Lady. Who's there, that knocks 7
Clo.
Lady.
Clo. Yes, and a gentlewoman's son.
Lady.
Were they all made such men.-How now, Pisanio? Enter Pisanio.
No more ? Clo. His garment? Now, the devilImo. To Dorothy my woman hie thee presentThat's more Clo. His garment? Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours, Imo. Can justly boast of: What's your lordship's pleasure?
Clo. Your lady's person: Is she ready? Lady.
To keep her chamber.
Clo. There's gold for you; sell me your good
(On whom there is no more dependency But brats and beggary) in self-figur'd knot; Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by The consequence o' the crown; and must not soil The precious note of it with a base slave, A hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth, A pantler, not so eminent. Imo. Profane fellow! Wert thou the son of Jupiter, and no more, But what thou art, besides, thou wert too base To be his groom: thou wert dignified enough, Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made Comparative for your virtues, to be styl'd The under-hangman of his kingdom; and hated For being preferr'd so well. Clo.
The south-fog rot him! Imo. He never can meet more mischance than
To be but nam'd of thee. His meanest garment, That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer, in my respect, than all the hairs above thee,
I am sprighted with a fool; Frighted, and anger'd worse:-Go, bid my wo Search for a jewel, that too casually Hath left mine arm; it was thy master's: 'shrew me,
If I would lose it for a revenue
Of any king's in Europe. I do think,
I saw't this morning: Confident I am,
Last night 'twas on mine arm; I kiss'd it:
I hope, it be not gone, to tell my lord
That I kissed ought but he.
Imo. I hope so: go, and search.
"Twill not be lost.
Clo.
His meanest garment?
Imo.
[Exit Pisanio. You have abus'd me:
Ay; 1 said so, sir. If you will make't an action, call witness to't. Clo. I will inform your father.
Imo.
She's my good lady; and will conceive, I hope,
Your mother too:
But the worst of me. So I leave you, sir,
To the worst of discontent.
Clo.
His meanest garment ?-Well.
Erit. I'll be reveng'd:[Exit.
Rome. An Apartment in Philario's House. Enter Posthumus and Philario.
Post. Fear it not, sir: I would, I were so sure To win the king, as I am bold, her honour Will remain hers.
What means do you make to him? Post. Not any; but abide the change of time; Quake in the present winter's state, and wish That warmer days would come: in these fear'd hopes,
I barely gratify your love; they failing,
I must die much your debtor.
Phi. Your very goodness, and your company,
O'erpays all I can do. By this, your king
Hath heard of great Augustus: Caius Lucius
Will do his commission throughly: And I think,
He'll grant the tribute, send the arrearages,
Or look upon our Romans, whose remembrance
Is yet fresh in their grief.
I do believe
Post. (Statist though I am none, nor like to be.) That this will prove a war; and you shall hear The legions now in Gallia, sooner landed In our not-fearing Britain, than have tidings Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen Are men more order'd, than when Julius Cæsar Smil'd at their lack of skill, but found their courage
Worthy his frowning at: Their discipline (Now mingled with their courages) will make
Look through a casement to allure false hearts, | Iach.
Then, if you can, And be false with them. [Pulling out the Bracelet. Iach. Here are letters for you. Be pale; I beg but leave to air this jewel: See !Post. Their tenour good, I trust. And now 'tis up again: it must be married Iach. "Tis very like. To that your diamond; I'll keep them. Phi. Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court, When you were there? lach.
But not approach'd.
Post.
Sparkles this stone as it was wont! or is't not
Too dull for your good wearing?
Yach.
If I have lost it,
I should have lost the worth of it in gold.
I'll make a journey twice as far, to enjoy
A second night of such sweet shortness, which
Was mine in Britain; for the ring is won.
Post. The stone's too hard to come by.
Jach.
Not a whit, Make not, sir,
Your lady being so easy.
Post.
Your loss your sport: 1 hope, you know that we
Must not continue friends.
Iach.
Good sir, we must,
If you keep covenant: Had 1 not brought
The knowledge of your mistress home, I grant
We were to question further: but I now
Profess myself the winner of her honour,
Together with your ring; and not the wronger
Of her, or you, having proceeded but
By both your wills.
