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!
My supreme crown of grief^{1 note}

Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stolen,
As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable
Is the desire that's glorious^{2 note}
: Blessed be those,
How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills,
Which seasons comfort^{3 note}

Enter Pisanio and Iachimo.

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

Iach.
Change you, madam?
The worthy Leonatus is in safety,
And greets your highness dearly. [Presents a letter.

Imo.
Thanks, good sir:
You are kindly welcome.

Iach.
All of her, that is out of door, most rich! [Aside.
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—

Leonatus^{4 note}

So far I read aloud:
But even the very middle of my heart
Is warm'd by the rest, and takes it thankfully.—
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
To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop
Of sea and land^{5 note}

Partition make with spectacles so precious
'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;
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^{7 note}

Imo.
What is the matter, trow?

Iach.
The cloyed will^{8 note}

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^{9 note}

Pis.
I was going, sir,
To give him welcome. [Exit Pisanio.

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^{1 note}

.

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^{2 note}

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?

Imo.
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.

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^{4 note}
In you,—which I account^{5 note} his, beyond all talents,—
Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound
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 &lblank; 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,
(Since doubting things go ill, often hurts more
Than to be sure they do: For certainties
Either are past remedies; or, timely knowing^{6 note}

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^{9 note}

Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,
Fixing it only here^{1 note}: should I (damn'd then,)
Slaver with lips as common as the stairs
That mount the Capitol^{2 note}
; join gripes with hands
Made hard with hourly falsehood (falsehood, as
With labour;) then lie peeping in an eye^{3 note}

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 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
So fair, and fasten'd to an empery^{5 note}
,
Would make the great'st king double! to be partner'd
With tomboys^{6 note}

Which your own coffers yield! with diseas'd ventures,
That play with all infirmities for gold
Which rottenness can lend nature! such boil'd stuff^{8 note}

Imo.
Reveng'd!
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
Live like Diana's priest, betwixt cold sheets^{9 note}

Imo.
What ho, Pisanio!

Iach.
Let me my service tender on your lips^{1 note}

.

Imo.
Away!—I do condemn mine ears, that have
So long attended thee.—If thou wert honourable,
Thou would'st 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.—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^{2 note}

His beastly mind to us; he hath a court
He little cares for, and a daughter whom^{3 note}
He not respects at all.—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^{4 note}



:
Half all men's hearts are his.

Imo.
You make amends.

Iach.
He sits 'mongst men, like a descended god^{5 note}

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^{6 note}
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, 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
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?

Iach.
Some dozen Romans of us, and your lord,
(The best feather of our wing^{7 note}

) 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^{8 note},

To have them in safe stowage; May it please you
To take them in protection?

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

Iach.
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.

Imo.
O, no, no.

Iach.
Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my word,
By length'ning my return. From Gallia
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:
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.
Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept,
And truly yielded you: You are very welcome. [Exeunt.

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