Britain. A Room in Cymbeline's Palace.
 Enter CYMBELINE, LORDS, PISANIO, and ATTENDANTS.

Cymbeline	Again. And bring me word how 'tis with her.
													[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! Innogen,
	The great 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 present; it strikes me past
	The hope of comfort. But for thee, fellow,
	Who needs must know of her departure and
	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,
	Nor when she purposes return. Beseech your highness,
	Hold me your loyal servant.

1st Lord										Good my liege,
	The day that she was missing he was here.
	I dare be bound he's true and shall perform
	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.] We'll slip you for a season, but our jealousy
	Does yet depend.

1st Lord							So please your majesty,
	The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn,
	Are landed on your coast, with a supply
	Of Roman gentlemen by the Senate sent.

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

1st Lord									Good my liege,
	Your preparation can affront no less
	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,
	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
	I wrote him Innogen 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
	Perplexed in all. The heavens still must work.
	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'th' king, or I'll fall in them.
	All other doubts, by time let them be cleared.
	Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered.
													[Exit.
