1    Again; and bring me word how 'tis with her.
Exit an Attendant
2    A fever with the absence of her son,
3    A madness, of which her life's in danger. Heavens,
4    How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen,
5    The great part of my comfort, gone; my queen
6    Upon a desperate bed, and in a time
7    When fearful wars point at me; her son gone,
8    So needful for this present: it strikes me, past
9    The hope of comfort. But for thee, fellow,
10   Who needs must know of her departure and
11   Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee
12   By a sharp torture.

13   Sir, my life is yours;
14   I humbly set it at your will; but, for my mistress,
15   I nothing know where she remains, why gone,
16   Nor when she purposes return. Beseech your highness,
17   Hold me your loyal servant.

18   Good my liege,
19   The day that she was missing he was here:
20   I dare be bound he's true and shall perform
21   All parts of his subjection loyally. For Cloten,
22   There wants no diligence in seeking him,
23   And will, no doubt, be found.

24   The time is troublesome.
To PISANIO
25   We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy
26   Does yet depend.

27   So please your majesty,
28   The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn,
29   Are landed on your coast, with a supply
30   Of Roman gentlemen, by the senate sent.

31   Now for the counsel of my son and queen!
32   I am amazed with matter.

33   Good my liege,
34   Your preparation can affront no less
35   Than what you hear of: come more, for more
36   you're ready:
37   The want is but to put those powers in motion
38   That long to move.

39   I thank you. Let's withdraw;
40   And meet the time as it seeks us. We fear not
41   What can from Italy annoy us; but
42   We grieve at chances here. Away!

43   I heard no letter from my master since
44   I wrote him Imogen was slain: 'tis strange:
45   Nor hear I from my mistress who did promise
46   To yield me often tidings: neither know I
47   What is betid to Cloten; but remain
48   Perplex'd in all. The heavens still must work.
49   Wherein I am false I am honest; not true, to be true.
50   These present wars shall find I love my country,
51   Even to the note o' the king, or I'll fall in them.
52   All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd:
53   Fortune brings in some boats that are not steer'd.