SCENE: Britain; Italy    ACT I. SCENE I. Britain. The garden of CYMBELINE'S palace    FIRST GENTLEMAN. You do not meet a man but frowns; our bloods     No more obey the heavens than our courtiers     Still seem as does the King's.   SECOND GENTLEMAN. But what's the matter?   FIRST GENTLEMAN. His daughter, and the heir of's kingdom, whom     He purpos'd to his wife's sole son- a widow     That late he married- hath referr'd herself     Unto a poor but worthy gentleman. She's wedded;     Her husband banish'd; she imprison'd. All     Is outward sorrow, though I think the King     Be touch'd at very heart.   SECOND GENTLEMAN. None but the King?   FIRST GENTLEMAN. He that hath lost her too. So is the Queen,     That most desir'd the match. But not a courtier,     Although they wear their faces to the bent     Of the King's looks, hath a heart that is not     Glad at the thing they scowl at.   SECOND GENTLEMAN. And why so?   FIRST GENTLEMAN. He that hath miss'd the Princess is a thing     Too bad for bad report; and he that hath her-     I mean that married her, alack, good man!     And therefore banish'd- is a creature such     As, to seek through the regions of the earth     For one his like, there would be something failing     In him that should compare. I do not think     So fair an outward and such stuff within     Endows a man but he.   SECOND GENTLEMAN. You speak him far.   FIRST GENTLEMAN. I do extend him, sir, within himself;     Crush him together rather than unfold     His measure duly.   SECOND GENTLEMAN. What's his name and birth?   FIRST GENTLEMAN. I cannot delve him to the root; his father     Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour     Against the Romans with Cassibelan,     But had his titles by Tenantius, whom     He serv'd with glory and admir'd success,     So gain'd the sur-addition Leonatus;     And had, besides this gentleman in question,     Two other sons, who, in the wars o' th' time,     Died with their swords in hand; for which their father,     Then old and fond of issue, took such sorrow     That he quit being; and his gentle lady,     Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceas'd     As he was born. The King he takes the babe     To his protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus,     Breeds him and makes him of his bed-chamber,     Puts to him all the learnings that his time     Could make him the receiver of; which he took,     As we do air, fast as 'twas minist'red,     And in's spring became a harvest, liv'd in court-     Which rare it is to do- most prais'd, most lov'd,     A sample to the youngest; to th' more mature     A glass that feated them; and to the graver     A child that guided dotards. To his mistress,     For whom he now is banish'd- her own price     Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue;     By her election may be truly read     What kind of man he is.   SECOND GENTLEMAN. I honour him     Even out of your report. But pray you tell me,     Is she sole child to th' King?   FIRST GENTLEMAN. His only child.     He had two sons- if this be worth your hearing,     Mark it- the eldest of them at three years old,     I' th' swathing clothes the other, from their nursery     Were stol'n; and to this hour no guess in knowledge     Which way they went.   SECOND GENTLEMAN. How long is this ago?   FIRST GENTLEMAN. Some twenty years.   SECOND GENTLEMAN. That a king's children should be so convey'd,     So slackly guarded, and the search so slow     That could not trace them!   FIRST GENTLEMAN. Howsoe'er 'tis strange,     Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at,     Yet is it true, sir.   SECOND GENTLEMAN. I do well believe you.   FIRST GENTLEMAN. We must forbear; here comes the gentleman,     The Queen, and Princess.                              Exeunt                Enter the QUEEN, POSTHUMUS, and IMOGEN    QUEEN. No, be assur'd you shall not find me, daughter,     After the slander of most stepmothers,     Evil-ey'd unto you. You're my prisoner, but     Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys     That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus,     So soon as I can win th' offended King,     I will be known your advocate. Marry, yet     The fire of rage is in him, and 'twere good     You lean'd unto his sentence with what patience     Your wisdom may inform you.   POSTHUMUS. Please your Highness,     I will from hence to-day.   QUEEN. You know the peril.     I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying     The pangs of barr'd affections, though the King     Hath charg'd you should not speak together.             Exit   IMOGEN. O dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant     Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband,     I something fear my father's wrath, but nothing-     Always reserv'd my holy duty- what     His rage can do on me. You must be gone;     And I shall here abide the hourly shot     Of angry eyes, not comforted to live     But that there is this jewel in the world     That I may see again.   POSTHUMUS. My queen! my mistress!     O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause     To be suspected of more tenderness     Than doth become a man. I will remain     The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth;     My residence in Rome at one Philario's,     Who to my father was a friend, to me     Known but by letter; thither write, my queen,     And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send,     Though ink be made of gall.                       