CYMBELINE.
The time is troublesome.
[To Pisanio.] We’ll slip you for a season; but our jealousy
Does yet depend.
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 amaz’d with matter.
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 pow’rs 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 Imogen 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
Perplex’d 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 clear’d:
Fortune brings in some boats that are not steer’d.
[Exit.]
SCENE IV. Wales. Before the cave of Belarius.
Enter Belarius, Guiderius and Arviragus.