QUEEN.
I am very glad on’t.
IMOGEN.
Your son’s my father’s friend; he takes his part
To draw upon an exile! O brave sir!
I would they were in Afric both together;
Myself by with a needle, that I might prick
The goer-back. Why came you from your master?
PISANIO.
On his command. He would not suffer me
To bring him to the haven; left these notes
Of what commands I should be subject to,
When’t pleas’d you to employ me.
QUEEN.
This hath been
Your faithful servant. I dare lay mine honour
He will remain so.
PISANIO.
I humbly thank your Highness.
QUEEN.
Pray walk awhile.
IMOGEN.
About some half-hour hence,
Pray you speak with me.
You shall at least go see my lord aboard.
For this time leave me.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE III. Britain. A public place.
Enter Cloten and two Lords.