Deliver with more openness your answers I was about to say, enjoy your It is an office of the gods to 'venge it, Not mine to speak on't. Imo. But You do seem to know Something of me, or what concerns me: 'Pray you, (Since doubting things go ill often hurts more Iach. 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 then join With hands made hard with hourly falsehood, (With falsehood as with labour;) it were fit That all the plagues of hell should at one time Encounter such revolt. 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 That, from my mutest conscience, to my tongue, Charms this report out, 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 Would make the great'st king double! to be partner'd 2 What you seem anxious to utter, and yet withhold. 3 Sovereign command. With tomboys, hir'd with that self-exhibition* Imo. Inch. Imo. What ho, Pisanio! Iach. Let me my service tender on your lips. Imo. Away!-I do condemn mine ears, that have So long attended thee.-If thou wert honourable, From thy report, as thou from honour; and Thee and the devil alike. What ho, Pisanio!— 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 +Allowance, pension. For the most worthiest fit! Give me your pardon. That he enchants societies unto him: Imo. You make amends. Iach. 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, Which you know cannot err: The love I bear him Imo. All's well, sir: Take my power i'the court for yours. Iach. My humble thanks. I had almost forgot Your lord; myself, and other noble friends, Imo. Pray, what is't? Iach. 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 Imo. Willingly; And pawn mine honour for their safety: since 5 To fan, is to winnow. My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them Iach. They are in a trunk, Attended by my men: I will make bold Imo. O, no, no. Iach. 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 Imo. I thank you for your pains; But not away to-morrow? Iach. Imo. ACT THE SECOND. [Exeunt. SCENE I. Court before CYMBELINE's Palace. Enter CLOTEN, and Two LoRds. Clo. Was there ever man had such luck! when I kissed the jack upon an up-cast, 6 to be hit away! I had a hundred pound on't: And then a jackanapes 6 He is describing his fate at bowls, the jack is the small bowl at which the others are aimed. must take me up for swearing; as if I borrowed mine oaths of him, and might not spend them at my pleasure. 1 Lord. What got he by that? You have broke his pate with your bowl. 2 Lord. If his wit had been like him that broke it, it would have ran all out. [Aside. Clo. When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths: Ha? 2 Lord. No, my lord; nor [Aside] crop the ears of them. Clo. I give him satisfaction?-'Would he had been one of my rank! 2 Lord. To have smelt like a fool. [Aside. Clo. I am not more vexed at any thing in the earth: I had rather not be so noble as I am; they dare not fight with me, because of the queen my mother: every jack-slave hath his belly full of fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that nobody can match. 1 Lord. It is not fit your lordship should undertake every companion that you give offence to. Clo. No, I know that: but it is fit, I should commit offence to my inferiors. 2 Lord. Ay, it is fit for your lordship only. Clo. Why, so I say. 1 Lord. Did you hear of a stranger that's come to court to-night? Clo. A stranger! and I know not on't! 2 Lord. He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it not. [Aside. 1 Lord. There's an Italian come; and, 'tis thought, one of Leonatus' friends. Clo. Leonatus! a banish'd rascal; and he's another, whatsoever he be. Who told you of this stranger? 1 Lord. One of your Lordship's pages. Clo. Is it fit, I went to look upon him? Is there no derogation in't? |