The violets, cowslips, and the primroses, Pis. But when to my good lord I prove untrue, [Exeunt Queen and Ladies. And shall do: I'll choke myself: there's all I'll do for you. [Exit. SCENE VI. The same. Another room in the same. 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! As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable Pis. Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome, Comes from my lord with letters. Iach. [aside] All of her that is out of door most rich! 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; Rather, directly fly. Imo. [reads] "He is one of the noblest note, to whose kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon him accordingly, as you value your trust (18) LEONATUS." So far I read aloud: But even the very middle of my heart Is warm'd by the rest, and takes it thankfully.— Have words to bid you; and shall find it so, In all that I can do. Iach. Imo. What makes your admiration? Imo. What is the matter, trow? The cloyed will,— That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub Both fill'd and running,-ravening first the lamb, Longs after for the garbage. Imo. What, dear sir, Thus raps you? Are you well? Iach. Thanks, madam; well.-Beseech you, sir, desire [To Pisanio. My man's abode where I did leave him : he Is 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. 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, 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 A Gallian girl at home: he furnaces The thick sighs from him; whiles the jolly Briton,- What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose But must be,-will his free hours languish for 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. Imo. 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(21) his, beyond all talents,— To pity too. Imo. What do you pity, sir? Iach. Two creatures heartily. Imo. Am I one, sir? You look on me: what wreck discern you in me Deserves your pity? Iach. Lamentable! What, 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? 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 Something of me, or what concerns me: pray you,— Had I this cheek Iach. Imo. Has forgot Britain. Iach. My lord, I fear, And himself. Not I, Inclin'd to this intelligence, pronounce The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces 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 So fair, and fasten'd to an empery, Would make the great'st king double,—to be partner'd With tomboys, hir'd with that self-exhibition Which your own coffers yield! with diseas'd ventures Which rottenness can lend nature! such boil'd stuff Reveng'd! Imo. Should he make me Iach. In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge it. Still close as sure. Iach. Let me my service tender on your lips. Thee and the devil alike.-What ho, Pisanio!— The credit that thy lady hath of thee Deserves thy trust; and thy most perfect goodness |