Re-enter QUEEN    QUEEN. Be brief, I pray you.     If the King come, I shall incur I know not     How much of his displeasure. [Aside] Yet I'll move him     To walk this way. I never do him wrong     But he does buy my injuries, to be friends;     Pays dear for my offences.                              Exit   POSTHUMUS. Should we be taking leave     As long a term as yet we have to live,     The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu!   IMOGEN. Nay, stay a little.     Were you but riding forth to air yourself,     Such parting were too petty. Look here, love:     This diamond was my mother's; take it, heart;     But keep it till you woo another wife,     When Imogen is dead.   POSTHUMUS. How, how? Another?     You gentle gods, give me but this I have,     And sear up my embracements from a next     With bonds of death! Remain, remain thou here                                               [Puts on the ring]     While sense can keep it on. And, sweetest, fairest,     As I my poor self did exchange for you,     To your so infinite loss, so in our trifles     I still win of you. For my sake wear this;     It is a manacle of love; I'll place it     Upon this fairest prisoner.     [Puts a bracelet on her arm]   IMOGEN. O the gods!     When shall we see again?                    Enter CYMBELINE and LORDS    POSTHUMUS. Alack, the King!   CYMBELINE. Thou basest thing, avoid; hence from my sight     If after this command thou fraught the court     With thy unworthiness, thou diest. Away!     Thou'rt poison to my blood.   POSTHUMUS. The gods protect you,     And bless the good remainders of the court!     I am gone.                                              Exit   IMOGEN. There cannot be a pinch in death     More sharp than this is.   CYMBELINE. O disloyal thing,     That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap'st     A year's age on me!   IMOGEN. I beseech you, sir,     Harm not yourself with your vexation.     I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare     Subdues all pangs, all fears.   CYMBELINE. Past grace? obedience?   IMOGEN. Past hope, and in despair; that way past grace.   CYMBELINE. That mightst have had the sole son of my queen!   IMOGEN. O blessed that I might not! I chose an eagle,     And did avoid a puttock.   CYMBELINE. Thou took'st a beggar, wouldst have made my throne     A seat for baseness.   IMOGEN. No; I rather added     A lustre to it.   CYMBELINE. O thou vile one!   IMOGEN. Sir,     It is your fault that I have lov'd Posthumus.     You bred him as my playfellow, and he is     A man worth any woman; overbuys me     Almost the sum he pays.   CYMBELINE. What, art thou mad?   IMOGEN. Almost, sir. Heaven restore me! Would I were     A neat-herd's daughter, and my Leonatus     Our neighbour shepherd's son!                            Re-enter QUEEN    CYMBELINE. Thou foolish thing!     [To the QUEEN] They were again together. You have done     Not after our command. Away with her,     And pen her up.   QUEEN. Beseech your patience.- Peace,     Dear lady daughter, peace!- Sweet sovereign,     Leave us to ourselves, and make yourself some comfort     Out of your best advice.   CYMBELINE. Nay, let her languish     A drop of blood a day and, being aged,     Die of this folly.                          Exit, with LORDS                            Enter PISANIO    QUEEN. Fie! you must give way.     Here is your servant. How now, sir! What news?   PISANIO. My lord your son drew on my master.   QUEEN. Ha!     No harm, I trust, is done?   PISANIO. There might have been,     But that my master rather play'd than fought,     And had no help of anger; they were parted     By gentlemen at hand.   QUEEN. I am very glad on't.   IMOGEN. Your son's my father's friend; he takes his part     To draw upon an exile! O brave sir!     I would they were in Afric both together;     Myself by with a needle, that I might prick     The goer-back. Why came you from your master?   PISANIO. On his command. He would not suffer me     To bring him to the haven; left these notes     Of what commands I should be subject to,     When't pleas'd you to employ me.   QUEEN. This hath been     Your faithful servant. I dare lay mine honour     He will remain so.   PISANIO. I humbly thank your Highness.   QUEEN. Pray walk awhile.   IMOGEN. About some half-hour hence,     Pray you speak with me. You shall at least     Go see my lord aboard. For this time leave me.        Exeunt     SCENE II. Britain. A public place  Enter CLOTEN and two LORDS    FIRST LORD. Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the violence     of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice. Where air comes out,     air comes in; there's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent.   CLOTEN. If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Have I hurt him?   SECOND LORD. [Aside] No, faith; not so much as his patience.   FIRST LORD. Hurt him! His body's a passable carcass if he be not     hurt. It is a throughfare for steel if it be not hurt.   SECOND LORD. [Aside] His steel was in debt; it went o' th' back     side the town.   CLOTEN. The villain would not stand me.   