Who is here? what! are you packing, firrah? Thou'rt straightway with the fiends. [Drawing his fword. Clot. Where is thy Lady? or, by Jupiter, I'll have this fecret from thy heart, or rip Pif. Alas! my Lord, How can fhe be with him? when was fhe miss'd? Clot. Where is fhe, Sir? come nearer; Pif. Oh, my all-worthy Lord! Discover where thy miftrefs is, at once, At the next word; no more of worthy Lord. Thy condemnation 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. Pif. I'll write to my Lord fhe's dead. Oh, Imogen, Safe may'st thou wander, fafe return again ! } Afide. Oh, Afide. Clot. Clot. Sirrah, is this letter true? Pif. Sir, as I think. Clot. It is Pofthumus's hand, I know't. Sirrah, if thou would't not be a villain, but do me true fervice; undergo thofe employments wherein I fhould have caufe to ufe thee with a serious induftry, that is, what villainy foe'er I bid thee do, 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't 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. of thy late mafter's garments in thy poffeffion? Haft any Pif. I have, my Lord, at the lodging, the fame fuit he wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress. Clot. The first fervice thou doft me, fetch that fuit hither; let it be thy first fervice, go. Pif. I fhall, my Lord. - even [Exit. Clot. Meet thee at Milford-Haven →→ I forgot to ask him one thing, I'll remember't anon; 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 Posthumus in more refpect than my noble and natural perfon, together with the adornment of my qualities. With that fuit 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 speech of infultment ended on his dead body, and when my luft 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 + 'kick' 'kick' 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 she 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 fhall tender itself 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 'her that is moft 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! Imo. I Enter Imogen in boy's Cloaths. See a man's life is a tedious one: [Exit. I've tired my felf; and for two nights together Where they fhould be reliev'd. Two beggars told me, A punishment or tryal? 67yet no wonder, When 6 yes no wonder, When rich ones fcarce tell true. To lapfe in fullness Is forer, than to lie for need; and falfhood Is worfe 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? - [Seeing the Cave. Here is a path to't 'tis fome favage hold; 'Twere beft not call; I dare not call; yet famine, Ere it clean o'er-throw nature, makes it valiant. Plenty and peace 7 'breed cowards, hardness ever Of hardiness is mother. Ho! who's here? If any thing that's civil, fpeak; if favage, 8 Take, or yield food: no anfwer ? then I'll enter. But fear the fword like me, he'll scarcely look on't. Enter Bellarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus. Bel. You, Paladour, have prov'd beft woodman, and Are mafter of the feaft; Cadwal and I Will play the cook, and fervant, 'tis our match: But for the end it works to. Come, our ftomachs Guid. I'm throughly weary. Arv. I'm weak with toil, yet ftrong in appetite. [that Guid. There is cold meat i' th' cave, we'll brouze on Whilft what we've kill'd be cook'd. Bel. Stay, come not in But that it eats our victuals, I fhould think It were a Fairy. Guid. What's the matter, Sir? Bel. By Jupiter, an Angel! or if not, [Looking in. An 7 breeds 8 Take or lend Ho! no answer ? An earthly paragon. Behold divineness Enter Imogen.' Imo. Good mafters, harm me not; Before I enter'd here, I call'd, and thought T' have begg'd, or bought, what I have took: good troth As I had made my meal: and parted thence Guid. Money, youth? Arv. All gold and filver rather turn to dirt! Imo. I fee you're angry : Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should Bel. Whither bound? Imo. To Milford-Haven. Bel. 'Say, what is your name? I Imo. Fidele, Sir; I have a kinfman, who I'm fall'n in this offence. Bel. Pr'ythee, fair youth, Think us no churls; nor meafure our good minds Guid. Were you a woman, youth, I fhould wooe hard, but be your groom in honefty; 'I'd bid for you, as I would buy.` Arv. I'll make't my comfort VOL. VI. M 9 What's your name? 1 he embark'd 2 I bid for you, as I do buy. He |