Clo. I loue, and hate her: for she's Faire and Royall, And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite Then Lady, Ladies, Woman, from euery one The best she hath, and she of all compounded Out-selles them all. I loue her therefore, but Disdaining me, and throwing Fauours on The low Posthumus, slanders so her iudgement, That what's else rare, is choak'd: and in that point I will conclude to hate her, nay indeede, To be reueng'd vpon her. For, when Fooles shall- Enter Pisanio.
Who is heere? What, are you packing sirrah? Come hither: Ah you precious Pandar, Villaine, Where is thy Lady? In a word, or else Thou art straightway with the Fiends
Pis. Oh, good my Lord
Clo. Where is thy Lady? Or, by Iupiter, I will not aske againe. Close Villaine, Ile haue this Secret from thy heart, or rip Thy heart to finde it. Is she with Posthumus? From whose so many waights of basenesse, cannot A dram of worth be drawne
Pis. Alas, nay Lord, How can she be with him? When was she miss'd? He is in Rome
Clot. Where is she Sir? Come neerer: No farther halting: satisfie me home, What is become of her? Pis. Oh, my all-worthy Lord
Clo. All-worthy Villaine, Discouer where thy Mistris is, at once, At the next word: no more of worthy Lord: Speake, or thy silence on the instant, is Thy condemnation, and thy death
Pis. Then Sir: This Paper is the historie of my knowledge Touching her flight
Clo. Let's see't: I will pursue her Euen to Augustus Throne
Pis. Or this, or perish. She's farre enough, and what he learnes by this, May proue his trauell, not her danger
Pis. Ile write to my Lord she's dead: Oh Imogen, Safe mayst thou wander, safe returne agen
Clot. Sirra, is this Letter true? Pis. Sir, as I thinke
Clot. It is Posthumus hand, I know't. Sirrah, if thou would'st not be a Villain, but do me true seruice: vndergo those Imployments wherin I should haue cause to vse thee with a serious industry, that is, what villainy soere I bid thee do to performe it, directly and truely, I would thinke thee an honest man: thou should'st neither want my meanes for thy releefe, nor my voyce for thy preferment
Pis. Well, my good Lord
Clot. Wilt thou serue mee? For since patiently and constantly thou hast stucke to the bare Fortune of that Begger Posthumus, thou canst not in the course of gratitude, but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou serue mee? Pis. Sir, I will
Clo. Giue mee thy hand, heere's my purse. Hast any of thy late Masters Garments in thy possession? Pisan. I haue (my Lord) at my Lodging, the same Suite he wore, when he tooke leaue of my Ladie & Mistresse
Clo. The first seruice thou dost mee, fetch that Suite hither, let it be thy first seruice, go
Pis. I shall my Lord. Enter.
Clo. Meet thee at Milford-Hauen: (I forgot to aske him one thing, Ile remember't anon:) euen there, thou villaine Posthumus will I kill thee. I would these Garments were come. She saide vpon a time (the bitternesse of it, I now belch from my heart) that shee held the very Garment of Posthumus, in more respect, then my Noble and naturall person; together with the adornement of my Qualities. With that Suite vpon my backe wil I rauish her: first kill him, and in her eyes; there shall she see my valour, which wil then be a torment to hir contempt. He on the ground, my speech of insulment ended on his dead bodie, and when my Lust hath dined (which, as I say, to vex her, I will execute in the Cloathes that she so prais'd:) to the Court Ile knock her backe, foot her home againe. She hath despis'd mee reioycingly, and Ile bee merry in my Reuenge. Enter Pisanio.
Be those the Garments? Pis. I, my Noble Lord