Cymbeline

William Shakespeare

Cymbeline

The Tragedie of Cymbeline

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima

Enter two Gentlemen.

  1.Gent. You do not meet a man but Frownes.Our bloods no more obey the HeauensThen our Courtiers:Still seeme, as do's the Kings   2 Gent. But what's the matter?  1. His daughter, and the heire of's kingdome (whomHe purpos'd to his wiues sole Sonne, a WiddowThat late he married) hath referr'd her selfeVnto a poore, but worthy Gentleman. She's wedded,Her Husband banish'd; she imprison'd, allIs outward sorrow, though I thinke the KingBe touch'd at very heart2 None but the King?1 He that hath lost her too: so is the Queene,That most desir'd the Match. But not a Courtier,Although they weare their faces to the bentOf the Kings lookes, hath a heart that is notGlad at the thing they scowle at   2 And why so?  1 He that hath miss'd the Princesse, is a thingToo bad, for bad report: and he that hath her,(I meane, that married her, alacke good man,And therefore banish'd) is a Creature, such,As to seeke through the Regions of the EarthFor one, his like; there would be something failingIn him, that should compare. I do not thinke,So faire an Outward, and such stuffe WithinEndowes a man, but hee2 You speake him farre1 I do extend him (Sir) within himselfe,Crush him together, rather then vnfold His measure duly   2 What's his name, and Birth?  1 I cannot delue him to the roote: His FatherWas call'd Sicillius, who did ioyne his HonorAgainst the Romanes, with Cassibulan,But had his Titles by Tenantius, whomHe seru'd with Glory, and admir'd Successe:So gain'd the Sur-addition, Leonatus.And had (besides this Gentleman in question)Two other Sonnes, who in the Warres o'th' timeDy'de with their Swords in hand. For which, their FatherThen old, and fond of yssue, tooke such sorrowThat he quit Being; and his gentle LadyBigge of this Gentleman (our Theame) deceastAs he was borne. The King he takes the BabeTo his protection, cals him Posthumus Leonatus,Breedes him, and makes him of his Bed-chamber,Puts to him all the Learnings that his timeCould make him the receiuer of, which he tookeAs we do ayre, fast as 'twas ministred,And in's Spring, became a Haruest: Liu'd in Court(Which rare it is to do) most prais'd, most lou'd,A sample to the yongest: to th' more Mature,A glasse that feated them: and to the grauer,A Childe that guided Dotards. To his Mistris,(For whom he now is banish'd) her owne priceProclaimes how she esteem'd him; and his VertueBy her electio[n] may be truly read, what kind of man he is   2 I honor him, euen out of your report.But pray you tell me, is she sole childe to'th' King?  1 His onely childe:He had two Sonnes (if this be worth your hearing,Marke it) the eldest of them, at three yeares oldI'th' swathing cloathes, the other from their NurseryWere stolne, and to this houre, no ghesse in knowledgeWhich way they went2 How long is this ago?1 Some twenty yeares2 That a Kings Children should be so conuey'd,So slackely guarded, and the search so slowThat could not trace them1 Howsoere, 'tis strange,Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at:Yet is it true Sir2 I do well beleeue you1 We must forbeare.Heere comes the Gentleman, The Queene, and Princesse.Exeunt.Scena Secunda

Enter the Queene, Posthumus, and Imogen.

