Читать книгу Cymbeline - Уильям Шекспир, William Szekspir, the Simon Studio - Страница 1

  1.Gent. You do not meet a man but Frownes.

Our bloods no more obey the Heauens

Then our Courtiers:

Still seeme, as do's the Kings

   2 Gent. But what's the matter?

  1. His daughter, and the heire of's kingdome (whom

He purpos'd to his wiues sole Sonne, a Widdow

That late he married) hath referr'd her selfe

Vnto a poore, but worthy Gentleman. She's wedded,

Her Husband banish'd; she imprison'd, all

Is outward sorrow, though I thinke the King

Be touch'd at very heart

2 None but the King?

1 He that hath lost her too: so is the Queene,

That most desir'd the Match. But not a Courtier,

Although they weare their faces to the bent

Of the Kings lookes, hath a heart that is not

Glad at the thing they scowle at

   2 And why so?

  1 He that hath miss'd the Princesse, is a thing

Too bad, for bad report: and he that hath her,

(I meane, that married her, alacke good man,

And therefore banish'd) is a Creature, such,

As to seeke through the Regions of the Earth

For one, his like; there would be something failing

In him, that should compare. I do not thinke,

So faire an Outward, and such stuffe Within

Endowes a man, but hee

2 You speake him farre

1 I do extend him (Sir) within himselfe,

Crush him together, rather then vnfold His measure duly

   2 What's his name, and Birth?

  1 I cannot delue him to the roote: His Father

Was call'd Sicillius, who did ioyne his Honor

Against the Romanes, with Cassibulan,

But had his Titles by Tenantius, whom

He seru'd with Glory, and admir'd Successe:

So gain'd the Sur-addition, Leonatus.

And had (besides this Gentleman in question)

Two other Sonnes, who in the Warres o'th' time

Dy'de with their Swords in hand. For which, their Father

Then old, and fond of yssue, tooke such sorrow

That he quit Being; and his gentle Lady

Bigge of this Gentleman (our Theame) deceast

As he was borne. The King he takes the Babe

To his protection, cals him Posthumus Leonatus,

Breedes him, and makes him of his Bed-chamber,

Puts to him all the Learnings that his time

Could make him the receiuer of, which he tooke

As we do ayre, fast as 'twas ministred,

And in's Spring, became a Haruest: Liu'd in Court

(Which rare it is to do) most prais'd, most lou'd,

A sample to the yongest: to th' more Mature,

A glasse that feated them: and to the grauer,

A Childe that guided Dotards. To his Mistris,

(For whom he now is banish'd) her owne price

Proclaimes how she esteem'd him; and his Vertue

By her electio[n] may be truly read, what kind of man he is

   2 I honor him, euen out of your report.

But pray you tell me, is she sole childe to'th' King?

  1 His onely childe:

He had two Sonnes (if this be worth your hearing,

Marke it) the eldest of them, at three yeares old

I'th' swathing cloathes, the other from their Nursery

Were stolne, and to this houre, no ghesse in knowledge

Which way they went

2 How long is this ago?

1 Some twenty yeares

2 That a Kings Children should be so conuey'd,

So slackely guarded, and the search so slow

That could not trace them

1 Howsoere, 'tis strange,

Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at:

Yet is it true Sir

2 I do well beleeue you

1 We must forbeare.

Heere comes the Gentleman, The Queene, and Princesse.

Exeunt.

  Qu. No, be assur'd you shall not finde me (Daughter)

After the slander of most Step-Mothers,

Euill-ey'd vnto you. You're my Prisoner, but

Your Gaoler shall deliuer you the keyes

That locke vp your restraint. For you Posthumus,

So soone as I can win th' offended King,

I will be knowne your Aduocate: marry yet

The fire of Rage is in him, and 'twere good

You lean'd vnto his Sentence, with what patience

Your wisedome may informe you

   Post. 'Please your Highnesse,

I will from hence to day

   Qu. You know the perill:

Ile fetch a turne about the Garden, pittying

The pangs of barr'd Affections, though the King

Hath charg'd you should not speake together.

Exit

  Imo. O dissembling Curtesie! How fine this Tyrant

Can tickle where she wounds? My deerest Husband,

I something feare my Fathers wrath, but nothing

(Alwayes reseru'd my holy duty) what

His rage can do on me. You must be gone,

And I shall heere abide the hourely shot

Of angry eyes: not comforted to liue,

But that there is this Iewell in the world,

That I may see againe

   Post. My Queene, my Mistris:

O Lady, weepe no more, least I giue cause

To be suspected of more tendernesse

Then doth become a man. I will remaine

The loyall'st husband, that did ere plight troth.