SECOND LORD. [Aside] No; but he fled forward still, toward your     face.   FIRST LORD. Stand you? You have land enough of your own; but he     added to your having, gave you some ground.   SECOND LORD. [Aside] As many inches as you have oceans.     Puppies!   CLOTEN. I would they had not come between us.   SECOND LORD. [Aside] So would I, till you had measur'd how long a     fool you were upon the ground.   CLOTEN. And that she should love this fellow, and refuse me!   SECOND LORD. [Aside] If it be a sin to make a true election, she is     damn'd.   FIRST LORD. Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain go     not together; she's a good sign, but I have seen small reflection     of her wit.   SECOND LORD. [Aside] She shines not upon fools, lest the reflection     should hurt her.   CLOTEN. Come, I'll to my chamber. Would there had been some hurt     done!   SECOND LORD. [Aside] I wish not so; unless it had been the fall of     an ass, which is no great hurt.   CLOTEN. You'll go with us?   FIRST LORD. I'll attend your lordship.   CLOTEN. Nay, come, let's go together.   SECOND LORD. Well, my lord.                             Exeunt     SCENE III. Britain. CYMBELINE'S palace  Enter IMOGEN and PISANIO    IMOGEN. I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' th' haven,     And questioned'st every sail; if he should write,     And I not have it, 'twere a paper lost,     As offer'd mercy is. What was the last     That he spake to thee?   PISANIO. It was: his queen, his queen!   IMOGEN. Then wav'd his handkerchief?   PISANIO. And kiss'd it, madam.   IMOGEN. Senseless linen, happier therein than I!     And that was all?   PISANIO. No, madam; for so long     As he could make me with his eye, or care     Distinguish him from others, he did keep     The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief,     Still waving, as the fits and stirs of's mind     Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on,     How swift his ship.   IMOGEN. Thou shouldst have made him     As little as a crow, or less, ere left     To after-eye him.   PISANIO. Madam, so I did.   IMOGEN. I would have broke mine eyestrings, crack'd them but     To look upon him, till the diminution     Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle;     Nay, followed him till he had melted from     The smallness of a gnat to air, and then     Have turn'd mine eye and wept. But, good Pisanio,     When shall we hear from him?   PISANIO. Be assur'd, madam,     With his next vantage.   IMOGEN. I did not take my leave of him, but had     Most pretty things to say. Ere I could tell him     How I would think on him at certain hours     Such thoughts and such; or I could make him swear     The shes of Italy should not betray     Mine interest and his honour; or have charg'd him,     At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight,     T' encounter me with orisons, for then     I am in heaven for him; or ere I could     Give him that parting kiss which I had set     Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father,     And like the tyrannous breathing of the north     Shakes all our buds from growing.                          Enter a LADY    LADY. The Queen, madam,     Desires your Highness' company.   IMOGEN. Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch'd.     I will attend the Queen.   PISANIO. Madam, I shall.                                Exeunt     SCENE IV. Rome. PHILARIO'S house  Enter PHILARIO, IACHIMO, a FRENCHMAN, a DUTCHMAN, and a SPANIARD    IACHIMO. Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Britain. He was then     of a crescent note, expected to prove so worthy as since he hath     been allowed the name of. But I could then have look'd on him     without the help of admiration, though the catalogue of his     endowments had been tabled by his side, and I to peruse him by     items.   PHILARIO. You speak of him when he was less furnish'd than now he     is with that which makes him both without and within.   FRENCHMAN. I have seen him in France; we had very many there could     behold the sun with as firm eyes as he.   IACHIMO. This matter of marrying his king's daughter, wherein he     must be weighed rather by her value than his own, words him, I     doubt not, a great deal from the matter.   FRENCHMAN. And then his banishment.   IACHIMO. Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this lamentable     divorce under her colours are wonderfully to extend him, be it     but to fortify her judgment, which else an easy battery might lay     flat, for taking a beggar, without less quality. But how comes it     he is to sojourn with you? How creeps acquaintance?   PHILARIO. His father and I were soldiers together, to whom I have     been often bound for no less than my life.                         Enter POSTHUMUS      Here comes the Briton. Let him be so entertained amongst you as     suits with gentlemen of your knowing to a stranger of his     quality. I beseech you all be better known to this gentleman,     whom I commend to you as a noble friend of mine. How worthy he is     I will leave to appear hereafter, rather than story him in his     own hearing.   FRENCHMAN. Sir, we have known together in Orleans.   POSTHUMUS. Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies,     which I will be ever to pay and yet pay still.   