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Queen. Son, I say, follow the king.
Cloten. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant, I have not seen these two days.
Queen. Go, look after.— [Exit Cloten.
Pisanio, thou thatstand'st so for Posthumus !—•_
A Wood near Milford Haven.
Enter Pisanio and Imogen.
Imog. Thou told'st me, when we came from horse,
Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind,
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
Imog. [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 opportunity 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 art the pander to her dishonour, and equally to me disloyal.
Pisanio. What shall I need to draw my sword? the paper Hath cut her throat already.—No, 'tis slander; Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie All corners of the world.— What cheer, madam?
Imog. 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 nature, To break it with a fearful dream of him, r3 . .......
And cry myself awake? That's false to his bed,
Pisanio. Alas, good lady!
Imog. I false? Thy conscience witness:—Iachimo, 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; I must be ripp'd :—to pieces with me !—Oh, Men's vows are women's traitors! All good seeming, By thy revolt, Oh, husband, shall be thought Put on for villany.
Pisanio. Good madam, hear me.
Imog. Come, fellow, be thou honest; Do thou thy master's bidding: when thou seest him, A little witness my obedience: Look! I draw the sword myself: take it; and hit The innocent mansion of my love, my heart: Fear not; 'tis empty of all things, but grief: Thy master is not there; who was, indeed, The riches of it: Do his bidding; strike. Thou may'st be valiant in a better cause; But now thou seem'st a coward.
Pisanio. Hence, vile instrument! Thou shalt not damn my hand.
Imog. Why, I' must die; And if I do not by thy hand, thou art No servant of thy master's: Against self-slaughter There is a prohibition so divine, That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's my
Something's afore't:—Soft, soft; we'll no defence;—
The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus,
Be stomachers to my heart.
The lamb entreats the butcher: Wheres thy knife?
Pisanio. Oh, gracious lady,
Imog. Do't, and to bed then.
Pisanio. I'lrwake mine eye-balls blind first.
Imog. Wherefore then
Pisanio. But to win time
Imog. Talk thy tongue weary; speak:
Pisanio. It cannot be,
Imog. Some Roman courtezan.
Pisanio. No, on my life.—
Imog. Why, good fellow, ,"
What shall I do the while? Wherebide? How live?
Pisanio. If you'll back to the court,
Imog. No court, no father.
Imog. Hath Britain all the sun that shines?
Pisanio. I am most glad
Imog. O, for such means!
Pisanio. Well, then here's the point:
Imog. Thou art all the comfort