The Bodleian First Folio

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Reference: aaa4v - Tragedies, p. 384

Left Column


The Tragedy of Cymbeline.
[1795]
Alacke no remedy) to the greedy touch Of common‑kissing Titan: and forget Your laboursome and dainty Trimmes, wherein You made great Iuno angry.
Imo. Nay be breefe?
[1800]
I see into thy end, and am almost A man already.
Pis. First, make your selfe but like one, Fore‑thinking this. I haue already fit ('Tis in my Cloake‑bagge) Doublet, Hat, Hose, all
[1805]
That answer to them: Would you in their seruing, (And with what imitation you can borrow From youth of such a season) 'fore Noble Lucius Present your selfe, desire his seruice: tell him Wherein you're happy; which will make him know,
[1810]
If that his head haue eare in Musicke, doubtlesse With ioy he will imbrace you: for hee's Honourable, And doubling that, most holy. Your meanes abroad: You haue me rich, and I will neuer faile Beginning, nor supplyment.
Imo.
[1815]
Thou art all the comfort The Gods will diet me with. Prythee away, There's more to be consider'd: but wee'l euen All th at good time will giue vs. This attempt, I am Souldier too, and will abide it with
[1820]
A Princes Courage. Away, I prythee.
Pis. Well Madam, we must take a short farewell, Least being mist, I be suspected of Your carriage from the Court. My Noble Mistris, Heere is a boxe, I had it from the Queene,
[1825]
What's in't is precious: If you are sicke at Sea, Or Stomacke‑qualm'd at Land, a Dramme of this Will driue away distemper. To some shade, And fit you to your Manhood: may the Gods Direct you to the best.
Imo.
[1830]
Amen: I thanke thee.
Exeunt.
Scena Quinta. [Act 3, Scene 5] Enter Cymbeline, Queene, Cloten, Lucius, and Lords. Cym. Thus farre, and so farewell. Luc. Thankes, Royall Sir: My Emperor hath wrote, I must from hence, And am right sorry, that I must report ye
[1835]
My Masters Enemy.
Cym. Our Subiects (Sir) Will not endure his yoake; and for our selfe To shew lesse Soueraignty then they, must needs Appeare vn‑Kinglike. Luc.
[1840]
So Sir: I desire of you A Conduct ouer Land, to Milford‑Hauen. Madam, all ioy befall your Grace, and you.
Cym. My Lords, you are appointed for that Office: The due of Honor, in no point omit:
[1845]
So farewell Noble Lucius.
Luc. Your hand, my Lord. Clot. Receiue it friendly: but from this time forth I weare it as your Enemy. Luc. Sir, the Euent
[1850]
Is yet to name the winner. Fare you well.
Cym. Leaue not the worthy Lucius, good my Lords Till he haue crost the Seuern. Happines. Exit Lucius, &c

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Right Column


Qu. He goes hence frowning: but it honours vs That we haue giuen him cause. Clot.
[1855]
'Tis all the better, Your valiant Britaines haue their wishes in it.
Cym. Lucius hath wrote already to the Emperor How it goes heere. It fits vs therefore ripely Our Chariots, and our Horsemen be in readinesse:
[1860]
The Powres that he already hath in Gallia Will soone be drawne to head, from whence he moues His warre for Britaine.
Qu. 'Tis not sleepy businesse, But must be look'd too speedily and strongly. Cym.
[1865]
Our expectation that it would be thus Hath made vs forward. But my gentle Queene, Where is our Daughter? She hath not appear'd Before the Roman, nor to vs hath tender'd The duty of the day. She looke vs like
[1870]
A thing more made of malice, then of duty, We haue noted it. Call her before vs, for We haue beene too slight in sufferance.
Qu. Royall Sir, Since the exile of Posthumus, most retyr'd
[1875]
Hath her life bin: the Cure whereof, my Lord, 'Tis time must do. Beseech your Maiesty, Forbeare sharpe speeches to her. Shee's a Lady So tender of rebukes, that words are stroke;, And strokes death to her.
Enter a Messenger. Cym.
[1880]
Where is she Sir? How Can her contempt be answer'd?
Mes. Please you Sir, Her Chambers are all lock'd, and there's no answer That will be giuen to'th'lowd of noise, we make. Qu.
[1885]
My Lord, when last I went to visit her, She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close, Whereto constrain'd by her infirmitie, She should that dutie leaue vnpaide to you Which dayly she was bound to proffer: this
[1890]
She wish'd me to make knowne: but our great Court Made me too blame in memory.
Cym. Her doores lock'd? Not seene of late? Grant Heauens, that which I Feare, proue false. Exit. Qu.
[1895]
Sonne, I say, follow the King.
Clot. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old Seruant I haue not seene these two dayes. Exit. Qu. Go, looke after: Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus,
[1900]
He hath a Drugge of mine: I pray, his absence Proceed by swallowing that. For he beleeues It is a thing most precious. But for her, Where is she gone? Haply dispaire hath seiz'd her: Or wing'd with feruour of her loue, she's flowne
[1905]
To her desir'd Posthumus: gone she is, To death, or to dishonor, and my end Can make good vse of either. Shee being downe, I haue the placing of the Brittish Crowne. Enter Cloten. How now, my Sonne ?
Clot.
[1910]
'Tis certaine she is fled: Go in and cheere the King, he rages, none Dare come about him.
Qu. All the better: may This night fore‑stall him of the comming day. Exit Qu. Clo.
[1915]
I loue, and hate her: for she's Faire and Royall, And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite Then

