SCENE II.
Another room.
Enter Pisanio.
Pis.
How! of adultery? Wherefore write you not
8 note
What monsters her accuse?—Leonatus!
O, master! what a strange infection
Is fallen into thy ear? 9 note
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 1 note
take in some virtue.—O my master!
Thy mind to her is now as low9Q1056, 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: The letter
[Reading.
-- 243 --
That I have sent her, by her own command,
Shall give thee opportunity:9Q1057—O damn'd paper!
Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble!
Art thou a feodary for this act9Q10582 note, and look'st
So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes.
Enter Imogen.
3 noteI 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?
4 noteO, 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,—yet not,
That we two are asunder, let that grieve him5 note
!
(Some griefs are medicinable; that is one of them,
6 note
For it doth physic love)—of his content,
-- 244 --
All but in that!—Good wax, thy leave:—7 note
Blest be,
You bees, that make these locks of counsel! Lovers,
And men in dangerous bonds, pray not alike;
Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet
You clasp young Cupid's tables.—Good news, gods!
[Reading.
Justice, and your father's wrath, should he take me in
his dominion, could not be so cruel to me, as you, O 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 8 note
loyal to his
vow, and your, increasing in love,
Leonatus Posthumus.
O, for a horse with wings!—Hear'st thou, Pisanio?
He is at Milford-Haven: Read, and tell me
How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs
May plod it in a week, why may not I
Glide thither in a day?—Then, true Pisanio,
(Who long'st, like me, to see thy lord; who long'st,—
O, let me 'bate,—but not like me:—yet long'st,—
But in a fainter kind:—O, not like me;
-- 245 --
For mine's beyond, beyond,) say, and speak thick,
(Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing,
To the smothering of the sense) how far it is
To this same blessed Milford: And, by the way,
Tell me how Wales was made so happy, as
To inherit such a haven: But, first of all,
How we may steal from hence; and, for the gap
That we shall make in time, from our hence-going
'Till our return, to excuse:—but first, how get hence:
Why should excuse be born or e'er begot?
We'll talk of that hereafter. Pry'thee, speak,
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 his execution, man,
Could never go so slow: I have heard of riding wagers,
Where horses have been nimbler than the sands
9 noteThat run i' the clock's behalf:—But this is foolery:—
Go, bid my woman feign a sickness; say
She'll home to her father: and provide me, presently,
A riding suit; no costlier than would fit
1 noteA franklin's housewife.
Pis.
Madam, you're best consider.
Imo.
2 note
I see before me, man, nor here, nor here,
-- 246 --
Nor what ensues; but have a fog in them,
That I cannot look through. Away, I pr'ythee;
Do as I bid thee: There's no more to say;
Accessible is none but Milford way.
[Exeunt.
Samuel Johnson [1778], The plays of William Shakspeare. In ten volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators; to which are added notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The second edition, Revised and Augmented (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10901].
