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.

Imo.

You are kindly welcome.

[Presents a Letter. Thanks, good sir :

Iach. All of her, that is out of door, most rich!

If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare,

[Aside.

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.

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 beech? 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: Nori'the judg

ment;

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.

(That satiate yet unsatisfied desire,

The cloyed will,

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, [TO PISANIO.

desire

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

Is strange and peevish. 6

Pis.

To give him welcome.

I was going, sir,

[Exit PISANIO.

Imo. Continues well my lord? His health, be

seech 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,

7 Making mouths.

• Shy and foolish.

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, 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?

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?

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

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 (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

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

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, 1

Would make the great'st king double! to be part

ner'd

With tomboys, hir'd with that self-exhibition

Which your own coffers yield! with diseas'd ven

tures,

That play with all infirmities for gold

Which rottenness can lend nature! such boil'd

stuff,

As well might poison poison! 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, 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.

What ho, Pisanio!