The lamb entreats the butcher: where's thy knife?
Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding, When I desire it too. PISANIO O gracious lady, Since I received command to do this business I have not slept one wink. IMOGEN Do't, and to bed then. PISANIO I'll wake mine eye-balls blind first. IMOGEN Wherefore then Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abused 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, To be unbent when thou hast ta'en thy stand, The elected deer before thee? PISANIO 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. IMOGEN 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. PISANIO Then, madam, I thought you would not back again. IMOGEN Most like;Bringing me here to kill me. PISANIO 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 abused:
Some villain, ay, and singular in his art.
Hath done you both this cursed injury. IMOGEN Some Roman courtezan. PISANIO 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. IMOGEN Why good fellow, What shall I do the where? where bide? how live?
Or in my life what comfort, when I am Dead to my husband? PISANIO If you'll back to the court-- IMOGEN 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. PISANIO If not at court, Then not in Britain must you bide. IMOGEN 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 't;In a great pool a swan's nest: prithee, think There's livers out of Britain. PISANIO I am most glad You think of other place. The ambassador, Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven To-morrow: now, if you could wear a mind 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 full 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. IMOGEN O, for such means!
Though peril to my modesty, not death on't, I would adventure. PISANIO 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 gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy and As quarrelous as the weasel; nay, you must Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek, Exposing it--but, O, the harder heart!
Alack, no remedy!--to the greedy touch Of common-kissing Titan, and forget Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein You made great Juno angry. IMOGEN Nay, be brief I see into thy end, and am almost A man already. PISANIO 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're happy,--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. IMOGEN Thou art all the comfort The gods will diet me with. Prithee, away:
There's more to be consider'd; but we'll even All that good time will give us: this attempt I am soldier to, and will abide it with A prince's courage. Away, I prithee. PISANIO Well, madam, we must take a short farewell, 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! IMOGEN Amen: I thank thee.
