Complete Plays, The

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Complete Plays, The Page 356

by William Shakespeare


  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 Leonatus

  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 Leonatus

  You are a great deal abused in too bold a persuasion; and I doubt not you sustain what you’re worthy of by your attempt.

  Iachimo

  What’s that?

  Posthumus Leonatus

  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 the approbation of what I have spoke!

  Posthumus Leonatus

  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 reserved.

  Posthumus Leonatus

  I will wage against your gold, gold to it: my ring

  I hold dear as my finger; ’tis part of it.

  Iachimo

  You are afraid, 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 Leonatus

  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 Leonatus

  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 enjoyed 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 Leonatus

  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 prevailed, I am no further your enemy; she is not worth our debate: if she remain unseduced, you not making it appear otherwise, for your ill opinion and the 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 Leonatus

  Agreed.

  Exeunt Posthumus Leonatus and Iachimo

  Frenchman

  Will this hold, think you?

  Philario

  Signior Iachimo will not from it.

  Pray, let us follow ’em.

  Exeunt

  SCENE V. BRITAIN. A ROOM IN 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?

  First 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 small box

  But I beseech your grace, without offence,—

  My conscience bids me ask — wherefore you have

  Commanded of me those 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 practise 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 lingering 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 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

  T
hou takest 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 prethee, 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 shaked; 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,

  Except she bend her humour, shall be assured

  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. 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-stol’n,

  As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable

  Is the desire that’s glorious: blest 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 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’ the eye, for apes and monkeys

  ’Twixt two such shes would chatter this way and

  Contemn with mows the other; nor i’ the judgment,

  For idiots in this case of favour would

  Be wisely definite; nor i’ the appetite;

  Sluttery to such neat excellence opposed

  Should make desire vomit emptiness,

  Not so allured 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.

  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 disposed 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 yo
u,—

  Since doubling 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 by-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.

  Imogen

  My lord, I fear,

  Has forgot Britain.

  Iachimo

  And himself. Not I,

  Inclined to this intelligence, pronounce

  The beggary of his change; but ’tis your graces

  That from pay 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 hired with that self-exhibition

  Which your own coffers yield! with diseased ventures

  That play with all infirmities for gold

  Which rottenness can lend nature! such boil’d stuff

  As well might poison poison! Be revenged;

  Or she that bore you was no queen, and you

  Recoil from your great stock.

  Imogen

  Revenged!

  How should I be revenged? 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 revenged?

  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,

 

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