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 As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable 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! 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.- 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 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 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 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 Imo. What do you pity, sir? Iach. Two creatures, heartily. Ima. 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 I was about to say, enjoy your- -But Imo. You do seem to know Something of me, or what concerns me; 'Pray you, Had I this cheek lach. 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 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. |