  Qu. No, be assur'd you shall not finde me (Daughter)After the slander of most Step-Mothers,Euill-ey'd vnto you. You're my Prisoner, butYour Gaoler shall deliuer you the keyesThat locke vp your restraint. For you Posthumus,So soone as I can win th' offended King,I will be knowne your Aduocate: marry yetThe fire of Rage is in him, and 'twere goodYou lean'd vnto his Sentence, with what patienceYour wisedome may informe you   Post. 'Please your Highnesse,I will from hence to day   Qu. You know the perill:Ile fetch a turne about the Garden, pittyingThe pangs of barr'd Affections, though the KingHath charg'd you should not speake together.Exit  Imo. O dissembling Curtesie! How fine this TyrantCan tickle where she wounds? My deerest Husband,I something feare my Fathers wrath, but nothing(Alwayes reseru'd my holy duty) whatHis rage can do on me. You must be gone,And I shall heere abide the hourely shotOf angry eyes: not comforted to liue,But that there is this Iewell in the world,That I may see againe   Post. My Queene, my Mistris:O Lady, weepe no more, least I giue causeTo be suspected of more tendernesseThen doth become a man. I will remaineThe loyall'st husband, that did ere plight troth.My residence in Rome, at one Filorio's,Who, to my Father was a Friend, to meKnowne but by Letter; thither write (my Queene)And with mine eyes, Ile drinke the words you send,Though Inke be made of Gall.Enter Queene.  Qu. Be briefe, I pray you:If the King come, I shall incurre, I know notHow much of his displeasure: yet Ile moue himTo walke this way: I neuer do him wrong,But he do's buy my Iniuries, to be Friends:Payes deere for my offences   Post. Should we be taking leaueAs long a terme as yet we haue to liue,The loathnesse to depart, would grow: Adieu   Imo. Nay, stay a little:Were you but riding forth to ayre your selfe,Such parting were too petty. Looke heere (Loue)This Diamond was my Mothers; take it (Heart)But keepe it till you woo another Wife,When Imogen is dead   Post. How, how? Another?You gentle Gods, giue me but this I haue,And seare vp my embracements from a next,With bonds of death. Remaine, remaine thou heere,While sense can keepe it on: And sweetest, fairest,As I (my poore selfe) did exchange for youTo your so infinite losse; so in our triflesI still winne of you. For my sake weare this,It is a Manacle of Loue, Ile place itVpon this fayrest Prisoner   Imo. O the Gods!When shall we see againe?Enter Cymbeline, and Lords.Post. Alacke, the King   Cym. Thou basest thing, auoyd hence, from my sight:If after this command thou fraught the CourtWith thy vnworthinesse, thou dyest. Away,Thou'rt poyson to my blood   Post. The Gods protect you,And blesse the good Remainders of the Court:I am gone   Imo. There cannot be a pinch in deathMore sharpe then this is   Cym. O disloyall thing,That should'st repayre my youth, thou heap'stA yeares age on mee   Imo. I beseech you Sir,Harme not your selfe with your vexation,I am senselesse of your Wrath; a Touch more rareSubdues all pangs, all feares   Cym. Past Grace? Obedience?  Imo. Past hope, and in dispaire, that way past Grace   Cym. That might'st haue hadThe sole Sonne of my Queene   Imo. O blessed, that I might not: I chose an Eagle,And did auoyd a Puttocke   Cym. Thou took'st a Begger, would'st haue made myThrone, a Seate for basenesseImo. No, I rather added a lustre to it   Cym. O thou vilde one!  Imo. Sir,It is your fault that I haue lou'd Posthumus:You bred him as my Play-fellow, and he isA man, worth any woman: Ouer-buyes meeAlmost the summe he payes   Cym. What? art thou mad?  Imo. Almost Sir: Heauen restore me: would I wereA Neat-heards Daughter, and my LeonatusOur Neighbour-Shepheards Sonne.Enter Queene.  Cym. Thou foolish thing;They were againe together: you haue doneNot after our command. Away with her,And pen her vp   Qu. Beseech your patience: PeaceDeere Lady daughter, peace. Sweet Soueraigne,Leaue vs to our selues, and make your self some comfortOut of your best aduice   Cym. Nay, let her languishA drop of blood a day, and being agedDye of this Folly.Enter.Enter Pisanio.  Qu. Fye, you must giue way:Heere is your Seruant. How now Sir? What newes?  Pisa. My Lord your Sonne, drew on my Master   Qu. Hah?No harme I trust is done?  Pisa. There might haue beene,But that my Master rather plaid, then fought,And had no helpe of Anger: they were partedBy Gentlemen, at handQu. I am very glad on't   Imo. Your Son's my Fathers friend, he takes his partTo draw vpon an Exile. O braue Sir,I would they were in Affricke both together,My selfe by with a Needle, that I might prickeThe goer backe. Why came you from your Master?  Pisa. On his command: he would not suffer meeTo bring him to the Hauen: left these NotesOf what commands I should be subiect too,When't pleas'd you to employ me   Qu. This hath beeneYour faithfull Seruant: I dare lay mine HonourHe will remaine soPisa. I humbly thanke your HighnesseQu. Pray walke a-while   Imo. About some halfe houre hence,Pray you speake with me;You shall (at least) go see my Lord aboord.For this time leaue me.Exeunt.Scena Tertia

Enter Clotten, and two Lords.

