A Room in CYMBELINE'S Palace. |
|
Enter CYMBELINE, Lords, PISANIO, and Attendants. |
Cym. Again; and bring me word how 'tis with her. [Exit an Attendant. |
A fever with the absence of her son, |
A madness, of which her life's in danger. Heavens! |
How deeply you at once do touch me. Imogen, |
The great part of my comfort, gone; my queen |
Upon a desperate bed, and in a time |
When fearful wars point at me; her son gone, |
So needful for this present: it strikes me, past |
The hope of comfort. But for thee, fellow, |
Who needs must know of her departure and |
Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee |
By a sharp torture. |
Pis. Sir, my life is yours, |
I humbly set it at your will; but, for my mistress, |
I nothing know where she remains, why gone, |
Nor when she purposes return. Beseech your highness, |
Hold me your loyal servant. |
First Lord. Good my liege, |
The day that she was missing he was here; |
I dare be bound he's true and shall perform |
All parts of his subjection loyally. For Cloten, |
There wants no diligence in seeking him, |
And will, no doubt, be found. |
Cym. The time is troublesome. |
[To PISANIO.] We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy |
Does yet depend. |
First Lord. So please your majesty, |
The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn, |
Are landed on your coast, with a supply |
Of Roman gentlemen, by the senate sent. |
Cym. Now for the counsel of my son and queen! |
I am amaz'd with matter. |
First Lord. Good my liege, |
Your preparation can affront no less |
Than what you hear of; come more, for more you're ready: |
The want is, but to put those powers in motion |
That long to move. |
Cym. I thank you. Let's withdraw; |
And meet the time as it seeks us. We fear not |
What can from Italy annoy us, but |
We grieve at chances here. Away! [Exeunt all but PISANIO. |
Pis. I heard no letter from my master since |
I wrote him Imogen was slain; 'tis strange; |
Nor hear I from my mistress, who did promise |
To yield me often tidings; neither know I |
What is betid to Cloten; but remain |
Perplex'd in all: the heavens still must work. |
Wherein I am false I am honest; not true to be true: |
These present wars shall find I love my country, |
Even to the note o' the king, or I'll fall in them. |
All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd; |
Fortune brings in some boats that are not steer'd. [Exit. |
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