The Tragedie of Cymbeline.
385
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
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.
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.
The best she hath, and she of all compounded
Out-selles them all. I loue her therefore, but
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.
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.
Oh, good my Lord.
Clo.
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
A dram of worth be drawne.
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
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.
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:
No farther halting: satisfie me home,
What is become of her?
Where is she Sir? Come neerer:
No farther halting: satisfie me home,
What is become of her?
Pis.
Oh, my all-worthy Lord.
Oh, my all-worthy Lord.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Or this, or perish.
She's farre enough, and what he learnes by this,
May proue his trauell, not her danger.
Clo.
Humh.
Humh.
Pis.
Ile write to my Lord she's dead: Oh Imogen,
Safe mayst thou wander, safe returne agen.
Ile write to my Lord she's dead: Oh Imogen,
Safe mayst thou wander, safe returne agen.
Clot.
Sirra, is this Letter true?
Sirra, is this Letter true?
Pis.
Sir, as I thinke.
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
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.
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
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.
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 grati
tude, but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou serue mee?
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.
Sir, I will.
Sir, I will.
Clo.
Giue mee thy hand, heere's my purse. Hast any
of thy late Masters Garments in thy possession?
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.
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.
The first seruice thou dost mee, fetch that Suite
hither, let it be thy first seruice, go.
Pis.
Exit.I shall my Lord.
Exit.I shall my Lord.
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 Noble
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 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.
Be those the Garments?
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 Noble
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 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.
Be those the Garments?
Pis.
I, my Noble Lord.
I, my Noble Lord.
Clo.
How long is't since she went to Milford-Hauen?
How long is't since she went to Milford-Hauen?
Pis.
She can scarse be there yet.
She can scarse 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
Exit.to follow it. Come, and be true.
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
Exit.to follow it. Come, and be true.
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
Exit.Be crost with slownesse; Labour be his meede.
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
Exit.Be crost with slownesse; Labour be his meede.
Scena Sexta.
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 scarse 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 eE3Auen 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,
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 scarse 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 eE3Auen 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,
