Be stomachers to my heart.

'Pr'ythee, dispatch:

The lamb entreats the butcher: Where's thy knife ?
Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding,
When I desire it too.

Pisanio. Oh, gracious lady,

Since I receiv'd command to do this business,
I have not slept one wink.

Imog. Do't, and to bed then.

Pisanio. I'll wake mine eye-balls blind first.
Imog. Wherefore then

Didst undertake it?

Why hast thou gone so far,

To be unbent, when thou hast ta'en thy stand,
The elected deer before thee?

Pisanio. But to win time

To lose so bad employment: in the which,
I have consider'd of a course: Good lady,
Hear me with patience.

Imog. Talk thy tongue weary; speak:

I have heard, I am a strumpet; and mine ear,
Therein false struck, can take no greater wound,
Nor tent to bottom that. But speak.

Pisanio. It cannot be,

But that my master is abus'd:

Some villain, ay, and singular in his art,
Hath done you both this cursed injury.
Imog. Some Roman courtezan.

Pisanio. No, on my life.

I'll give but notice you are dead, and send him
Some bloody sign of it; for 'tis commanded
I should do so: You shall be miss'd at court,
And that will well confirm it.

Imog. Why, good fellow,

What shall I do the while? Where bide? How live? Or in my life what comfort, when I am

Dead to my husband?

Pisanio. If you'll back to the court,

Imog. No court, no father.

Pisanio. If not at court,

Then not in Britain must you bide. Where then?
Imog. Hath Britain all the sun that shines?
'Pr'ythee, think

There's livers out of Britain.
Pisanio. I am most glad

You think of other place. The embassador,
Lucius, the Roman, comes to Milford Haven
To-morrow: now, if you could wear a mind,
Dark as your fortune is,

You should tread a course

Pretty, and full of view: yea, haply, near
The residence of Posthumus; so nigh, at least,
That though his actions were not visible, yet
Report should render him hourly to your ear,
As truly as he moves.

Imog. O, for such means!

Though peril to my modesty, not death on't,
I would adventure.

Pisanio. Well, then here's the point:

You must forget to be a woman; change
Command into obedience;

Forethinking this, I have already fit

"Tis in my cloak bag,) doublet, hat, hose, all
That answer to them: Would you, in their serving,
And with what imitation you can borrow

From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius
Present yourself, desire his service, tell him

Wherein you are happy, (which you'll make him know,
If that his head have ear in music,) doubtless,
With joy he will embrace you; for he's honourable,
And, doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad
You have me, rich and I will never fail
Beginning, nor supplyment.

Imog. Thou art all the comfort
The gods will diet me with.
This attempt

I am soldier too, and will abide it with

A prince's courage.

Pisanio. Well, madam, we must take a short farewell,

Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of

Your carriage from the court.-My noble mistress,
Here is a box; I had it from the queen;
What's in't is precious: if you are sick at sea,
Or stomach-qualm'd at land, a dram of this
Will drive away distemper.-To some shade,
And fit you to your manhood:-May the gods
Direct you to the best!

Imog. Amen! I thank thee.

[Exeunt

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE I.

CYMBELINE'S Palace.

Enter CLOTen.

Cloten. I love, and hate her: for she's fair and royal,

I love her; but,

Disdaining me, and throwing favours on

The low Posthumus, slanders so her judgment,
I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed,
To be reveng'd upon her.

Who is here?

Enter PISANIO.

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?

Pisanio. Alas, my

lord,

How can she be with him? When was she miss'd? Cloten. Where is she, sir?

Satisfy me home,

What is become of her?

Pisanio. O, my all-worthy lord!

Cloten. All-worthy villain!

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.

[Presents 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.

I'll write to my lord she's dead. O, Imogen,
Safe may'st 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, 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?
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 mis

tress.

Cloten. The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit hither: let it be thy first service; go.

Pisanio. I shall, my lord.

[Exit PISANIO. Cloten. Meet thee at Milford Haven :- -Even there, thou villain Posthumus, will I kill thee.-I would, these garments were come. She said upon a time, that she held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect than my noble and natural person. With that suit upon my back, will I first kill him, and in her eyes: He on the ground, my speech of insultment ended on his dead body, when my appetite hath din'd, to the court I'll foot her home again. My revenge is now at Milford :-'Would I had wings to follow it!

[Exit.

SCENE II.

Wales.

The Forest and Cave.

Enter IMOGEN, in Boy's Clothes.

Imog. I see, a man's life is a tedious one : I have tir'd myself; and for two nights together Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick, But that my resolution helps me.-Milford,