Puslapio vaizdai
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SCENE VII.

Another Room in the same.

Enter IMOGEN.

Imo. A father cruel, and a step-dame false; A foolish suitor to a wedded lady,

That hath her husband banish'd;-O, that hus

band!

My supreme crown of grief! and those repeated
Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stolen,

As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable
Is the desire that's glorious: Blessed be those,
How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills,
Which seasons comfort.-Who may this be? Fye!

Enter PISANIO and IACHIMO.

Pis. Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome; Comes from my lord with letters.

Iach.

Change you, madam ?

The worthy Leonatus is in safety,

And greets your highness dearly. [Presents a Letter. Imo.

You are kindly welcome.

Thanks, good sir :

Iach. 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;

[Aside.

Rather, directly fly.

Imo. [Reads.]-He is one of the noblest note, to whose kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon him accordingly, as you value your truest

So far I read aloud :

But even the very middle of my heart

LEONATUS,

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.

Iach.

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?

Imo.

What makes your admiration? Iach. 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 oppos'd, Should make desire vomit emptiness, Not so allur'd to feed.

Imo. What is the matter, trow?

Iach.

The cloyed will,

7 Making mouths.

(That satiate yet unsatisfied desire,

That tub both fill'd and running,) ravening first
The lamb, longs after for the garbage.

Imo.

Thus raps you ? Are you well?

What, dear sir,

Iach. Thanks, madam; well :-'Beseech, you, sir,

desire

[TO PISANIO.

My man's abode where I did leave him: he

Is strange and peevish.8

Pis.

To give him welcome.

I was going, sir,

[Exit PISANIO.

Imo. Continues well my lord? His health, 'beseech

you?

Iach. Well, madam.

Imo. 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.

Imo.

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, 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,

0!

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

Shy and foolish.

But must be,-will his free hours languish for

Assured bondage?

Imo.

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.

Imo.

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 count his, beyond all talents,
Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound
To pity too.

Imo.

What do you pity, sir?

Iach. Two creatures, heartily.

Ima.

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Am I one, sir?

in me,

You look on me; What wreck discern you

Deserves your pity?

Iach.

Lamentable! What!

To hide me from the radiant sun, and solace

I'the dungeon by a snuff?

Imo.

I pray you, sir,

Deliver with more openness your answers
To my demands. Why do you pity me?
Iach. 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.

Imo.

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: For certainties
Either are past remedies; or, timely knowing,
The remedy then born,) discover to me
What both you spur and stop.9

Had I this cheek

lach.
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 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.

Imo.

Has forgot Britain.

Iach.

My lord, I fear,

And himself. Not I,

Inclin'd to this intelligence, pronounce

The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces
That, from my mutest conscience, to my tongue,
Charms this report out.

Imo.

Let me hear no more.

Iach. O dearest soul! your cause doth strike my

heart

With pity, that doth make me sick. A lady

9 What you seem anxious to utter, and yet withhold.

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