FRENCHMAN. Sir, you o'errate my poor kindness. I was glad I did     atone my countryman and you; it had been pity you should have     been put together with so mortal a purpose as then each bore,     upon importance of so slight and trivial a nature.   POSTHUMUS. By your pardon, sir. I was then a young traveller;     rather shunn'd to go even with what I heard than in my every     action to be guided by others' experiences; but upon my mended     judgment- if I offend not to say it is mended- my quarrel was not     altogether slight.   FRENCHMAN. Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords, and     by such two that would by all likelihood have confounded one the     other or have fall'n both.   IACHIMO. Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference?   FRENCHMAN. Safely, I think. 'Twas a contention in public, which     may, without contradiction, suffer the report. It was much like     an argument that fell out last night, where each of us fell in     praise of our country mistresses; this gentleman at that time     vouching- and upon warrant of bloody affirmation- his to be more     fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constant, qualified, and less     attemptable, than any the rarest of our ladies in France.   IACHIMO. That lady is not now living, or this gentleman's opinion,     by this, worn out.   POSTHUMUS. She holds her virtue still, and I my mind.   IACHIMO. You must not so far prefer her fore ours of Italy.   POSTHUMUS. Being so far provok'd as I was in France, I would abate     her nothing, though I profess myself her adorer, not her friend.   IACHIMO. As fair and as good- a kind of hand-in-hand comparison-     had been something too fair and too good for any lady in Britain.     If she went before others I have seen as that diamond of yours     outlustres many I have beheld, I could not but believe she     excelled many; but I have not seen the most precious diamond that     is, nor you the lady.   POSTHUMUS. I prais'd her as I rated her. So do I my stone.   IACHIMO. What do you esteem it at?   POSTHUMUS. More than the world enjoys.   IACHIMO. Either your unparagon'd mistress is dead, or she's     outpriz'd by a trifle.   POSTHUMUS. You are mistaken: the one may be sold or given, if there     were wealth enough for the purchase or merit for the gift; the     other is not a thing for sale, and only the gift of the gods.   IACHIMO. Which the gods have given you?   POSTHUMUS. Which by their graces I will keep.   IACHIMO. You may wear her in title yours; but you know strange fowl     light upon neighbouring ponds. Your ring may be stol'n too. So     your brace of unprizable estimations, the one is but frail and     the other casual; a cunning thief, or a that-way-accomplish'd     courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and last.   POSTHUMUS. Your Italy contains none so accomplish'd a courtier to     convince the honour of my mistress, if in the holding or loss of     that you term her frail. I do nothing doubt you have store of     thieves; notwithstanding, I fear not my ring.   PHILARIO. Let us leave here, gentlemen.   POSTHUMUS. Sir, with all my heart. This worthy signior, I thank     him, makes no stranger of me; we are familiar at first.   IACHIMO. With five times so much conversation I should get ground     of your fair mistress; make her go back even to the yielding, had     I admittance and opportunity to friend.   POSTHUMUS. No, no.   IACHIMO. I dare thereupon pawn the moiety of my estate to your     ring, which, in my opinion, o'ervalues it something. But I make     my wager rather against your confidence than her reputation; and,     to bar your offence herein too, I durst attempt it against any     lady in the world.   POSTHUMUS. You are a great deal abus'd in too bold a persuasion,     and I doubt not you sustain what y'are worthy of by your attempt.   IACHIMO. What's that?   POSTHUMUS. A repulse; though your attempt, as you call it, deserve     more- a punishment too.   PHILARIO. Gentlemen, enough of this. It came in too suddenly; let     it die as it was born, and I pray you be better acquainted.   IACHIMO. Would I had put my estate and my neighbour's on th'     approbation of what I have spoke!   POSTHUMUS. What lady would you choose to assail?   IACHIMO. Yours, whom in constancy you think stands so safe. I will     lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring that, commend me to the     court where your lady is, with no more advantage than the     opportunity of a second conference, and I will bring from thence     that honour of hers which you imagine so reserv'd.   POSTHUMUS. I will wage against your gold, gold to it. My ring I     hold dear as my finger; 'tis part of it.   IACHIMO. You are a friend, and therein the wiser. If you buy     ladies' flesh at a million a dram, you cannot preserve it from     tainting. But I see you have some religion in you, that you fear.   POSTHUMUS. This is but a custom in your tongue; you bear a graver     purpose, I hope.   IACHIMO. I am the master of my speeches, and would undergo what's     spoken, I swear.   POSTHUMUS. Will you? I Shall but lend my diamond till your return.     Let there be covenants drawn between's. My mistress exceeds in     goodness the hugeness of your unworthy thinking. I dare you to     this match: here's my ring.   PHILARIO. I will have it no lay.   