SCENE II. Another room in the palace. Cymbeline  Shakespeare homepage  |  Cymbeline  | Act 3, Scene 2 

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 Enter PISANIO, with a letter  PISANIO  How? of adultery? Wherefore write you not 

 What monster's her accuser? Leonatus, 

 O master! what a strange infection 

 Is fall'n into thy ear! What false Italian, 

 As poisonous-tongued as handed, hath prevail'd 

 On thy too ready hearing? Disloyal! No: 

 She's punish'd for her truth, and undergoes, 

 More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults 

 As would take in some virtue. O my master! 

 Thy mind to her is now as low as were 

 Thy fortunes. How! that I should murder her? 

 Upon 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 

 so much as this fact comes to? 



 Reading  'Do't: the letter 

 that I have sent her, by her own command 

 Shall give thee opportunity.' O damn'd paper! 

 Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble, 

 Art thou a feodary for this act, and look'st 

 So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes. 

 I am ignorant in what I am commanded. 



 Enter IMOGEN  IMOGEN  How now, Pisanio! 

 PISANIO  Madam, here is a letter from my lord. 

 IMOGEN  Who? thy lord? that is my lord, Leonatus! 

 O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer 

 That knew the stars as I his characters; 

 He'ld lay the future open. You good gods, 

 Let what is here contain'd relish of love, 

 Of 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. Blest be 

 You 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 dominion, could not be so cruel to me, as 

 you, O 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, 

 increasing in love, 

 LEONATUS POSTHUMUS.' 

 O, for a horse with wings! Hear'st 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 

 Glide thither in a day? Then, true Pisanio,-- 

 Who long'st, like me, to see thy lord; who long'st,-- 

 let me bate,-but not like me--yet long'st, 

 But in a fainter kind:--O, not like me; 

 For mine's beyond beyond--say, and speak thick; 

 Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing, 

 To the smothering of the sense--how far it is 

 To this same blessed Milford: and by the way 

 Tell me how Wales was made so happy as 

 To inherit such a haven: but first of all, 

 How 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 e'er begot? 

 We'll talk of that hereafter. Prithee, speak, 

 How many score of miles may we well ride 

 'Twixt hour and hour? 

 PISANIO  One score 'twixt sun and sun, 

 Madam, 's enough for you: 



 Aside  and too much too. 

 IMOGEN  Why, one that rode to's execution, man, 

 Could never go so slow: I have heard of 

 riding wagers, 

 Where horses have been nimbler than the sands 

 That run i' the 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 

 A 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, 

 That I cannot look through. Away, I prithee; 

 Do as I bid thee: there's no more to say, 

 Accessible is none but Milford way. 



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