How? of adultery? Wherefore write you not
What monsters her accuse? Leonatus!
O master, what a strange infection
Is fall’n into thy ear! What false Italian
(As poisonous tongu’d 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?
“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.