My residence in Rome, at one Filorio's,

Who, to my Father was a Friend, to me

Knowne but by Letter; thither write (my Queene)

And with mine eyes, Ile drinke the words you send,

Though Inke be made of Gall.

Enter Queene.

  Qu. Be briefe, I pray you:

If the King come, I shall incurre, I know not

How much of his displeasure: yet Ile moue him

To walke this way: I neuer do him wrong,

But he do's buy my Iniuries, to be Friends:

Payes deere for my offences

   Post. Should we be taking leaue

As long a terme as yet we haue to liue,

The loathnesse to depart, would grow: Adieu

   Imo. Nay, stay a little:

Were you but riding forth to ayre your selfe,

Such parting were too petty. Looke heere (Loue)

This Diamond was my Mothers; take it (Heart)

But keepe it till you woo another Wife,

When Imogen is dead

   Post. How, how? Another?

You gentle Gods, giue me but this I haue,

And seare vp my embracements from a next,

With bonds of death. Remaine, remaine thou heere,

While sense can keepe it on: And sweetest, fairest,

As I (my poore selfe) did exchange for you

To your so infinite losse; so in our trifles

I still winne of you. For my sake weare this,

It is a Manacle of Loue, Ile place it

Vpon this fayrest Prisoner

   Imo. O the Gods!

When shall we see againe?

Enter Cymbeline, and Lords.

Post. Alacke, the King

   Cym. Thou basest thing, auoyd hence, from my sight:

If after this command thou fraught the Court

With thy vnworthinesse, thou dyest. Away,

Thou'rt poyson to my blood

   Post. The Gods protect you,

And blesse the good Remainders of the Court:

I am gone

   Imo. There cannot be a pinch in death

More sharpe then this is

   Cym. O disloyall thing,

That should'st repayre my youth, thou heap'st

A yeares age on mee

   Imo. I beseech you Sir,

Harme not your selfe with your vexation,

I am senselesse of your Wrath; a Touch more rare

Subdues all pangs, all feares

   Cym. Past Grace? Obedience?

  Imo. Past hope, and in dispaire, that way past Grace

   Cym. That might'st haue had

The sole Sonne of my Queene

   Imo. O blessed, that I might not: I chose an Eagle,

And did auoyd a Puttocke

   Cym. Thou took'st a Begger, would'st haue made my

Throne, a Seate for basenesse

Imo. No, I rather added a lustre to it

   Cym. O thou vilde one!

  Imo. Sir,

It is your fault that I haue lou'd Posthumus:

You bred him as my Play-fellow, and he is

A man, worth any woman: Ouer-buyes mee

Almost the summe he payes

   Cym. What? art thou mad?

  Imo. Almost Sir: Heauen restore me: would I were

A Neat-heards Daughter, and my Leonatus

Our Neighbour-Shepheards Sonne.

Enter Queene.

  Cym. Thou foolish thing;

They were againe together: you haue done

Not after our command. Away with her,

And pen her vp

   Qu. Beseech your patience: Peace

Deere Lady daughter, peace. Sweet Soueraigne,

Leaue vs to our selues, and make your self some comfort

Out of your best aduice

   Cym. Nay, let her languish

A drop of blood a day, and being aged

Dye of this Folly.

Enter.

Enter Pisanio.

  Qu. Fye, you must giue way:

Heere is your Seruant. How now Sir? What newes?

  Pisa. My Lord your Sonne, drew on my Master

   Qu. Hah?

No harme I trust is done?

  Pisa. There might haue beene,

But that my Master rather plaid, then fought,

And had no helpe of Anger: they were parted

By Gentlemen, at hand

Qu. I am very glad on't

   Imo. Your Son's my Fathers friend, he takes his part

To draw vpon an Exile. O braue Sir,

I would they were in Affricke both together,

My selfe by with a Needle, that I might pricke

The goer backe. Why came you from your Master?

  Pisa. On his command: he would not suffer mee

To bring him to the Hauen: left these Notes

Of what commands I should be subiect too,

When't pleas'd you to employ me

   Qu. This hath beene

Your faithfull Seruant: I dare lay mine Honour

He will remaine so

Pisa. I humbly thanke your Highnesse

Qu. Pray walke a-while

   Imo. About some halfe houre hence,

Pray you speake with me;

You shall (at least) go see my Lord aboord.

