Act 4, Scene 3
Britain. A room in Cymbeline’s palace.
- Enter Cymbeline, Lords, and Pisanio with Attendants.
Cymbeline2 - 14
- 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.
Pisanio15 - 19
- 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 Lord20 - 25
- 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.
Cymbeline26 - 29
- The time is troublesome.
- To Pisanio.
- We’ll slip you for a season, but our jealousy
- Does yet depend.
First Lord30 - 33
- 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.
Cymbeline34 - 35
- Now for the counsel of my son and queen!
- I am amaz’d with matter.
First Lord36 - 40
- 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 pow’rs in motion
- That long to move.
Cymbeline41 - 44
- 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.
Pisanio46 - 56
- 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 betide 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’ th’ 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.