IACHIMO. By the gods, it is one. If I bring you no sufficient     testimony that I have enjoy'd the dearest bodily part of your     mistress, my ten thousand ducats are yours; so is your diamond     too. If I come off, and leave her in such honour as you have     trust in, she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are yours-     provided I have your commendation for my more free entertainment.   POSTHUMUS. I embrace these conditions; let us have articles betwixt     us. Only, thus far you shall answer: if you make your voyage upon     her, and give me directly to understand you have prevail'd, I am     no further your enemy- she is not worth our debate; if she remain     unseduc'd, you not making it appear otherwise, for your ill     opinion and th' assault you have made to her chastity you shall     answer me with your sword.   IACHIMO. Your hand- a covenant! We will have these things set down     by lawful counsel, and straight away for Britain, lest the     bargain should catch cold and starve. I will fetch my gold and     have our two wagers recorded.   POSTHUMUS. Agreed.                Exeunt POSTHUMUS and IACHIMO   FRENCHMAN. Will this hold, think you?   PHILARIO. Signior Iachimo will not from it. Pray let us follow 'em.                                                           Exeunt     SCENE V. Britain. CYMBELINE'S palace  Enter QUEEN, LADIES, and CORNELIUS    QUEEN. Whiles yet the dew's on ground, gather those flowers;     Make haste; who has the note of them?   LADY. I, madam.   QUEEN. Dispatch.                                 Exeunt LADIES     Now, Master Doctor, have you brought those drugs?   CORNELIUS. Pleaseth your Highness, ay. Here they are, madam.                                               [Presenting a box]     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 woo me oft     For my confections? Having thus far proceeded-     Unless thou think'st me devilish- is't not meet     That I did amplify 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 vigour of them, and apply     Allayments to their act, and by them gather     Their several virtues and effects.   CORNELIUS. Your Highness     Shall from this practice but make hard your heart;     Besides, the seeing these effects will be     Both noisome and infectious.   QUEEN. O, content thee.                          Enter PISANIO      [Aside] Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him     Will I first work. He's for his master,     An enemy to my son.- How now, Pisanio!     Doctor, your service for this time is ended;     Take your own way.   CORNELIUS. [Aside] I do suspect you, madam;     But you shall do no harm.   QUEEN. [To PISANIO] Hark thee, a word.   CORNELIUS. [Aside] 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 stupefy and dull the sense awhile,     Which first perchance she'll prove on cats and dogs,     Then afterward up higher; but there is     No danger in what show 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.   CORNELIUS. I humbly take my leave.                        Exit   QUEEN. Weeps she still, say'st 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 lie 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 comes to     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?                   [The QUEEN drops the box. PISANIO takes it up]     Thou tak'st up     Thou know'st not what; but take it for thy labour.     It is a thing I made, which hath the King     Five times redeem'd from death. I do not know     What is more cordial. Nay, I prithee take it;     It is an earnest of a further good     That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how     The case stands with her; do't as from thyself.     Think what a chance thou changest 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 myself, I chiefly,     That set thee on to this desert, am bound     To load thy merit richly. Call my women.     Think on my words.                              Exit PISANIO     A sly 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 leigers for her sweet; and which she after,     Except she bend her humour, shall be assur'd     To taste of too.                     Re-enter PISANIO and LADIES      So, so. Well done, well done.     The violets, cowslips, and the primroses,     Bear to my closet. Fare thee well, Pisanio;     Think on my words.                   Exeunt QUEEN and LADIES   PISANIO. And shall do.     But when to my good lord I prove untrue     I'll choke myself- there's all I'll do for you.         Exit     SCENE VI. Britain. The palace  Enter IMOGEN alone    IMOGEN. 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! and those repeated     Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stol'n,     As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable     Is the desire that's glorious. Blessed be those,     How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills,     Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fie!                      Enter PISANIO and IACHIMO    PISANIO. Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome     Comes from my lord with letters.   IACHIMO. Change you, madam?     The worthy Leonatus is in safety,     And greets your Highness dearly.         [Presents a letter]   IMOGEN. Thanks, good sir.     You're kindly welcome.   IACHIMO. [Aside] 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 fly.   