The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works

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The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works Page 106

by William Shakespeare


  That our great king himself doth woo me oft

  For my confections? Having thus far proceeded

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  (Unless thou think’st me devilish) is’t not meet

  That I did amplify my judgement 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)

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  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

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  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,

  And enemy to my son. How now, Pisanio?

  Doctor, your service for this time is ended,

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  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

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  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,

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  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.

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  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

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  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,

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  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?

  [The Queen drops the box. Pisanio takes it up.]

  Thou tak’st up

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  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 farther good

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  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

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  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.

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  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 liegers for her sweet: and which she after,

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  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:

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  But when to my good lord I prove untrue,

  I’ll choke myself: there’s all I’ll do for you. Exit.

  1.7 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-stolen,

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  As my two brothers, happy: but most miserable

  Is the desire that’s glorious. Bless’d 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,

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  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!

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  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;

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  Rather, directly fly.

  IMOGEN [Reads.] He is one of the noblest note, to whose

  kindnesses I am infinitely tied. Reflect upon him accord-

  ingly, as you value your trust –

  LEONATUS.

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  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

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  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

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  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

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  Contemn with mows the other. Nor i’the judgement:

  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,

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  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,

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  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’s strange and peevish.

  PISANIO I was going, sir,

  To give him welcome. Exit.

  55

  IMOGEN

  Continues well my lord? His health, beseech you?

  IACHIMO Well, madam.

  IMOGEN Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is.

  IACHIMO Exceeding pleasant: none a stranger there,

  So merry and so gamesome: he is call’d

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  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

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  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,

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  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

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  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.

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  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 wrack discern you in me

  Deserves your pity?

  IACHIMO Lamentable! What

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  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

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  (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

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  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

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  (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,

  Firing it only here; should I (damn’d then)

  Slaver with lips as common as the stairs

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  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 illustrous as the smoky light

  That’s fed with stinking tallow: it were fit

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  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

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  That from my mutest conscience to my tongue

  Charms this report out.

  IMOGEN Let me hear no more.

 

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