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, Put on for villainy; not born, where't grows; 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, Goodly, and gallant, shall be false and perjur'd, I draw the sword myself: take it; and hit 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 I Likeness. There is a prohibition so divine, That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's my heart; The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus, Corrupters of my faith! you shall no more And thou, Posthúmus, thou that didst set up Pis. O gracious lady, Since I receiv'd command to do this business, Imo. Do't, and to bed then. Wherefore then Pis. I'll wake mine eye-balls blind first. 2 Cowards. 3 The writings. 4 Feedest or preys on. Mine action, and thine own? our horses' labour? Pis. But to win time Imo. Talk thy tongue weary; speak: I have heard, I am a strumpet; and mine ear, Pis. I thought you would not back again. Imo. Bringing me here to kill me. Pis. Then, madam, Most like; 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? Or in my life what comfort, when I am Pis. If you'll back to the court, Imo. No court, no father; nor no more ado Pis. If not at court, Where then? Then not in Britain must you bide. Imo. Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night, In a great pool, a swan's nest; Pr'ythee, think Pis. 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, 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 Wherein you are happy,' (which you'll make him know, If that his head have ear in musick,) doubtless, Beginning, nor supplyment. Imo. Thou art all the comfort 5 The sun. 5 i. e. Wherein you are accomplished. 7 As for your subsistence, abroad you may rely on me. |