Act 3 - Scene 2
Another room in the palace.
Enter PISANIO, with a letter
How? of adultery? Wherefore write you not
What monster's her accuser? Leonatus,
O master! what a
Is fall'n into thy ear! What false Italian,
As poisonous-tongued as handed, hath prevail'd
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
Thy fortunes. How! that I should murder her?
Upon the love and truth and vows which I
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?
'Do't: the letter
that I have sent her, by her own command
Shall give thee opportunity.' O damn'd paper!
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.
How now, Pisanio!
Madam, here is a letter from my lord.
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,
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
bees that make these locks of counsel! Lovers
And men in dangerous bonds pray not alike:
you cast in prison, yet
You clasp young Cupid's tables. Good news, gods!
'Justice, and your father's wrath, should he take me
in his dominion, could not be so cruel to me, as
O the dearest of creatures, would even renew me
with your eyes. Take notice that I am in Cambria,
Milford-Haven: what your own love will out of
this advise you, follow. So he wishes you all
that remains loyal to his vow, and your,
increasing in love,
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
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 meyet long'st,
But in a fainter kind:O, not like
For mine's beyond beyondsay, and speak thick;
Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing,
the smothering of the sensehow 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
That we shall make in time, from our hence-going
And our return, to excuse: but first, how get
Why should excuse be born or e'er begot?
We'll talk of that hereafter. Prithee, speak,
score of miles may we well ride
'Twixt hour and hour?
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