Post.
If you can make't apparent
That you have tasted her in bed, my hand,
And ring is yours: if not, the foul opinion
You had of her pure honour, gains, or loses,
Your sword, or mine; or masterless leaves both
To who shall find them.
lach.
Sir, my circumstances Being so near the truth, as I will make them, Must first induce you to believe: whose strength I will confirm with oath; which, I doubt not, You'll give me leave to spare, when you shall find You need it not.
Proceed. Iach. First, her bed-chamber (Where, I confess, I slept not; but, profess, Had that was well worth watching,) It was hang'd
With tapestry of silk and silver; the story
Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman,
And Cydnus swell'd above the banks, or for
The press of boats, or pride: a piece of work
So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive
In workmanship, and value: which, 1 wonder'd,
Could be so rarely and exactly wrought,
Since the true life on't was
This is true;
And this you might have heard of here, by me,
Or by some other.
Iach.
More particulars
Must justify my knowledge.
Post.
Or do your honour injury.
Iach.
The chimney
Is south the chamber; and the chimney-piece,
Chaste Dian, bathing: never saw I figures
So likely to report themselves: the cutter
Was as another nature, dumb; outwent her,
Motion and breath left out.
Which you might from relation likewise reap;
Being, as it is, much spoke of.
lach.
The roof o' the chamber
With golden cherubins is fretted. Her andirons
(I had forgot them,) were two winking Cupids
Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely
Depending on their brands.
This is her honour!
Post.
Let it be granted, you have seen all this (and praise
Be given to your remembrance,) the description
Of what is in her chamber, nothing saves
The wager you have laid.
Once more let me behold it: Is it that
Which I left with her?
Iach.
Sir (I thank her,) that:
She stripp'd it from her arm; 1 see her yet;
Her pretty action did outsell her gift,
And yet enrich'd it too: She gave it me, and said,
She priz'd it once.
May be, she pluck'd it off,
She writes so to you 7 doth she?
Post. O, no, no, no; 'tis true. Here, take this too; [Gives the Ring It is a basilisk unto mine eye, Kills me to look on't :-Let there be no honour, Where there is beauty; truth, where semblance; love,
Where there's another man: The vows of women
Of no more bondage be, to where they are made,
Than they are to their virtues: which is no
O, above measure false !
[thing:-
Phi.
Have patience, sir,
And take your ring again; 'tis not yet won:
It may be probable, she lost it; or,
Who knows if one of her women, being cor
Hath stolen it from her.
[rupted,
Post.
Very true;
And so I hope he came by't;-Back my ring;-
Render to me some corporal sign about her,
More evident than this; for this was stolen.
Tach. By Jupiter, I had it from her arm.
Post. Hark you, he swears; by Jupiter hs
[sure, 'Tis true-nay keep the ring'tis true:-1 am She would not lose it; her attendants are All sworn and honourable:-They induc'd to steal it!
And by a stranger ?-No, he hath enjoy'd her. The cognizance of her incontinency
Is this,-she hath bought the name of whore thus dearly.
There, take thy hire: and all the fiends of hell
Divide themselves between you!
Phi.
This is not strong enough to be believed
Of one persuaded well of-
Poel
She hath been colted by him.
Iach.
you seek For further satisfying, under her breast, Worthy the pressing, lies a mole, right proud Of that most delicate lodging: By my life I kiss'd it: and it gave me present hunger To feed again, though full. You do remember This stain upon her?
Post. Ay, and it doth confirm Another stain, as big as hell can hold, Were there no more but it.
Post Spare your arithmetick; never coul
No swearing
If you will swear you have not done't, you lie;
And I will kill thee, if thou dost deny
Thou hast made me cuckold.
Iach.
I will deny nothing
Post. O, that I had her here, to tear her limb
meal!
I will go there, and do't: i' the court; before
Her father:-I'll do something
[Brit
Phi.
Quite besides
The government of patience! You have won
Let's follow him, and pervert the present wrath
He hath against himself.
