« 이전계속 »
Cym. Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords, 'Till he have crost the Severn.- -Happiness!
[Exit Lucius, &c. Queen. He goes hence frowning: but it honours us, That we have given him cause.
530 Clot. 'Tis all the better; Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it.
Cym. Lucius hath wrote already to the emperor How it goes here. It fits us therefore, ripely, Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness : The powers that he already hath in Gallia Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves His war for Britain.
Queen. 'Tis not sleepy business;
Cym. Our expectation that it should be thus,
[Exit a Servant. Queen. Royal sir, Since the exile of Posthumus, most retir'd 550 Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord, -'Tis time must do. 'Beseech your majesty, Forbear sharp speeches to her : She's a lady Giij
So tender of rebukes, that words are 'strokes,
Re-enter the Servant.
Cym. Where is she, sir ? How Can her contempt be answer'd ?
Serv. Please you, sir, Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer That will be given to the loud of noise we make. 560
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!
[Exit. Queen. Son, I say, follow the king.
371 Clot. That man of her's, Pisanio her old servant, I have not seen these two days.
[Exit., Queen. Go, look after. Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus! He hath a drug of mine : I pray, his absence Proceed by swallowing that; fór he believes It is a thing most precious. But for her, Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seiz'd her ; Or, wing'd with fertour of her love, she's flown 580 To her desir'd Posthumus: Gone she is
To death, or to dishonour; and my end
How now, my son ?
Clot. 'Tis certain, she is fled : Go in, and cheer the king; he rages, none Dare come about him. · Queen. All the better : May This night forestall him of the coming day! 590
[Exit Queer. Clot. I love, and hate her : for she's fair and
royal ; And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite Than lady, ladies, woman; from every one The best she hath, and she, of all compounded, Outsells them all : I love her therefore; But Disdaining me, and throwing favours on The low Posthumus, slanders so her judgment, That what's else rare, is chok'd ; and, in that point, I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed, To be reveng'diupon ker. Por, when fools 600
Pis. O, good my lord !
Clot. Where is thy lady? or, by: Jupiter,
Clot. Where is she, sir? Come nearer; No further halting : satisfy me home, What is become of her ?
Pis. O, my all-worthy lord!
Clot. All-worthy villain !
Pis. Then, sir,
Clot. Let's see't:-I will pursue her
Pis. Or this, or perish. She's far enough; and what he learns by this, [Aside. May prove his travel, not her danger. Clot. Humh!
632 Pis. I'll write to my lord, she's dead. 0, Imogen,
Safe mayʻst thou wander, safe return again!
Clot. Sirrah, is this letter true ?
Clot. It is Posthumus' hand ; I know't.Sirrah, if thou wouldst 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 villany soe'er I bid three do, to perform it, di. rectly 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.
644 Pis. Well, my good lord.
Clot. Wilt thou serve me ? For since patiently and constantly thou hast stuck to the bare fortune of that beggar Posthumus, thou can'st not in the course of gratitude but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou serve me?
Pis. Sir, I will.
Clot. Give me thy hand, here's my purse. Hast any of thy late master's garments in thy possession ?
Pis. I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same suit he wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress.
Clot. The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit híther : let it be thy first service; go.
658 Pis. I shall, my lord.
[ Exit. Clot. Meet thee at Milford-Haven :: -I forgot to ask him one thing ; I'll remember't 'anon :
Even there, thậu villain Posthumus, will I kill thèè.-I would, these garments were come. She said upon a