Hath her Life been; the Cure whereof, my Lord,
'Tis time muft do. Befeech your Majefty,
Forbear fharp Speeches to her. She's a Lady
So tender of Rebukes, that Words are Strokes,
And Strokes Death to her.

Enter a Meffenger.

Cym. Where is the, Sir? 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 given to th' loudeft Noife we make.
Queen. My Lord, when last I went to vifit her,
She pray'd me to excufe her keeping close,
Whereto conftrain'd by her infirmity,

She should that Duty leave unpaid to you
Which daily fhe was bound to proffer; this
She wifh'd me to make known; but our great Court
Made me to blame in Memory.

Cym. Her Doors lock'd?

Not feen of late? Grant Heav'ns, that which I fear,

Prove falle.

[Exit.

Queen. Son, I fay; follow the King.

Clot. That Man of hers, Pifanio, her old Servant, I have not feen these two Days.

[Exit.

Queen. Go, look after

Pifanio, thou that ftand'ft fo for Pofthumus!

He hath a Drug of mine; I pray, his abfence
Proceed by fwallowing that; for he believes
It is a thing moft precious. But for her,

Where is the gone? Haply Defpair hath feiz'd her;
Or wing'd with Fervour of her Love, fhe's flown
To her defired Pofthumus; gone fhe is,
To death, or to dishonour, and my end
Can make good ufe of either. She being down,
I have the placing of the British Crown.
Enter Cloten.

How now, my Son?

Clot. 'Tis certain fhe is fled. I

Go in and cheer the King, he rages, none
Dare come about him,

K 3

Queen

Queen. All the better; may

This Night fore-ftall him of the coming Day. [Exit Qu.
Clot. I love and hate her; for the's fair and Royal,
And that he hath all courtly Parts more exquifite
Than Lady, Ladies, Woman, from every one
The beft the hath, and the of all Compounded
Out-fells them all; I love her therefore; but
Difdaining me, and throwing Favours on
To low Pofthumus, flanders to her Judgment,
That what's elfe 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
Enter Pilanio.

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 ftraightway with the Fiends.
Pif. Oh, good my Lord.

Clot. Where is thy Lady? Or, by Jupiter,
I will not ask again. Clofe 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 bafeness, cannot
A dram of Worth be drawn,

Pif. Alas, my Lord,

How can fhe 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.

Pif. Oh, my all-worthy Lord!

Clot. All-worthy Villain!

Discover where thy Miftrefs is, at once,
At the next word; no more of worthy Lord,
Speak, or thy Silence on the inftant, is
Thy Condeinnation, and thy Death.

Pif. Then, Sir,

This Paper is the hiftory of my knowledge
Touching her flight.

Clot. Let's fee't; I will purfue 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.

[Afide.

Pif. I'll write to my Lord fhe is dead. Oh, Imogen, Safe may'ft thou wander, fafe return agen.

Clot. Sirrah, is this Letter true?

Pif. Sir, as I think.

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 thofe employments wherein I should have Caufe to use thee with a ferious induftry, that is, what Villany foe'er I bid thee do to perform it, directly and truly, I would think thee an honeft Man; thou fhouldft neither want my Means for thy Relief, nor my Voice for thy Preferment.

Pif. Well, my good Lord.

Clot. Wilt thou ferve me? For fince patiently and conftantly thou haft ftuck to the bare Fortune of that Beggar Pofthumus, thou can'ft 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 Purfe. Haft any of thy late Master's Garments in thy Poffeffion?

Pif. I have, my Lord, at the Lodging, the fame Suit he wore, when he took leave of my Lady and Mistress.

Clot. The first Service thou doft me, fetch that Suit hither; let it be thy firft Service, go. Pif. 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 thefe 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 refpect, than my Noble and Natural Perfon; together with the adornment of my Qualities. With that Suit upon my back will I ravifh her; firft 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 myLuft hath dined, which as I fay, 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 thofe the Garments ?

Pif. Ay, my Noble Lord.

Clot. How long is't fince the went to Milford-Haven ? Pif. She can fcarce 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 dutcous, and true Preferment fhall tender it felf to thee. My Revenge is now at Milford, would I had Wings to follow it. Come and be true.

[Exit. Pif. Thou bidd'ft me to my lofs; for true to thee, Were to prove falfe, which I will never be To him that is moft true. To Milford go, And find not her, whom thou purfueft. Flow, flow, You Heav'nly Bleffings on her: This Fool's speed Be-croft with flownels; Labour be his meed.

[Exit

SCENE IV. The Foreft and Cave.
Enter Imogen in Boy's Cloaths.

Imo. I fee a Man's Life is a tedious one,
I have tired my felf; and for two Nights together
Have made the Ground my Bed. I fhould be fick,
But that my Refolution 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 mifs my way, Will poor Folks lie
That have Afflictions on them, knowing 'tis
A Purishment, or Trial? Yes; no wonder,
When rich ones fcarce tell true. To lapfe in Fulness
Is forer, than to lie for Need; and Falfhood
Is worse in Kings, than Beggars. My dear Lord,
Thou art one o'th' falfe ones; now I think on thee,
My hunger's gone; but even before, I was

At point to fink for Food. But what is this? [Seeing the Cave.
Here is a Path to't 'tis fome favage hold;

I were beft not call; I dare not call; yet Famine
E'er it clean o'er-throw Nature, makes it valiant.
Plenty and Peace breeds Cowards, Hardness ever
Of Hardinefs is Mother. Ho! who's here?
If any thing that's civil, fpeak, if favage,
Take, or lend-Ho! no anfwer? then I'll enter,
Beft draw my Sword; and if mine Enemy
But fear the Sword like me, he'll fcarcely look on't.
Such a Foe, good Heav'ns. [She goes into the Cave.
Enter Bellarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.
Bel. You Polidore have prov'd beft Woodman, and
Are Mafter of the Feaft; Cadwall and I

Will play the Cook, and Servant, 'tis our match:
The fweat of Industry would dry, and die
But for the end it works to. Come, our Stomachs
Will make what's homely, favoury; Weariness
Can fnore upon the Flint, when refty Sloth
Finds the Down-pillow hard. Now peace be here,
Poor House, that keep'ft thy felf.

Guid. I am throughly_weary.

Arv. I am weak with Toil, yet ftrong in Appetite.

Guid. There is cold Meat i'th' Cave, we'll brouze on that

Whilft what we have kill'd be Cook'd.

Bel. Stay, come not in

But that it eats our Victuals, I fhould think

Here were a Fairy.

Guid. What's the matter, Sir?

Bel. By Jupiter an Angel! or if not, An Earthly Paragon. Behold Divineness No elder than a Boy.

Enter Imogen.

Imo. Good Mafter, harm me not;

Before I enter'd here, I call'd, and thought

[Looking in.

To have begg'd, or bought, what I have took: good Troth I have ftoln nought, nor would not, though I had found

Gold ftrew'd i'th' Floor. Here's Mony for

I would have left it on the Board fo foon
As I had made my Meal: and parted
With Prayers for the Provider.
Guid. Mony, Youth?

my Meat,