Cor. Your highness

Shall from this practice but make hard your heart;

Besides, the feeing these effects will be

Both noysome and infectious.
Queen. O, content thee.

Enter Pifanio.

Here comes a flatt'ring rascal, upon him
Will I first work; he's for his mafter's fake
An enemy to my fon. How now, Pifanio?
Doctor, your service for this time is ended,
Take your own way.

Cor. I do fufpect you, madam.

But you shall do no harm.

Queen. Hark thee a word.

Cor. 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
A drug of fuch damn'd nature. Those she has
Will stupifie 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 fhew 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 falfe effect; and I the truer,
So to be falfe with her.

Queen. No further service, doctor,

Until I fend for thee.

Cor. I humbly take my leave.

[afiae.

[afide.

[To Pifanio.

[Exit.

Queen. Weeps the ftill, fay'ft thou? doft thou think in time She will not quench, and let instructions enter

Where folly now poffeffes? do thou work;

When thou shalt bring me word she loves my son,

I'll tell thee on the inftant, thou art then
As great as is thy mafter; greater; for
His fortunes all lye speechless, and his name
Is at laft gasp. Return he cannot, nor
Continue where he is: to shift his being,
Is to exchange one mifery 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, and has no friends,
So much as but to prop him? Thou tak❜ft up

[Pifanio looking on the viol.
Thou know'ft not what; but take it for thy labour,
It is a thing I make, 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 farther good

That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how
The cafe ftands with her; do't, as from thy felf:
Think what a chance thou chanceft on, but think
Thou hast thy mistress still; to boot, my son,
Who fhall take notice of thee. I'll move the king
To any shape of thy preferment, fuch

As thou'lt defire; and then my felf, I chiefly
That set thee on to this desert, am bound
To load thy merit richly. Call my women
Think on my words.---- A fly and conftant 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've giv'n him that,
Which if he take, fhall quite unpeople her
Of leidgers for her fweet; and which she after
(Except fhe bend her humour) fhall be affur'd
To taste of too.

[Exit Pila.

Enter

Enter Pifanio, and Ladies.

So, fo; well done, well done;
The violets, cowflips, and the prim-roses,
Bear to my closet; fare thee well, Pifanio,
Think on my words.

Pif. And fhall do:

[Ex. Queen and ladies.

But when to my good lord I prove untrue,
I'll choak my self; there's all I'll do for you.

Imo.

A

SCENE VIII.

Enter Imogen alone.

Father cruel, and a stepdame false,
A foolish fuitor to a wedded lady,
That hath her husband banish'd ----O, that husband!
My fupream crown of grief, and those repeated
Vexations of it----had I been thief-stoln,
As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable
Is the defire that's glorious. Blefs'd be those,
How mean foe'er, that have their honeft wills,
Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? fie!
Enter Pifanio, 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.

Imo. Thanks, good Sir,

You're kindly welcome.

Iach. All of her, that is out of door, moft rich!

If fhe be furnish'd with a mind fo rare,

[Exit.

[afide.

She

She is alone th' Arabian bird; and I
Have loft the wager. Boldness be
Boldness be my friend!
Arm me audacity from head to foot.
Or like the Parthian I fhall flying fight,
Rather directly flye.

Imogen reads.

He is one of the nobleft note, to whose kindnesses I am most infinitely tyed. Reflect upon him accordingly, as you value your truft.

So far I read aloud.

But even the very middle of my heart

Is warmed by the reft, and takes it thankfully-

You are as welcome, worthy Sir, as I

Have words to bid you, and shall find it fo

In all that I can do.

Iach. Thanks, fairest lady.

What, are men mad? hath nature given them eyes
To fee this vaulted arch, and the rich crop
Of fea 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 fo precious

'Twixt fair and foul?

Imo. What makes your admiration?

Leonatus.

lach. It cannot be i'th' eye; for apes, and monkeys,
'Twixt two fuch fhe's, would chatter this way, and
Contemn with mowes the other. Nor i'th' judgment;
For Ideots in this case of favour, would
Be wifely definite. Nor in the appetite,
Slutt'ry to fuch neat excellence oppos'd,
Should make defire vomit ev'n emptiness,
Not fo allur'd to feed.

Imo. What is the matter trow?

lach. The cloyed will,

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?

lach. Thanks, madam, well ---- Beseech you, Sir, [To Pifanio.

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

He's strange and peevish.

Pif. I was going, Sir,

To give him welcome.

Imo. Continues well my lord?

His health, beseech you?

lach. Well, madam.

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

Iach. Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there.

So merry, and fo gamefome; he is call'd

The Britain reveller.

Imo. When he was here

He did incline to sadness, and oft times

Not knowing why.

Iach. I never faw him fad.

There is a Frenchman his companion, one

An eminent monfieur, that it seems much loves

A Gallian girl at home. He furnaces

The thick fides from him; whiles the jolly Britain,

(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 she cannot chuse
But must be, will his free hours languish out
For affur'd bondage?

Imo.