Clo. Where is thy Lady? Or, by Iupiter,
I will not aske againe. Close Villaine,
Ile haue this Secret from thy heart, or rip
Thy heart to finde it. Is she with Posthumus?
From whose so many waights of basenesse, cannot
A dram of worth be drawne
Pis. Alas, nay Lord,
How can she be with him? When was she miss'd?
He is in Rome
Clot. Where is she Sir? Come neerer:
No farther halting: satisfie me home,
What is become of her?
Pis. Oh, my all-worthy Lord
Clo. All-worthy Villaine,
Discouer where thy Mistris is, at once,
At the next word: no more of worthy Lord:
Speake, or thy silence on the instant, is
Thy condemnation, and thy death
Pis. Then Sir:
This Paper is the historie of my knowledge
Touching her flight
Clo. Let's see't: I will pursue her
Euen to Augustus Throne
Pis. Or this, or perish.
She's farre enough, and what he learnes by this,
May proue his trauell, not her danger