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

[Exit]