Pif. What fhall I need to draw my sword? the paper
Hath cut her throat already.- -No, 'tis flander;
Whose edge is fharper than the fword, whose tongue
Out venoms all the worms of Nile; whofe breath
Rides on the posting winds, and doth belye

All corners of the world. Kings, Queens, and states,
Maids, matrons, nay, the fecrets of the Grave
This viperous flander enters. What chear, Madam ?
Imo. Falfe to his bed! what is it to be falfe?
To lye in watch there, and to think on him?

To

weep

'twixt clock and clock? if fleep charge nature, To break it with a fearful dream of him, And cry myself awake? that falfe to's bed! Pif. Alas, good lady!

Imo. I falfe? thy confcience witness, Iachimo,-
Thou didft accufe him of incontinency,

Thou then look'dft like a villain: now, methinks,
Thy favour's good enough. Some Jay of Italy
(Whose mother was her painting) hath betray'd him :
Poor I am ftale, a garment out of fashion;
And, for I'm richer than to hang by th' walls,

I must be ript to pieces with me: oh,

Men's vows are womens' traitors.-All good Seeming
By thy revolt, oh, husband, fhall be thought
Put on for villany: not born, where't grows;
But worn, a bait for ladies.

Pif. Madam, hear me

Imo. True honeft men being heard, like falfe Eneas, Were in his time thought falfe: and Sinon's Weeping Did fcandal many a holy tear; took pity

From most true wretchednefs. So thou, Pofthumus,
Wilt lay the leven to all proper men;

Goodly and gallant, fhall be falfe and perjur'd,
From thy great fail. Come, fellow, be thou honeft,
Do thou thy mafter's bidding: when thou seeft him,
A little witnefs my obedience. Look!

I draw the fword myself, take it, and hit
The innocent manfion of my love, my heart;
Fear not, 'tis empty of all things, but grief;
1hy matter is not there; who was, indeed,

The

The riches of it. Do his Bidding, ftrike;
Thou may'st be valiant in a better cause,
But now thou feem'st a coward.
Pij. Hence, vile inftrument!
Thou shalt not damn my hand.
Imo. Why, I muft die;

And, if I do not by thy hand, thou art

No fervant of thy mafter's.

'Gainst self-slaughter

There is a prohibition fo divine,

That cravens my weak hand: come, here's my

heart

'Something's afore't

Obedient as the fcabbard !

-soft, foft, we'll no defence;

[Opening her breaft. What is here?

The Scriptures of the loyal Leonatus
All turn'd to Herefie? away, away,

[Pulling bis letters out of her bofom

Corrupters of my faith: you shall no more

Be ftomachers to my heart: thus may poor fools
Believe falfe teachers: tho' thofe, that are betray'd,
Do feel the treafon fharply, yet the traitor
Stands in worse case of woe. And thou, Pofthumus,
That fet my difobedience 'gainst the King,
And mad'it me put into contempt the suits
Of princely fellows, fhalt hereafter find,
It is no act of common paffage, but
A ftrain of rarenefs and I grieve myself,
To think, when thou shalt be dif-edg'd by her
Whom now thou tir'ft on, how thy memory

Will then be pang'd by me.

Pr'ythee, difpatch;

The lamb entreats the butcher. Where's thy knife?
Thou art too flow to do thy master's bidding,

When I defire it too.

Pif. O gracious lady!

Since I receiv'd command to do this business,

I have not flept one wink.

Ime. Do't, and to bed then.

Pif. I'll break mine eye-balls first.
Imo. Ah, wherefore then

Didit undertake it? why haft thou abus'd

So many miles, with a pretence? this place?
Mine action? and thine own? our horfes' labour?
The time inviting thee? the perturb'd Court,
For my being abfent? whereunto I never
Purpose Return. Why haft thou gone fo far,
To be unbent, when thou haft ta'en thy ftand,
Th' elected deer before thee?

Pif. But to win time

To lofe fo bad employment, in the which
I have confider'd of a courfe; good lady,
Hear me with patience.

Imo. Talk thy tongue weary, fpeak,
I've heard, I am a ftrumpet; and mine ear
(Therein false struck) can take no greater wound,
Nor tent to bottom That. But, speak.

