Vanquish my ftaider fenfes. What's the matter?
Why tender'ft thou that paper to me, with
A look untender? If it be fummer news,
Smile to't before: if winterly, thou need'ft

But keep that countenance ftill.-My husband's hand!
That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him,

And he's at fome hard point.-Speak, man; thy tongue May take off fome extremity, which to read

Would be even mortal to me.

Pif.
Please you, read;
And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing
The most difdain'd of fortune.

I

Imo. [Reads.] Thy mistress, Pifanio, hath play'd the ftrumpet in my bed; the teftimonies whereof lie bleeding in me. Speak not out of weak furmises; but from proof as strong as my grief, and as certain as I expect my revenge. That part, thou, Pifanio, must act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers. Let thine own hands take away her life: I fhall give thee opportunities at Milford-Haven: fhe bath my letter for the purpose: Where, if thou fear to ftrike, and to make me certain it is done, thou art the pandar to her dishonour, and equally to me disloyal.

Pif. What shall I need to draw my sword? the paper
Hath cut her throat already.—No, 'tis flander;
Whofe edge is fharper than the fword; whofe tongue
Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whofe breath
Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie

All corners of the world: kings, queens, and states,
Maids, matrons, nay, the fecrets of the grave
This viperous flander 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?

Το

To weep 'twixt clock and clock? if fleep charge nature,

To break it with a fearful dream of him,

And cry myself awake? that's false to his bed?
Is it?

Pif. Alas, good lady!

Imo. I falfe? Thy confcience 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 ftale, 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, fhall be thought

Put on for villainy; not born, where 't grows;
But worn, a bait for ladies.

Pif.

Good madam, hear me.

Imo. True honest men being heard, like false Æneas, Were, in his time, thought falfe: and Sinon's weeping Did scandal many a holy tear; took pity

From most true wretchednefs: So, thou, Pofthúmus, 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 honeft:
Do thou thy master's bidding: When thou see'st him,
A little witness my obedience: Look!

I draw the fword myself: take it; and hit
The innocent manfion 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 feem'ft a coward.

And if I do not by thy hand, thou art

No fervant of thy mafter's: Against self-slaughter
There is a prohibition fo 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 fcriptures of the loyal Leonatus,
All turn'd to herefy? Away, away,
Corrupters of my faith! you shall no more
Be ftomachers to my heart! Thus may poor fools
Believe falfe teachers: Though those that are betray'd
Do feel the treason fharply, yet the traitor
Stands in worse cafe of woe.

And thou, Pofthúmus, thou that did'st set up
My disobedience 'gainst the king my father,
And make me put into contempt the suits
Of princely fellows, fhalt hereafter find
It is no act of common paffage, but
A ftrain of rarenefs and I grieve myself,
To think, when thou shalt be disedg'd by her
That now thou tir'ft 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 flow to do thy master's bidding,
When I defire it too.

Since I receiv'd command to do this business,
I have not flept one wink.

Didft undertake it? Why haft thou abus'd
So many miles, with a pretence? this place?
Mine action, and thine own? our horfes' labour?
The time inviting thee? the perturb'd court,
For my being abfent; whereunto I never
Purpose return? Why haft thou gone so far,
To be unbent, when thou haft ta'en thy stand,
The elected deer before thee?

Pif.
But to win time
To lofe fo bad employment: in the which
I have confider'd of a courfe; Good lady,
Hear me with patience.

Imo.

Talk thy tongue weary; speak I have heard, I am a ftrumpet; and mine ear, Therein falfe ftruck, can take no greater wound, Nor tent to bottom that. But speak.

But if I were as wife as honest, then

My purpose would prove well. It cannot be,

But that my master is abus'd:

Some villain, ay, and fingular in his art,

Hath done you both this curfed injury.

Imo. Some Roman courtezan.

Pif.
No, on my life.
I'll give but notice you are dead, and fend him
Some bloody fign of it; for 'tis commanded
I fhould do fo: You fhall be mifs'd at court,
And that will well confirm it.

Imo.

Why, good fellow,

What fhall I do the while? Where bide? How live?

Or

Or in my life what comfort, when I am

Dead to my husband?

Pif.

If you'll back to the court,—
Imo. No court, no father; nor no more ado
With that harsh, noble, fimple, nothing;
That Cloten, whose love-fuit hath been to me
As fearful as a fiege.

Pif.

If not at court,

Then not in Britain muft you bide.

Imo.

Where then ?

Hath Britain all the fun that fhines? Day, night,
Are they not but in Britain? I' the world's volume
Our Britain feems as of it, but not in it;

In a great pool, a swan's neft: Pr'ythee, think
There's livers out of Britain.

Pif.
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 felf-danger; you fhould tread a course
Pretty, and full of view: yea, haply, near
The refidence of Pofthumus; fo nigh, at least,
That though his actions were not visible, yet
Report fhould render him hourly to your ear,
As truly as he moves.

Imo.
O, for fuch means!
Though peril to my modefty, not death on't,
I would adventure.

Pif.

Well then, here's the point:
You must forget to be a woman; change
Command into obedience; fear, and nicenefs,
(The handmaids of all women, or, more truly,

Woman