Page 507 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

Did scandal many a holy tear, took pity [60]
From most true wretchedness: so thou, Posthumus
Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men;
Goodly and gallant shall be false and perjur’d

From thy great fail. Come fellow, be thou honest
Do thou thy master’s bidding. When thou see’st him, [65]
A little witness my obedience. Look,
I draw the sword myself, take it, and hit

The innocent mansion of my love, my heart:
Fear not, ’tis empty of all things, but grief:
Thy master is not there, who was indeed [70]
The riches of it. Do his bidding, strike.

Thou mayst be valiant in a better cause;
But now thou seem’st a coward.

PISANIO
Hence, vile instrument!
Thou shalt not damn my hand.

IMOGEN
Why, I must die:

And if I do not by thy hand, thou art [75]
No servant of thy master’s. Against self-slaughter
There is a prohibition so divine
That cravens my weak hand. Come, here’s my heart,

(Something’s afore’t, − soft, soft! we’ll no defence)
Obedient as the scabbard. What is here? [80]
The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus,
All turn’d to heresy! Away, away,

Corrupters of my faith! you shall no more
Be stomachers to my heart: thus may poor fools
Believe false teachers: though those that are betray’d [85]
Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor

Stands in worse case of woe.
And thou, Posthumus, thou that didst set up
My disobedience ’gainst the king my father,
And make me put into contempt the suits [90]

Of princely fellows, shalt hereafter find