1. Sir, I would aduise you to shift a Shirt; the Violence of Action hath made you reek as a Sacrifice: where ayre comes out, ayre comes in: There's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent   Clot. If my Shirt were bloody, then to shift it.Haue I hurt him?  2 No faith: not so much as his patience   1 Hurt him? His bodie's a passable Carkasse if he beenot hurt. It is a through-fare for Steele if it be not hurt   2 His Steele was in debt, it went o'th' Backe-side theTowneClot. The Villaine would not stand me2 No, but he fled forward still, toward your face   1 Stand you? you haue Land enough of your owne:But he added to your hauing, gaue you some ground   2 As many Inches, as you haue Oceans (Puppies.)  Clot. I would they had not come betweene vs   2 So would I, till you had measur'd how long a Fooleyou were vpon the ground   Clot. And that shee should loue this Fellow, and refusemee2 If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damn'd1 Sir, as I told you alwayes: her Beauty & her Braine go not together. Shee's a good signe, but I haue seene small reflection of her wit   2 She shines not vpon Fooles, least the reflectionShould hurt her   Clot. Come, Ile to my Chamber: would there hadbeene some hurt done   2 I wish not so, vnlesse it had bin the fall of an Asse,which is no great hurt   Clot. You'l go with vs?  1 Ile attend your LordshipClot. Nay come, let's go together2 Well my Lord.Exeunt.Scena Quarta

Enter Imogen, and Pisanio.

  Imo. I would thou grew'st vnto the shores o'th' Hauen,And questioned'st euery Saile: if he should write,And I not haue it, 'twere a Paper lostAs offer'd mercy is: What was the lastThat he spake to thee?  Pisa. It was his Queene, his Queene   Imo. Then wau'd his Handkerchiefe?  Pisa. And kist it, Madam   Imo. Senselesse Linnen, happier therein then I:And that was all?  Pisa. No Madam: for so longAs he could make me with his eye, or eare,Distinguish him from others, he did keepeThe Decke, with Gloue, or Hat, or Handkerchife,Still wauing, as the fits and stirres of's mindCould best expresse how slow his Soule sayl'd on,How swift his Ship   Imo. Thou should'st haue made himAs little as a Crow, or lesse, ere leftTo after-eye himPisa. Madam, so I did   Imo. I would haue broke mine eye-strings;Crack'd them, but to looke vpon him, till the diminutionOf space, had pointed him sharpe as my Needle:Nay, followed him, till he had melted fromThe smalnesse of a Gnat, to ayre: and thenHaue turn'd mine eye, and wept. But good Pisanio,When shall we heare from him   Pisa. Be assur'd Madam,With his next vantage   Imo. I did not take my leaue of him, but hadMost pretty things to say: Ere I could tell himHow I would thinke on him at certaine houres,Such thoughts, and such: Or I could make him sweare,The Shees of Italy should not betrayMine Interest, and his Honour: or haue charg'd himAt the sixt houre of Morne, at Noone, at Midnight,T' encounter me with Orisons, for thenI am in Heauen for him: Or ere I could,Giue him that parting kisse, which I had setBetwixt two charming words, comes in my Father,And like the Tyrannous breathing of the North,Shakes all our buddes from growing.Enter a Lady.  La. The Queene (Madam)Desires your Highnesse Company   Imo. Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch'd,I will attend the QueenePisa. Madam, I shall.Exeunt.Scena Quinta

Enter Philario, Iachimo: a Frenchman, a Dutchman, and a Spaniard.

