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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!-O,
Men's vows are women's traitors! All good seeming,
By thy revolt, О husband, shall be thought
Put on for villainy; not born, where't

grows ;
But worn, a bait for ladies.
Pis.

Good madam, hear me, Imo. True honest men being heard, like false

Æneas, Were, in his time, thought false : and Sinon's weeping Did scandal many a holy tear; took pity From most true wretchedness: So, thou, Posthumus, 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 : Do thou thy master's bidding: when thou see'st 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. Pis.

Hence, vile instrument ! Thou shalt not damn my hand. Imo.

Why, I must die; And if I do not by thy hand, thou art No servant of thy master's: Against self-slaughter

1 Likeness.

There is a prohibition so divine,
That cravens? my weak hand. Come, here's my heart;
Something's afore't:-Soft, soft; we'll no defence;
Obedient as the scabbard.—What is here?
The scriptures 3 of the loyal Leonatus,
All turn'd to heresy? Away, away,
Corrupters of my

faith!

you

shall no more Be stomachers to

my
heart! Thus may poor

fools
Believe false teachers : Though those that are betray'd
Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor
Stands in worse case of woe.
And thou, Posthumus, thou that didst set up
My disobedience 'gainst the king my father,
And make me put into contempt the suits
Of princely fellows, shalt hereafter find
It is no act of common passage, but
A strain of rareness : and I grieve myself,
To think, when thou shalt be disedg’d by her
That now thou tir'st 4 on, how thy memory
Will then be pang'd by me:-Pr’ythee, despatch :
The lamb entreats the butcher: Where's thy knife?
Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding,
When I desire it too.
Pis.

O gracious lady,
Since I receiv'd command to do this business,
I have not slept one wink.
Imo.

Do't, and to bed then.
Pis. I'll wake mine eye-balls blind first.
Imo.

Wherefore then
Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abus'd
So many miles with a pretence? this place?

2 Cowards.

3 The writings.

4 Feedest or preys on.

Mine action, and thine own? our horses' labour?
The time inviting thee? the perturb'd court,
For my being absent : whereunto I never
Purpose return? Why hast thou gone so far,
To be unbent, when thou hast ta'en thy stand,
The elected deer before thee?
Pis.

But to win time
To lose so bad employment: in the which
I have consider'd of a course; Good lady,
Hear me with patience.
Imo.

Talk thy tongue weary; speak:
I have heard, I am a strumpet; and mine ear,
Therein false struck, can take no greater wound,
Nor tent to bottom that. But speak.
Pis.

Then, madam,
I thought you would not back again.
Imo.

Most like;
Bringing me here to kill me.
Pis.

Not so, neither :
But if I were as wise as honest, then
My purpose would prove well. It cannot be,
But that my master is abus'd :
Some villain, ay, and singular in his art,
Hath done you both this cursed injury.

Imo. Some Roman courtezan.
Pis.

No, on my life.
I'll give but notice you are dead, and send him
Some bloody sign of it; for 'tis commanded
I should do so : You shall be miss'd at court,
And that will well confirm it.
Imo.

Why, good fellow, What shall I do the while ? Where bide? How live?

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Or in my life what comfort, when I am
Dead to my husband ?
Pis.

If you'll back to the court,
Imo. No court, no father; nor no more ado
With that harsh, noble, simple, nothing :
That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me
As fearful as a siege.
Pis.

If not at court, Then not in Britain must

you

bide. Imo.

Where then? Hath Britain all the sun that shines ? Day, night, Are they not but in Britain ? I'the world's volume Our Britain seems as of it, but not in it; In a great pool, a swan's nest; Pr’ythee, think There's livers out of Britain. Pis.

I am most glad
You think of other place. The embassador,
Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven
To-morrow: Now, if you could wear a mind
Dark as your fortune is; and but disguise
That, which, to appear itself, must not yet be,
But by self-danger ; you should tread a course
Pretty, and full of view: yea, haply, near
The residence of Posthumus : so nigh, at least,
That though his actions were not visible, yet
Report should render him hourly to your ear,
As truly as he moves.
Imo.

O, for such means !
Though peril to my modesty, not death on't,
I would adventure.
Pis.

Well then, here's the point: You must forget to be a woman; change

Command into obedience ; fear, and niceness,
(The handmaids of all women, or, more truly,
Woman it's pretty self,) to a waggish courage ;
Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy, and
As quarrellous as the weasel : nay, you must
Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek,
Exposing it (but, 0, the harder heart !
Alack no remedy!) to the greedy touch
Of common-kissing Titan;s and forget
Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein
You made great

Juno

angry. Imo.

Nay, be brief:
I see into thy end, and am almost
A man already.
Pis.

First, make yourself but like one.
Fore-thinking this, I have already fit,
('Tis in my cloak-bag,) doublet, hat, hose, all
That answer to them: Would you, in their serving,
And with what imitation you can borrow
From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius
Present yourself, desire his service, tell him
Wherein you are happy,“ (which you'll make him

know, If that his head have ear in musick,) doubtless, With joy he will embrace you; for he's honourable, And, doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad You have me, rich; and I will never fail Beginning, nor supplyment. Imo.

Thou art all the comfort

The sun.

51. e. Wherein you are accomplished. 7 As for your subsistence, abroad you may rely on me, VOL. IX.

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