Act I, Scene vi
| The same. Another room in the palace. |
| [Enter IMOGEN.] |
| 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-stolen, |
| 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, 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. |
| 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 the rest—and take 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' the eye, for apes and monkeys |
| 'Twixt two such shes would chatter this way and |
| Contemn with mows the other; nor i' the judgement, |
| 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. |
| IMOGEN: |
| What is the matter, trow? |
| IACHIMO: |
| The cloyed will,— |
| That satiate yet unsatisfi'd 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. |
| [To PISANIO.] |
| Beseech you, sir, desire |
| My man's abode where I did leave him. |
| He is 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 Briton 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 his 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 used 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' the 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 the 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 lie 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 |
| 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, 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 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 judgement |
| 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 power i' the court for yours. |
| IACHIMO: |
| 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. |
| 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 lengthening 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 the 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.] |
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