IMOGEN. [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.'      So far I read aloud;     But even the very middle of my heart     Is warm'd by th' 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.   IACHIMO. 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?   IMOGEN. What makes your admiration?   IACHIMO. It cannot be i' th' eye, for apes and monkeys,     'Twixt two such shes, would chatter this way and     Contemn with mows the other; nor i' th' judgment,     For idiots in this case of favour would     Be wisely definite; nor i' th' appetite;     Sluttery, to such neat excellence oppos'd,     Should make desire vomit emptiness,     Not so allur'd to feed.   IMOGEN. What is the matter, trow?   IACHIMO. The cloyed will-     That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub     Both fill'd and running- ravening first the lamb,     Longs after for the garbage.   IMOGEN. What, dear sir,     Thus raps you? Are you well?   IACHIMO. Thanks, madam; well.- Beseech you, sir,     Desire my man's abode where I did leave him.     He's strange and peevish.   PISANIO. I was going, sir,     To give him welcome.                                    Exit   IMOGEN. Continues well my lord? His health beseech you?   IACHIMO. Well, madam.   IMOGEN. Is he dispos'd to mirth? I hope he is.   IACHIMO. Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there     So merry and so gamesome. He is call'd     The Britain reveller.   IMOGEN. When he was here     He did incline to sadness, and oft-times     Not knowing why.   IACHIMO. 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-     Your lord, I mean- laughs from's free lungs, cries 'O,     Can my sides hold, to think that man- who knows     By history, report, or his own proof,     What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose     But must be- will's free hours languish for     Assured bondage?'   IMOGEN. Will my lord say so?   IACHIMO. 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.   IMOGEN. Not he, I hope.   IACHIMO. Not he; but yet heaven's 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.   IMOGEN. What do you pity, sir?   IACHIMO. Two creatures heartily.   IMOGEN. Am I one, sir?     You look on me: what wreck discern you in me     Deserves your pity?   IACHIMO. Lamentable! What,     To hide me from the radiant sun and solace     I' th' dungeon by a snuff?   IMOGEN. I pray you, sir,     Deliver with more openness your answers     To my demands. Why do you pity me?   IACHIMO. 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.   IMOGEN. 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.   IACHIMO. Had I this cheek     To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch,     Whose every 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 falsehood- falsehood as     With labour; then by-peeping in an eye     Base and illustrious as the smoky light     That's fed with stinking tallow- it were fit     That all the plagues of hell should at one time     Encounter such revolt.   IMOGEN. My lord, I fear,     Has forgot Britain.   IACHIMO. 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.   IMOGEN. Let me hear no more.   IACHIMO. 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     That play with all infirmities for gold     Which rottenness can lend nature! such boil'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.   IMOGEN. 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?   IACHIMO. Should he make me     Live like Diana's priest betwixt cold sheets,     Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps,     In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge it.     I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure,     More noble than that runagate to your bed,     And will continue fast to your affection,     Still close as sure.   IMOGEN. What ho, Pisanio!   IACHIMO. Let me my service tender on your lips.   IMOGEN. 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     Solicits 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, and to expound     His beastly mind to us, he hath a court     He little cares for, and a daughter who     He not respects at all.- What ho, Pisanio!   IACHIMO. 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 into him,     Half all men's hearts are his.   IMOGEN. You make amends.   IACHIMO. He sits 'mongst men like a descended god:     He hath a kind of honour sets him of     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.   IMOGEN. All's well, sir; take my pow'r i' th' court for yours.   IACHIMO. My humble thanks. I had almost forgot     T' 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.   IMOGEN. Pray what is't?   IACHIMO. 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?   IMOGEN. Willingly;     And pawn mine honour for their safety. Since     My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them     In my bedchamber.   IACHIMO. 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.   IMOGEN. O, no, no.   IACHIMO. 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.   IMOGEN. I thank you for your pains.     But not away to-morrow!   IACHIMO. 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 th' tender of our present.   IMOGEN. I will write.     Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept     And truly yielded you. You're very welcome.           Exeunt