Queen.
While yet the Dew's on Ground gather those Flowers.
Make haste. Who has the Note of them?

Ladies.
I, Madam.

Queen.
Dispatch. [Exeunt Ladies.
Now Master Doctor, have you brought those Drugs?

Cor.
Pleaseth your Highness, Ay; here they are, Madam;
But I beseech your Grace, without Offence
My Conscience bids me ask, wherefore you have
Commanded of me these most poisonous Compounds,
Which are the movers of a languishing Death;
But though slow, deadly.

Queen.
I wonder, Doctor,
Thou ask'st me such a Question; have I not been
Thy Pupil long? hast thou not learn'd me how
To make Perfumes? Distil? Preserve? Yea so,
That our great King himself doth woe me oft
For my Confections? Having thus far proceeded,
Unless thou think'st me devilish, is it not meet
That I did amplifie my Judgment in
Other Conclusions? I will try the Forces
Of these thy Compounds, on such Creatures as
We count not worth the hanging, but none human,
To try the Vigor of them, and apply
Allayments to their Act, and by them gather
Their several Virtues, and effects.

Cor.
Your Highness
Shall from this Practice, but make hard your Heart;
Besides, the seeing these Effects will be
Both noysome and infectious.

Queen.
O content thee. Enter Pisanio.
Here comes a flattering Rascal, upon him [Aside.
Will I first work; he's for his Master,
And Enemy to my Son. How now, Pisanio?
Doctor, your Service for this time is ended,
Take your own way.

Cor.
I do suspect you, Madam. [Aside.
But you shall do no harm.

Queen.
Hark thee a word. [To Pisanio.

Cor.
I do not like her. She doth think she has
Strange ling'ring Poisons; I do know her Spirit,
And will not trust one of her Malice, with
A drug of such damn'd Nature. Those she has,
Will stupifie and dull the Sense a while,
Which first perchance she'll prove on Cats and Dogs,
Then afterward up higher; but there is
No Danger in what shew of Death it makes,
More than the locking up the Spirits a time,
To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool'd
With a most false effect; and I the truer,
So to be false with her.

Queen.
No further Service, Doctor,
Until I send for thee.

Cor.
I humbly take my leave. [Exit.

Queen.
Weeps she still, sayest thou? Dost thou think in time
She will not quench, and let Instructions enter
Where folly now possesses? do thou work;
When thou shalt bring me word she loves my Son,
I'll tell thee on the instant, thou art then
As great as is thy Master; greater; for
His Fortunes all lye speechless, and his Name
Is at last Gasp. Return he cannot, nor
Continue where he is; to shift his being,
Is to exchange one Misery with another,
And every Day that comes, comes to decay
A Day's Work in him. What shalt thou expect
To be depender on a thing that leans?
Who cannot be new built, nor has no Friends
So much, as but to prop him? thou takest up [Pisanio looking on the Viol.
Thou know'st 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 prethee take it,
It is an earnest of a farther good

That I mean to thee. Tell thy Mistress how
The Case stands with her; do't, as from thy self:
Think what a chance thou chancest on, but think
Thou hast thy Mistress still; to boot, my Son,
Who shall take Notice of thee. I'll move the King
To any shape of thy Preferment, such
As thou'lt desire; and then my self, I chiefly
That set thee on to this Desert, am bound
To load thy Merit richly. Call my Women. [Exit Pisanio.
Think on my words—A slye, and constant Knave,
Not to be shak'd; the Agent for his Master,
And the Remembrancer of her, to hold
The Hand fast to her Lord. I have given him that,
Which if he take, shall quite unpeople her
Of Leidgers for her Sweet; and which she after,
Except she bend her humor, shall be assur'd
To taste of too. Enter Pisanio, and Ladies.
So, so; well done, well done;
The Violets, Cowslips, and the Prim-Roses.
Bear to my Closet; fare thee well, Pisanio,
Think on my words. [Exit Queen and Ladies.

Pisa.
And shall do:
But when to my good Lord, I prove untrue,
I'll choak my self; there's all I'll do for you. [Exit. Enter Imogen alone.