For this time leaue me.

Exeunt.

1. Sir, I would aduise you to shift a Shirt; the Violence of Action hath made you reek as a Sacrifice: where ayre comes out, ayre comes in: There's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent

   Clot. If my Shirt were bloody, then to shift it.

Haue I hurt him?

  2 No faith: not so much as his patience

   1 Hurt him? His bodie's a passable Carkasse if he bee

not hurt. It is a through-fare for Steele if it be not hurt

   2 His Steele was in debt, it went o'th' Backe-side the

Towne

Clot. The Villaine would not stand me

2 No, but he fled forward still, toward your face

   1 Stand you? you haue Land enough of your owne:

But he added to your hauing, gaue you some ground

   2 As many Inches, as you haue Oceans (Puppies.)

  Clot. I would they had not come betweene vs

   2 So would I, till you had measur'd how long a Foole

you were vpon the ground

   Clot. And that shee should loue this Fellow, and refuse

mee

2 If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damn'd

1 Sir, as I told you alwayes: her Beauty & her Braine go not together. Shee's a good signe, but I haue seene small reflection of her wit

   2 She shines not vpon Fooles, least the reflection

Should hurt her

   Clot. Come, Ile to my Chamber: would there had

beene some hurt done

   2 I wish not so, vnlesse it had bin the fall of an Asse,

which is no great hurt

   Clot. You'l go with vs?

  1 Ile attend your Lordship

Clot. Nay come, let's go together

2 Well my Lord.

Exeunt.

  Imo. I would thou grew'st vnto the shores o'th' Hauen,

And questioned'st euery Saile: if he should write,

And I not haue it, 'twere a Paper lost

As offer'd mercy is: What was the last

That he spake to thee?

  Pisa. It was his Queene, his Queene

   Imo. Then wau'd his Handkerchiefe?

  Pisa. And kist it, Madam

   Imo. Senselesse Linnen, happier therein then I:

And that was all?

  Pisa. No Madam: for so long

As he could make me with his eye, or eare,

Distinguish him from others, he did keepe

The Decke, with Gloue, or Hat, or Handkerchife,

Still wauing, as the fits and stirres of's mind

Could best expresse how slow his Soule sayl'd on,

How swift his Ship

   Imo. Thou should'st haue made him

As little as a Crow, or lesse, ere left

To after-eye him

Pisa. Madam, so I did

   Imo. I would haue broke mine eye-strings;

Crack'd them, but to looke vpon him, till the diminution

Of space, had pointed him sharpe as my Needle:

Nay, followed him, till he had melted from

The smalnesse of a Gnat, to ayre: and then

Haue turn'd mine eye, and wept. But good Pisanio,

When shall we heare from him

   Pisa. Be assur'd Madam,

With his next vantage

   Imo. I did not take my leaue of him, but had

Most pretty things to say: Ere I could tell him

How I would thinke on him at certaine houres,

Such thoughts, and such: Or I could make him sweare,

The Shees of Italy should not betray

Mine Interest, and his Honour: or haue charg'd him

At the sixt houre of Morne, at Noone, at Midnight,

T' encounter me with Orisons, for then

I am in Heauen for him: Or ere I could,

Giue him that parting kisse, which I had set

Betwixt two charming words, comes in my Father,

And like the Tyrannous breathing of the North,

Shakes all our buddes from growing.

Enter a Lady.

  La. The Queene (Madam)

Desires your Highnesse Company

   Imo. Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch'd,

I will attend the Queene

Pisa. Madam, I shall.

Exeunt.

  Qu. Whiles yet the dewe's on ground,

Gather those Flowers,

Make haste. Who ha's the note of them?

  Lady. I Madam

Queen. Dispatch.

Exit Ladies.

Now Master Doctor, haue you brought those drugges?

