Pis.
How! of adultery! Wherefore write you not
What monsters have accused her, Leonatus!
Oh, master, what a strange infection
Is fall'n into thine ear? What false Italian,
As poisonous tongu'd as handed, hath prevail'd
On thy too ready hearing? Disloyal! No,
She's punish'd for her truth; and undergoes
More goddess-like, than wife-like, such assaults,
As would take in some virtue. Oh, my master,
Thy mind to her is now as low, as were
Thy fortunes. How! That I should murder her,
Upon the love, and truth, and vows, which I
Have made to thy command!—I her!—Her blood!
If it be so to do good service, never
Let me be counted serviceable. How look I,
That I should seem to lack humanity,

So much as this fact comes to? Do't— [Reading the Letter.
That I have sent her, by her own command,
Shall give the opportunity. Damn'd paper!
Black as the ink that's on thee.—Lo, here she comes. Enter Imogen.
I am ignorant in what I am commanded.

Imo.
How now, Pisanio?

Pis.
Madam, here is a letter from my lord.

Imo.
Who! thy lord? that is my lord Leonatus!
Oh, learn'd indeed were that astronomer,
That knew the stars, as I his characters;
He'd lay the future open. You good gods,
Let what is here contain'd, relish of love,
Of my lord's health, of his content.
Good wax, thy leave: blest be
You bees that make these locks of counsel.† ^note
Good news, gods! Reading.

JUSTICE, and your father's wrath, should he take me in his dominion, could not be so cruel to me, but you, oh the dearest of creatures, would even renew me with your eyes. Take notice that I am in Cambria, at Milford-Haven: What your own love will out of this advise you, follow. So he wishes you all happiness, that remains loyal to his vow, and you, increasing in love.

Leonatus Posthumus.

How many score of miles may we well ride,
'Twixt hour and hour?

Pis.
One score, 'twixt sun and sun,
Madam's enough for you: and too much, too.

Imo.
Why, one that rode to's execution, man,
Could never go so slow: but this is foolery.
Go, bid my women feign a sickness, say
She'll home to her father, and provide me, present,
A riding suit; no costlier than would fit
A Franklin's housewife.

Pis.
Madam, you'd best consider.

Imo.
I see before me man, nor here, nor here,
Nor what ensues, but have a fog in them,
That I cannot look thro'. Away, I pr'ythee,
Do as I bid thee; there's no more to say;
Accessible is none but Milford way. [Exeunt.

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