Imo.
A Father cruel, and a Stepdame false,
A foolish Suiter to a wedded Lady,
That hath her Husband banish'd—O, that Husband!
My supream Crown of Grief, and those repeated
Vexations of it—had I been Thief-stoln,
As my two Brothers, happy; but most miserable
Is the Desire that's Glorious. Blessed be those
How mean so e'er, that have their honest Wills,
Which Seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fie! 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.

Imo.
Thanks, good Sir,
You're kindly welcome.

Iach.
All of her, that is out of door, most rich!
If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare,
She is alone th' 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 flye.

Imogen reads.

He is one of the Noblest Note, to whose kindnesses I am most infinitely tyed. Reflect upon him accordingly, as you value your trust.

Leonatus.

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, which can distinguish 'twixt
The fiery Orbs above, and the twinn'd Stones
Upon the number'd Beach? and can we not
Partition make with Spectacles so precious
'Twixt fair, and foul?

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, and
Contemn with mowes the other. Nor i'th' judgment;
For Ideots in this Case of Favour, would
Be wisely definit. Nor in the Appetite,
Sluttery to such neat excellence oppos'd,
Should make Desire vomit emptiness,
Not so allur'd to feed.

Imo.
What is the matter trow?

Iach.
The cloyed Will,
That satiate yet unsatisfy'd 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 my Man's abode, where I did leave him;
He's strange and peevish. [To Pisanio.

Pis.
I was going, Sir,
To give him welcome.

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 Britain 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 sides from him; whiles the jolly Britain,
Your Lord I mean, laughs from's free Lungs, cries oh!—
Can my sides hold, to think, that Man who knows
By History, Report, or his own proof
What Woman is, yea, what she cannot chuse
But must be, will's free Hours languish,
For assur'd 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 Heav'ns know some Men are much to blame.

Imo.
Not he, I hope.

Iach.
Not he. But yet Heav'ns 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
To pity too.

Imo.
What do you pity, Sir?

Iach.
Two Creatures heartily.

Imo.
Am I one, Sir?
You look on me; what wrack discern you in me
Deserves your Pity?

Iach.
Lamentable! what
To hide me from the radiant Sun, and solace
I'th' 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
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.

Iach.
Had I this Cheek
To bath my Lips upon; this Hand, whose touch,
Whose very touch would force the feeler's Soul
To th' Oath of Loyalty; this object, which
Takes Prisoner, the wild Motion of mine Eye,
Fixing it only here; should I, damn'd then,
Slaver with Lips as common as the Stairs
That mount the Capitol? join Gripes, with Hands
Made hard with hourly Falshood as with Labour?
Then glad my self by peeping in an Eye
Base and unlustrious as the smoaky Light
That's fed with stinking Tallow? it were fit
That all the Plagues of Hell should at one time
Encounter such 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 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 fastned 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
That play with all infirmities for Gold,
Which rottenness can lend Nature! Such boyl'd stuff
As well might poison Poison! Be reveng'd,
Or she that bore you was no Queen, and you
Recoil from your great Stock.

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 shall I be reveng'd?

Iach.
Shou'd he make me
Live like Diana's Priest, betwixt cold Sheets;
Whiles he is Vaulting variable Ramps
In your Despight, upon your Purse; revenge it.
I dedicate my self to your sweet Pleasure,
More Noble than that Runagate to your Bed,
And will continue fast to your Affection,
Still close, as sure.

Imo.
What ho, Pisanio!—

Iach.
Let me my Service tender on your Lips.

Imo.
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. What, ho, Pisanio!—
The King my Father shall be made acquainted
Of thy Assault; if he shall think it fit,
A sawcy 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. 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 inchants Societies into him:
Half all Mens Hearts are his.

Imo.
You make amends.

Iach.
He sits amongst 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, chaffless. Pray, your Pardon.

Imo.
All's well, Sir; take my Power i'th' Court for yours.

Iach.
My humble Thanks; I had almost forgot
T'intreat your Grace, but in a small request,
And yet of Moment too, for it concerns
Your Lord; my self, 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, 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.

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 you: Or I shall short my word
By length'ning my return. From Gallia,
I crost 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 out-stood my time, which is material
To th' tender of our Present.

Imo.
I will write:
Send your Trunk to me, it shall be safe kept,
And truly yielded you: You're very welcome. [Exeunt.

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