So much as but to prop him? Thou tak'ft up

[Pifanio looking on the viol. Thou know'ft not what; but take it for thy labour, It is a thing I make, which hath the king Five times redeem'd from death; I do not know What is more cordial. Nay I pr’ythee take it, It is an earnest of a farther good

That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how
The cafe ftands with her; do't, as from thy felf:
Think what a chance thou chanceft on, but think
Thou haft thy miftrefs ftill; to boot, my fon,
Who fhall take notice of thee. I'll move the king
To any fhape of thy preferment, fuch

As thou'lt defire; and then my felf, I chiefly
That fet thee on to this defert, am bound
To load thy merit richly. Call my women

[Exit Pifa,

A fly and conftant knave,

Think on my words.
Not to be fhak'd; the agent

mafter, And the remembrancer of her, to hold

The hand faft to her lord. I've giv'n him that,
Which if he take, fhall quite unpeople her
Of leidgers for her fweet; and which fhe after
(Except fhe bend her humour) fhall be affur'd
To taste of too.

Enter Pifanio, and Ladies.

So, fo; well done, well done;

The violets, cowlips, and the prim-rofes,
Bear to my clofet; fare thee well, Pifanio,

Think on my words.

Pif. And fhall do:

[Ex. Queen and ladies.

But when to my good lord I prove untrue,

I'll choak my felf; there's all I'll do for you. [Ex.

SCENE

SCENE VIII.

Enter Imogen alone.

Imo. A Fatbolic fuitor to a wedded lady,
Father cruel, and a ftepdame falfe,

A

That hath her husband banifh'd, that husband!
My fupream crown of grief, and thofe repeated
Vexations of it
had I been thief-ftoln,

As my two brothers, happy! but moft miferable
Is the defire that's glorious. Blefs'd be those,
How mean foe'er, that have their honeft wills,
Which feafons comfort. Who may this be? fie!

Enter Pifanio, and Iachimo.

Pif. Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome Comes from my lord with letters.

Iach. Change you, madam?

The worthy Leonatus is in fafety,

And greets your highness dearly.

Imo. Thanks, good Sir,

You're kindly welcome.

Iach. All of her, that is out of door, moff rich!

If fhe be furnish'd with a mind fo rare,

She is alone th' Arabian bird, and I
Have loft the wager. Boldnefs be my
Arm me audacity from head to foot.
Or like the Parthian I shall flying fight,
Rather directly flye.

Imogen reads.

friend!

12

[afide.

He is one of the nobleft note, to whofe kindneffes I am most infinitely tyed. Reflect upon him accordingly,

as you value your trust.

So far I read aloud.

Leonatus,

But even the very middle of my heart

Is warmed by the reft, and takes it thankfully

You

You are as welcome, worthy Sir, as I
Have words to bid you, and fhall find it fo
In all that I can do.

Iach. Thanks, faireft lady.

What, are men mad? hath nature given them eyes
To fee this vaulted arch, and the rich crop
Of fea and land, which can diftinguish 'twixt
The fiery orbs above, and as twinn'd ftones
Upon the number'd beach? and can we not
Partition make with fpectacles fo precious
'Twixt fair and foul?

Imo. What makes your admiration?

Iach. It cannot be i'th' eye; for apes and monkeys, 'Twixt two such fhe's, would chatter this way, and Contemn with mowes the other. Nor i'th' judgment; For Ideots in this cafe of favour, would.

Be wifely definite. Nor in the appetite,
Sluttry to fuch neat excellence oppos'd,
Should make defire vomit ev'n emptinefs,
Not fo allur'd to feed.

Imo. What is the matter trow?
Iash. The cloyed will,

That fatiate, yet unfatisfy'd defire, that tub
Both fill'd and running: ravening firft the lamb,
Longs after for the garbage

Imo, What, dear Sir,

Thus raps you? are

you

well?

Jach. Thanks, madam, well

Befeech you, Sir,

[To Pifanio,

Defire my man's abode, where I did leave him;

He's ftrange and peevish.

Pif I was going, Sir,

To give him welcome.

His health, befeech you?

Imo. Continues well my lord?

Iach. Well, madam.

30

Imo. Is the difpos'd to mirth? I hope he is.

Iach. Exceeding pleafant; none a ftranger there. So merry, and fo gamefome; he is call'd The Britain reveller.

Imo. When he was here

He did incline to fadness, and oft times
Not knowing why.

lach. I never faw him fad.

There is a Frenchman his companion, one
An eminent monfieur, that it feems much loves
A Gallian girl at home. He furnaces

The thick fighs from him; whiles the jolly Britain,
(Your lord I mean,) laughs from's free lungs, cries Oh !---
Can my fides hold, to think, that man who knows
By hiftory, report, or his own proof

What woman is, yea, what he cannot chufe
But muft be, will his free hours languish out
For affur'd bondage?

Imo. Will my lord fay fo?

Iach. Ay, madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter. It is a recreation to be by

And hear him mock the Frenchman: but heav'n knows Some men are much to blame.

Imo. Not he, I hope.

Iach. Not he. But yet heav'n's bounty tow'rds him might

Be us'd more thankfully. In himself 'tis much
In you, whom I count his beyond all talents,
Whilft I am bound to wonder, I am bound

To pity too.

Ime. What do you pity, Sir?

lach. Two creatures heartily.

Ime. Am I one, Sir?

You look on me; what wreck difcern you in me

Deferves your pity?

Iach. Lamentable! what

To hide me from the radiant fun, and folace
I'th' dungeon by a fnüff?

Imo. I pray you, Sir,

Deliver with more opennefs your anfwers
To my demands. Why do you pity me?
Iach. That others do,

I was about to fay, enjoy your

a fides.

but

It is an office of the gods to venge it,
Not mine to speak on't.

Imo. You do feem to know

Something of me, or what concerns me; pray you
(Since doubting things go ill, often hurts more
Than to be fure they do; for certainties
Or are paft remedies, or timely knowing,
The remedy then born;) discover to me
What both you fpur and stop.

Iach. Had I this cheek

To bath my lips upon; this hand, whofe touch,
Whofe very touch would force the feeler's foul
To th' oath of loyalty, this object, which
Takes pris'ner the wild motion of mine eye,
Fixing it only here; fhould I, damn'd then,
Slaver with lips, as common as the stairs
That mount the capitol join gripes, with hands
Made hard with hourly falfhood, as with labour?
Then glad my felf by peeping in an eye
Bafe and unluftrious as the fmoaky light
That's fed with ftinking tallow it were fit
That all the plagues of hell should at one time
Encounter fuch revolt.

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
That from my muteft confcience, to my tongue,
Charms this report out.

Imo. Let me hear no more.

Iach. O dearest foul! your caufe doth ftrike my heart With pity, that doth make me fick.

So fair, and faftned to an empery,

A lady

Would make the great'ft king double! to be partner'd With tomboys, hir'd with that felf exhibition

Which your own coffers yield! with difeas'd venters
To play with all infirmities for gold,

Which rottenefs lends nature! fuch boyl'd ftuff
As well might poifon poifon! Be reveng'd,

VOL. VIII.

B

Or