Iach. Beleeue it Sir, I haue seene him in Britaine; hee was then of a Cressent note, expected to proue so woorthy, as since he hath beene allowed the name of. But I could then haue look'd on him, without the help of Admiration, though the Catalogue of his endowments had bin tabled by his side, and I to peruse him by Items

Phil. You speake of him when he was lesse furnish'd, then now hee is, with that which makes him both without, and within

French. I haue seene him in France: wee had very many there, could behold the Sunne, with as firme eyes as hee

Iach. This matter of marrying his Kings Daughter, wherein he must be weighed rather by her valew, then his owne, words him (I doubt not) a great deale from the matter

French. And then his banishment

Iach. I, and the approbation of those that weepe this lamentable diuorce vnder her colours, are wonderfully to extend him, be it but to fortifie her iudgement, which else an easie battery might lay flat, for taking a Begger without lesse quality. But how comes it, he is to soiourne with you? How creepes acquaintance? Phil. His Father and I were Souldiers together, to whom I haue bin often bound for no lesse then my life. Enter Posthumus.

Heere comes the Britaine. Let him be so entertained among'st you, as suites with Gentlemen of your knowing, to a Stranger of his quality. I beseech you all be better knowne to this Gentleman, whom I commend to you, as a Noble Friend of mine. How Worthy he is, I will leaue to appeare hereafter, rather then story him in his owne hearing

French. Sir, we haue knowne togither in Orleance

Post. Since when, I haue bin debtor to you for courtesies, which I will be euer to pay, and yet pay still

French. Sir, you o're-rate my poore kindnesse, I was glad I did attone my Countryman and you: it had beene pitty you should haue beene put together, with so mortall a purpose, as then each bore, vpon importance of so slight and triuiall a nature

Post. By your pardon Sir, I was then a young Traueller, rather shun'd to go euen with what I heard, then in my euery action to be guided by others experiences: but vpon my mended iudgement (if I offend to say it is mended) my Quarrell was not altogether slight

French. Faith yes, to be put to the arbiterment of Swords, and by such two, that would by all likelyhood haue confounded one the other, or haue falne both

Iach. Can we with manners, aske what was the difference? French. Safely, I thinke, 'twas a contention in publicke, which may (without contradiction) suffer the report. It was much like an argument that fell out last night, where each of vs fell in praise of our Country-Mistresses. This Gentleman, at that time vouching (and vpon warrant of bloody affirmation) his to be more Faire, Vertuous, Wise, Chaste, Constant, Qualified, and lesse attemptible then any, the rarest of our Ladies in Fraunce

Iach. That Lady is not now liuing; or this Gentlemans opinion by this, worne out

Post. She holds her Vertue still, and I my mind

Iach. You must not so farre preferre her, 'fore ours of Italy

Posth. Being so farre prouok'd as I was in France: I would abate her nothing, though I professe my selfe her Adorer, not her Friend

Iach. As faire, and as good: a kind of hand in hand comparison, had beene something too faire, and too good for any Lady in Britanie; if she went before others. I haue seene as that Diamond of yours out-lusters many I haue beheld, I could not beleeue she excelled many: but I haue not seene the most pretious Diamond that is, nor you the Lady

Post. I prais'd her, as I rated her: so do I my Stone

Iach. What do you esteeme it at?

Post. More then the world enioyes

Iach. Either your vnparagon'd Mistris is dead, or she's out-priz'd by a trifle

Post. You are mistaken: the one may be solde or giuen, or if there were wealth enough for the purchases, or merite for the guift. The other is not a thing for sale, and onely the guift of the Gods

Iach. Which the Gods haue giuen you?

Post. Which by their Graces I will keepe

Iach. You may weare her in title yours: but you know strange Fowle light vpon neighbouring Ponds. Your Ring may be stolne too, so your brace of vnprizeable Estimations, the one is but fraile, and the other Casuall; A cunning Thiefe, or a (that way) accomplish'd Courtier, would hazzard the winning both of first and last

Post. Your Italy, containes none so accomplish'd a Courtier to conuince the Honour of my Mistris: if in the holding or losse of that, you terme her fraile, I do nothing doubt you haue store of Theeues, notwithstanding I feare not my Ring

Phil. Let vs leaue heere, Gentlemen?

