That from my muteft Confcience, to my Tongue,
Charms this report out.

Imo. Let me hear no more.

Iach. O dearest Soul! your Caufe doth ftrike my Heart With Pity, that doth make me fick. A Lady

So fair, and faftned to an Empery,

Would make the great'ft King double, to be partner'd
With Tomboys hir'd, with that felf Exhibition
Which your own Coffers yield! with difeas'd ventures
That play with all infirmities for Gold,

Which rottennefs can lend Nature! Such boyl'd ftuff
As well might poifon Poifon ! Be reveng'd,
Or fhe that bore you was no Queen, and you
Recoil from your great Stock.

Imo. Reveng'd!

How should I be reveng'd if this be true,'
As I have fuch a Heart, that both mine Ears
Muft not in hafte abufe, if it be true,

How fhall I be reveng'd?

Iach. Shou'd he make me

Live like Diana's Prieft, betwixt cold Sheets ;
Whiles he is Vaulting variable Ramps

In your Delpight, upon your Purfe; revenge it.
I dedicate my felf to your fweet Pleasure,
More Noble than that Runagate to your Bed,
And will continue faft to your Affection,
Still clofe, as fure. .

Imo. What ho, Pifanio!

Iach. Let me iny Service tender on your Lips.
Imo. 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 fuch an end thou feek'ft, as bafe, as ftrange:
Thou wrong'ft a Gentleman, who is as far
From thy Report, as thou from Honour; and
Solicit'ft here a Lady, that difdains

Thee, and the Devil alike. What, ho, Pifanio!
The King my Father fhall be made acquainted
Of thy Affault; if he shall think it fit,
A fawcy Stranger in his Court, to Mart
As in a Romish Stew, and to Expound

H 4

His

His beaftly Mind to us; he hath a Court
He little cares for, and a Daughter, whom
He not refpects at all. What ho, Pifanio!
Iach. O happy Leonatus, I may fay,
The Credit that thy Lady hath of thee
Deferves thy truft, and thy moft perfect goodness.
Her affur'd Credit; bleffed live you long,
A Lady to the worthieft Sir, that ever
Country call'd his; and you his Mistress, only
For the moft worthieft Fit. Give me your pardon.
I have spoke this, to know if your Affiance
Were deeply rooted, and fhall make your Lord,
That which he is, new o'er; and he is one
The trueft manner'd; fuch a holy Witch,
That he inchants Societies into him:
Half all Mens Hearts are his.

Imo. You make amends.

Iach. He fits amongst Men, like a defcended God;
He hath a kind of Honour fets him off,
More than a mortal feeming. Be not angry,
Moft mighty Princefs, that I have adventur'd
To try your taking of a falfe Report, which hath
Honour'd with Confirmation your great Judgment,
In the Election of a Sir, fo 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, chafflefs. Pray, your Pardon..

Imo. All's well, Sir; take my Power ith' Court for

yours.

Iach. My humble Thanks; I had almoft forgot
T'intreat your Grace, but in a small requeft,
And yet of Moment too, for it concerns

Your Lord; my felf, and other Noble Friends
Are Partners in the Bufinefs.

Imo. Pray what is't?

Iach. Some dozen Romans of us, and

your Lord, The beft Feather of our Wing, have mingled Sums To buy a Present for the Emperor :

Which I, the Factor for the reft, have done
In France; 'tis Plate of rare Device, and Jewels
Of rich and exquifite Form, their Values great;

And

And I am something curious, being ftrange,
To have them in fafe ftowage: May it please you

To take them in Protection.

Imo. Willingly;

And pawn mine Honour for their Safety, fince
My Lord hath Intereft in them, I will keep them
In my Bed-chamber.

Iach. They are in a Trunk

Attended by my Men: I will make bold

To fend them to you, only for this Night;
I muft aboard to Morrow.

Imo. O no, no.

Iach. Yes, I befeech you: Or I fhall fhort my word By length'ning my return. From Gallia,

I croft the Seas on purpose, and on promise

To fee your Grace.

Imo. I thank you for your Pains; But not away to Morrow.

Iach. O, I muft Madam.

Therefore I fhall befeech you, if you please

Το

greet your Lord with writing, do't to Night, I have out-ftood my time, which is material To th' tender of our Prefent.

