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.] "Thymistress, 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 MilfordHaven: 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."

Pis. 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: 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 nature,

To break it with a fearful dream of him,
And cry myself awake? that's false to his bed,
Is it?

ing

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 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:

Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor
Stands in worse case of woe.

And thou, Posthumus, 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 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.

Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abus'd
So many miles with a pretence? this place?
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,
Th' 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.

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.

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. Th' 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, t' 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 its pretty self,) into a waggish courage;
Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy, and
As quarrelous as the weasel; nay, you must
Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek,
Exposing it (but, O, the harder heart!
Alack, no remedy!) to the greedy touch
Of common-kissing Titan; 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.
Forethinking 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 music,) 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.

The gods will diet me with.

Thou art all the comfort Pr'ythee, away:

There's more to be consider'd; but we'll even
All that good time will give us: this attempt
I'm soldier to, and will abide it with
A prince's courage. Away, I pr'ythee.

Pis. Well, Madam, we must take a short farewell,
Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of
Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress,
Here is a box; I had it from the queen:
What's in 't is precious; if you are sick at sea,
Or stomach-qualm'd at land, a dram of this
Will drive away distemper.-To some shade,
And fit you to your manhood:-may the gods
Direct you to the best!
Imo.
Amen. I thank thee.
[Exeunt.

That we have given him cause.

Cio. 'Tis all the better; Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it.

Cym. Lucius hath wrote already to the emperor
How it goes here. It fits us therefore, ripely
Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness:
The powers that he already hath in Gallia
Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves
His war for Britain.

Queen.
'Tis not sleepy business;
But must be look'd to speedily, and strongly.
Cym. Our expectation that it would be thus
Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen,
Where is our daughter? She hath not appear'd
Before the Roman, nor to us hath tender'd
The duty of the day: she looks us like
A thing more made of malice, than of duty:
We have noted it.-Call her before us; for
We have been too slight in sufferance.

Queen.

[Exit an Attendant. Royal Sir, Since the exile of Posthumus, most retir'd Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord, 'Tis time must do. Beseech your majesty,

Forbear sharp speeches to her: she's a lady So tender of rebukes, that words are strokes, And strokes death to her.

Cym.

Re-enter Attendant.

Where is she, Sir? How

Can her contempt be answer'd?
Atten.
Please you, Sir,
Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer
That will be given to the loud'st of noise we make.
Queen. My lord, when last I went to visit her,
She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close;
Whereto constrain'd by her infirmity,
She should that duty leave unpaid to you,
Which daily she was bound to proffer: this

She wish'd me to make known; but our great court
Made me to blame in memory.

Cym. Her doors lock'd? Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that which I

[Exit.

Fear prove false!
Queen.
Son, I say, follow the king.
Clo. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant,
I have not seen these two days.
Queen.

Go, look after.-
[Exit CLOTEN.
Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus!—
He hath a drug of mine: pray, his absence
Proceed by swallowing that; for he believes
It is a thing most precious. But for her,
Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seiz'd her;
Or, wing'd with fervour of her love, she's flown
To her desir'd Posthumus: gone she is
To death, or to dishonour; and my end
Can make good use of either: she being down,
I have the placing of the British crown.

Re-enter CLOten.

How now, my son!

Clo.

'Tis certain she is fled. Go in and cheer the king: he rages; none Dare come about him.

Queen.
All the better: may
This night forestal him of the coming day! [Exit.
Clo. I love, and hate her: for she's fair and
royal,

And that she hath all courtly parts, more exquisite
Than lady, ladies, woman; from every one
The best she hath, and she, of all compounded,
Outsells them all,-I love her therefore: but,
Disdaining me, and throwing favours on
The low Posthumus, slanders so her judgment,
That what's else rare is chok'd; and in that point
I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed,

To be reveng'd upon her. For, when fools shall

Enter PISANIO.

Who is here? What, are you packing, sirrah?
Come hither: ah, you precious pander! Villain,
Where is thy lady? In a word; or else
Thou art straightway with the fiends.
Pis.

Pis. I shall, my lord.

[Exit.

Clo. Meet thee at Milford-Haven!-I forgot to ask him one thing; I'll remember't anon:-even there, thou villain Posthumus, will I kill thee.-I would these garments were come. She said upon

a time (the bitterness of it I now belch from my heart) that she held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect than my noble and natural person, together with the adornment of my qualities. With that suit upon my back, will I ravish her: first kill him, and in her eyes; there shall she see my valour, which will then be a torment to her contempt. on the ground, my speech of insultment ended on his dead body, and when my lust hath dined

He

Clo. Where is thy lady? or, by Jupiter-
I will not ask again. Close villain,

I'll have this secret from thy heart, or rip
Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus?
From whose so many weights of baseness cannot
A dram of worth be drawn.

clothes that she so praised)—to the court I'll knock her back, foot her home again. She hath despised me rejoicingly, and I'll be merry in my revenge.

Re-enter PISANIO, with the clothes.

Be those the garments?

Pis. Ay, my noble lord.

Clo. How long is 't since she went to MilfordHaven?