Post. Sir, with all my heart. This worthy Signior I thanke him, makes no stranger of me, we are familiar at first

Iach. With fiue times so much conuersation, I should get ground of your faire Mistris; make her go backe, euen to the yeilding, had I admittance, and opportunitie to friend

Post. No, no

Iach. I dare thereupon pawne the moytie of my Estate, to your Ring, which in my opinion o're-values it something: but I make my wager rather against your Confidence, then her Reputation. And to barre your offence heerein to, I durst attempt it against any Lady in the world

Post. You are a great deale abus'd in too bold a perswasion, and I doubt not you sustaine what y'are worthy of, by your Attempt

Iach. What's that?

Posth. A Repulse though your Attempt (as you call it) deserue more; a punishment too

Phi. Gentlemen enough of this, it came in too sodainely, let it dye as it was borne, and I pray you be better acquainted

Phi. Gentlemen enough of this, it came in too sodainely, let it dye as it was borne, and I pray you be better acquainted

Iach. Would I had put my Estate, and my Neighbors on th' approbation of what I haue spoke

Post. What Lady would you chuse to assaile? Iach. Yours, whom in constancie you thinke stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousands Duckets to your Ring, that commend me to the Court where your Lady is, with no more aduantage then the opportunitie of a second conference, and I will bring from thence, that Honor of hers, which you imagine so reseru'd

Posthmus. I will wage against your Gold, Gold to it: My Ring I holde deere as my finger, 'tis part of it

Iach. You are a Friend, and there in the wiser: if you buy Ladies flesh at a Million a Dram, you cannot preserue it from tainting; but I see you haue some Religion in you, that you feare

Posthu. This is but a custome in your tongue: you beare a grauer purpose I hope

Iach. I am the Master of my speeches, and would vnder-go what's spoken, I sweare

Posthu. Will you? I shall but lend my Diamond till your returne: let there be Couenants drawne between's. My Mistris exceedes in goodnesse, the hugenesse of your vnworthy thinking. I dare you to this match: heere's my Ring

Phil. I will haue it no lay

Iach. By the Gods it is one: if I bring you no sufficient testimony that I haue enioy'd the deerest bodily part of your Mistris: my ten thousand Duckets are yours, so is your Diamond too: if I come off, and leaue her in such honour as you haue trust in; Shee your Iewell, this your Iewell, and my Gold are yours: prouided, I haue your commendation, for my more free entertainment

Post. I embrace these Conditions, let vs haue Articles betwixt vs: onely thus farre you shall answere, if you make your voyage vpon her, and giue me directly to vnderstand, you haue preuayl'd, I am no further your Enemy, shee is not worth our debate. If shee remaine vnseduc'd, you not making it appeare otherwise: for your ill opinion, and th' assault you haue made to her chastity, you shall answer me with your Sword

Iach. Your hand, a Couenant: wee will haue these things set downe by lawfull Counsell, and straight away for Britaine, least the Bargaine should catch colde, and sterue: I will fetch my Gold, and haue our two Wagers recorded

Post. Agreed

French. Will this hold, thinke you

Phil. Signior Iachimo will not from it.

Pray let vs follow 'em.

Exeunt.

Scena Sexta

Enter Queene, Ladies, and Cornelius.

