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Cymbeline (Folio 1, 1623)
The Tragedie of Cymbeline. 383
1720Thy fauours good enough. Some Iay of Italy
1721(Whose mother was her painting) hath betraid him:
1723And for I am richer then to hang by th' walles,
1724I must be ript: To peeces with me: Oh!
1725Mens Vowes are womens Traitors. All good seeming
1726By thy reuolt (oh Husband) shall be thought
1727Put on for Villainy; not borne where't growes,
1728But worne a Baite for Ladies.
1729Pisa. Good Madam, heare me.
1731Were in his time thought false: and Synons weeping
1732Did scandall many a holy teare: tooke pitty
1734Wilt lay the Leauen on all proper men;
1736From thy great faile: Come Fellow, be thou honest,
1738A little witnesse my obedience. Looke
1739I draw the Sword my selfe, take it, and hit
1740The innocent Mansion of my Loue (my Heart:)
1741Feare not, 'tis empty of all things, but Greefe:
1742Thy Master is not there, who was indeede
1743The riches of it. Do his bidding, strike,
1747Thou shalt not damne my hand.
1749And if I do not by thy hand, thou art
1751There is a prohibition so Diuine,
1752That crauens my weake hand: Come, heere's my heart:
1753Something's a-foot: Soft, soft, wee'l no defence,
1754Obedient as the Scabbard. What is heere,
1755The Scriptures of the Loyall Leonatus,
1756All turn'd to Heresie? Away, away
1757Corrupters of my Faith, you shall no more
1758Be Stomachers to my heart: thus may poore Fooles
1763My Father, and makes me put into contempt the suites
1768That now thou tyrest on, how thy memory
1769Will then be pang'd by me. Prythee dispatch,
1770The Lambe entreats the Butcher. Wher's thy knife?
1772When I desire it too.
1773Pis. Oh gracious Lady:
1775I haue not slept one winke.
1776Imo. Doo't, and to bed then.
1778Imo. Wherefore then
1780So many Miles, with a pretence? This place?
1782The Time inuiting thee? The perturb'd Court
1783For my being absent? whereunto I neuer
1787Pis. But to win time
1790Heare me with patience.
1792I haue heard I am a Strumpet, and mine eare
1794Nor tent, to bottome that. But speake.
1795Pis. Then Madam,
1796I thought you would not backe againe.
1798Bringing me heere to kill me.
1801My purpose would proue well: it cannot be,
1802But that my Master is abus'd. Some Villaine,
1803I, and singular in his Art, hath done you both
1804This cursed iniurie.
1805Imo. Some Roman Curtezan?
1806Pisa. No, on my life:
1807Ile giue but notice you are dead, and send him
1808Some bloody signe of it. For 'tis commanded
1810And that will well confirme it.
1811Imo. Why good Fellow,
1812What shall I do the while? Where bide? How liue?
1813Or in my life, what comfort, when I am
1814Dead to my Husband?
1816Imo. No Court, no Father, nor no more adoe
1819As fearefull as a Siege.
1820Pis. If not at Court,
1821Then not in Britaine must you bide.
1822Imo. Where then?
1823Hath Britaine all the Sunne that shines? Day? Night?
1824Are they not but in Britaine? I'th' worlds Volume
1825Our Britaine seemes as of it, but not in't:
1826In a great Poole, a Swannes-nest, prythee thinke
1827There's liuers out of Britaine.
1830Lucius the Romane comes to Milford-Hauen
1831To morrow. Now, if you could weare a minde
1835Pretty, and full of view: yea, happily, neere
1838Report should render him hourely to your eare,
1839As truely as he mooues.
1841Though perill to my modestie, not death on't
1842I would aduenture.
1843Pis. Well then, heere's the point:
1844You must forget to be a Woman: change
1845Command, into obedience. Feare, and Nicenesse
1846(The Handmaides of all Women, or more truely
1849As quarrellous as the Weazell: Nay, you must
1851Exposing it (but oh the harder heart,
Alacke