And enemy to my son.-How now, Pisanio?—
Doctor, your service for this time is ended;

Take your own way.

Cor. I do suspect you, madam;

But you shall do no harm.

Queen. Hark thee, a word.



Cor. [Aside.] I do not like her. She doth think, she


Strange lingering 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 stupify 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.

Cor. I humbly take my leave.


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 decay
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,

[The Queen drops a box; PISANIO takes it up.
So much as but to prop him?--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 pr'ythee, 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 Pisa.]—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

Re-enter PISANIO, and Ladies.

To taste of too.-So, so ;-well done, well done:

The violets, cowslips, and the primroses,

Bear to my closet:-Fare thee well, Pisanio;
Think on my words.

Pis. And shall do:

[Exeunt Queen and Ladies.

But when to my good lord I prove untrue,
I'll choke myself: there's all I'll do for you.


SCENE VII.-Another Room in the same.


Imo. 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? Fye!


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. Thanks, good sir:

You are kindly welcome.

[Presents a letter.

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!
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


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 beach? 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: 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,

(That satiate yet unsatisfied desire,

That tub both fill'd and running,) ravening first
The lamb, longs after for the garbage.

Imo. What, dear sir,

Thus raps you? Are you


Iach. Thanks, madam; well :-'Beseech, you, sir, de



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

Is strange and peevish.

Pis. I was going, sir,

To give him welcome.


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, 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

« VorigeDoorgaan »