Page 580 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not,
You had a motive for’t.

CYMBELINE
My tears that fall
Prove holy water on thee; Imogen,
Thy mother’s dead.

IMOGEN
I am sorry for’t, my lord. [270]

CYMBELINE
O, she was naught; and long of her it was
That we meet here so strangely: but her son
Is gone, we know not how, nor where.

PISANIO
My lord,

Now fear is from me, I’ll speak troth. Lord Cloten,
Upon my lady’s missing, came to me [275]
With his sword drawn, foam’d at the mouth, and swore,
If I discover’d not which way she was gone,

It was my instant death. By accident,
I had a feigned letter of my master’s
Then in my pocket, which directed him [280]
To seek her on the mountains near to Milford;

Where, in a frenzy, in my master’s garments,
(Which he enforc’d from me) away he posts
With unchaste purpose, and with oath to violate
My lady’s honour: what became of him [285]

I further know not.

GUIDERIUS
Let me end the story:
I slew him there.

CYMBELINE