  Qu. Whiles yet the dewe's on ground,Gather those Flowers,Make haste. Who ha's the note of them?  Lady. I MadamQueen. Dispatch.Exit Ladies.Now Master Doctor, haue you brought those drugges?  Cor. Pleaseth your Highnes, I: here they are, Madam:But I beseech your Grace, without offence(My Conscience bids me aske) wherefore you haueCommanded of me these most poysonous Compounds,Which are the moouers of a languishing death:But though slow, deadly   Qu. I wonder, Doctor,Thou ask'st me such a Question: Haue I not beneThy Pupill long? Hast thou not learn'd me howTo make Perfumes? Distill? Preserue? Yea so,That our great King himselfe doth woo me oftFor my Confections? Hauing thus farre proceeded,(Vnlesse thou think'st me diuellish) is't not meeteThat I did amplifie my iudgement inOther Conclusions? I will try the forcesOf these thy Compounds, on such Creatures asWe count not worth the hanging (but none humane)To try the vigour of them, and applyAllayments to their Act, and by them gatherTheir seuerall vertues, and effects   Cor. Your HighnesseShall from this practise, but make hard your heart:Besides, the seeing these effects will beBoth noysome, and infectious   Qu. O content thee.Enter Pisanio.Heere comes a flattering Rascall, vpon himWill I first worke: Hee's for his Master,And enemy to my Sonne. How now Pisanio?Doctor, your seruice for this time is ended,Take your owne way   Cor. I do suspect you, Madam,But you shall do no harmeQu. Hearke thee, a word   Cor. I do not like her. She doth thinke she ha'sStrange ling'ring poysons: I do know her spirit,And will not trust one of her malice, withA drugge of such damn'd Nature. Those she ha's,Will stupifie and dull the Sense a-while,Which first (perchance) shee'l proue on Cats and Dogs,Then afterward vp higher: but there isNo danger in what shew of death it makes,More then the locking vp the Spirits a time,To be more fresh, reuiuing. She is fool'dWith a most false effect: and I, the truer,So to be false with her   Qu. No further seruice, Doctor,Vntill I send for thee   Cor. I humbly take my leaue.Enter.  Qu. Weepes she still (saist thou?)Dost thou thinke in timeShe will not quench, and let instructions enterWhere Folly now possesses? Do thou worke:When thou shalt bring me word she loues my Sonne,Ile tell thee on the instant, thou art thenAs great as is thy Master: Greater, forHis Fortunes all lye speechlesse, and his nameIs at last gaspe. Returne he cannot, norContinue where he is: To shift his being,Is to exchange one misery with another,And euery day that comes, comes to decayA dayes worke in him. What shalt thou expectTo be depender on a thing that leanes?Who cannot be new built, nor ha's no FriendsSo much, as but to prop him? Thou tak'st vpThou know'st not what: But take it for thy labour,It is a thing I made, which hath the KingFiue times redeem'd from death. I do not knowWhat is more Cordiall. Nay, I prythee take it,It is an earnest of a farther goodThat I meane to thee. Tell thy Mistris howThe case stands with her: doo't, as from thy selfe;Thinke what a chance thou changest on, but thinkeThou hast thy Mistris still, to boote, my Sonne,Who shall take notice of thee. Ile moue the KingTo any shape of thy Preferment, suchAs thou'lt desire: and then my selfe, I cheefely,That set thee on to this desert, am boundTo loade thy merit richly. Call my women.Exit Pisa.Thinke on my words. A slye, and constant knaue,Not to be shak'd: the Agent for his Master,And the Remembrancer of her, to holdThe hand-fast to her Lord. I haue giuen him that,Which if he take, shall quite vnpeople herOf Leidgers for her Sweete: and which, she afterExcept she bend her humor, shall be assur'dTo taste of too.Enter Pisanio, and Ladies.So, so: Well done, well done:The Violets, Cowslippes, and the Prime-RosesBeare to my Closset: Fare thee well, Pisanio.Thinke on my words.Exit Qu. and Ladies  Pisa. And shall do:But when to my good Lord, I proue vntrue,Ile choake my selfe: there's all Ile do for you.Enter.Scena Septima

Enter Imogen alone.

