Page 500 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

LEONATUS POSTHUMUS.
O, for a horse with wings! Hear’st thou, Pisanio?
He is at Milford-Haven: read, and tell me [50]
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
(O let me bate) but not like me: yet long’st [55]

But in a fainter kind. O, not like me:
For mine’s beyond beyond: say, and speak thick,
(Love’s counsellors should fill the bores of hearing,
To th’ smothering of the sense) how far it is

To this same blessed Milford. And by th’ way [60]
Tell me how Wales was made so happy as
T’ 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. [65]
Why should excuse be born or ere begot?
We’ll talk of that hereafter. Prithee speak,

How many score of miles may we well rid
’Twixt hour, and hour?

PISANIO
One score ’twixt sun and sun,
Madam’s enough for you: and too much too. [70]

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’ th’ clock’s behalf. But this is foolery:
Go, bid my woman feign a sickness, say [75]

She’ll home to her father; and provide me presently
A riding-suit; no costlier than would fit
A franklin’s housewife.

PISANIO