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You have me, rich; and I will never fail
Imo. Thou art all the comfort
SCENE V.A room in Cymbeline's palace. Enter CYMBELINE, Queen, CLOTEN, LUCIUS,
and Lords. Cym. Thus far, and so farewell.
Luc. Thanks, royal sir.
Cym. Our subjects, sir,
Luc. So, sir, I desire of you
Cym. My lords, you are appointed for that office; The due of honour in no point omit :So, farewell, noble Lucius.
Luc. Your hand, my lord.
Clo. Receive it friendly: but from this time forth I wear it as your enemy.
Luc. Sir, the event Is yet to name the winner: Fare you well. Cym. Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my
lords, Till be have cross'd the Severn.-Happiness!
Exeunt Lucius, and Lords. Queen. He goes bence frowning: but it honours
Clo. 'Tis all the better;
Cym. Lucius hath wrote already to the emperor How it goes
here. It fits us therefore, ripely,
Queen. 'Tis not sleepy business ;
Cym. Our expectation, that it would be thus,
[Exit an Attendant.
"Tis time must do. 'Beseech your majesty,
Re-enter an Attendant,
Atten. Please you, sir,
Queen. My lord, when last I went to visit her, She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close; Whereto constrain'd by her infirmity, She should that duty leave unpaid to you, Which daily she was bound to proffer: this She wish'd me to make known; but our great court Made me to blame in memory.
Cym. Her doors lock’d? Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that, which I fear, Prove false!
[Erit. Queen. Son, I say, follow the king.
Clo. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant, I have not seen these two days. Queen. Go, look after.
(Exit Cloten, Pisanio, thou that stand’st so for Posthumus! He hath a drug of mine: I pray, his absence Proceed by swallowing that; for he believes It is a thing most precious. But for her, Where is she gone? Haply, despair bath seiz'd her; Or, wing'd with fervour of her love, she's flown To her desir’d Posthumus: Gone she is To death, or to dishonour; and my end Can make good use of either: She being down, I have the placing of the British crown,
Clo. 'Tis certain, she is fled:
Queen. All the better : May
Pis. Alas, my lord,
Clo. Where is she, sir? Come nearer;
No further halting: satisfy me home,
Pis. O, my all-worthy lord !
Clo. All-worthy villain !
Pis. Then, sir,
[Presenting a letter. Clo. Let's seet:-) will
her Even to Augustus' throne.
Pis. Or this, or perish.
Pis. I'll write to my lord she's dead. O Imogen, Safe may'st thou wander, safe return again! [Aside.
Clo. Sirrah, is this letter true?
Clo. It is Posthumus' hand; I know't.-Sirrah, if thou would'st not be a villain, but do me true service; undergo those employments, wherein I should have cause to use thee, with a serious industry,—that is, what villainy soe'er I bid thee do, to perform it, directly and truly, I would think thee an honest man: thou should'st neither want my means for thy relief, nor my voice for thy preferment.
Pis. Well, my good lord.
Clo. Wilt thou serve me? For, since patiently and constantly thou hast stuck to the bare fortune of that beggar Posthumus, thou canst not, in the course of gratitude, but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou serve me?
Pis. Sir, I will.