Pif. Then, Madam,

I thought, you would not back again.
Imo. Moft like,

Bringing me here to kill me.

Pif. Not fo neither;

But if I were as wife as honeft, then

My purpose would prove well; it cannot be,
But that my mafter is abus'd; fome villain,
And fingular in his art, hath done you both,
This cursed injury.

Imo. Some Roman Curtezan

Pif. No, on my life.

I'll give him notice you are dead, and fend him
Some bloody fign of it: for 'tis commanded,
I fhould do fo. You fhall be mifs'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?

Pif. If you'll back to th' Court

Imo. No Court, no Father; nor no more ado With that harsh, noble, fimple, Nothing, Cloten: That Cloten, whose love-fuit hath been to me As fearful as a fiege.

Pif. If not at Court,

Then not in Britaine must you 'bide.

Imo. Where then?

Hath Britaine all the Sun that fhines? Day, night,
Are they not but in Britaine? I' th' world's volume
Our Britaine seems as of it, but not in it;

In a great pool, a fwan's neft.
There's living out of Britaine.
Pif. I'm moft glad,

Pr'ythee, think,

You think of other place: th' Ambaffador,
Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven

To morrow. (15) Now, if you could wear a Mien
Dark as your fortune is, and but disguise
That, which, t' appear itself, must not yet be,
But by felf-danger; you should tread a courfe
Pretty, and full of view; yea, haply, near
The refidence of Pofthumus; so nigh, at least,
That though his actions were not visible,
Report should render him hourly to your ear,
As truly as he moves.

Imo. Oh! for fuch means,

(Though peril to my modefty, not death on't) I would adventure.

Pif. Well then, here's the point:

You must forget to be a woman; change
Command into obediance; fear and nicenefs
(The handmaids of all women, or, more truly,
Woman its pretty felf,) to waggish courage;
Ready in gybes, quick anfwer'd, fawcy, and

(15) Now, if you could wear a Mind

Dark as your Fortune is,] But the Difguife of her Perfor is the only Thing which Pifanio is here advifing; not that She fhould ftifle any Qualifications or Beauties of her Mind. I therefore think, we may fafely read;

Now, if you could wear a Mien

Dark as your Fortune is,

Or, according to the French Orthography, from whence, pre

fume, arofe the Corruption;

Now, if you could wear a Mine,

Mr. Warburton..

As

As quarrellous as the weazel: (16) nay, you muft
Forget that rareft treasure of your cheek;
Expofing it (but, oh, the harder Hap!
Alack, no remedy) to the greedy touch
Of common-kiffing Titan; and forget
Your labourfome and dainty trims, wherein
You made great Juno angry.

Imo. Nay, be brief :

I fee into thy end, and am almost
A man already.

Pif. First, make yourself but like one.
Fore-thinking this, I have already fit,

('Tis in my cloak-bag) doublet, hat, hofe, all
That anfwer to them. 'Would you in their ferving,
And with what Imitation you can borrow

From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius
Prefent yourself, defire his fervice, (17) tell him

Forget that rareft treasure of your Check;

Expofing it, (but oh the barder Heart,

Wherein

Alack, no Remedy.] Now, who does This barder Heart relate to Pofthumus is not here talk'd of, befides, he knew Nothing of her being thus expos'd to the Inclemencies of Weather: He had enjoyn'd a Course, which would have secur'd her from these incidental Hardships. I think, common Sense obliges us to read:

But, ob, the barder Hap!

i. e. the more cruel your Fortune, that you must be oblig'd to fuch Shifts. Mr. Warburton.

Wherein you're happy, which will make him know,

If that bis Head have ear in Mufick, doubtless

With joy he will embrace you ;] Thus, all the Editions: But, furely, the Paffage is faulty both in the Text and Pointing. Which will make him know, what? What Connection has This with the Reft of the Sentence? Shakespeare can't be fufpected, certainly, of fo bad a Meaning as this; If you'll tell him wherein you are happy: That will make him know wherein you're happy: and yet, This is the only Meaning, I think, the Words can carry, as they now ftand. I take the Poet's Senfe to be This.

Rifania