Cymbeline | Page 9

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 lie peeping in an eye?Base and illustrious 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,?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.
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 hir'd with that self-exhibition?Which your own coffers yield! with diseas'd ventures?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.
IMOGEN.?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?
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,?Thou wouldst 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 Romish stew, and to expound?His beastly mind to us, he hath a court?He little cares for and a daughter who?He not respects at all. What, ho, Pisanio!
IACHIMO.?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?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 into him;?Half all men's hearts are his.
IMOGEN.?You make amends.
IACHIMO.?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 judgement?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.
IMOGEN.?All's well, sir. Take my power i' the court for yours.
IACHIMO.?My humble thanks. I had almost forgot?To entreat 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.
IMOGEN.?Pray, what is't?
IACHIMO.?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?
IMOGEN.?Willingly;?And pawn mine honour for their safety. Since?My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them?In my bedchamber.
IACHIMO.?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.
IMOGEN.?O, no, no.
IACHIMO.?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.
IMOGEN.?I thank you for your pains:?But not away to-morrow!
IACHIMO.?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.
IMOGEN.?I will write.?Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept,?And truly yielded you. You're very welcome.
[Exeunt.]
ACT II. SCENE I.
Britain. Before CYMBELINE'S palace.
[Enter CLOTEN and