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 choked; 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, sirrah?
Come hither: ah, you precious pander! Villain,
Where is thy lady? In a word; or else
Thou art straightway with the fiends.
PISANIO 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?
From whose so many weights of baseness cannot
A dram of worth be drawn.
PISANIO Alas, my lord,
How can she be with him? When was she missed?
He is in Rome.
CLOTEN Where is she, sir? Come nearer;
No further halting: satisfy me home
What is become of her.
PISANIO 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.
PISANIO Then, sir,
This paper is the history of my knowledge
Touching her flight.
Presenting a letter
CLOTEN Let’s see’t. I will pursue her
Even to Augustus’ throne.
PISANIO [Aside]
Or this, or perish.
She’s far enough; and what he learns by this
May prove his travel, not her danger.
CLOTEN Hum!
PISANIO [Aside]
I’ll write to my lord she’s dead. O Imogen,
Safe mayst thou wander, safe return again!
CLOTEN Sirrah, is this letter true?
PISANIO Sir, as I think.
CLOTEN It is Posthumus’ hand; I know’t. Sirrah, 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 villany 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 preferment.
PISANIO Well, my good lord.
CLOTEN 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: wilt thou serve me?
PISANIO Sir, I will.
CLOTEN Give me thy hand; here’s my purse. Hast any of thy
late master’s garments in thy possession?
PISANIO 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 be thy lint service; go.
PISANIO I shall, my lord.
Exit
CLOTEN 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?
PISANIO Ay, my noble lord.
CLOTEN How long is’t since she went to Milford-Haven?
PISANIO 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
PISANIO Thou bid’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,
You heavenly blessings, on her! This fool’s speed
Be cross’d with slowness; labour be his meed!
Exit
Scene 6
Wales. Before the cave of Belarius.
Enter IMOGEN, in boy’s clothes
IMOGEN I see a man’s life is a tedious one:
I have tired myself, and for two nights together
Have made the ground my bed. 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 relieved. 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’t: ’tis some savage hold:
I were best not to 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?
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!
Exit, to the cave
Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS
BELARIUS You, Polydote, have proved 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!
GUIDERIUS I am thoroughly weary.
ARVIRAGUS I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite.
GUIDERIUS There is cold meat i’ the cave; we’ll browse on that,
Whilst what we have kill’d be cook’d.
BELARIUS [Looking into the cave]
Stay; come not in.
But that it eats our victuals, I should think
Here were a fairy.
GUIDERIUS What’s the matter, sir?
BELARIUS By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not,
An earthly paragon! Behold divineness
No elder than a boy!
Re-enter IMOGEN
IMOGEN 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,
I have stol’n nought, nor would not, though I had found
Gold strew’d i’ the floor. Here’s money for my meat:
I would have left it on the board so soon
As I had made my meal, and parted
With prayers for the provider.
GUIDERIUS Money, youth?
ARVIRAGUS All gold and silver rather turn to dirt!
As ’tis no better reckon’d, but of those
Who worship dirty gods.
IMOGEN I see you’re angry:
Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should
Have died had I not made it.
BELARIUS Whither bound?
IMOGEN To Milford-Haven.
BELARIUS What’s your name?
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 fall’n in this offence.
BELARIUS Prithee, fair youth,
Think us no churls, nor measure our good minds
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.
GUIDERIUS Were you a woman, youth,
I should woo hard but be your groom. In honesty,
I bid for you as I’d buy.
ARVIRAGUS I’ll make’t my comfort
He is a man; I’ll love him as my brother:
And such a welcome as I’d give to him
After long absence, such is yours: most welcome!
Be sprightly, for you fall ‘mongst friends.
IMOGEN ‘Mongst friends,
If brothers.
Aside
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.
BELARIUS He wrings at some distress.
GUIDERIUS Would I could free’t!