Imogen reads.
Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath play'd 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 Milford-Haven:
she hath my letter for the purpose: Where, if thou fear to
strike, and to make me certain it is done, thou art the pandar
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
Out-venoms 1 noteall the worms of Nile; whose breath
Rides on the posting winds, and doth belye
All corners of the world: kings, queens, and 2 notestates,
Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave
-- 255 --
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?
Pis.
Alas, good lady!
Imo.
I false? Thy conscience witness:—Iachimo,
Thou didst accuse him of incontinency;
Thou then look'dst like a villain; now, methinks,
Thy favour's good enough.—3 note
Some jay of Italy,
4 note
Whose mother was her painting, hath betray'd him:
Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion;9Q1065
And, for I am richer than to hang by the walls,
I must be ript:—to pieces with me!—O,
Men's vows are women's traitors! All good seeming,
-- 256 --
By thy revolt, O, husband, shall be thought
Put on for villainy; not born, where't grows;
But worn, a bait for ladies.
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: 5 note
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 see'st 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:
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 seem'st a coward.
-- 257 --
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
There is a prohibition so divine,
That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's my heart;—
1 note
Something's afore't:—Soft, soft; we'll no defence;
Obedient as the scabbard.—What is here?
2 note
The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus,
All turn'd to heresy? Away, away,
Corrupters of my faith! you shall no more
Be stomachers to my heart! Thus may poor fools
Believe false teachers: Though those that are betray'd
Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor
Stands in worse case of woe.
And thou, Posthumus, that diddest set up
My disobedience 'gainst the king my father,
And mad'st 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 dis-edg'd by her
3 noteThat now thou tir'st on, how thy memory
Will then be pang'd by me.—Pr'ythee, dispatch:
The lamb entreats the butcher: Where's thy knife?
Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding,
-- 258 --
When I desire it too.
Pis.
O gracious lady!
Since I receiv'd command to do this business,
I have not slept one wink.
Imo.
Do't, and to bed then.
Pis.
4 note
I'll wake mine eye-balls blind first.
Imo.
Wherefore then
Did'st 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,
5 noteTo be unbent, when thou hast ta'en thy stand,
The 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.
Then, madam,
I thought you would not back again.
Imo.
Most like;
Bringing me here to kill me.
Pis.
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:
-- 259 --
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
Dead to my husband?
Pis.
If you'll back to the court,—
Imo.
No court, no father; nor no more ado
With that harsh, noble, simple, nothing;
That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me
As fearful as a siege.
Pis.
If not at court,
Then not in Britain must you bide.
Imo.
Where then?
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. The embassador,
Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven
To-morrow: 6 note
Now, if you could wear a mind
-- 260 --
Dark as your fortune is; and but disguise
That, which, to appear itself, must not yet be,
But by self-danger; you should tread a course
Pretty, and 7 notefull 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!
8 note
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 gybes, quick-answer'd, saucy, and
As quarrellous as the weazel: 9 note
nay, you must
Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek,
Exposing it (but, O, the harder heart!
Alack, no remedy) to the greedy touch
-- 261 --
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.
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
Present yourself, desire his service, tell him
Wherein you are happy, (1 note
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.
Thou art all the comfort
The gods will diet me with. Pr'ythee, away:
There's more to be consider'd; but 2 note
we'll even
All that good time will give us: 3 note
This attempt
I am soldier to, and will abide it with
-- 262 --
A prince's courage. Away, I pr'ythee.
Pis.
Well, madam, we must take a short farewel;
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.
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].