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Scena Quinta. [Act 3, Scene 5] Enter Cymbeline, Queene, Cloten, Lucius, and Lords. Cym. Thus farre, and so farewell. Luc. Thankes, Royall Sir: My Emperor hath wrote, I must from hence, And am right sorry, that I must report ye
[1835]
My Masters Enemy.
Cym. Our Subiects (Sir) Will not endure his yoake; and for our selfe To shew lesse Soueraignty then they, must needs Appeare vn‑Kinglike. Luc.
[1840]
So Sir: I desire of you A Conduct ouer Land, to Milford‑Hauen. Madam, all ioy befall your Grace, and you.
Cym. My Lords, you are appointed for that Office: The due of Honor, in no point omit:
[1845]
So farewell Noble Lucius.
Luc. Your hand, my Lord. Clot. Receiue it friendly: but from this time forth I weare it as your Enemy. Luc. Sir, the Euent
[1850]
Is yet to name the winner. Fare you well.
Cym. Leaue not the worthy Lucius, good my Lords Till he haue crost the Seuern. Happines. Exit Lucius, &c Qu. He goes hence frowning: but it honours vs That we haue giuen him cause. Clot.
[1855]
'Tis all the better, Your valiant Britaines haue their wishes in it.
Cym. Lucius hath wrote already to the Emperor How it goes heere. It fits vs therefore ripely Our Chariots, and our Horsemen be in readinesse:
[1860]
The Powres that he already hath in Gallia Will soone be drawne to head, from whence he moues His warre for Britaine.
Qu. 'Tis not sleepy businesse, But must be look'd too speedily and strongly. Cym.
[1865]
Our expectation that it would be thus Hath made vs forward. But my gentle Queene, Where is our Daughter? She hath not appear'd Before the Roman, nor to vs hath tender'd The duty of the day. She looke vs like
[1870]
A thing more made of malice, then of duty, We haue noted it. Call her before vs, for We haue beene too slight in sufferance.
Qu. Royall Sir, Since the exile of Posthumus, most retyr'd
[1875]
Hath her life bin: the Cure whereof, my Lord, 'Tis time must do. Beseech your Maiesty, Forbeare sharpe speeches to her. Shee's a Lady So tender of rebukes, that words are stroke;, And strokes death to her.
Enter a Messenger. Cym.
[1880]
Where is she Sir? How Can her contempt be answer'd?
Mes. Please you Sir, Her Chambers are all lock'd, and there's no answer That will be giuen to'th'lowd of noise, we make. Qu.
[1885]
My Lord, when last I went to visit her, She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close, Whereto constrain'd by her infirmitie, She should that dutie leaue vnpaide to you Which dayly she was bound to proffer: this
[1890]
She wish'd me to make knowne: but our great Court Made me too blame in memory.
Cym. Her doores lock'd? Not seene of late? Grant Heauens, that which I Feare, proue false. Exit. Qu.
[1895]
Sonne, I say, follow the King.
Clot. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old Seruant I haue not seene these two dayes. Exit. Qu. Go, looke after: Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus,
[1900]
He hath a Drugge of mine: I pray, his absence Proceed by swallowing that. For he beleeues It is a thing most precious. But for her, Where is she gone? Haply dispaire hath seiz'd her: Or wing'd with feruour of her loue, she's flowne
[1905]
To her desir'd Posthumus: gone she is, To death, or to dishonor, and my end Can make good vse of either. Shee being downe, I haue the placing of the Brittish Crowne. Enter Cloten. How now, my Sonne ?
Clot.
[1910]
'Tis certaine she is fled: Go in and cheere the King, he rages, none Dare come about him.
Qu. All the better: may This night fore‑stall him of the comming day. Exit Qu. Clo.
[1915]
I loue, and hate her: for she's Faire and Royall, And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite Then Lady, Ladies, Woman, from euery one The best she hath, and she of all compounded Out‑selles them all. I loue her therefore, but
[1920]
Disdaining me, and throwing Fauours on The low Posthumus, slanders so her iudgement, That what's else rare, is choak'd: and in that point I will conclude to hate her, nay indeede, To be reueng'd vpon her. For, when Fooles shall— Enter Pisanio.
[1925]
Who is heere? What, are you packing sirrah? Come hither: Ah you precious Pandar, Villaine, Where is thy Lady? In a word, or else Thou art straightway with the Fiends.
Pis. Oh, good my Lord. Clo.
[1930]
Where is thy Lady? Or, by Iupiter, I will not aske againe. Close Villaine, Ile haue this Secret from thy heart, or rip Thy heart to finde it. Is she with Posthumus? From whose so many waights of basenesse, cannot
[1935]
A dram of worth be drawne.
Pis. Alas, nay Lord, How can she be with him ? When was she miss'd? He is in Rome. Clot. Where is she Sir? Come neerer:
[1940]
No farther halting: satisfie me home, What is become of her?
Pis. Oh, my all‑worthy Lord. Clo. All‑worthy Villaine, Discouer where thy Mistris is, at once,
[1945]
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
[1950]
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,
[1955]
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.
[1960]
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: vnder­

