Have turn'd mine eye, and wept.--But, good Pisanio, When shall we hear from him?
Imo. 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 The she's of Italy should not betray [swear Mine interest, and his honour; or have charg'd him, At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight, To 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.
THE BASENESS OF FALSEHOOD TO A WIFE.
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 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
+ Meet me with reciprocal prayer. What you seem anxious to utter, and yet withhold.
With labour); then lie peeping in an eye, Base and unlustrous 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.
SCENE. A Bedchamber; in one part of it a Trunk. IMOGEN reading in her Bed; a Lady attending.
Imo. Mine eyes are weak:—
Fold down the leaf where I have left: To bed: Take not away the taper, leave it burning: And if thou canst awake by four o'the clock, I pr'ythee, call me. Sleep hath seiz'd me wholly. [Exit Lady. To your protection I commend me, gods! From fairies, and the tempters of the night, Guard me, beseech ye!
[Sleeps. IACHIMO, from the Trunk.
Iach. The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd Repairs itself by rest: Our Tarquin thus [sense Did softly press the rushes*, ere he waken'd The chastity he wounded.-Cytherea, How bravely thou becom'st thy bed! fresh lily! And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch! But kiss; one kiss! Rubies unparagon'd, How dearly they do't. 'Tis her breathing that Perfumes the chamber thus: The flame o' the taper Bows toward her; and would underpeep her lids, To see the enclosed lights, now canopied Under these windows: White and azure, lac'd
* It was anciently the custom to strew chambers with rushes.
With blue of heav'n's own tinct*.-But my design? To note the chamber:-I will write all down: Such, and such, pictures;-There the window:Such
The adornment of her bed;-The arrast, figures, Why, such, and such:-And the contents o' the story,
Ah, but some natural notes about her body, Above ten thousand meaner moveables Would testify to enrich mine inventory: O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull And be her sense but as a monument, Thus in a chapel lying!-Come off, come off; [Taking off her Bracelet. As slippery, as the Gordian knot was hard! 'Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly, As strongly as the conscience does within, To the madding of her lord. On her left breast A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops I' the bottom of a cowslip: Here's a voucher, Stronger than ever law could make: this secret Will force him think I have pick'd the lock, and ta'en The treasure of her honour. No more.-To what Why should I write this down, that's riveted, [end? Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's turn'd down, Where Philomel gave up;-I have enough: To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it. Swift, swift, you dragons of the night!--that dawn- May bare the raven's eye: I lodge in fear; [ing Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here.
[Goes into the Trunk. The Scene closes.
* i. e. The white skin laced with blue veins. + Tapestry
Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up [makes Their deer to the stand of the stealer; and 'tis gold Which makes the true man kill'd, and saves the thief; Nay, sometime, hangs both thief and true man: What
Is there no way for men to be, but women Must be half-workers? We are bastards all; And that most venerable man, which I Did call my father, was I know not where When I was stamp'd; some coiner with his tools Made me a counterfeit; Yet my The Dian of that time: so doth
The nonpareil of this. O vengeance, vengeance! Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd, And pray'd me, oft, forbearance: did it with A pudency* so rosy, the sweet view on't
Might well have warm'd old Saturn; that I thought As chaste as unsunn'd snow:
The woman's part in me! For there's no motion That tends to vice in man, but I affirm
It is the woman's part: Be it lying, note it, The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers; Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers; Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain, Nice longings, slanders, mutability,
All faults that may be nam'd, nay that hell knows,
Why, hers, in part, or all; but, rather, all: For ev'n to vice
They are not constant, but are changing still One vice, but of a minute old, for one
Not half so old as that. I'll write against them, Detest them, curse them:-Yet 'tis greater skill In a true hate, to pray they have their will: The very devils cannot plague them better.
IMPATIENCE OF A WIFE TO MEET HER HUSBAND.
O, for a horse with wings!-Hear'st thou, Pisanio? He is at Milford-Haven: Read, and tell me How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs May plod it in a week, why may not I Glide thither in a day?-Then, true Pisanio, (Who long'st, like me, to see thy lord; who long'st,- O, let me bate, but not like me:-yet long'st,- But in a fainter kind;-O, not like me;
For mine's beyond beyond), say, and speak thick* (Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing, To the smothering of the sense), how far it is To this same blessed Milford: And, by the way, Tell me how Wales was made so happy, as To inherit such a haven: But, first of all, How we may steal from hence; and, for the gap That we shall make in time, from our hence-going, And our return, to excuse :--| :--but first, how get hence; Why should excuse be born or e'er begot? We'll talk of that hereafter. Pr'ythee, speak, How many score of miles may we well ride Twixt hour and hour.
* Crowd one word on another, as fast as possible.
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