Iach.
With all my heart. [Exeunt
Another Room in the same.
Enter Posthumus.
Post. Is there no way for men to be, but women
Must be half-workers? We are bastards all;
And that most venerable man, which I
Did call my father, was I know not where
When I was stamp'd; some coiner with his tools
Made me a counterfeit: Yet my mother seem'd
The Dian of that time: so doth my wife
The nonpareil of this.- O vengeance, vengeance!
Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd,
And pray'd me, oft, forbearance: did it with
A pudency so rosy, the sweet view on't
Might well have warm'd old Saturn; that I
thought her
As chaste as unsunn'd snow ;-O, all the devils!
This yellow Jachimo, in an hour,--was't not ?
Or less, at first: Perchance he spoke not; but,
Like a full-acorn'd boar, a German one,
Cry'd oh! and mounted; found no opposition
But what he look'd for should oppoze, and she
Should from encounter guard. Could I find out
The woman's part in me! For there's no motion
That tends to vice in man, but I affirm
It is the woman's part: Be it lying, note it,
The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;
Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges,
Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,
Nice longings, slanders, mutability
All faults that may be nam'd; nay, that hell
knows,
Why, hers, in part, or all; but, rather all:
For e'en to vice
They are not constant, but are changing still
One vice, but of a minute old, for one
Not half so old as that. I'll write against them,
Detest them, curse them: Yet 'tis greater skill
In a true hate to pray they have their will:
The very devils cannot plague them better.
A Room of State in Cymbeline's Palace. Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, and Lords, at one Door; and at another, Caius Lucius, and Attendants.
Cym. Now say, what would Augustus Cæsar with us?
Luc. When Julius Cæsar (whose remembrance yet
Lives in men's eyes: and will to ears, and
tongues,
Be theme, and hearing ever,) was in this Britain,
And conquer'd it, Cassibelan, thine uncle
(Famous in Cæsar's praises, no whit less
Than in his feats deserving it,) for him,
And his succession, granted Rome a tribute,
Yearly three thousand pounds; which by thee
lately
Is left untender'd.
Queen.
Shall be so ever.
Clo.
There be many Cæsars,
Ere such another Julius. Britain is
A world by itself; and we will nothing pay,
For wearing our own noses.
Queen.
That opportunity,
Which then they had to take from us, to resume
We have again.-Remember, sir, my liege,
The kings your ancestors; together with
The natural bravery of your isle: which stands
As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in
With rocks unscaleable, and roaring waters;
With sands, that will not bear your enemies'
But suck them up to the top-mast. A kind of
Cæsar made here; but made not here his brag
Oi, came, and saw, and overcame; with shame
From off our coast, twice beaten; and his ship-
(The first that ever touch'd him,) he was carried
ping,
(Poor ignorant baubles !) on our terrible seas,
Like egg-shells moved upon their surges, crack'd
As easily 'gainst our rocks: for joy whereof,
The fam'd Cassibelan, who was once at point
Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright,
(0, giglot fortune!) to master Cæsar's sword,
And Britons strut with courage.
Clo. Come, there's no more tribute to be paid:
Our kingdom is stronger than it was at that
time; and, as I said, there is no more such Ca-
sars: other of them may have crooked noses:
but, to owe such straight arms, none.
Clo. We have yet many among us can gripe
Cym. Son, let your mother end.
as hard as Cassibelan: I do not say, I am one;
but I have a hand.-Why tribute? why should
we pay tribute? If Cæsar can hide the sun from
us with a blanket, or put the moon in his pocket,
we will pay him tribute for light; else, sir, no
more tribute, pray you now.
Till the injurious Romans did extort
Cym. You must know,
This tribute from us, we were free; Cæsar's am-
(Which swell'd so much that it did almost stretch
The sides o'the world,) against all colour, here
Did put the yoke upon; which to shake off,
Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon
Ourselves to be. We do say then to Cæsar,
Our ancestor was that Mulmutius, which
Ordain'd our laws; whose use the sword of Cæsar
Hath too much mangled; whose repair, and
Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed,
(Though Rome be therefore angry;) Mulmutius,
Who was the first of Britain, which did put
His brows within a golden crown, and call'd
Himself a king.