go those Imployments wherin I should haue cause to vse

thee with a serious industry, that is, what villainy soere I

[1965]

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 prefer­

ment.

Pis.

Well, my good Lord.

Clot.
[1970]

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 grati­

tude, but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou serue

mee?

Pis.
[1975]

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 & Mi­

[1980]

stresse.

Clo.

The first seruice thou dost mee, fetch that Suite

hither, let it be thy first seruice, go.

Pis.

I shall my Lord.

Exit. Clo.

Meet thee at Milford‑Hauen: (I forgot to aske

[1985]

him one thing, Ile remember't anon:) euen there, thou

villaine Posthumus will I kill thee. I would these Gar­

ments 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 Noble

[1990]

and naturall person; together with the adornement of

my Qualities. With that Suite vpon my backe wil I ra­

uish 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

[1995]

dead bodie, and when my Lust 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.
[2000]

Be those the Garments?

Pis.

I, my Noble Lord.

Clo.

How long is't since she went to Milford‑Hauen?

Pis.

She can scarse be there yet.

Clo.

Bring this Apparrell to my Chamber, that is

[2005]

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.
[2010]
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
[2015]
Be crost with slownesse; Labour be his meede.
Exit
 

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<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<div type="scene" n="5">
   <head rend="italic center">Scena Quinta.</head>
   <head type="supplied">[Act 3, Scene 5]</head>
   <stage rend="center" type="entrance">Enter Cymbeline, Queene, Cloten, Lucius,
      <lb/>and Lords.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-cym-cym">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cym.</speaker>
      <l n="1831">Thus farre, and so farewell.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-luc">
      <speaker rend="italic">Luc.</speaker>
      <l n="1832">Thankes, Royall Sir:</l>
      <l n="1833">My Emperor hath wrote, I must from hence,</l>
      <l n="1834">And am right sorry, that I must report ye</l>
      <l n="1835">My Masters Enemy.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-cym">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cym.</speaker>
      <l n="1836">Our Subiects (Sir)</l>
      <l n="1837">Will not endure his yoake; and for our selfe</l>
      <l n="1838">To shew lesse Soueraignty then they, must needs</l>
      <l n="1839">Appeare vn‑Kinglike.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-luc">
      <speaker rend="italic">Luc.</speaker>
      <l n="1840">So Sir: I desire of you</l>
      <l n="1841">A Conduct ouer Land, to Milford‑Hauen.</l>
      <l n="1842">Madam, all ioy befall your Grace, and you.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-cym">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cym.</speaker>
      <l n="1843">My Lords, you are appointed for that Office:</l>
      <l n="1844">The due of Honor, in no point omit:</l>
      <l n="1845">So farewell Noble<hi rend="italic">Lucius</hi>.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-luc">
      <speaker rend="italic">Luc.</speaker>
      <l n="1846">Your hand, my Lord.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clot.</speaker>
      <l n="1847">Receiue it friendly: but from this time forth</l>
      <l n="1848">I weare it as your Enemy.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-luc">
      <speaker rend="italic">Luc.</speaker>
      <l n="1849">Sir, the Euent</l>
      <l n="1850">Is yet to name the winner. Fare you well.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-cym">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cym.</speaker>
      <l n="1851">Leaue not the worthy<hi rend="italic">Lucius</hi>, good my Lords</l>
      <l n="1852">Till he haue crost the Seuern. Happines.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit Lucius, &amp;c</stage>
   <cb n="2"/>
   <sp who="#F-cym-que">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="1853">He goes hence frowning: but it honours vs</l>
      <l n="1854">That we haue giuen him cause.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clot.</speaker>
      <l n="1855">'Tis all the better,</l>
      <l n="1856">Your valiant Britaines haue their wishes in it.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-cym">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cym.</speaker>
      <l n="1857">
         <hi rend="italic">Lucius</hi>hath wrote already to the Emperor</l>
      <l n="1858">How it goes heere. It fits vs therefore ripely</l>
      <l n="1859">Our Chariots, and our Horsemen be in readinesse:</l>
      <l n="1860">The Powres that he already hath in Gallia</l>
      <l n="1861">Will soone be drawne to head, from whence he moues</l>
      <l n="1862">His warre for Britaine.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-que">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="1863">'Tis not sleepy businesse,</l>
      <l n="1864">But must be look'd too speedily and strongly.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-cym">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cym.</speaker>