Imo. I will write:

Send your Trunk to me, it shall be fafe kept,

And truly yielded you: You're very welcome. [Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I.

SCENE The Palace.

Enter Cloten, and two Lords.

Clot. WAS there ever Man had fuch luck! when I kifs'd

the Jack upon an Up-caft, to be hit away! I had an Hundred pound on't; and then a whorfon Jack-anApes must take me up for Swearing, as if I borrow'd mine Oaths of him, and might not fpend them at my Pleasure. I Lord. What got he by that? you have broke his Pate with your Bowl.

2 Lord.

2 Lord. If his Wit had been like him that broke it; it would have run all out.

Glot. When a Gentleman is difpofed to fwear; it is not for any ftanders by to curtail his Oaths. Ha?

2 Lord. No, my Lord; nor crop the Ears of them. Clot. Whorfon Dog! I give him fatisfaction? Would he had been one of my Rank.

2 Lord. To have fmelt like a Fool.

Clot. I am not vext more at any thing in the Earth,---a Pox on't. I had rather not be fo Noble as I am; they dare not Fight with me, because of the Queen my Mother; every Jack flave hath his Belly full of Fighting, and I must go up and down like a Cock, that no body can match.

2 Lord. You are a Cock and a Capon too, and you crow Cock, with your Comb on. [Afide.

Clot. Say'ft thou?

2 Lord. It is not fit your Lordship fhould undertake every Companion, that you give offence to.

Clot. No, I know that: But it is fit I fhould commit Offence to my Inferiors.

2 Lord. Ay, it is fit for your Lordship only.

Clot. Why fo I fay.

1 Lord. Did you hear of a Stranger that's come to Court to Night?

Clot. A Stranger, and I not know on't?

a Lord. He's a ftrange Fellow himself, and knows it not. 1 Lord. There's an Italian come, and 'tis thought one of Leonatus's Friends.

Clot. Leonatus! A banish'd Rafcal; and he's another, wherefoever he be. Who told you of this Stranger? I Lord. One of your Lordship's Pages.

Clot. Is it fit I went to look upon him? Is there no derogation in't?

2 Lord. You cannot derogate, my Lord. Clot. Not eafily, I think.

2 Lord. You are a Fool granted, therefore

being Foolish, do not derogate.

your Iffues

Clot. Come, I'll go fee this Italian: What I have loft to

day at Bowls, I'll win to Night of him.
2 Lord. I'll attend your Lordship.
That fuch a crafty Devil as is his Mother,

Come; go.

[Exit Clot.

Should

Should yield the World this Afs: A Woman, that
Bears all down with her Brain, and this her Son,
Cannot take Two from Twenty for his Heart,
And leave Eighteen. Alas poor Princefs,
Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'ft,
Betwixt a Father by thy Step-dame govern'd,
A Mother hourly coining Plots; a Wooer,
More hateful than the foul Expulfion is
Of thy dear Husband, than that horrid A&

Of the divorce-he'll make the Heav'ns hold firm
The Walls of thy dear Honour; Keep unfhak'd
That Temple thy fair Mind, that thou may'st stand
T'enjoy thy banish'd Lord: And this great Land. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. A magnificent Bedchamber, in one part of it a large Trunk.

Imogen is difcover'd reading in her Bed, a Lady attending.

Imo. Who's there? My Woman Helen?

Lady. Please you, Madam

Imo. What Hour is it?

Lady. Almoft Midnight, Madam.

Imo. I have read three Hours then, 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'th' Clock,

I prithee call me Sleep hath feiz'd me wholly. [Exit Lady. To your protection I commend me, Gods,

From Fairies, and the Tempters of the Night,

Guard me, befeech ye,

[Sleeps.

[Iachimo rifes from the Trunk

lach. The Crickets fing, and Man's o'er-labour'd Senfe,

Repairs it felf by reft: Our Tarquin thus

Did foftly prefs the Rufhes, e'er he waken'd

The Chastity he wounded. Cytherea,

How bravely thou becom'ft thy Bed! Fresh Lilly,
And whiter than the Sheets! That I might touch,
But kifs, one kifs-Rubies unparagon'd,
How dearly they do't'Tis her Breathing that
Perfumes the Chamber thus: the Flame o'th' Taper

Bows