I wear it as your enemy.
Luc.

Is yet to name the winner.

Sir, the event

Fare you well.

Cym. Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords, Till he have cross'd the Severn.-Happiness!

[Exeunt LUCIUS and Lords. Queen. He goes hence frowning; but it honours us, That we have given him cause.

Clo.
"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 soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves
His war for Britain.

Queen.
'Tis not sleepy business,
But must be look'd to speedily, and strongly.
Cym. Our expectation that it would 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 us like
A thing more made of malice, than of duty :
We have noted it.-Call her before us, for
We have been too slight in sufferance.

Queen.

[Exit an Attendant. Royal sir,

Since the exile of Posthumus, most retir'd
Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord,
"Tis time must do. Beseech your majesty,
Forbear sharp speeches to her she's a lady
So tender of rebukes, that words are strokes,
And strokes death to her.

Re-enter an Attendant.

Cym.

Where is she, sir? How

Can her contempt be answer'd?

Please you, sir,

Atten.
Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer
That will be given to the loud noise we make1

Queen. My lord, when last I went to visit her,
She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close;
Whereto constrain'd by her infirmity,
She should that duty leave unpaid to you,
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 !

Queen.
Son, I say, follow the king.
Clo. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant,
I have not seen these two days.

Queen.

[Exit.

Go, look after.—

[Exit CLOTEN.

Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus,
He hath a drug of mine: I pray, his absence
Proceed by swallowing that, for he believes
It is a thing most precious. But for her,

Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seiz'd her;
Or, wing'd with fervour of her love, she's flown

To her desir'd Posthumus. Gone she is

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

How now, my son!

Re-enter CLOTEN.

4 to the loud noise we make.] The preposition of is mistakenly inserted after "loud" in the folio, 1623: it is clearly needless to the sense, and injurious to the metre; but modern editors have usually printed the passage, (without notice) "to the loud'st of noise we make," in order to preserve what in fact ought on all accounts to be removed.

7

Clo.

'Tis certain, she is fled. Go in, and cheer the king: he rages; none

Dare come about him.

Queen.

All the better: may

This night forestal him of the coming day!

[Exit Queen. Clo. 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 shall

Enter PISANIO.

Who is here? What! are you packing, sirrah?
Come hither. Ah, you precious pandar! Villain,
Where is thy lady? In a word, or else

Thou art straightway with the fiends.
Pis.

O, good my lord!

Clo. 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?
From whose so many weights of baseness cannot
A dram of worth be drawn.

Pis.

Alas, my lord!

How can she be with him? When was she miss'd?

He is in Rome.

Clo.

Where is she, sir? Come nearer;

No farther halting: satisfy me home

What is become of her?

Pis. O, my all-worthy lord!

Clo.

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.

She's far enough; and what he learns by this,

May prove his travel, not her danger.

Clo.

Humph!

Pis. [Aside.] I'll write to my lord she's dead. O Imogen,

Safe may'st thou wander, safe return again !

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 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 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.

villany so'er I bid thee do, to perform it

Pis. Well, my good lord.

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. serve me?

Pis. Sir, I will.

Clo. Give me thy hand; here's my purse.

Wilt thou

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.

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. 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 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 lust 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 Milford-Haven? 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 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.

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 pursuest. Flow, flow,