      <l n="1865">Our expectation that it would be thus</l>
      <l n="1866">Hath made vs forward. But my gentle Queene,</l>
      <l n="1867">Where is our Daughter? She hath not appear'd</l>
      <l n="1868">Before the Roman, nor to vs hath tender'd</l>
      <l n="1869">The duty of the day. She looke vs like</l>
      <l n="1870">A thing more made of malice, then of duty,</l>
      <l n="1871">We haue noted it. Call her before vs, for</l>
      <l n="1872">We haue beene too slight in sufferance.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-que">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="1873">Royall Sir,</l>
      <l n="1874">Since the exile of<hi rend="italic">Posthumus</hi>, most retyr'd</l>
      <l n="1875">Hath her life bin: the Cure whereof, my Lord,</l>
      <l n="1876">'Tis time must do. Beseech your Maiesty,</l>
      <l n="1877">Forbeare sharpe speeches to her. Shee's a Lady</l>
      <l n="1878">So tender of rebukes, that words are stroke;,</l>
      <l n="1879">And strokes death to her.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter a Messenger.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-cym-cym">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cym.</speaker>
      <l n="1880">Where is she Sir? How</l>
      <l n="1881">Can her contempt be answer'd?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-mes">
      <speaker rend="italic">Mes.</speaker>
      <l n="1882">Please you Sir,</l>
      <l n="1883">Her Chambers are all lock'd, and there's no answer</l>
      <l n="1884">That will be giuen to'th'lowd of noise, we make.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-que">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="1885">My Lord, when last I went to visit her,</l>
      <l n="1886">She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close,</l>
      <l n="1887">Whereto constrain'd by her infirmitie,</l>
      <l n="1888">She should that dutie leaue vnpaide to you</l>
      <l n="1889">Which dayly she was bound to proffer: this</l>
      <l n="1890">She wish'd me to make knowne: but our great Court</l>
      <l n="1891">Made me too blame in memory.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-cym">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cym.</speaker>
      <l n="1892">Her doores lock'd?</l>
      <l n="1893">Not seene of late? Grant Heauens, that which I</l>
      <l n="1894">Feare, proue false.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-cym-que">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="1895">Sonne, I say, follow the King.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clot.</speaker>
      <l n="1896">That man of hers,<hi rend="italic">Pisanio</hi>, her old Seruant</l>
      <l n="1897">I haue not seene these two dayes.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-cym-que">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="1898">Go, looke after:</l>
      <l n="1899">
         <hi rend="italic">Pisanio</hi>, thou that stand'st so for<hi rend="italic">Posthumus</hi>,</l>
      <l n="1900">He hath a Drugge of mine: I pray, his absence</l>
      <l n="1901">Proceed by swallowing that. For he beleeues</l>
      <l n="1902">It is a thing most precious. But for her,</l>
      <l n="1903">Where is she gone? Haply dispaire hath seiz'd her:</l>
      <l n="1904">Or wing'd with feruour of her loue, she's flowne</l>
      <l n="1905">To her desir'd<hi rend="italic">Posthumus</hi>: gone she is,</l>
      <l n="1906">To death, or to dishonor, and my end</l>
      <l n="1907">Can make good vse of either. Shee being downe,</l>
      <l n="1908">I haue the placing of the Brittish Crowne.</l>
      <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Cloten.</stage>
      <l n="1909">How now, my Sonne<c rend="italic">?</c>
      </l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clot.</speaker>
      <l n="1910">'Tis certaine she is fled:</l>
      <l n="1911">Go in and cheere the King, he rages, none</l>
      <l n="1912">Dare come about him.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-que">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="1913">All the better: may</l>
      <l n="1914">This night fore‑stall him of the comming day.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit Qu.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clo.</speaker>
      <l n="1915">I loue, and hate her: for she's Faire and Royall,</l>
      <l n="1916">And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite</l>
      <pb facs="FFimg:axc0895-0.jpg" n="385"/>
      <cb n="1"/>
      <l n="1917">Then Lady, Ladies, Woman, from euery one</l>
      <l n="1918">The best she hath, and she of all compounded</l>
      <l n="1919">Out‑selles them all. I loue her therefore, but</l>
      <l n="1920">Disdaining me, and throwing Fauours on</l>
      <l n="1921">The low<hi rend="italic">Posthumus</hi>, slanders so her iudgement,</l>
      <l n="1922">That what's else rare, is choak'd: and in that point</l>
      <l n="1923">I will conclude to hate her, nay indeede,</l>
      <l n="1924">To be reueng'd vpon her. For, when Fooles shall—</l>
      <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Pisanio.</stage>
