio. Good madam, hear me. Imog. Come, fellow, be thou honest; Do thou thy master's bidding: when thou seest him, I draw the sword myself: take it; and hit Pisanio. Hence, vile instrument! And if I do not by thy hand, thou art No servant of thy master's: Against self-slaughter·· There is a prohibition so divine, That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's my heart ; Something's afore't:-Soft, soft; we'll no defence ;What is here? [Taking out Letters. The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus, All turn'd to heresy? Away, away, |