Who is here? what! are you packing, sirrah?
Come hither; ah! you precious pander, villain,
Where is thy lady? in a word, or else
Thou'rt straightway with the fiends. [Drawing his Sword.

Pis.
Oh, my good lord!

Clot.
Where is thy lady? or, by Jupiter,
I will not ask again. Close villain,
I'll have this secret from thy heart, or rip
Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus?
From whose so many weights of baseness cannot
A dram of worth be drawn.

Pis.
Alas, my lord,
How can she be with him? when was she miss'd?
He is in Rome.

Clot.
Where is she, Sir? come nearer;
No farther halting; satisfie me home,
What is become of her.

Pis.
Oh, my all-worthy lord!

Clot.
All-worthy villain!
Discover where thy mistress is, at once,
At the next word; no more of worthy lord.
Speak, or thy silence on the instant is
Thy condemnation and thy death.

Pis.
Then, Sir,
This paper is the history of my knowledge
Touching her flight.

Clot.
Let's see't; I will pursue her
Ev'n to Augustus' throne.

Pis. Aside.
Or this, or perish.
She's far enough; and what he learns by this,
May prove his travel, not her danger.

Clot.
Humh.

Pis. Aside.
I'll write to my lord, she's dead. Oh, Imogen,
Safe may'st thou wander, safe return again!

Clot.

Sirrah, is this letter true?

Clot.

Sir, as I think.

Clot.

It is Posthumus's hand, I know't. Sirrah, if thou would'st 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 thee do, to perform it directly and truly, I would think thee an honest man; thou shouldst neither want my means for thy relief, nor my voice for thy preferment.

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 hither; let it be thy first service, go.

Pis.

I shall, my lord.

Clot.

Meet thee at Milford-Haven?—(I forgot to ask him one thing, I'll remember't anon;) even there, thou villain Posthumus, will I kill thee. I would, these garments were come. She said upon a time, (the bitterness of it I now belch from my heart,) that she held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect than my noble and natural person, together with the adornment of my qualities. With that suit upon my back will I ravish her; first kill him, and in her eyes— (there shall she see my valour, which will then be a torment to her contempt.) He on the ground, my speech of insultment ended on his dead body;— and when my lust hath dined, (which, as I say, to vex her, I will execute in the cloaths that she so prais'd) to the court I'll kick her back, foot her home again. She hath despised me rejoycingly, and I'll be merry in my revenge.

Be those the garments?

Pis.

Ay, my noble Lord.

Clot.

How long is't since she went to Milford-Haven?

Pis.

She can scarce be there yet.

Clot.

Bring this apparel to my chamber, that is the second thing that I have commanded thee. The third is, that thou wilt be a voluntary Mute to my design. Be but duteous, and true preferment shall tender itself to thee. My revenge is now at Milford, 'would I had wings to follow it! come and be true.

Pis.
^{2 note}Thou bidd'st me to my loss: for true to thee,
Were to prove false, which I will never be,
To him that is most true. To Milford go,
And find not her, whom thou pursu'st. Flow, flow,

You heav'nly Blessings on her! this fool's speed
Be crost with slowness; labour be his meed! [Exit.

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