Plays  +  Sonnets  +  Poems  +  Concordance  +  Advanced Search  +  About OSS

Cymbeline, King of Britain

print/save print/save view


Act IV, Scene 3

A room in Cymbeline’s palace.


[Enter CYMBELINE, Lords, PISANIO, and Attendants]

  • Cymbeline. Again; and bring me word how 'tis with her. 2825
    [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 2830
    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 2835
    Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee
    By a sharp torture.
  • Pisanio. Sir, my life is yours;
    I humbly set it at your will; but, for my mistress,
    I nothing know where she remains, why gone, 2840
    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 2845
    All parts of his subjection loyally. For Cloten,
    There wants no diligence in seeking him,
    And will, no doubt, be found.
  • Cymbeline. The time is troublesome.
    [To PISANIO] 2850
    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 2855
    Of Roman gentlemen, by the senate sent.
  • Cymbeline. Now for the counsel of my son and queen!
    I am amazed with matter.
  • First Lord. Good my liege,
    Your preparation can affront no less 2860
    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.
  • Cymbeline. I thank you. Let's withdraw; 2865
    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]

  • Pisanio. I heard no letter from my master since 2870
    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. 2875
    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. 2880