  Imo. A Father cruell, and a Stepdame false,A Foolish Suitor to a Wedded-Lady,That hath her Husband banish'd: O, that Husband,My supreame Crowne of griefe, and those repeatedVexations of it. Had I bin Theefe-stolne,As my two Brothers, happy: but most miserableIs the desires that's glorious. Blessed be thoseHow meane so ere, that haue their honest wills,Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fye.Enter Pisanio, and Iachimo.  Pisa. Madam, a Noble Gentleman of Rome,Comes from my Lord with Letters   Iach. Change you, Madam:The Worthy Leonatus is in safety,And greetes your Highnesse deerely   Imo. Thanks good Sir,You're kindly welcome   Iach. All of her, that is out of doore, most rich:If she be furnish'd with a mind so rareShe is alone th' Arabian-Bird; and IHaue lost the wager. Boldnesse be my Friend:Arme me Audacitie from head to foote,Or like the Parthian I shall flying fight,Rather directly fly   Imogen reads. He is one of the Noblest note, to whosekindnesses I ammost infinitelytied. Reflect vpon him accordingly, as you value yourtrust. Leonatus.So farre I reade aloud.But euen the very middle of my heartIs warm'd by'th' rest, and take it thankefully.You are as welcome (worthy Sir) as IHaue words to bid you, and shall finde it soIn all that I can do   Iach. Thankes fairest Lady:What are men mad? Hath Nature giuen them eyesTo see this vaulted Arch, and the rich CropOf Sea and Land, which can distinguish 'twixtThe firie Orbes aboue, and the twinn'd StonesVpon the number'd Beach, and can we notPartition make with Spectacles so pretiousTwixt faire, and foule?  Imo. What makes your admiration?  Iach. It cannot be i'th' eye: for Apes, and Monkeys'Twixt two such She's, would chatter this way, andContemne with mowes the other. Nor i'th' iudgment:For Idiots in this case of fauour, wouldBe wisely definit: Nor i'th' Appetite.Sluttery to such neate Excellence, oppos'dShould make desire vomit emptinesse,Not so allur'd to feed   Imo. What is the matter trow?  Iach. The Cloyed will:That satiate yet vnsatisfi'd desire, that TubBoth fill'd and running: Rauening first the Lambe,Longs after for the Garbage   Imo. What, deere Sir,Thus rap's you? Are you well?  Iach. Thanks Madam well: Beseech you Sir,Desire my Man's abode, where I did leaue him:He's strange and peeuish   Pisa. I was going Sir,To giue him welcome.Enter.  Imo. Continues well my Lord?His health beseech you?  Iach. Well, MadamImo. 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'dThe Britaine Reueller   Imo. When he was heereHe did incline to sadnesse, and oft timesNot knowing why   Iach. I neuer saw him sad.There is a Frenchman his Companion, oneAn eminent Monsieur, that it seemes much louesA Gallian-Girle at home. He furnacesThe thicke sighes from him; whiles the iolly Britaine,(Your Lord I meane) laughes from's free lungs: cries oh,Can my sides hold, to think that man who knowesBy History, Report, or his owne proofeWhat woman is, yea what she cannot chooseBut must be: will's free houres languish:For assured bondage?  Imo. Will my Lord say so?  Iach. I Madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter,It is a Recreation to be byAnd heare him mocke the Frenchman:But Heauen's know some men are much too blameImo. Not he I hope   Iach. Not he:But yet Heauen's bounty towards him, mightBe vs'd more thankfully. In himselfe 'tis much;In you, which I account his beyond all Talents.Whil'st I am bound to wonder, I am boundTo pitty too   Imo. What do you pitty Sir?  Iach. Two Creatures heartyly   Imo. Am I one Sir?You looke on me: what wrack discerne you in meDeserues your pitty?  Iach. Lamentable: whatTo hide me from the radiant Sun, and solaceI'th' Dungeon by a Snuffe   Imo. I pray you Sir,Deliuer with more opennesse your answeresTo my demands. Why do you pitty me?  Iach. That others do,(I was about to say) enioy your- butIt is an office of the Gods to venge it,Not mine to speake on't   Imo. You do seeme to knowSomething of me, or what concernes me; pray youSince doubting things go ill, often hurts moreThen to be sure they do. For CertaintiesEither are past remedies; or timely knowing,The remedy then borne. Discouer to meWhat both you spur and stop   Iach. Had I this cheekeTo bathe my lips vpon: this hand, whose touch,(Whose euery touch) would force the Feelers souleTo'th' oath of loyalty. This obiect, whichTakes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,Fiering it onely heere, should I (damn'd then)Slauuer with lippes as common as the stayresThat mount the Capitoll: Ioyne gripes, with handsMade hard with hourely falshood (falshood asWith labour:) then by peeping in an eyeBase and illustrious as the smoakie lightThat's fed with stinking Tallow: it were fitThat all the plagues of Hell should at one timeEncounter such reuolt   Imo. My Lord, I feareHas forgot Brittaine   Iach. And himselfe, not IInclin'd to this intelligence, pronounceThe Beggery of his change: but 'tis your GracesThat from my mutest Conscience, to my tongue,Charmes this report outImo. Let me heare no more   Iach. O deerest Soule: your Cause doth strike my hartWith pitty, that doth make me sicke. A LadySo faire, and fasten'd to an EmperieWould make the great'st King double, to be partner'dWith Tomboyes hyr'd, with that selfe exhibitionWhich your owne Coffers yeeld: with diseas'd venturesThat play with all Infirmities for Gold,Which rottennesse can lend Nature. Such boyl'd stuffeAs well might poyson Poyson. Be reueng'd,Or she that bore you, was no Queene, and youRecoyle from your great Stocke   Imo. Reueng'd:How should I be reueng'd? If this be true,(As I haue such a Heart, that both mine earesMust not in haste abuse) if it be true,How should I be reueng'd?  Iach. Should he make meLiue like Diana's Priest, betwixt cold sheets,Whiles he is vaulting variable RampesIn your despight, vpon your purse: reuenge it.I dedicate my selfe to your sweet pleasure,More Noble then that runnagate to your bed,And will continue fast to your Affection,Still close, as sure   Imo. What hoa, Pisanio?  Iach. Let me my seruice tender on your lippes   Imo. Away, I do condemne mine eares, that haueSo long attended thee. If thou wert HonourableThou would'st haue told this tale for Vertue, notFor such an end thou seek'st, as base, as strange:Thou wrong'st a Gentleman, who is as farreFrom thy report, as thou from Honor: andSolicites heere a Lady, that disdainesThee, and the Diuell alike. What hoa, Pisanio?The King my Father shall be made acquaintedOf thy Assault: if he shall thinke it fit,A sawcy Stranger in his Court, to MartAs in a Romish Stew, and to expoundHis beastly minde to vs; he hath a CourtHe little cares for, and a Daughter, whoHe not respects at all. What hoa, Pisanio?  Iach. O happy Leonatus I may say,The credit that thy Lady hath of theeDeserues thy trust, and thy most perfect goodnesseHer assur'd credit. Blessed liue you long,A Lady to the worthiest Sir, that euerCountry call'd his; and you his Mistris, onelyFor the most worthiest fit. Giue me your pardon,I haue spoke this to know if your AffianceWere deeply rooted, and shall make your Lord,That which he is, new o're: And he is oneThe truest manner'd: such a holy Witch,That he enchants Societies into him:Halfe all men hearts are hisImo. You make amends   Iach. He sits 'mongst men, like a defended God;He hath a kinde of Honor sets him off,More then a mortall seeming. Be not angrie(Most mighty Princesse) that I haue aduentur'dTo try your taking of a false report, which hathHonour'd with confirmation your great Iudgement,In the election of a Sir, so rare,Which you know, cannot erre. The loue I beare him,Made me to fan you thus, but the Gods made you(Vnlike all others) chaffelesse. Pray your pardon   Imo. All's well Sir:Take my powre i'th' Court for yours   Iach. My humble thankes: I had almost forgotT' intreat your Grace, but in a small request,And yet of moment too, for it concernes:Your Lord, my selfe, and other Noble FriendsAre partners in the businesse   Imo. Pray what is't?  Iach. Some dozen Romanes of vs, and your Lord(The best Feather of our wing) haue mingled summesTo buy a Present for the Emperor:Which I (the Factor for the rest) haue doneIn France: 'tis Plate of rare deuice, and IewelsOf rich, and exquisite forme, their valewes great,And I am something curious, being strangeTo haue them in safe stowage: May it please youTo take them in protection   Imo. Willingly:And pawne mine Honor for their safety, sinceMy Lord hath interest in them, I will keepe themIn my Bed-chamber   Iach. They are in a TrunkeAttended by my men: I will make boldTo send them to you, onely for this night:I must aboord to morrowImo. O no, no   Iach. Yes I beseech: or I shall short my wordBy length'ning my returne. From Gallia,I crost the Seas on purpose, and on promiseTo see your Grace   Imo. I thanke you for your paines:But not away to morrow   Iach. O I must Madam.Therefore I shall beseech you, if you pleaseTo greet your Lord with writing, doo't to night,I haue out-stood my time, which is materiallTo'th' tender of our Present   Imo. I will write:Send your Trunke to me, it shall safe be kept,And truely yeelded you: you're very welcome.Exeunt.