      <l n="1925">Who is heere? What, are you packing sirrah?</l>
      <l n="1926">Come hither: Ah you precious Pandar, Villaine,</l>
      <l n="1927">Where is thy Lady? In a word, or else</l>
      <l n="1928">Thou art straightway with the Fiends.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-pis">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pis.</speaker>
      <l n="1929">Oh, good my Lord.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clo.</speaker>
      <l n="1930">Where is thy Lady? Or, by Iupiter,</l>
      <l n="1931">I will not aske againe. Close Villaine,</l>
      <l n="1932">Ile haue this Secret from thy heart, or rip</l>
      <l n="1933">Thy heart to finde it. Is she with<hi rend="italic">Posthumus</hi>?</l>
      <l n="1934">From whose so many waights of basenesse, cannot</l>
      <l n="1935">A dram of worth be drawne.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-pis">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pis.</speaker>
      <l n="1936">Alas, nay Lord,</l>
      <l n="1937">How can she be with him<c rend="italic">?</c>When was she miss'd?</l>
      <l n="1938">He is in Rome.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clot.</speaker>
      <l n="1939">Where is she Sir? Come neerer:</l>
      <l n="1940">No farther halting: satisfie me home,</l>
      <l n="1941">What is become of her?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-pis">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pis.</speaker>
      <l n="1942">Oh, my all‑worthy Lord.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clo.</speaker>
      <l n="1943">All‑worthy Villaine,</l>
      <l n="1944">Discouer where thy Mistris is, at once,</l>
      <l n="1945">At the next word: no more of worthy Lord:</l>
      <l n="1946">Speake, or thy silence on the instant, is</l>
      <l n="1947">Thy condemnation, and thy death.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-pis">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pis.</speaker>
      <l n="1948">Then Sir:</l>
      <l n="1949">This Paper is the historie of my knowledge</l>
      <l n="1950">Touching her flight.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clo.</speaker>
      <l n="1951">Let's see't: I will pursue her</l>
      <l n="1952">Euen to<hi rend="italic">Augustus</hi>Throne.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-pis">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pis.</speaker>
      <l n="1953">Or this, or perish.</l>
      <l n="1954">She's farre enough, and what he learnes by this,</l>
      <l n="1955">May proue his trauell, not her danger.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clo.</speaker>
      <l n="1956">Humh.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-pis">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pis.</speaker>
      <l n="1957">Ile write to my Lord she's dead: Oh<hi rend="italic">Imogen</hi>,</l>
      <l n="1958">Safe mayst thou wander, safe returne agen.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clot.</speaker>
      <l n="1959">Sirra, is this Letter true?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-pis">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pis.</speaker>
      <l n="1960">Sir, as I thinke.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clot.</speaker>
      <p n="1961">It is<hi rend="italic">Posthumus</hi>hand, I know't. Sirrah, if thou
      <lb n="1962"/>would'st not be a Villain, but do me true seruice: vnder­
      <lb n="1963"/>go those Imployments wherin I should haue cause to vse
      <lb n="1964"/>thee with a serious industry, that is, what villainy soere I
      <lb n="1965"/>bid thee do to performe it, directly and truely, I would
      <lb n="1966"/>thinke thee an honest man: thou should'st neither want
      <lb n="1967"/>my meanes for thy releefe, nor my voyce for thy prefer­
      <lb n="1968"/>ment.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-pis">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pis.</speaker>
      <p n="1969">Well, my good Lord.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clot.</speaker>
      <p n="1970">Wilt thou serue mee? For since patiently and
      <lb n="1971"/>constantly thou hast stucke to the bare Fortune of that
      <lb n="1972"/>Begger<hi rend="italic">Posthumus</hi>, thou canst not in the course of grati­
      <lb n="1973"/>tude, but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou serue
      <lb n="1974"/>mee?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-pis">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pis.</speaker>
      <p n="1975">Sir, I will.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clo.</speaker>
      <p n="1976">Giue mee thy hand, heere's my purse. Hast any
      <lb n="1977"/>of thy late Masters Garments in thy possession?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-pis">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pisan.</speaker>
      <p n="1978">I haue (my Lord) at my Lodging, the same
      <lb n="1979"/>Suite he wore, when he tooke leaue of my Ladie &amp; Mi­
      <lb n="1980"/>stresse.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clo.</speaker>
      <p n="1981">The first seruice thou dost mee, fetch that Suite<cb n="2"/>
         
