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lack. 0, dearest soul, your cause doth strike my heart With pity that doth make me sick. A lady So fair, and fastened to an empery, Would make the great'st king double,TMto 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 can lend nature! such boil'd stuff, As well might poison poison! Be reveng'd, Or she that bore you was no Queen, and you Recoil from your great stock.

Imo. Reveng'd!

How should I be reveng'd? If this be true,
(As I have such a heart, that both mine ears
Must not in haste abuse,) if it be true,
How should I be reveng'd?

lack. Should he make thee

Live, like Diana's priest, betwrixt cold sheets,
Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps,
In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge it.
I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure,
More noble than that runagate to your bed,
And will continue fast to your affection,
Still close, as sure.

Imo. What ho, Pisanio!

lack. 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, Thou would'st have told this tale for virtue, not For such an end thou seek'st, — as base, as strange. Thou wrong'st a gentleman who is as far From thy report as thou from honour; and

Solicit'st here a lady that disdains

Thee and the Devil alike. — What ho, Pisanio ! -—

The King my father shall be made acquainted

Of thy assault: if he shall think it fit,

A saucy stranger, in his Court, to mart

As in a Romish stew, and to expound

His beastly mind to us, he hath a Court

He little cares for, and a daughter whom

He not respects at all.—What ho, Pisanio!-—

lack. O happy Leonatus! I may say; The credit, that thy lady hath of thee, 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 For the most worthiest fit. Give me your pardon. I have spoke this, to know if your affiance Were deeply rooted; and shall make your lord, That which he is, new o'er: and he is one The truest manner'd; such a holy witch, That he enchants societies into him: Half all men s hearts are his.

Imo. You make amends.

lack. 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, Most mighty Princess, that I have adventur'd To try your taking of a false report; which hath Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment In the election of a sir so 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, chaffless. Pray, your pardon.

Imo. All 's well, sir. Take my power T the Court for yours.

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

Into. Pray, what is *t?

lach. 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 In France: 'tis plate of rare device, and jewels Of rich and exquisite form. Their value 's great; And I am something curious, being strange, To have them in safe stowage: may it please you To take them in protection?

Imo. Willingly,

And pawn mine honour for their safety; since
My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them
In my bed-chamber.

lach. They are in a trunk.

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

Imo. 0, no, no.

lach. Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my word, By length'ning my return. From Gallia I cross'd the seas on purpose, and on promise. To see your Grace.

Imo. I thank you for your pains;

But not away to-morrow!

lach. 0, I must, madam:

Therefore, I shall beseech you, if you please
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.

[Exeunt.

ACT II.

Scene I. — Britain. Court before Cymbeline's Palace.

Enter Cloten and two Lords.

Clot En.

WAS there ever man had such luck! when I kiss'd the jack upon an up-cast, to be hit away! I had a hundred pound on 't: and then a whoreson jackanapes 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. [Aside.] If his wit had been like him that broke it, it would have run all out.

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; [aside."] nor crop the ears of them.

Clo. Whoreson dog ! —-1 give him satisfaction? Would he had been one of my rank!

2 Lord. [Aside.] To have smell'd like a fool.

Clo. I am not vexed more at any thing in th' Earth.—-A pox on 't! 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.

2 Lord. [Aside.'] You are cock and capon too; and you crow, cock, with your comb on.

Clo. Sayest thou?

2 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 com~ mit 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 not know on 't!

2 Lord. [Aside.~] He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it not.

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?

1 Lord. You cannot derogate, my lord. Clo. Not easily, I think.

2 Lord. [Aside.~\ You are a fool granted; therefore, your issues being foolish do not derogate.

Clo. Come, I'll go see this Italian. What I have lost to-day at bowls, I'll win to-night of him. Come, go.

2 Lord. I'll attend your lordship.

[Exeunt Cloten and first Lord, That such a crafty devil as is his mother Should yield the world this ass! a woman, that

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