"Twixt two such shes, would chatter this way, and Contemn with mows the other. Imog. What is the matter, trow? Iach. The cloyed will, That satiate, yet unsatisfy'd, desire, The lamb, longs after for the garbage. 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. Pisanio. I was going, sir, To give him welcome. [Exit. Imog. Continues well my lord? His health, 'beseech you? Iach. Well, madam. Imog. 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. Imog. 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, 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 What woman is, yea, what she cannot chuse Imog. 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. Imog. Not he, I hope. Iach. 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. Imog. What do you pity, sir? Iach. Two creatures, heartily. You look on me,-What wreck discern you in me Iach. Lamentable! What! To hide me from the radiant sun, and solace Imog. I pray you, sir, Deliver with more openness your answers I was about to say, enjoy your -But It is an office of the gods to venge it, Not mine to speak on't. Imog. 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,)— Discover to me What both you spur and stop. Iach. Had I this cheek, To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch, Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye, That all the plagues of hell should at one time Inclin'd to this intelligence, pronounce The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces Imog. Let me hear no more. Tach. A lady So fair, and fasten'd to an empery, Would make the greatest king double! to be partner'd With tomboys, hir'd with that self-exhibition, Be reveng'd; Or she, that bore you, was no queen, and you Imog. Reveng'd! How should I be reveng'd? If this be true,- Iach. Should he make me Live like Diana's priest, betwixt cold sheets; I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure; D Imog. What ho, Pisanio! Iach. Let me my service tender on your lips. Thee and the Devil alike:-What ho, Pisanio !- He hath a court He little cares for, and a daughter whom -What ho, Pisanio! Iach. O happy Leonatus! I may say ; Deserves thy trust; and thy most perfect goodness Country call'd his! and you, his mistress, only Jach. 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, Made me to fan you thus; but the gods made you, 2 Unlike all others, chaffless. 'Pray, your pardon. Imog. All's well, sir: Take my pow'r i'the court for yours. Iach. My humble thanks.-I had almost forgot, Your lord; myself, and other noble friends, Imog. 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 To have them in safe stowage; May it please you Imog. Willingly: And pawn mine honour for their safety since Iach. They are in a trunk, Attended by my men: I will make bold Imog. 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. Imog. I thank you for your pains; But not away to-morrow? Iach. O, I must, madam: Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please |