The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works
Page 106
That our great king himself doth woo me oft
For my confections? Having thus far proceeded
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(Unless thou think’st me devilish) is’t not meet
That I did amplify my judgement in
Other conclusions? I will try the forces
Of these thy compounds on such creatures as
We count not worth the hanging (but none human)
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To try the vigour of them, and apply
Allayments to their act, and by them gather
Their several virtues, and effects.
CORNELIUS Your highness
Shall from this practice but make hard your heart:
Besides, the seeing these effects will be
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Both noisome and infectious.
QUEEN O, content thee.
Enter PISANIO.
[aside] Here comes a flattering rascal, upon him
Will I first work: he’s for his master,
And enemy to my son. How now, Pisanio?
Doctor, your service for this time is ended,
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Take your own way.
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
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A drug of such damn’d nature. Those she has
Will stupefy and dull the sense awhile;
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,
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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.
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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
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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,
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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,
So much as but to prop him?
[The Queen drops the box. Pisanio takes it up.]
Thou tak’st up
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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 farther good
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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
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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.
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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,
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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:
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But when to my good lord I prove untrue,
I’ll choke myself: there’s all I’ll do for you. Exit.
1.7 Enter IMOGEN alone.
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,
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As my two brothers, happy: but most miserable
Is the desire that’s glorious. Bless’d 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,
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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!
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If she be furnish’d with a mind so rare,
She is alone th’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;
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Rather, directly fly.
IMOGEN [Reads.] He is one of the noblest note, to whose
kindnesses I am infinitely tied. Reflect upon him accord-
ingly, as you value your trust –
LEONATUS.
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So far I read aloud.
But even the very middle of my heart
Is warm’d by th’ rest, and takes it thankfully.
You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I
Have words to bid you, and shall find it so
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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
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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’th’ eye: for apes and monkeys,
’Twixt two such shes, would chatter this way, and
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Contemn with mows the other. Nor i’the judgement:
For idiots in this case of favour, would
Be wisely definite: nor i’th’ appetite.
Sluttery, to such neat excellence oppos’d,
Should make desire vomit emptiness,
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Not so allur’d to feed.
IMOGEN What is the matter, trow?
IACHIMO The cloyed will –
That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub
Both fill’d and running-ravening first the lamb,
Longs after for the garbage.
IMOGEN What, dear sir,
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Thus raps you? Are you well?
IACHIMO Thanks madam, well:
[to Pisanio] Beseech you sir,
Desire my man’s abode where I did leave him:
He’s strange and peevish.
PISANIO I was going, sir,
To give him welcome. Exit.
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IMOGEN
Continues well my lord? His health, beseech you?
IACHIMO Well, madam.
IMOGEN Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is.
IACHIMO Exceeding pleasant: none a stranger there,
So merry and so gamesome: he is call’d
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The Briton reveller.
IMOGEN When he was here
He did incline to sadness, and oft-times
Not knowing why.
IACHIMO I never saw him sad.
There is a Frenchman his companion, one
An eminent monsieur, that, it seems, much loves
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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,
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What woman is, yea what she cannot choose
But must be, will’s free hours languish for
Assured bondage?’
IMOGEN Will my lord say so?
IACHIMO
Ay, madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter:
It is a recreation to be by
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And hear him mock the Frenchman: but heavens
know
Some men are much to blame.
IMOGEN Not he, I hope.
IACHIMO
Not he: but yet heaven’s bounty towards him might
Be us’d more thankfully. In himself ’tis much;
In you, which I account his, beyond all talents.
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Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound
To pity too.
IMOGEN What do you pity, sir?
IACHIMO Two creatures heartily.
IMOGEN Am I one, sir?
You look on me: what wrack discern you in me
Deserves your pity?
IACHIMO Lamentable! What
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To hide me from the radiant sun, and solace
I’ th’ dungeon by a snuff?
IMOGEN I pray you, sir,
Deliver with more openness your answers
To my demands. Why do you pity me?
IACHIMO That others do
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(I was about to say) enjoy your – But
It is an office of the gods to venge it,
Not mine to speak on’t.
IMOGEN You do seem to know
Something of me, or what concerns me; pray you,
Since doubting things go ill often hurts more
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Than to be sure they do – for certainties
Either are past remedies; or timely knowing,
The remedy then born – discover to me
What both you spur and stop.
IACHIMO Had I this cheek
To bathe my lips upon: this hand, whose touch
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(Whose every touch) would force the feeler’s soul
To th’oath of loyalty: this object, which
Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,
Firing it only here; should I (damn’d then)
Slaver with lips as common as the stairs
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That mount the Capitol: join gripes, with hands
Made hard with hourly falsehood (falsehood, as
With labour): then by-peeping in an eye
Base and illustrous as the smoky light
That’s fed with stinking tallow: it were fit
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That all the plagues of hell should at one time
Encounter such revolt.
IMOGEN My lord, I fear,
Has forgot Britain.
IACHIMO And himself. Not I,
Inclin’d to this intelligence, pronounce
The beggary of his change: but ’tis your graces
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That from my mutest conscience to my tongue
Charms this report out.
IMOGEN Let me hear no more.