Thou toldst me when we came from horse the place
3.4.31672Was near at hand. Ne'er longed my mother so
3.4.41673To see me first as I have now. Pisanio, man,
3.4.51674Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind
3.4.61675That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh
3.4.71676From th'inward of thee? One but painted thus
3.4.81677Would be interpreted a thing perplexed
3.4.91678Beyond self-explication. Put thyself
3.4.111680Vanquish my staider senses. What's the matter?
3.4.12[Pisanio offers letter to Imogen] 3.4.151683Smile to't before; if winterly, thou needst
[Takes letter]
But keep that countenance still. My husband's hand?
3.4.171685That drug-damned Italy hath out-craftied him,
3.4.181686And he's at some hard point. Speak, man: thy tongue
3.4.191687May take off some extremity which to read
Would be even mortal to me. Please you read,
3.4.211690And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing
Reads
What shall I need to draw my sword? The paper
3.4.251704Hath cut her throat already. No, 'tis slander,
3.4.261705Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue
3.4.271706Out-venoms all the worms of Nile, whose breath
3.4.281707Rides on the posting winds and doth belie
3.4.291708All corners of the world. Kings, queens, and states,
3.4.301709Maids, matrons -- nay, the secrets of the grave
3.4.311710This viperous slander enters. -- What cheer, madam?
False to his bed? What is it to be false?
3.4.331712To lie in watch there and to think on him?
3.4.341713To weep 'twixt clock and clock if Sleep charge Nature
3.4.361715And cry myself awake? That's false to's bed, is it?
Alas, good lady.
I, false? Thy conscience witness. Iachimo,
3.4.401719Thou then look'dst like a villain; now, methinks
3.4.411720Thy favor's good enough. Some jay of Italy
3.4.421721Whose mother was her painting hath betrayed him.
3.4.431722Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion,
3.4.441723And for I am richer than to hang by th' walls,
3.4.451724I must be ripped: to pieces with me. Oh!
3.4.461725Men's vows are women's traitors. All good seeming
3.4.471726By thy revolt, o husband, shall be thought
3.4.481727Put on for villainy; not born where't grows,
But worn a bait for ladies. Good madam, hear me.
True honest men being heard, like false Aeneas,
3.4.511731Were in his time thought false; and Sinon's weeping
Posthumus,
3.4.551735Goodly and gallant shall be false and perjured
3.4.561736From thy great fail. Come, fellow; be thou honest.
3.4.571737Do thou thy master's bidding. When thou seest him,
3.4.591739I draw the sword myself; take it and hit
3.4.601740The innocent mansion of my love, my heart.
3.4.611741Fear not; 'tis empty of all things but grief.
3.4.631743The riches of it. Do his bidding; strike.
3.4.641744Thou mayst be valiant in a better cause,
But now thou seemst a coward. Hence, vile instrument;
Thou shalt not damn my hand. Why, I must die,
3.4.681750No servant of thy master's. Against self-slaughter
3.4.701752That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's my heart.
3.4.711753Something's afoot! Soft, soft; we'll no defense,
3.4.751757Corrupters of my faith. You shall no more
3.4.761758Be stomachers to my heart. Thus may poor fools
3.4.771759Believe false teachers. Though those that are betrayed
3.4.781760Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor
3.4.791761Stands in worse case of woe. And thou, Posthumus,
3.4.801762That didst set up my disobedience 'gainst the King
3.4.811763My father and makes me put into contempt the suits
3.4.821764Of princely fellows, shalt hereafter find
3.4.841766A strain of rareness; and I grieve myself
3.4.851767To think when thou shalt be disedged by her
3.4.871769Will then be panged by me. Prithee, dispatch,
3.4.881770The lamb entreats the butcher. Where's thy knife?
3.4.891771Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding
When I desire it too. Oh, gracious lady,
3.4.911774Since I received command to do this business,
I have not slept one wink. Do't, and to bed then.
I'll wake mine eyeballs first.
I'll wake mine eyeballs first. Wherefore then
3.4.941779Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abused
3.4.951780So many miles with a pretense? This place?
3.4.961781Mine action and thine own? Our horses' labor?
3.4.971782The time inviting thee? The perturbed court
3.4.991784Purpose return? Why hast thou gone so far
3.4.1001785To be unbent when thou hast ta'en thy stand,
Th'elected deer before thee? But to win time
Hear me with patience. Talk thy tongue weary; speak.
3.4.1061793Therein false struck can take no greater wound
Nor tent to bottom that. But speak. Then, madam,
I thought you would not back again. Most like,
Bringing me here to kill me. Not so, neither.
3.4.1121802But that my master is abused. Some villain --
3.4.1131803Aye, and singular in his art -- hath done you both
Some Roman courtesan?
Some Roman courtesan? No, on my life.
3.4.1161807I'll give but notice you are dead and send him
3.4.1181809I should do so; you shall be missed at court,
And that will well confirm it. Why, good fellow,
3.4.1201812What shall I do the while? Where bide? How live?
Dead to my husband? If you'll back to th' court . . .
No court, no father, nor no more ado
3.4.1251818That Clotten, whose lovesuit hath been to me
As fearful as a siege. If not at court,
Then not in Britain must you bide. Where then?
3.4.1281823Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night,
3.4.1291824Are they not but in Britain? I'th' world's volume
3.4.1311826In a great pool, a swan's nest. Prithee think
There's livers out of Britain. I am most glad
3.4.1381834But by self-danger, you should tread a course
3.4.1401836The residence of Posthumus; so nigh, at least,
3.4.1411837That though his actions were not visible, yet
As truly as he moves. Oh, for such means,
I would adventure. Well, then, here's the point:
3.4.1491847Woman it pretty self, into a waggish courage,
You made great Juno angry. Nay, be brief.
A man already. First, make yourself but like one.
3.4.1611861('Tis in my cloak-bag) doublet, hat, hose, all
3.4.1621862That answer to them; would you in their serving,
3.4.1641864From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius
3.4.1651865Present yourself, desire his service, tell him
3.4.1661866Wherein you're happy, which will make him know,
3.4.1671867If that his head have ear in music, doubtless
3.4.1681868With joy he will embrace you, for he's honorable
3.4.1691869And, doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad:
Beginning nor supplyment. Thou art all the comfort
3.4.1731874There's more to be considered, but we'll even
3.4.1741875All that good time will give us. This attempt
Well, madam, we must take a short farewell,
3.4.1791880Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress,
[Gives box to Imogen]
Here is a box. I had it from the Queen.
3.4.1811882What's in't is precious: if you are sick at sea
Direct you to the best. Amen; I thank thee.