Clo. All-worthy Villaine, Discouer where thy Mistris is, at once, At the next word: no more of worthy Lord: Speake, or thy silence on the instant, is Thy condemnation, and thy death

Pis. Then Sir: This Paper is the historie of my knowledge Touching her flight

Clo. Let's see't: I will pursue her Euen to Augustus Throne

Pis. Or this, or perish.

She's farre enough, and what he learnes by this, May proue his trauell, not her danger

Clo. Humh

Pis. Ile write to my Lord she's dead: Oh Imogen, Safe mayst thou wander, safe returne agen

Clot. Sirra, is this Letter true?

Pis. Sir, as I thinke

Clot. It is Posthumus hand, I know't. Sirrah, if thou would'st not be a Villain, but do me true seruice: vndergo those Imployments wherin I should haue cause to vse thee with a serious industry, that is, what villainy soere I bid thee do to performe it, directly and truely, I would thinke thee an honest man: thou should'st neither want my meanes for thy releefe, nor my voyce for thy preferment

Pis. Well, my good Lord

Clot. Wilt thou serue mee? For since patiently and constantly thou hast stucke to the bare Fortune of that Begger Posthumus, thou canst not in the course of grat.i.tude, but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou serue mee?

Pis. Sir, I will

Clo. Giue mee thy hand, heere's my purse. Hast any of thy late Masters Garments in thy possession?

Pisan. I haue (my Lord) at my Lodging, the same Suite he wore, when he tooke leaue of my Ladie & Mistresse

Clo. The first seruice thou dost mee, fetch that Suite hither, let it be thy first seruice, go

Pis. I shall my Lord.

Enter.

Clo. Meet thee at Milford-Hauen: (I forgot to aske him one thing, Ile remember't anon:) euen there, thou villaine Posthumus will I kill thee. I would these Garments were come. She saide vpon a time (the bitternesse of it, I now belch from my heart) that shee held the very Garment of Posthumus, in more respect, then my n.o.ble and naturall person; together with the adornement of my Qualities. With that Suite vpon my backe wil I rauish her: first kill him, and in her eyes; there shall she see my valour, which wil then be a torment to hir contempt.

He on the ground, my speech of insulment ended on his dead bodie, and when my l.u.s.t hath dined (which, as I say, to vex her, I will execute in the Cloathes that she so prais'd:) to the Court Ile knock her backe, foot her home againe. She hath despis'd mee reioycingly, and Ile bee merry in my Reuenge.

Enter Pisanio.

Be those the Garments?

Pis. I, my n.o.ble Lord

Clo. How long is't since she went to Milford-Hauen?

Pis. She can sca.r.s.e be there yet

Clo. Bring this Apparrell to my Chamber, that is the second thing that I haue commanded thee. The third is, that thou wilt be a voluntarie Mute to my designe. Be but dutious, and true preferment shall tender it selfe to thee. My Reuenge is now at Milford, would I had wings to follow it. Come, and be true.

Exit

Pis. Thou bid'st me to my losse: for true to thee, Were to proue false, which I will neuer bee To him that is most true. To Milford go, And finde not her, whom thou pursuest. Flow, flow You Heauenly blessings on her: This Fooles speede Be crost with slownesse; Labour be his meede.

Exit

Scena s.e.xta.

Enter Imogen alone.

Imo. I see a mans life is a tedious one, I haue tyr'd my selfe: and for two nights together Haue made the ground my bed. I should be sicke, But that my resolution helpes me: Milford, When from the Mountaine top, Pisanio shew'd thee, Thou was't within a kenne. Oh Ioue, I thinke Foundations flye the wretched: such I meane, Where they should be releeu'd. Two Beggers told me, I could not misse my way. Will poore Folkes lye That haue Afflictions on them, knowing 'tis A punishment, or Triall? Yes; no wonder, When Rich-ones sca.r.s.e tell true. To lapse in Fulnesse Is sorer, then to lye for Neede: and Falshood Is worse in Kings, then Beggers. My deere Lord, Thou art one o'th' false Ones: Now I thinke on thee, My hunger's gone; but euen before, I was At point to sinke, for Food. But what is this?

Heere is a path too't: 'tis some sauage hold: I were best not call; I dare not call: yet Famine Ere cleane it o're-throw Nature, makes it valiant.

Plentie, and Peace breeds Cowards: Hardnesse euer Of Hardinesse is Mother. Hoa? who's heere?

If any thing that's ciuill, speake: if sauage, Take, or lend. Hoa? No answer? Then Ile enter.

Best draw my Sword; and if mine Enemy But feare the Sword like me, hee'l sca.r.s.ely looke on't.

Such a Foe, good Heauens.

Enter.

Scena Septima.

Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Aruiragus

Bel. You Polidore haue prou'd best Woodman, and Are Master of the Feast: Cadwall, and I Will play the Cooke, and Seruant, 'tis our match: The sweat of industry would dry, and dye But for the end it workes too. Come, our stomackes Will make what's homely, sauoury: Wearinesse Can snore vpon the Flint, when restie Sloth Findes the Downe-pillow hard. Now peace be heere, Poore house, that keep'st thy selfe

Gui. I am throughly weary

Arui. I am weake with toyle, yet strong in appet.i.te

Gui. There is cold meat i'th' Caue, we'l brouz on that Whil'st what we haue kill'd, be Cook'd

Bel. Stay, come not in: But that it eates our victualles, I should thinke Heere were a Faiery

Gui. What's the matter, Sir?

Bel. By Iupiter an Angell: or if not An earthly Paragon. Behold Diuinenesse No elder then a Boy.

Enter Imogen.

Imo. Good masters harme me not: Before I enter'd heere, I call'd, and thought To haue begg'd, or bought, what I haue took: good troth I haue stolne nought, nor would not, though I had found Gold strew'd i'th' Floore. Heere's money for my Meate, I would haue left it on the Boord, so soone As I had made my Meale; and parted With Pray'rs for the Prouider

Gui. Money? Youth

Aru. All Gold and Siluer rather turne to durt, As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those Who worship durty G.o.ds

Imo. I see you're angry: Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should Haue dyed, had I not made it

Bel. Whether bound?

Imo. To Milford-Hauen

Bel. What's your name?

Imo. Fidele Sir: I haue a Kinsman, who Is bound for Italy; he embark'd at Milford, To whom being going, almost spent with hunger, I am falne in this offence

Bel. Prythee (faire youth) Thinke vs no Churles: nor measure our good mindes By this rude place we liue in. Well encounter'd, 'Tis almost night, you shall haue better cheere Ere you depart; and thankes to stay, and eate it: Boyes, bid him welcome

Gui. Were you a woman, youth, I should woo hard, but be your Groome in honesty: I bid for you, as I do buy

Arui. Ile make't my Comfort He is a man, Ile loue him as my Brother: And such a welcome as I'ld giue to him (After long absence) such is yours. Most welcome: Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst Friends