  Cor. Pleaseth your Highnes, I: here they are, Madam:

But I beseech your Grace, without offence

(My Conscience bids me aske) wherefore you haue

Commanded of me these most poysonous Compounds,

Which are the moouers of a languishing death:

But though slow, deadly

   Qu. I wonder, Doctor,

Thou ask'st me such a Question: Haue I not bene

Thy Pupill long? Hast thou not learn'd me how

To make Perfumes? Distill? Preserue? Yea so,

That our great King himselfe doth woo me oft

For my Confections? Hauing thus farre proceeded,

(Vnlesse thou think'st me diuellish) is't not meete

That I did amplifie my iudgement in

Other Conclusions? I will try the forces

Of these thy Compounds, on such Creatures as

We count not worth the hanging (but none humane)

To try the vigour of them, and apply

Allayments to their Act, and by them gather

Their seuerall vertues, and effects

   Cor. Your Highnesse

Shall from this practise, but make hard your heart:

Besides, the seeing these effects will be

Both noysome, and infectious

   Qu. O content thee.

Enter Pisanio.

Heere comes a flattering Rascall, vpon him

Will I first worke: Hee's for his Master,

And enemy to my Sonne. How now Pisanio?

Doctor, your seruice for this time is ended,

Take your owne way

   Cor. I do suspect you, Madam,

But you shall do no harme

Qu. Hearke thee, a word

   Cor. I do not like her. She doth thinke she ha's

Strange ling'ring poysons: I do know her spirit,

And will not trust one of her malice, with

A drugge of such damn'd Nature. Those she ha's,

Will stupifie and dull the Sense a-while,

Which first (perchance) shee'l proue on Cats and Dogs,

Then afterward vp higher: but there is

No danger in what shew of death it makes,

More then the locking vp the Spirits a time,

To be more fresh, reuiuing. She is fool'd

With a most false effect: and I, the truer,

So to be false with her

   Qu. No further seruice, Doctor,

Vntill I send for thee

   Cor. I humbly take my leaue.

Enter.

  Qu. Weepes she still (saist thou?)

Dost thou thinke in time

She will not quench, and let instructions enter

Where Folly now possesses? Do thou worke:

When thou shalt bring me word she loues my Sonne,

Ile tell thee on the instant, thou art then

As great as is thy Master: Greater, for

His Fortunes all lye speechlesse, and his name

Is at last gaspe. Returne he cannot, nor

Continue where he is: To shift his being,

Is to exchange one misery with another,

And euery day that comes, comes to decay

A dayes worke in him. What shalt thou expect

To be depender on a thing that leanes?

Who cannot be new built, nor ha's no Friends

So much, as but to prop him? Thou tak'st vp

Thou know'st not what: But take it for thy labour,

It is a thing I made, which hath the King

Fiue times redeem'd from death. I do not know

What is more Cordiall. Nay, I prythee take it,

It is an earnest of a farther good

That I meane to thee. Tell thy Mistris how

The case stands with her: doo't, as from thy selfe;

Thinke what a chance thou changest on, but thinke

Thou hast thy Mistris still, to boote, my Sonne,

Who shall take notice of thee. Ile moue the King

To any shape of thy Preferment, such

As thou'lt desire: and then my selfe, I cheefely,

That set thee on to this desert, am bound

To loade thy merit richly. Call my women.

Exit Pisa.

Thinke on my words. A slye, and constant knaue,

Not to be shak'd: the Agent for his Master,

And the Remembrancer of her, to hold

The hand-fast to her Lord. I haue giuen him that,

Which if he take, shall quite vnpeople her

Of Leidgers for her Sweete: and which, she after

Except she bend her humor, shall be assur'd

To taste of too.

Enter Pisanio, and Ladies.

So, so: Well done, well done:

The Violets, Cowslippes, and the Prime-Roses

Beare to my Closset: Fare thee well, Pisanio.

Thinke on my words.

Exit Qu. and Ladies

  Pisa. And shall do:

But when to my good Lord, I proue vntrue,

Ile choake my selfe: there's all Ile do for you.

Enter.

  Imo. A Father cruell, and a Stepdame false,

A Foolish Suitor to a Wedded-Lady,

That hath her Husband banish'd: O, that Husband,

My supreame Crowne of griefe, and those repeated

Vexations of it. Had I bin Theefe-stolne,

As my two Brothers, happy: but most miserable

Is the desires that's glorious. Blessed be those

How meane so ere, that haue their honest wills,

Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fye.

Enter Pisanio, and Iachimo.

  Pisa. Madam, a Noble Gentleman of Rome,

Comes from my Lord with Letters

   Iach. Change you, Madam:

The Worthy Leonatus is in safety,

And greetes your Highnesse deerely

   Imo. Thanks good Sir,

You're kindly welcome

   Iach. All of her, that is out of doore, most rich:

If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare

She is alone th' Arabian-Bird; and I

Haue lost the wager. Boldnesse be my Friend:

Arme me Audacitie from head to foote,

Or like the Parthian I shall flying fight,

Rather directly fly

   Imogen reads. He is one of the Noblest note, to whose

kindnesses I am

most infinitely

tied. Reflect vpon him accordingly, as you value your

trust. Leonatus.