      <lb n="1982"/>hither, let it be thy first seruice, go.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-pis">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pis.</speaker>
      <p n="1983">I shall my Lord.</p>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clo.</speaker>
      <p n="1984">Meet thee at Milford‑Hauen: (I forgot to aske
      <lb n="1985"/>him one thing, Ile remember't anon:) euen there, thou
      <lb n="1986"/>villaine<hi rend="italic">Posthumus</hi>will I kill thee. I would these Gar­
      <lb n="1987"/>ments were come. She saide vpon a time (the bitternesse
      <lb n="1988"/>of it, I now belch from my heart) that shee held the very
      <lb n="1989"/>Garment of<hi rend="italic">Posthumus</hi>, in more respect, then my Noble
      <lb n="1990"/>and naturall person; together with the adornement of
      <lb n="1991"/>my Qualities. With that Suite vpon my backe wil I ra­
      <lb n="1992"/>uish her: first kill him, and in her eyes; there shall she see
      <lb n="1993"/>my valour, which wil then be a torment to hir contempt.
      <lb n="1994"/>He on the ground, my speech of insulment ended on his
      <lb n="1995"/>dead bodie, and when my Lust hath dined (which, as I
      <lb n="1996"/>say, to vex her, I will execute in the Cloathes that she so
      <lb n="1997"/>prais'd:) to the Court Ile knock her backe, foot her home
      <lb n="1998"/>againe. She hath despis'd mee reioycingly, and Ile bee
      <lb n="1999"/>merry in my Reuenge.</p>
      <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Pisanio.</stage>
      <p n="2000">Be those the Garments?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-pis">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pis.</speaker>
      <p n="2001">I, my Noble Lord.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clo.</speaker>
      <p n="2002">How long is't since she went to Milford‑Hauen?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-pis">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pis.</speaker>
      <p n="2003">She can scarse be there yet.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clo.</speaker>
      <p n="2004">Bring this Apparrell to my Chamber, that is
      <lb n="2005"/>the second thing that I haue commanded thee. The third
      <lb n="2006"/>is, that thou wilt be a voluntarie Mute to my designe. Be
      <lb n="2007"/>but dutious, and true preferment shall tender it selfe to
      <lb n="2008"/>thee. My Reuenge is now at Milford, would I had wings
      <lb n="2009"/>to follow it. Come, and be true.</p>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-cym-pis">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pis.</speaker>
      <l n="2010">Thou bid'st me to my losse: for true to thee,</l>
      <l n="2011">Were to proue false, which I will neuer bee</l>
      <l n="2012">To him that is most true. To Milford go,</l>
      <l n="2013">And finde not her, whom thou pursuest. Flow, flow</l>
      <l n="2014">You Heauenly blessings on her: This Fooles speede</l>
      <l n="2015">Be crost with slownesse; Labour be his meede.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit</stage>
</div>

        
        

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