I am sorry, Cymbeline,
That I am to pronounce Augustus Cæsar
(Cæsar, that hath more kings his servants, than
Thyself domestic officers,) thine enemy:
In Cæsar's name pronounce I 'gainst thee: look
Receive it from me, then :-War, and confusion,
For fury not to be resisted :-Thus defied,
I thank thee for myself.
Cym.
Thou art welcome, Caius.
Thy Cæsar knighted me; my youth I spent
Much under him; of him I gather'd honour:
Which he, to seek of me again, perforce,
Behooves me keep at utterance; I am perfect,
That the Pannonians and Dalmatians, for
Their liberties are now in arms a precedent
Which, not to read, would show the Britons
cold:
So Cæsar shall not find them.
Luc.
Let proof speak.
Clo. His majesty bids you welcome. Make
pastime with us a day, or two, longer; If you
seek us afterwards in other terms, you shall find
us in our salt-water girdle: if you beat us out
of it, it is yours; if you fall in the adventure,
our crows shall fare the better for you; and
there's an end.
Cym. I know your master's pleasure, and he [Exeunt.
All the remain is, welcome.
SCENE II. Another Room in the same.
Enter Pisanio.
Pis. How! of adultery ? wherefore write you
What monster's her accuser ?-Leonatus!
O master! what a strange infection
Is fallen into thy ear! What false Italian
(As poisonous tongu'd, as handed) hath prevail'd
On thy too ready hearing ?-Disloyal ? No:
She's punish'd for her truth; and undergoes,
More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults
As would take in some virtue.-O, my master!
Thy mind to her is now as low, as were
Thy fortunes.-How! that I should murder her?
Upon the love, and truth, and vows, which I
Have made to thy command 7-I, her?-her
If it be so to do good service, never
Let me be counted serviceable. How look I,
That I should seem to lack humanity,
So much as this fact comes to? Do't: The letter
[Reading.
That I have sent her, by her own command
Shall give thee opportunity.-O damn'd paper!
Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble,
Art thou a feodary for this act, and look'st
So virgin-like without ? Lo, here she comes.
Enter Imogen.
I am ignorant in what I am commanded.
Imo. How now, Pisanio?
Pis. Madam, here is a letter from my lord.
Imo. Who? thy lord? that is my lord?
natus ?
Could never go so slow: I have heard of riding wagers,
Where horses have been nimbler than the sands That run i' the clock's behalf:-But this is foolery :
Go, bid my woman feign a sickness; say
She'll home to her father; and provide me, pre-
sently,
A riding suit; no costlier than would fit
A franklin's housewife.
Pis.
Madam, you're best consider.
Imo. I see before me, man, nor here, nor here,
Nor what ensues; but have a fog in them,
That I cannot look through. Away, I pr'ythee;
Do as I bid thee: There's no more to say;
Accessible is none but Milford way. [Exeunt.
Wales. A mountainous Country with a Cave.
Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.
Bel. A goodly day not to keep house, with such
Whose roof's as low as ours! Stoop, boys: This
gate
Instructs you how to adore the heavens; and
bows you
Leo-To morning's holy office: The gates of monarchs
Are arch'd so high, that giants may jet through
And keep their impious turbans on, without
Good morrow to the sun.-Hail, thou fair heaven!
We house i' the rock, yet use thee not so hardly
As prouder livers do.
Hail heaven!
![[ocr errors]](https://books.google.ch/books/content?id=CIWfi3NG4yQC&hl=de&output=html_text&pg=PA670&img=1&zoom=3&q=fear&cds=1&sig=ACfU3U1LB49xSbea0-Gtx-TJuougPoOgTg&edge=0&edge=stretch&ci=484,670,10,8)
O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer,
That knew the stars, as I his characters;
He'd lay the future open.-You good gods
Let what is here contain'd relish of love,
Of my lord's health, of his content,-yet not,
That we two are asunder, let that grieve him,-
(Some griefs are med'cinable;) that is one of
them,
For it doth physick love;-of his content,
All but in that!-Good wax,thy leave: Bless'd be,
You bees, that make these locks of counsel!
