Reading The Tragedie of Cymbeline — William Shakespeare

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Section 461

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Pis.

What shall I need to draw my Sword, the Paper

Hath cut her throat alreadie? No, 'tis Slander,

Whose edge is sharper then the Sword, whose tongue

Out‑venomes all the Wormes of Nyle, whose breath

Rides on the posting windes, and doth belye

All corners of the World. Kings, Queenes, and States,

Maides, Matrons, nay the Secrets of the Graue

This viperous slander enters. What cheere, Madam?

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