Cym.
Again; and bring me word how 'tis with her. [Exit ^note an Attendant.
A fever with the absence of her son;
A madness ^note, of which her life's in danger. Heavens,
How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen,
The great ^note 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 ^note present: it strikes me, ^note past
The hope of comfort. But for thee ^note, fellow,
Who needs must know of her departure and
Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce ^note it from thee
By a sharp torture.

Pis.
Sir, my life is yours,
I humbly ^note 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 ^note,
Hold me your loyal servant.

First Lord. ^note
Good my liege,
The day that she was missing he was here:
I dare be bound he's true and shall ^note perform
All parts of his subjection loyally. For Cloten, ^note
There wants no diligence in seeking him,

And will ^note, no doubt, be found.

Cym.
The time is troublesome. [To Pisanio ^note]
We'll slip you for a season; but our ^note jealousy
Does ^note yet depend.

First Lord. ^note
So please your majesty,
The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn,
Are landed on your coast, with a supply ^note
Of Roman gentlemen by the senate sent.

Cym.
Now for the counsel of my son and queen! ^note
I am amazed with matter.

First Lord. ^note
Good my liege,
Your preparation can affront no less
Than what you hear of: come more, for more you're ready: ^note
The want is but to put those ^note powers in motion
That long to move.

Cym.
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 ^note! [Exeunt ^note all but Pisanio.

Pis.
I heard ^note no letter ^note 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 betid ^note to Cloten ^note, but remain
Perplex'd in all. The heavens still must work.
Wherein I am false I am ^note honest; not true, to be true ^note.

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. [Exit. ^note

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