That fatiate, yet unfatisfy'd defire, (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 well?

Iach. Thanks, Madam, well-Befeech you, Sir,

[To Pifanio.

Defire my man's abode, where I did leave him

Imo. Is he difpos'd to mirth? I hope he is.

Iach. Exceeding pleasant; none a ftranger there So merry and fo gamefome; he is call'd

The Briton reveller.

Imo. When he was here,

He did incline to fadnefs, and oft-times

Not knowing why.

Iach. I never faw him fad.

There is a Frenchman his companion, one

An eminent Monfieur, that, it feems, much loves
A Gallian girl at home. He furnaces

The thick fighs from him; whiles the jolly Briton
(Your Lord, I mean) laughs from's free lungs, cries,
Oh!.

Can my fides hold, to think, that man, who knows
By history, report, or his own proof,

What woman is, yea, what fhe cannot chuse
But must be, will his free hours languish out

For affur'd bondage?

Imo. Will my Lord fay fo?

Iach. Ay, Madam, with his eyes in flood with laugh

It is a recreation to be by,

[ter.

And hear him mock the Frenchman; but heav'n knows,

Some men are much to blame.

Imo. Not he, I hope.

Iach. Not he. But yet heav'n's bounty tow'rds him Be us'd more thankfully. In himself 'tis much; [might In you, whom I count his, beyond all talents;

Whilft

Whilft I am bound to wonder, I am bound

To pity too.

Imo. What do you pity, Sir?

Iach. Two creatures heartily.

Imo. Am I one, Sir?

You look on me; what wreck difcern you in me
Deferves your pity?

Iach. Lamentable! what!

To hide me from the radiant fun, and folace
I' th' dungeon by a snuff?

Imo. I pray you, Sir,

Deliver with more openness your answers
Το my demands. Why do you pity me?
Iach. That others do,

I was about to fay, enjoy your

It is an office of the gods to venge it,

Not mine to speak on't.

Imo. You do feem to know

-but

Something of me, or what concerns me; pray you,
(Since doubting things go ill, often hurts more
Than to be fure they do; for certainties
Or ere past remedies, or timely known,
The remedy's then born), discover to me
What both you spur and stop.

Iach. Had I this cheek

To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whofe touch,
Whofe very touch would force the feeler's foul
To th' oath of loyalty; this object, which
Takes pris'ner the wild motion of mine eye,
Fixing it only here: fhould I (damn'd then).
Slaver with lips, as common as the stairs

That mount the Capitol; join gripes with hands
Made hard with hourly falfehood, as with labour;
Then glad myfelf by peeping in an eye,

Bafe and unluftrous as the fmoaky light.
That's fed with ftinking tallow; it were fit,
That all the plagues of hell fhould at one time
Encounter fuch revolt.

Imo. My Lord, I fear,

Has forgot Britain."

Iach. And himself.

Not I,

Inclin'd to this intelligence, pronounce

The

The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces,
That from my muteft confcience, to my tongue,
Charms this report out.

Imo. Let me hear no more.

lach. Oh dearest foul! your caufe doth ftrike my heart With pity, that doth make me fick. A lady

So fair, and faften'd to an empery,

Would make the great'ft 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 lends nature! fuch boil'd stuff,

As well might poifon poifon! Be reveng'd;

Or fhe that bore you was no Queen, and you
Recoil from your great flock.

Imo. Reveng'd!

How should I be reveng'd if this be true?
(As I have fuch a heart, that both mine ears
Muft not in hafte abufe); if it be true,
How fhall I be reveng'd?

Iach. Should he make me

Live like Diana's priest, betwixt cold fheets?"
Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps

In your defpight, upon your purfe? Revenge it takes
I dedicate myfelf to your fweet pleasure,

More noble than that runagate to your bed;
And will continue faft to your affection,
Still clofe as fure.

Imo. What ho, Pifanio!

Iach. Let me my fervice tender on your lips.
Imo. Away!-1 do condemn mine ears, that have
So long attended thee. If thou wert honourable,
Thou would't have told this tale for virtue, not
For fuch an end thou seek'ft, as bafe as ftrange.
Thou wrong'ft a gentleman, who is as far
From thy report, as thou from honour; and
Solicit❜ft here a lady that disdains

Thee and the devil alike. What ho, Pifanio!
The King my father fhall be made acquainted
Of thy affault; if he fhall think it fit,
A faucy ftranger in his court to mart
As in a Romish ftew, and to expound

Q3.

His

His beaftly mind to us; he hath a court
He little cares for, and a daughter whom
He not refpects at all. What ho, Pifanio!
Iach. O happy Leonatus, I may fay;
The credit that thy lady hath of thee

Deferves thy truft, and thy most perfect goodness
Her affur'd credit! bleffed live you long,

A lady to the worthieft Sir that ever

Country call'd his! and you his mistress, only
For the moft worthieft fit! Give me your pardon.
I have spoke this, to know if your affiance
Were deeply rooted; and fhall make your Lord,
That which he is, new o'er: and he is one
The trueft-manner'd, fuch a holy witch,
That he inchants focieties into him:
Half all mens' hearts are his.

Imo. You make amends.

Iach. He fits 'mong men like a defcended god :
He hath a kind of honour fets him off,
More than a mortal feeming. Be not angry,
Moft mighty Princefs, that I have adventur'd
To try your taking of a falfe report; which hath
Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment
In the election of a Sir, fo 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, chafflefs. Pray, your pardon.

Imo. All's well, Sir; take my pow'ri' th' court for your's.

Iach. My humble thanks. I had almost forgot
T'intreat your Grace but in a small request;
And yet of moment too, for it concerns
Your Lord; myself and other noble friends
Art partners in the business.

Imo. Pray, what is't?

us, and

your

Iach. Some dozen Romans of
(Beft feather of our wing), have mingled fums
To buy a prefent for the Emperor :

Which I, the factor for the reft, have done
In France; 'tis plate of rare device, and jewels.
Of rich and exquifite form, their values great;
And I am fomething curious, being strange,

Lord,

Το

To have them in fafe ftowage: may it please you
To take them in protection?

Imo Willingly;

And pawn mine honour for their fafety. Since
My Lord hath int'reft in them, I will keep them
In my bed-chamber.

Iach. They are in a trunk,

Attended by my men: I will make bold
To fend them to you only for this night;
I must aboard to-morrow.

Imo. O no, no.

Iach. Yes, I befeech you: or I fhall fhort my word, By length'ning my return.

From Gallia

I crofs'd the feas on purpose, and on promise

To fee your Grace.

Imo. I thank you for your pains;

But not away to-morrow?

Iach. O I must, Madam.

Therefore I fhall befeech you, if you pleafe
To greet your Lord with writing, do't to-night.
I have outstood my time, which is material
To th' tender of our present.

Imo. I will write :

Send your trunk to me, it shall safe be kept,
And truly yielded you. You're very welcome.

W

ACT II. SCENE I.

Cymbeline's palace.

Enter Cloten, and two Lords.

[Exeunt.

Clot. AS there ever man had fuch luck! when I kifs'd the jack upon an up-cast, to be hit away! I had an hundred pound on't; and then a whorefon jackan-apes must take me up for fwearing, as if I borrowed mine oaths of him, and might not spend them at my pleasure.

I Lord. What got he by that? you have broke his with your bowl.

pate

2 Lord. If his wit had been like his that broke it, it would have run all out.

Afide.
Clot.