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

will his free hours languish for

But must be,
Assur'd 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?

Am I one, sir?

Iach. Two creatures, heartily.

Imo.

You look on me: What wreck discern you in me,
Deserves your pity?

Iach.

Lamentable! What!

To hide me from the radiant sun, and solace

I'the dungeon by a snuff?

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

It is an office of the gods to 'venge it,
Not mine to speak on't.

Imo.

But

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.

2

Iach. 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 then join With hands made hard with hourly falsehood, (With falsehood as with labour;) 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

So fair, and fasten'd to an empery,

3

Would make the great'st king double! to be partner'd

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

3

? Sovereign command.

With tomboys, hir'd with that self-exhibition 4
Which your own coffers yield! O be reveng'd;
Or she, 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 such a heart, that both mine ears
Must not in haste abuse,) if it be true,
How should I be reveng'd?

Iach.
Should he make me
Live like Diana's priest? Revenge it, lady!
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.

imo.

What ho, Pisanio! Iach. Let me my service tender on your lips. Imo. Away!-I do condemn mine ears, that

have

So long attended thee.-If thou wert honourable,
Thou would'st have told this tale for virtue, not
For such an end thou seek'st; as base, as strange.
Thou wrong'st a gentleman, who is as far
From thy report, as thou from honour; and
Solicit'st here a lady, that disdains

Thee and the devil alike. What ho, Pisanio!-
The king my father shall be made acquainted
Of thy assault: if he shall think it fit,
A saucy stranger, in his court, to mart
As in a Roman stew, he hath a court
He little cares for, and a daughter whom
He not respects at all. What ho, Pisanio!-
Iach. O happy Leonatus! I may say;
The credit that thy lady hath of thee,
Deserves thy trust; and thy most perfect goodness
Her assur'd credit! - Blessed live you long!

A lady to the worthiest sir, that ever
Country call'd his! and you, his mistress, only

+ Allowance, pension.

For the most worthiest fit! Give me your pardon.
I have spoke this, to know if your affiance
Were deeply rooted; and shall make your lord,
That which he is new o'er: And he is one
The truest manner'd; such a holy witch,
That he enchants societies unto him:
Half all men's hearts are his.

Imo.

You make amends.

Iach. 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,
Most mighty princess, that I have adventur'd
To try your taking of a false report; which hath
Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment
In the election of a sir so 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, chaffless. Pray, your pardon.
Imo. All's well, sir: Take my power i'the court

for yours.

Iach. My humble thanks. I had almost forgot
To intreat your grace but in a small request,
And yet of moment too, for it concerns

Your lord; myself, and other noble friends,
Are partners in the business.

Imo.

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
In France: 'Tis plate of rare device; and jewels,
Of rich and exquisite form: their values great;
And I am something curious, being strange,
To have them in safe stowage; May it please you
To take them in protection?

Imot

Willingly;

My lord hath interest 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 send them to you only for this night;
I must aboard to-morrow.

Imo.

O, no, no.

Iach. Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my word, By lengthening my return. From Gallia

I cross'd the seas on purpose, and on promise
To see your grace.

Imo.

I thank you for your pains ;

But not away to-morrow?

Iach.
O, I must, madam :
Therefore, I shall beseech you, if you please
To greet your lord with writing, do't to night:
I have outstood my time; which is material
To the tender of our present.

Imo.

Send

I will write. your trunk to me! it shall safe be kept, And truly yielded you: You are very welcome.

[Exeunt.

ACT THE SECOND.

SCENE I.

Court before CYMBELINE'S Palace.

Enter CLOTEN, and Two LORDS.

6

Clo. Was there ever man had such luck! when I kissed the jack upon an up-cast, to be hit away! I had a hundred pound on't: And then a jackanapes

6 He is describing his fate at bowls, the jack is the small wl at which the others are aimed.