Pisanio, thou that stand’st so for Posthumus! He hath a drug of mine; I pray his absence Proceed by swallowing that, for he believes It is a thing most precious. But for her, Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seized her, Or, wing’d with fervor of her love, she’s flown To her desired Posthumus: gone she is To death or to dishonour; and my end Can make good use of either: she being down, I have the placing of the British crown.
Pisanio, you who are so loyal to Posthumus! He has a potion of mine; I hope his absence Is because he took it, thinking it’s something valuable. But what about her, Where has she gone? Maybe despair has taken her, Or maybe, driven by her love, she’s flown To be with Posthumus: gone she is To death or disgrace; and my own fate Can make good use of either: with her out of the way, I can claim the British throne.
The Queen · Act 3, Scene 5
The Queen, alone, addresses Pisanio in his absence, musing that he has a poison she has given him and that perhaps he will use it on himself, leaving her free to frame Posthumus. She then contemplates Imogen's likely death or dishonor with satisfaction, knowing that either outcome clears the path to the throne for herself. The soliloquy reveals how completely the Queen has abandoned moral reckoning in favor of naked ambition.
