 | Cymbeline |  |
SCENE IV.
The Palace.Enter Cymbeline, Lords and Pisanio.
Cym.
Again; and bring me word how tis with her;
A Fever with the Absence of her Son;
Madness, of which her life's in danger; heav'ns!
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 inforce it from thee
By a sharp Torture.
Pis.
Sir, my Life is yours, set it at your Will:
2 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 Lord Cloten,
There wants no diligence in seeking him,
He will no doubt be sound.
61
The time is troublesome;
We'll slip you for a Season, but our Jealousy
Do's yet depend.
2 Lord.
So please your Majesty,
The Roman Legions all from Gallia drawn,
Are landed on your Coast.
Cym.
Now for the Counsel of my Son and Queen:
I am amaz'd with matter, 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.
Pis.
I've had 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 betide to Cloten, but remain
Perplex'd in all. The Heavn's still must work;
Wherein I'm false I'm honest, not true, to be true,
These present Wars shall find I love my Country,
Ev'n to the Note of th'King, or I'll fall in them:
All other doubts by time, let 'em be clear'd,
Fortune brings in some Boats, that are not steer'd.
[Exit.
| Cymbeline | |