Cymbeline (Modern)
Peer Reviewed
¶[3.2]
¶
Enter Pisanio reading of a letter
¶Pisanio How? Of adultery? Wherefore write you not
1470What monsters her accuse? Leonatus,
¶Oh, master, what a strange infection
¶Is fallen into thy ear? What false Italian,
¶As poisonous-tongued as -handed, hath prevailed
¶On thy too-ready hearing? Disloyal? No.
1475She's punished 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
1480Upon 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
1485So much as this fact comes to? "Do't. The letter
¶That I have sent her by her own command
¶Shall give thee opportunity." O damned paper,
¶Black as the ink that's on thee, senseless bauble,
¶Art thou a fedary for this act and lookst
1490So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes.
¶
Enter Imogen
¶I am ignorant in what I am commanded.
¶Imogen How now, Pisanio?
¶Pisanio Madam, here is a letter from my lord.
1495Imogen Who, thy lord? That is my lord Leonatus?
¶Oh, learned 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 contained relish of love,
1500Of my lord's health, of his content -- yet not
¶That we two are asunder; let that grieve him:
¶Some griefs are med'cinable; that is one of them,
¶For it doth physic love -- of his content
¶All but in that. Good wax, thy leave; blessed be
1505You 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.
[Reads]
¶
Justice and your father's wrath, should he take me in his 1510dominion, could not be so cruel to me as 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 your 1515increasing in love.
_Leonatus Posthumus
¶Oh, for a horse with wings! Hearst 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
1520Glide thither in a day? Then, true Pisanio,
¶Who longst like me to see thy lord, who longst --
¶Oh, let me bate -- but not like me; yet longst,
¶But in a fainter kind. Oh, not like me,
¶For mine's beyond, beyond. Say, and speak thick
1525(Love's counselor should fill the bores of hearing
¶To th' smothering of the sense) how far it is
¶To this same blessed Milford. And by th' way
¶Tell me how Wales was made so happy as
¶T'inherit such a haven. But first of all,
1530How we may steal from hence, and for the gap
¶That we shall make in time from our hence-going
¶And our return to excuse -- but first, how get hence.
¶Why should excuse be born or ere begot?
¶We'll talk of that hereafter. Prithee speak:
1535How many score of miles may we well ride
| ¶'Twixt hour and hour? | |
| ¶Pisanio | |
| One score 'twixt sun and sun, | |
¶Madam, 's enough for you, and too much too.
¶Imogen Why, one that rode to's execution, man,
1540Could never go so slow. I have heard of riding wagers
¶Where horses have been nimbler than the sands
¶That run i'th' 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
1545A riding suit no costlier than would fit
| ¶A franklin's housewife. | |
| ¶Pisanio | |
| Madam, you're best consider. | |
¶Imogen I see before me, man, nor here, nor here,
¶Nor what ensues but have a fog in them
1550That I cannot look through. Away, I prithee;
¶Do as I bid thee. There's no more to say:
¶Accessible is none but Milford way.
Exeunt