So farre I reade aloud.

But euen the very middle of my heart

Is warm'd by'th' rest, and take it thankefully.

You are as welcome (worthy Sir) as I

Haue words to bid you, and shall finde it so

In all that I can do

   Iach. Thankes fairest Lady:

What are men mad? Hath Nature giuen them eyes

To see this vaulted Arch, and the rich Crop

Of Sea and Land, which can distinguish 'twixt

The firie Orbes aboue, and the twinn'd Stones

Vpon the number'd Beach, and can we not

Partition make with Spectacles so pretious

Twixt faire, and foule?

  Imo. What makes your admiration?

  Iach. It cannot be i'th' eye: for Apes, and Monkeys

'Twixt two such She's, would chatter this way, and

Contemne with mowes the other. Nor i'th' iudgment:

For Idiots in this case of fauour, would

Be wisely definit: Nor i'th' Appetite.

Sluttery to such neate Excellence, oppos'd

Should make desire vomit emptinesse,

Not so allur'd to feed

   Imo. What is the matter trow?

  Iach. The Cloyed will:

That satiate yet vnsatisfi'd desire, that Tub

Both fill'd and running: Rauening first the Lambe,

Longs after for the Garbage

   Imo. What, deere Sir,

Thus rap's you? Are you well?

  Iach. Thanks Madam well: Beseech you Sir,

Desire my Man's abode, where I did leaue him:

He's strange and peeuish

   Pisa. I was going Sir,

To giue him welcome.

Enter.

  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 Britaine Reueller

   Imo. When he was heere

He did incline to sadnesse, and oft times

Not knowing why

   Iach. I neuer saw him sad.

There is a Frenchman his Companion, one

An eminent Monsieur, that it seemes much loues

A Gallian-Girle at home. He furnaces

The thicke sighes from him; whiles the iolly Britaine,

(Your Lord I meane) laughes from's free lungs: cries oh,

Can my sides hold, to think that man who knowes

By History, Report, or his owne proofe

What woman is, yea what she cannot choose

But must be: will's free houres languish:

For assured bondage?

  Imo. Will my Lord say so?

  Iach. I Madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter,

It is a Recreation to be by

And heare him mocke the Frenchman:

But Heauen's know some men are much too blame

Imo. Not he I hope

   Iach. Not he:

But yet Heauen's bounty towards him, might

Be vs'd more thankfully. In himselfe 'tis much;

In you, which I account his beyond all Talents.

Whil'st I am bound to wonder, I am bound

To pitty too

   Imo. What do you pitty Sir?

  Iach. Two Creatures heartyly

   Imo. Am I one Sir?

You looke on me: what wrack discerne you in me

Deserues your pitty?

  Iach. Lamentable: what

To hide me from the radiant Sun, and solace

I'th' Dungeon by a Snuffe

   Imo. I pray you Sir,

Deliuer with more opennesse your answeres

To my demands. Why do you pitty me?

  Iach. That others do,

(I was about to say) enioy your- but

It is an office of the Gods to venge it,

Not mine to speake on't

   Imo. You do seeme to know

Something of me, or what concernes me; pray you

Since doubting things go ill, often hurts more

Then to be sure they do. For Certainties

Either are past remedies; or timely knowing,

The remedy then borne. Discouer to me

What both you spur and stop

   Iach. Had I this cheeke

To bathe my lips vpon: this hand, whose touch,

(Whose euery touch) would force the Feelers soule

To'th' oath of loyalty. This obiect, which

Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,

Fiering it onely heere, should I (damn'd then)

