Enter a Meffenger.

Cym. Where is she? how

Can her contempt be answer❜d?

Mef. Please you Sir,

Her chambers are all lock'd, and there's no answer
That will be giv'n to th' loudest noise we make.
Queen. My lord, when laft 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 fhe was bound to proffer; this

She wish'd me to make known; but our great court
Made me to blame in mem❜ry.

Cym. Her doors lock'd?

Not seen of late? grant heav'ns, that which I fear
Prove falfe!

[Exit.

Queen. Son, I fay; follow the king.

Clot. That man of hers, Pifanio, her old fervant,

I have not seen these two days.

[Exit.

Queen. Go, look after-

Pifanio, thou that stand'ft fo for Pofthumus!
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 the gone? haply despair hath seiz❜d her;
Or wing'd with fervor of her love, fhe's flown
To her defir'd Pofthumus; gone she is

my

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

Re-enter

How now, my fon?

Re-enter Cloten.

Clot. '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 fore-stall him of the coming day!

Clot. 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 each one
The best she hath, and fhe of all compounded
Out-fells them all. I love her therefore; but
Disdaining me, and throwing favours on
The low Pofthumus, flanders fo her judgment,
That what's else rare, is choak'd, and in that point
I will conclude to hate her, nay indeed

To be reveng'd upon her. For when fools

1611

SCENE VI.

Enter Pifanio.

Who is here? what are you packing, firrah?
Come hither; ah you precious pandar, villain,
Where is thy lady? in a word, or else
Thou'rt ftraightway with the fiends.
Pif. Oh, good my lord!

Clot. Where is thy lady? or, by Jupiter,

I will not ask again. Close villain,
I'll have this fecret from thy heart, or rip

Thy heart to find it. Is the with Pofthumus?

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

[Exit Queen.

Pif.

Pif. Alas, my lord,

How can she be with him? when was fhe miss'd?

He is in Rome.

Clot. Where is fhe, Sir? come nearer; No farther halting; fatisfie me home, What is become of her.

Pis. Oh, my all-worthy lord!

Clot. All-worthy villain!

Discover where thy mistress 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 pursue 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. Humh.

Pif. I'll write to my lord she's dead. Oh, Imogen,

Safe may'st thou wander, safe return again.

Clot. Sirrah, is this letter true?

Pif. Sir, as I think.

[afide.

Clot. It is Pofthumus's hand, I know't. Sirrah, if thou would'st not be a villain, but to do me true service; undergo those employments wherein I fhould have cause to use thee with a serious industry, that is, what villany foe'er I bid thee do to perform it, directly and truly; I would think thee an honeft man, thou shouldst neither want my means for thy relief, nor my voice for thy preferment.

Pif. Well, my good lord.

Clot.

Clot. Wilt thou ferve me? for fince patiently and constantly thou haft stuck to the bare fortune of that beggar Pofthumus, thou can'st not in the course 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 purse. Haft any of thy late master's garments in thy poffeffion?

Pif. I have, my lord, at the lodging, the fame fuit hewore when he took leave of my lady and mistress.

Clot. The first service thou doft me, fetch that fuit hither; let it be thy first service, go.

Pis. 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 these 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 respect than my noble and natural perfon, together with the adornment of my qualities. With that fuit upon my back will I ravish her; first kill him, and in her eyes---there fhall fhe 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 say, to vex her, I will execute in the cloaths that the fo prais'd) to the court I'll knock her back, foot her home again. She hath defpis'd me rejoycingly, and I'll be merry in my revenge.

Enter Pifanio, with a fuit of cloaths.

Be those the garments?

Pif. Ay, my noble lord.

Clot. How long is't fince fhe went to Milford-Haven?

Pif. She can scarce 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 true preferment shall tender it felf to thee. My revenge is now at Milford, would I had wings to follow it! come and be true. [Ex. Pis. Thou bidd'st me to my loss: for true to thee,

Were to prove falfe, which I will never be,

To him that is most true.

To Milford go,

And find not her, whom thou purfu'ft. Flow, flow,

You heav'nly bleffings on her! this fool's speed

Be croft with flownefs; labour be his meed!

The Foreft and Cave.

Enter Imogen in boys cloaths.

See a man's life is a tedious one:

Imo. I I've tired my felf; and for two nights together
Have made the ground my bed. I should be fick,
But that my resolution helps me. Milford,

When from the mountain top Pifanio fhew'd thee,
Thou waft within a ken. Oh Jove, I think
Foundations fly the wretched, fuch 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 tryal? yes no wonder,
When rich ones fcarce tell true. To lapfe in fullness
Is forer, than to lye for need; and falfhood
Is worse in kings, than beggars. My dear lord!
Thou'rt one o'th' falfe ones; now I think on thee,
My hunger's gone; but ev'n before, I was
At point to fink for food. But what is this?
Here is a path to't -'tis fome favage hold;

[Exit.

[Seeing the cave.

'Twere