Page images
PDF
EPUB

So merry and so gamesome: he is call'd
The Briton reveller.

IMOGEN.

IACH.

When he was here

He did incline to sadness; and ofttimes
Not knowing why.

I never saw him sad.
There is a Frenchman his companion, one
An eminent monsieur, that, it seems, much loves
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,

What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose

But must be,-will his free hours languish for
Assured bondage ?"

IMOGEN.

Will my lord say so?

IACH. Ay, madam; with his eyes in flood with laughter.

It is a recreation to be by,

And hear him mock the Frenchman. But heavens

know,

Some men are much to blame.

IMOGEN.

Not he, I hope.

IACH. Not he: but yet heaven's bounty towards him might
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

[blocks in formation]

To hide me from the radiant sun, and solace
I' the dungeon by a snuff?

IMOGEN.

I pray you, sir,
Deliver with more openness your answers
To my demands. Why do you pity me?

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.

IMOGEN.

Іасн.

Something of me, or what

You do seem to know

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
What both you spur and stop.

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
Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,
Fixing it only here: should I (damned then)
Slaver with lips as common as the stairs
That mount the Capitol: join gripes with hands
Made hard with hourly falsehood (falsehood, as
With labour); then, bo-peeping in an eye,
Base and unlustrous 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.

IMOGEN.

IACH.

Has forgot Britain.

My lord, I fear,

And himself. Not I,
Inclin'd to this intelligence, pronounce

The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces
That, from my mutest conscience, to my tongue,
Charms this report out.

IMOGEN.

Let me hear no more. (passes over to L.) IACH. Oh, dearest soul! your cause doth strike my heart With pity that doth make me sick. A lady So fair, and fasten'd to an empery,

Would make the great'st king double,-to be part

ner'd

With tomboys, hir'd with that self-exhibition
Which your own coffers yield! Be reveng'd,
Or she that bore you was no queen, and you
Recoil from your great stock.

IMOGEN.

Reveng❜d!

IACH.

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 shall I be revenged?

Should he make me
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 the runagate to your bed;
And will continue fast to your affection,
Still close, as sure.

IMOGEN.

What ho, Pisanio!
IACH. Let me my service tender on your lips.
IMOGEN. Away!-I do condemn mine ears that have
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
Solicit'st here a lady that disdains

Thee and the devil alike. (crosses, R.) 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
As in a Romish stew, and to expound
His beastly mind to us;-he hath a Court
He little cares for, and a daughter whom

He not respects at all. (crosses behind to L.) What
ho, Pisanio!

IACH. O happy Leonatus! I may say,

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
For the most worthiest fit! Give me your pardon.
I have spoke 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,
That he enchants societies unto him;

Half all men's hearts are his.

IMOGEN.

You make amends.
IACH. He sits 'mongst men, like a descended god;
He hath a kind of honour sets him off,

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,
Which you know, cannot err.

The love I bear him

Made me to fan you thus; but the gods made you.
Unlike all others, chaff-less. Pray, your pardon.

(kneels) IMOGEN. All's well, sir. Take my power i' the Court for

yours.

(passes to R.) IACH. My humble thanks. I had almost forgot 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.

IMOGEN.

Pray, what is't? 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,
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?

IMOGEN.

IACH.

Willingly;
And pawn mine honour for their safety; since
My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them
In my bed-chamber.

They are in a trunk,
Attended by my men: I will make bold
To send them to you, only for this night;
I must aboard to-morrow.

IMOGEN.

O, no, no.

IACH. Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my word,
By length'ning my return. From Gallia
I crossed the seas on purpose and on promise
To see your grace.

IMOGEN.

IACH.

I thank you for your pains;
But not away to-morrow!

O, I must, madam :
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.

IMOGEN.

I will write.
Send your trunk to me! it shall safe be kept,
And truly yielded you; you are very welcome.
Exeunt IMOGEN, C. and IACHIMO, L.

SCENE THIRD.-Court before Cymbeline's Palace.

Enter CLOTEN, MADAN and Pisanio, r.

CLOTEN. Was there ever man had such luck! when I kissed the jack, upon an upcast to be hit away! I had a hundred pound on't: And then a whoreson jackanapes must take me up for swearing; as if I borrowed mine oaths of him, and might not spend them at my pleasure. MADAN. (L.) What got he by that? You have broke his pate with your bowl.

PISAN. (R., aside) If his wit had been like him that broke it, it would have ran all out.

CLOTEN. When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths; Ha?

PISAN. No, my lord; (aside) nor crop the ears of them. CLOTEN. Whoreson dog! I give him satisfaction? Would he had been one of my rank!

PISAN. (aside) To have smelt like a fool.

CLOTEN. I am not vexed more at anything in the earth. A plague on't! I had rather not be so noble as I am. They dare not fight with me, because of the queen my mother; every jackslave hath his belly-full of fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that nobody can match,

« PreviousContinue »