Slauuer with lippes as common as the stayres

That mount the Capitoll: Ioyne gripes, with hands

Made hard with hourely falshood (falshood as

With labour:) then by peeping in an eye

Base and illustrious as the smoakie light

That's fed with stinking Tallow: it were fit

That all the plagues of Hell should at one time

Encounter such reuolt

   Imo. My Lord, I feare

Has forgot Brittaine

   Iach. And himselfe, not I

Inclin'd to this intelligence, pronounce

The Beggery of his change: but 'tis your Graces

That from my mutest Conscience, to my tongue,

Charmes this report out

Imo. Let me heare no more

   Iach. O deerest Soule: your Cause doth strike my hart

With pitty, that doth make me sicke. A Lady

So faire, and fasten'd to an Emperie

Would make the great'st King double, to be partner'd

With Tomboyes hyr'd, with that selfe exhibition

Which your owne Coffers yeeld: with diseas'd ventures

That play with all Infirmities for Gold,

Which rottennesse can lend Nature. Such boyl'd stuffe

As well might poyson Poyson. Be reueng'd,

Or she that bore you, was no Queene, and you

Recoyle from your great Stocke

   Imo. Reueng'd:

How should I be reueng'd? If this be true,

(As I haue such a Heart, that both mine eares

Must not in haste abuse) if it be true,

How should I be reueng'd?

  Iach. Should he make me

Liue like Diana's Priest, betwixt cold sheets,

Whiles he is vaulting variable Rampes

In your despight, vpon your purse: reuenge it.

I dedicate my selfe to your sweet pleasure,

More Noble then that runnagate to your bed,

And will continue fast to your Affection,

Still close, as sure

   Imo. What hoa, Pisanio?

  Iach. Let me my seruice tender on your lippes

   Imo. Away, I do condemne mine eares, that haue

So long attended thee. If thou wert Honourable

Thou would'st haue told this tale for Vertue, not

For such an end thou seek'st, as base, as strange:

Thou wrong'st a Gentleman, who is as farre

From thy report, as thou from Honor: and

Solicites heere a Lady, that disdaines

Thee, and the Diuell alike. What hoa, Pisanio?

The King my Father shall be made acquainted

Of thy Assault: if he shall thinke it fit,

A sawcy Stranger in his Court, to Mart

As in a Romish Stew, and to expound

His beastly minde to vs; he hath a Court

He little cares for, and a Daughter, who

He not respects at all. What hoa, Pisanio?

  Iach. O happy Leonatus I may say,

The credit that thy Lady hath of thee

Deserues thy trust, and thy most perfect goodnesse

Her assur'd credit. Blessed liue you long,

A Lady to the worthiest Sir, that euer

Country call'd his; and you his Mistris, onely

For the most worthiest fit. Giue me your pardon,

I haue spoke this to know if your Affiance

Were deeply rooted, and shall make your Lord,

That which he is, new o're: And he is one

The truest manner'd: such a holy Witch,

That he enchants Societies into him:

Halfe all men hearts are his

Imo. You make amends

   Iach. He sits 'mongst men, like a defended God;

He hath a kinde of Honor sets him off,

More then a mortall seeming. Be not angrie

(Most mighty Princesse) that I haue aduentur'd

To try your taking of a false report, which hath

Honour'd with confirmation your great Iudgement,

In the election of a Sir, so rare,

Which you know, cannot erre. The loue I beare him,

Made me to fan you thus, but the Gods made you

(Vnlike all others) chaffelesse. Pray your pardon

   Imo. All's well Sir:

Take my powre i'th' Court for yours

   Iach. My humble thankes: I had almost forgot

T' intreat your Grace, but in a small request,

And yet of moment too, for it concernes:

Your Lord, my selfe, and other Noble Friends

Are partners in the businesse

   Imo. Pray what is't?

  Iach. Some dozen Romanes of vs, and your Lord

(The best Feather of our wing) haue mingled summes

To buy a Present for the Emperor:

Which I (the Factor for the rest) haue done

In France: 'tis Plate of rare deuice, and Iewels

Of rich, and exquisite forme, their valewes great,

And I am something curious, being strange

To haue them in safe stowage: May it please you

To take them in protection

   Imo. Willingly:

And pawne mine Honor for their safety, since

My Lord hath interest in them, I will keepe them

In my Bed-chamber

   Iach. They are in a Trunke

Attended by my men: I will make bold

To send them to you, onely for this night:

I must aboord to morrow

Imo. O no, no

   Iach. Yes I beseech: or I shall short my word

By length'ning my returne. From Gallia,

I crost the Seas on purpose, and on promise

To see your Grace

   Imo. I thanke you for your paines:

But not away to morrow

   Iach. O I must Madam.

Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please

To greet your Lord with writing, doo't to night,

I haue out-stood my time, which is materiall

To'th' tender of our Present

   Imo. I will write:

Send your Trunke to me, it shall safe be kept,

And truely yeelded you: you're very welcome.

Exeunt.