Cymbeline | Page 8

CORNELIUS.
[Aside.]
I do suspect you, madam;
But you shall do no harm.
QUEEN.
[To PISANIO]
Hark thee, a word.
CORNELIUS.

[Aside.]
I do not like her. She doth think she has
Strange ling'ring poisons. I
do know her spirit,
And will not trust one of her malice with
A drug
of such damn'd nature. Those she has
Will stupefy and dull the sense
a while,
Which first, perchance, she'll prove on cats and dogs,
Then
afterward up higher; but there is
No danger in what show of death it
makes,
More than the locking-up the spirits a time,
To be more
fresh, reviving. She is fool'd
With a most false effect; and I the truer,

So to be false with her.
QUEEN.
No further service, doctor,
Until I send for thee.
CORNELIUS.
I humbly take my leave.
[Exit.]
QUEEN.
Weeps she still, say'st thou? Dost thou think in time
She
will not quench and let instructions enter
Where folly now possesses?
Do thou work.
When thou shalt bring me word she loves my son,

I'll tell thee on the instant thou art then
As great as is thy
master,--greater, for
His fortunes all lie speechless and his name
Is
at last gasp. Return he cannot, nor
Continue where he is. To shift his
being
Is to exchange one misery with another,
And every day that
comes comes to
A day's work in him. What shalt thou expect,
To be
depender on a thing that leans,
Who cannot be new built, nor has no
friends
So much as but to prop him?
[The QUEEN drops the box: PISANIO takes it up.]
Thou tak'st up
Thou know'st not what; but take it for thy labour.
It
is a thing I made, which hath the King
Five times redeem'd from
death. I do not know
What is more cordial. Nay, I prithee, take it;
It
is an earnest of a further good
That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress
how
The case stands with her; do't as from thyself.
Think what a

chance thou changest on; but think
Thou hast thy mistress still; to
boot, my son,
Who shall take notice of thee. I'll move the King
To
any shape of thy preferment such
As thou'lt desire; and then myself, I
chiefly,
That set thee on to this desert, am bound
To load thy merit
richly. Call my women.
Think on my words.
[Exit PISANIO.]
A sly and constant knave,
Not to be shak'd; the agent for his master

And the remembrancer of her to hold
The hand-fast to her lord. I have
given him that
Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her
Of liegers
for her sweet, and which she after,
Except she bend her humour, shall
be assur'd
To taste of too.
[Re-enter PISANIO and LADIES.]
So, so; well done, well done.
The violets, cowslips, and the primroses,

Bear to my closet. Fare thee well, Pisanio;
Think on my words.
[Exeunt QUEEN and LADIES.]
PISANIO.
And shall do;
But when to my good lord I prove untrue,

I'll choke myself. There's all I'll do for you.
[Exit.]
SCENE VI.
The same. Another room in the palace.
[Enter IMOGEN.]
IMOGEN.
A father cruel, and a step-dame false;
A foolish suitor
to a wedded lady,
That hath her husband banish'd;--O, that husband!

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? Fie!
[Enter PISANIO and IACHIMO.]
PISANIO.
Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome
Comes from my
lord with letters.
IACHIMO.
Change you, madam?
The worthy Leonatus is in
safety
And greets your Highness dearly.
[Presents a letter]
IMOGEN.
Thanks, good sir;
You're kindly welcome.
IACHIMO.
[Aside.]
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;
Rather, directly fly.
IMOGEN.
[Reads]
"--He is one of the noblest note, to whose
kindnesses I am most
infinitely tied. Reflect upon him
accordingly, as you value your
trust-- LEONATUS"
So far I read aloud--
But even the very middle of my heart
Is
warm'd by the rest--and take 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.

IACHIMO.
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?
IMOGEN.
What makes your admiration?
IACHIMO.
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 judgement,
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.
IMOGEN.
What is the matter, trow?
IACHIMO.
The cloyed will,--
That satiate yet unsatisfi'd desire,
that tub
Both fill'd and running,--ravening first the