Lovers,
And men in dangerous bonds, pray not alike;
Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet
You clasp young Cupid's tables.-Good news,
gods!
[Reads.
Justice, and your father's wrath, should he
take me in his dominion, could not be so cruel
to me as you, O the dearest of creatures, would
not even renew me with your eyes. Take notice,
that I am in Cambria, at Milford-Haven.
What your own love will, out of this, advise
you, follow. So, he wishes you all happiness,
that remains loyal to his vow, and your, in
creasing in love, LEONATUS POSTHUMUS.
O, for a horse with wings!--Hear'st thou, Pi-
sanio ?
He is at Milford Haven: Read, and tell me How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs May plod it in a week, why may not 1 Glide thither in a day -Then, true Pisanio, (Who long'st like me, to see thy lord; who long'st,
Bel. Now, for our mountain sport: Up to you hill,
Your legs are young; I'll tread these flats. Consider,
When you above perceive me like a crow
That it is place which lessens, and sets off
And you may then revolve what tales I have told
Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war:
This service is not service, so being done,
But being so allow'd: To apprehend thus,
Draws us a profit from all things we see :
And often to our comfort shall we find
The sharded beetle in a safer hold
Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O, this life
Is nobler, than attending for a check:
Richer, than doing nothing for a brabe;
Prouder, than rustling in unpaid-for silk:
Such gain the cap of him, that makes him fine,
Yet keeps his book uncross'd: no life to ours.
Gui. Out of your proof you speak: we, poor
unfledg'd,
Have never wing'd from view o' the nest; nor know not
What air's from home. Haply, this life is best, If quiet life be best; sweeter to you,
That have a sharper known: well corresponding With your stiff age; but, unto us, it is O let me bate,--but not like me :-yet long'st,-A cell of ignorance; travelling abed; But in a fainter kind :-O, not like me; A prison for a debtor, that not dares For mine's beyond beyond) say,and speak thick; To stride a limit. (Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing,
To the smothering of the sense,) how far it is
To this same blessed Milford: And, by the way,
Tell me how Wales was made so happy, as
To inherit such a haven: But, first of all,
How we may steal from hence; and, for the gap
That we shall make in time, from our hencegoing,
And our return, to excuse but first, how get
Why should excuse be born or e'er begot?
We'll talk of that hereafter. Pr'ythee, speak,
How many score of miles may we well ride
"Twixt hour and hour?
Pis.
One score, 'twixt sun and sun,
Madam, 's enough for you; and too much too.
Imo Why, one that rode to his execution, man,
Arv. What should we speak of, When we are old es you? when we shall bear The rain and wind beat dark December, how, In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse The freezing hours away 7 We have seen nothing: We are beastly; subtle as the fox, for prey; Like warlike as the wolf, for what we eat: Our valour is, to chase what flies; our cage We make a quire, as doth the prison bird, And sing our bondage freely.
Did you but know the city's usuries,
And felt them knowingly: the art o' the court,
As hard to leave, as keep; whose top to climb
Is certain falling, or so slippery, that
The fear's as bad as falling: the toil of the war
A pain that only seems to seek out danger
I' the name of fame, and honour; which dies] From the inward of thee? One, but painted thus,
And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph,
As record of fair act; nay, many times,
Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse,
Must court'sey at the censure:-0, boys, this
story
The world may read in me: My body's mark'd
With Roman swords: and my report was once
First with the best of note: Cymbeline lov'd me;
And when a soldier was the theme, my name
Was not far off: Then was I as a tree,
Whose boughs did bend with fruit: but in one
night,
A storm, or robbery, call it what you will,
Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my
leaves,
And left me bare to weather.
Gui.
Uncertain favour! Bel. My fault being nothing (as 1 have told you oft,)
Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd
beyond self-explication: Put thyself
Into a haviour of less fear, ere wildness
Vanquish my staider senses. What's the matter 7
Why tender'st thou that paper to me, with
A look untender 7 If it be summer news,
Smile to't before: if winterly, thou need'st
But keep that countenance still.-My husband's
hand!
