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The Same. Another Room in the Palace. | |
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Enter IMOGEN. | |
| Imo. A father cruel, and a step-dame false; | |
| A foolish suitor to a wedded lady, | |
| That hath her husband banish’d: O! that husband, | 5 |
| My supreme crown of grief! and those repeated | |
| Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stol’n, | |
| As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable | |
| Is the desire that’s glorious: bless’d be those, | |
| How mean so’er, that have their honest wills, | 10 |
| Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fie! | |
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Enter PISANIO and IACHIMO. | |
| Pis. Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome, | |
| Comes from my lord with letters. | |
| Iach. Change you, madam? | 15 |
| The worthy Leonatus is in safety, | |
| And greets your highness dearly. [Presents a letter. | |
| Imo. Thanks, good sir: | |
| You are kindly welcome. | |
| Iach. [Aside.] All of her that is out of door most rich! | 20 |
| If she be furnish’d with a mind so rare, | |
| She is alone the Arabian bird, and I | |
| Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend! | |
| Arm me, audacity, from head to foot! | |
| Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight; | 25 |
| Rather, directly fly. | |
| Imo. He is one of the noblest note, to whose kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon him accordingly, as you value your truest LEONATUS. | |
| So far I read aloud; | |
| But even the very middle of my heart | |
| Is warm’d by the rest, and takes it thankfully. | 30 |
| You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I | |
| Have words to bid you; and shall find it so | |
| In all that I can do. | |
| Iach. Thanks, fairest lady. | |
| What! are men mad? Hath nature given them eyes | 35 |
| To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop | |
| Of sea and land, which can distinguish ’twixt | |
| The fiery orbs above and the twinn’d stones | |
| Upon the number’d beach? and can we not | |
| Partition make with spectacles so precious | 40 |
| ’Twixt fair and foul? | |
| Imo. What makes your admiration? | |
| Iach. It cannot be i’ the eye; for apes and monkeys | |
| ’Twixt two such shes would chatter this way and | |
| Contemn with mows the other; nor i’ the judgment, | 45 |
| For idiots in this case of favour would | |
| Be wisely definite; nor i’ the appetite; | |
| Sluttery to such neat excellence oppos’d | |
| Should make desire vomit emptiness, | |
| Not so allur’d to feed. | 50 |
| Imo. What is the matter, trow? | |
| Iach. The cloyed will,— | |
| That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub | |
| Both fill’d and running,—ravening first the lamb, | |
| Longs after for the garbage. | 55 |
| Imo. What, dear sir, | |
| Thus raps you? are you well? | |
| Iach. Thanks, madam, well. | |
| [To PISANIO.] Beseech you, sir, | |
| Desire my man’s abode where I did leave him; | 60 |
| He’s strange and peevish. | |
| Pis. I was going, sir, | |
| To give him welcome. [Exit. | |
| Imo. Continues well my lord his health, beseech you? | |
| Iach. Well, madam. | 65 |
| Imo. Is he dispos’d to mirth? I hope he is. | |
| Iach. Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there | |
| So merry and so gamesome: he is call’d | |
| The Briton reveller. | |
| Imo. When he was here | 70 |
| He did incline to sadness, and oft-times | |
| Not knowing why. | |
| Iach. I never saw him sad. | |
| There is a Frenchman his companion, one, | |
| An eminent monsieur, that, it seems, much loves | 75 |
| A Gallian girl at home; he furnaces | |
| The thick sighs from him, whiles the jolly Briton— | |
| Your lord, I mean—laughs from ’s free lungs, cries, ‘O! | |
| Can my sides hold, to think that man, who knows | |
| By history, report, or his own proof, | 80 |
| What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose | |
| But must be, will his free hours languish for | |
| Assured bondage?’ | |
| Imo. Will my lord say so? | |
| Iach. Ay, madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter: | 85 |
| It is a recreation to be by | |
| And hear him mock the Frenchman; but, heavens know, | |
| Some men are much to blame. | |
| Imo. Not he, I hope. | |
| Iach. Not he; but yet heaven’s bounty towards him might | 90 |
| Be us’d more thankfully. In himself, ’tis much; | |
| In you,—which I account his beyond all talents,— | |
| Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound | |
| To pity too. | |
| Imo. What do you pity, sir? | 95 |
| Iach. Two creatures, heartily. | |
| Imo. Am I one, sir? | |
| You look on me: what wrack discern you in me | |
| Deserves your pity? | |
| Iach. Lamentable! What! | 100 |
| To hide me from the radiant sun and solace | |
| I’ the dungeon by a snuff! | |
| Imo. I pray you, sir, | |
| Deliver with more openness your answers | |
| To my demands. Why do you pity me? | 105 |
| Iach. That others do, | |
| I was about to say, enjoy your—But | |
| It is an office of the gods to venge it, | |
| Not mine to speak on ’t. | |
| Imo. You do seem to know | 110 |
| Something of me, or what concerns me; pray you,— | |
| Since doubting things go ill often hurts more | |
| Than to be sure they do; for certainties | |
| Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing, | |
| The remedy then born,—discover to me | 115 |
| What both you spur and stop. | |
| Iach. Had I this cheek | |
| To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch, | |
| Whose every touch, would force the feeler’s soul | |
| To the oath of loyalty; this object, which | 120 |
| Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye, | |
