SCENE IV.

A room in Cymbeline's palace.

Enter Imogen and Pisanio.

Imo. I would thou grew'st unto the shores o'the haven,

And question'dst every sail : if he should write,
And I not have it, 'twere a paper lost

As offer'd mercy is. What was the last
That he spake to thee?

Pis.

'Twas, His queen, his queen!

And kiss'd it, madam.

Imo. Then wav'd his handkerchief?

Pis.

Imo. Senseless linen! happier therein than I !—

And that was all?

Pis.
No, madam; for so long
As he could make me with this eye or ear
Distinguish him from others, he did keep
The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief,
Still waving, as the fits and stirs of his mind
Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on,
How swift his ship.

Imo.

Thou should'st have made him

As little as a crow, or less, ere left

To after-eye him.

Pis.

Madam, so I did.

Imo. I would have broke mine eye-strings; crack'd

them, but

To look upon him; till the diminution

Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle:
Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from

The smallness of a gnat to air; and then

Have tura'd mine eye, and wept.-But, good Pi

sanio,

When shall we hear from him?

Pis.

With his next vantage*.

Be assur'd, madam,

Imo. I did not take my leave of him, but had Most pretty things to say: ere I could tell him, How I would think on him, at certain hours,

Such thoughts, and such; or I could make him swear
The shes of Italy should not betray

Mine interest, and his honour; or have charg'd him,
At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight,
To encounter me with orisonst, for then

I am in heaven for him; or ere I could

Give him that parting kiss, which I had set
Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father,
And, like the tyrannous breathing of the north,
Shakes all our buds from growing.

Lady.

Enter a Lady.

The queen, madam,

Desires your highness' company.

Imo. Those things I bid you do, get them de

spatch'd.

SCENE V.

Rome. An apartment in Philario's house.

Enter Philario, Tachimo, a Frenchman, a Dutchman, and a Spaniard.

Iach. Believe it, sir: I have seen him in Britain: he was then of a crescent note* ; expected to prove so worthy, as since he hath been allowed the name of: but I could then have looked on him without the help of admiration; though the catalogue of his endowments had been tabled by his side, and I to peruse him by items.

Phi. You speak of him when he was less furnishedt, than now he is, with that which makes him both without and within.

French. I have seen him in France: we had very many there, could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he.

Iach. This matter of marrying his king's daughter (wherein he must be weighed rather by her value, than his own), words him, I doubt not, a great deal from the matter.

French. And then his banishment:

Iach. Ay, and the approbation of those, that weep this lamentable divorce, under her colours, are wonderfully to extend § him; be it but to fortify her judgement, which else an easy battery might lay flat, for taking a beggar without more quality. But how comes it, he is to sojourn with you? How creeps ac. quaintance?

Phi. His father and I were soldiers together; to

• Increasing in fame.
Forms him.

+ Accomplished.
§ Praise.

whom I have been often bound for no less than my life:

Enter Posthumus.

Here comes the Briton: Let him be so entertained amongst you, as suits, with gentlemen of your know. ing, to a stranger of his quality.-I beseech you all, be better known to this gentleman; whom 1 com. mend to you, as a noble friend of mine: How worthy he is, I will leave to appear hereafter, rather than story him in his own hearing.

French. Sir, we have known together in Orleans. Post. Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies, which I will be ever to pay, and yet pay still.

French. Sir, you o'er-rate my poor kindness: I was glad I did atone* my countryman and you; it had been pity, you should have been put together with so mortal a purpose, as then each bore, upon importancet of so slight and trivial a nature.

Post. By your pardon, sir, I was then a young traveller; rather shunn'd to go even with what I heard, than in my every action to be guided by others' experiences: but, upon my mended judgement (if I offend not to say it is mended), my quarrel was not altogether slight.

French. 'Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords; and by such two, that would, by all likelihood, have confounded‡ one the other, or have fallen both.

Iach. Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference?

French. Safely, I think: 'twas a contention in publick, which may, without contradiction, suffer the report. It was much like an argument that fell out last night, where each of us fell in praise of our coun

• Reconcile.
Destroyed.

+ Importunity, instigation.

try mistresses: This gentleman at that time vouching (and upon warrant of bloody affirmation), his to be more fair, virtuous, wise, chaste constant-qualified, and less attemptible, than any the rarest of our ladies in France.

Iach. That lady is not now living; or this gentle. man's opinion, by this, worn out.

Post. She holds her virtue still, and I my mind. Iach. You must not so far prefer her 'fore ours of Italy.

Post. Being so far provoked as I was in France, I would abate her nothing; though I profess myself her adorer, not her friend*.

Iach. As fair, and as good (a kind of hand-inhand comparison), had been something too fair, and too good, for any lady in Britany. If she went before others I have seen, as that diamond of yours out-lustres many I have beheld, I could not but believe she excelled many: but I have not seen the most precious diamond that is, nor you the lady.

Post. I praised her, as I rated her: so do I my

stone.

Iach. What do you esteem it at?

Post. More than the world enjoys.

lach. Either your unparagoned mistress is dead, or she's outpriz'd by a trifle.

Post. You are mistaken: the one may be sold, or given; if there were wealth enough for the purchase, or merit for the gift: the other is not a thing for sale, and only the gift of the gods.

Jach. Which the gods have given you?

Post. Which, by their graces, I will keep.

Iach. You may wear her in title yours: but, you know, strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds. Your ring may be stolen too: so, of your brace of unprizeable estimations, the one is but frail, and the

Lover, I speak of her as a being I reverence not as a beauty whom I enjoy.