That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him,
And he's at some hard point.-Speak, man; thy
tongue
May take off some extremity, which to read Would be even mortal to me. Pis. Please you, read; And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing The most disdain'd of fortune. Imo. [Reads. Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the strumpet in my bed; the testimonies whereof lie bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak surmises; but from proof as strong as my grief, and as certain as I expect my revenge. That part, thou, Pisanio, must act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers. Let thine own hands take away her life: I shall give thee opportunities at Milford Haven; she hath my letter for the purpose; Where, if thou fear to strike, and to make me certain it is done, thou moun-art the pander to her dishonour, and equally to me disloyal.
But that two villains, whose false oaths prevail'd
Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline,
I was confederate with the Romans: 80,
Follow'd my banishment; and, this twenty years,
This rock, and these demesnes, have been my
world:
Where I have liv'd at honest freedom; paid
More pious debts to heaven, than in all
The fore-end of my time.-But up to the
tains;
This is not hunters' language:-He, that strikes
The venison first, shall be the lord o' the feast;
To him the other two shall minister;
And we will fear no poison, which attends
In place of greater state. I'll meet you in the
valleys.
[Exeunt Gui. and Arv.
How hard it is, to hide the sparks of nature!
These boys know little, they are sons to the king;
Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive.
They think, they are mine: and, though train'd
up thus meanly
I'the cave, wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit
The roofs of palaces; and nature prompts them,
In simple and low things, to prince it, much
Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore,
The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, whom
The king his father call'd Gniderius,-Jove!
When on my three-foot stool I sit, and tell
The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out
Into my story: say-Thus mine enemy fell;
And thus I set my foot on his neck; even then
The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats,
Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in
That acts my words. The younger brother, Cad-
wal
(Once Arviragus,) in as like a figure,
Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more
His own conceiving. Hark! the game is rous'd!
O Cymbeline! heaven, and my conscience,
knows,
Pis. What shall I need to draw my sword?
Hath cut her throat already.-No, 'tis slander;
Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose
tongue
Ontvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath
Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie
All corners of the world: kings, queens, and
states,
Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave
This viperous slander enters-What cheer,
madam?
Imo. False to his bed! What is it, to be false?
To lie in watch there, and to think on him?
To weep 'twixt clock and clock ? if sleep charge
To break it with a fearful dream of him,
And cry myself awake 7 that's false to his bed?
Is it ?
Imo. I false? Thy conscience witness-la-
chimo,
Thou didst accuse him of incontinency;
Thou then look'dst like a villain; now, methinks,
Thy favour's good enough.-Some jay of Italy,
Whose mother was her painting, hath betray'd
him:
Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion;
And, for I am richer than to hang by the walls,
I must be ripp'd:-to pieces with me!-0,
Men's vows are women's traitors! All good
seeming,
By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought
Put on for villany; not born, where't grows;
But worn, a bait for ladies.
Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon,
At three, and two years old, I stole these babes;
Thinking to bar thee of succession, as
Thou reft'st me of my lands. Euriphile,
Thou wast their nurse: they took thee for their Pis.
mother,
And every day do honour to her grave:
Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call'd,
They take for natural father. The game is up.
SCENE IV. Near Milford Haven.
Enter Pisanio and Imogen.
Imo. Thou told'st me, when we came from
horse, the place
Good madam, hear me. Imo. True honest men being heard, like falsc Eneas,
Were, in his time, thought false: and Simon's
weeping
Did scandal many a holy tear: took pity
From most true wretchedness: So, thou, Pos-
thumus,
Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men;
Goodly, and gallant, shall be false and perjur'd,
From thy great fail.-Come, fellow, 'be' thou
honest:
Was near at hand-Ne'er long'd my mother so
To see me first, as I have now-Pisanio! Man!
Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind,
That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks A little witness my obedience: Look!
I draw the sword myself; take it; and hit
Do thou thy master's bidding: when thou seest
him,
|