| Firing it only here; should I—damn’d then— | |
| Slaver with lips as common as the stairs | |
| That mount the Capitol; join gripes with hands | |
| Made hard with hourly falsehood,—falsehood, as | 125 |
| With labour;—then by-peeping in an eye, | |
| Base and illustrous as the smoky light | |
| That’s fed with stinking tallow; it were fit | |
| That all the plagues of hell should at one time | |
| Encounter such revolt. | 130 |
| Imo. My lord, I fear, | |
| Has forgot Britain. | |
| Iach. And himself. Not I, | |
| Inclin’d to this intelligence, pronounce | |
| The beggary of his change; but ’tis your graces | 135 |
| That from my mutest conscience to my tongue | |
| Charms this report out. | |
| Imo. Let me hear no more. | |
| Iach. O dearest soul! your cause doth strike my heart | |
| With pity, that doth make me sick. A lady | 140 |
| So fair,—and fasten’d to an empery | |
| Would make the great’st king double,—to be partner’d | |
| With tom-boys hir’d with that self-exhibition | |
| Which your own coffers yield! with diseas’d ventures | |
| That play with all infirmities for gold | 145 |
| Which rottenness can lend nature! such boil’d stuff | |
| As well might poison poison! Be reveng’d; | |
| Or she that bore you was no queen, and you | |
| Recoil from your great stock. | |
| Imo. Reveng’d! | 150 |
| How should I be reveng’d? If this be true,— | |
| As I have such a heart, that both mine ears | |
| Must not in haste abuse,—if it be true, | |
| How should I be reveng’d? | |
| Iach. Should he make me | 155 |
| Live like Diana’s priest, betwixt cold sheets, | |
| Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps, | |
| In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge it. | |
| I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure, | |
| More noble than that runagate to your bed, | 160 |
| And will continue fast to your affection, | |
| Still close as sure. | |
| Imo. What ho, Pisanio! | |
| Iach. Let me my service tender on your lips. | |
| Imo. Away! I do condemn mine ears that have | 165 |
| So long attended thee. If thou wert honourable, | |
| Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, not | |
| For such an end thou seek’st; as base as strange. | |
| Thou wrong’st a gentleman, who is as far | |
| From thy report as thou from honour, and | 170 |
| Solicit’st here a lady that disdains | |
| Thee and the devil alike. What ho, Pisanio! | |
| The king my father shall be made acquainted | |
| Of thy assault; if he shall think it fit, | |
| A saucy stranger in his court to mart | 175 |
| As in a Romish stew and to expound | |
| His beastly mind to us, he hath a court | |
| He little cares for and a daughter who | |
| He not respects at all. What ho, Pisanio! | |
| Iach. O happy Leonatus! I may say: | 180 |
| The credit that thy lady hath of thee | |
| Deserves thy trust, and thy most perfect goodness | |
| Her assur’d credit. Blessed live you long! | |
| A lady to the worthiest sir that ever | |
| Country call’d his; and you his mistress, only | 185 |
| For the most worthiest fit. Give me your pardon. | |
| I have spoken this, to know if your affiance | |
| Were deeply rooted, and shall make your lord | |
| That which he is, new o’er; and he is one | |
| The truest manner’d; such a holy witch | 190 |
| That he enchants societies into him; | |
| Half all men’s hearts are his. | |
| Imo. You make amends. | |
| Iach. He sits ’mongst men like a descended god: | |
| He hath a kind of honour sets him off, | 195 |
| More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry, | |
| Most mighty princess, that I have adventur’d | |
| To try your taking of a false report; which hath | |
| Honour’d with confirmation your great judgment | |
| In the election of a sir so rare, | 200 |
| Which you know cannot err. The love I bear him | |
| Made me to fan you thus; but the gods made you, | |
| Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray, your pardon. | |
| Imo. All’s well, sir. Take my power i’ the court for yours. | |
| Iach. My humble thanks. I had almost forgot | 205 |
| To entreat your Grace but in a small request, | |
| And yet of moment too, for it concerns | |
| Your lord, myself, and other noble friends, | |
| Are partners in the business. | |
| Imo. Pray, what is ’t? | 210 |
| Iach. Some dozen Romans of us and your lord, | |
| The best feather of our wing, have mingled sums | |
| To buy a present for the emperor; | |
| Which I, the factor for the rest, have done | |
| In France; ’tis plate of rare device, and jewels | 215 |
| Of rich and exquisite form; their values great; | |
| And I am something curious, being strange, | |
| To have them in safe stowage. May it please you | |
| To take them in protection? | |
| Imo. Willingly; | 220 |
| And pawn mine honour for their safety: since | |
| My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them | |
| In my bedchamber. | |
| Iach. They are in a trunk, | |
| Attended by my men; I will make bold | 225 |
| To send them to you, only for this night; | |
| I must aboard to-morrow. | |
| Imo. O! no, no. | |
| Iach. Yes, I beseech, or I shall short my word | |
| By lengthening my return. From Gallia | 230 |
| I cross’d the seas on purpose and on promise | |
| To see your Grace. | |
| Imo. I thank you for your pains; | |
| But not away to-morrow! | |
| Iach. O! I must, madam: | 235 |
| Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please | |
| To greet your lord with writing, do ’t to-night: | |
| I have outstood my time, which is material | |
| To the tender of our present. | |
| Imo. I will write. | 240 |
| Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept, | |
| And truly yielded you. You’re very welcome. [Exeunt. | |
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