IMOGEN

Oh dissembling Courtesy! How fine this Tyrant Can tickle where she wounds? My dearest Husband, I something fear my Father's wrath, but nothing (Always reserved my holy duty) what His rage can do on me. You must be gone, And I shall here abide the hourly shot Of angry eyes: not comforted to live, But that there is this Jewel in the world, That I may see again. Nay, stay a little: Were you but riding forth to air your self, Such parting were too petty. Look here (Love) This Diamond was my Mother's; take it (Heart) But keep it till you woo another Wife, When Imogen is dead. Oh the Gods! When shall we see again? There cannot be a pinch in death More sharp then this is. I beseech you Sir, Harm not your self with your vexation, I am senseless of your Wrath; a Touch more rare Subdues all pangs, all fears. Passed hope, and in despair, that way passed Grace. Oh blessed, that I might not: I chosen and Eagle, And did avoid a Puttock. No, I rather added a lustre to it. Sir, It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus : You bred him as my Playfellow, and he is A man, worth any woman: Ouer-buyes me Almost the sum he pays. Almost Sir: Heaven restore me: would I were A Neat-heards Daughter, and my Leonatus Our Neighbour-Shepheards Son. Your Son's my Father's friend, he takes his partly To draw upon and Exile. Oh brave Sir, I would they were in Africa both together, My self by with a Needle, that I might prick The goer back. Why came you from your Master? About some half hour hence, Pray you speak with me; You shall (at least) go see my Lord aboard. For this time leave me. I would thou grewest unto the shores of the Haven, And questioned'st every Sail: if he should write, And I not have it, 'twere a Paper lost As offered mercy I : What was the last That he spoke to thee? Then waved his Handkerchief? Senseless Linen, happier therein then And that was all? Thou shouldst have made him As little as a Crow, or less, ere left To after-eye him. I would have broke mine eyestrings; Cracked them, but to look upon him, till the diminution Of space, had pointed him sharp as my Needle: Nay, followed him, till he had melted from The smallness of a Gnat, to air: and then Have turned mine eye, and wept. But good Pisanio, When shall we hear from him. 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 She's of Italy should not betray Mine Interest, and his Honour: or have charged him At the sixth hour of Morn, at Noon, at Midnight, to encounter me with Orisons, for then I am in Heaven for him: Or ere I could, Give him that parting kiss, which I had set Betwixt two charming word , comes in my Father, And Like the Tyrannous breathing of the North, Shakes all our buds from growing. Those things I bid you do, get them dispatched, I will attend the Queen. A Father cruel, and a Stepdame false, A Foolish Suitor to a Wedded-Lady, That hath her Husband banished: Oh, that Husband, My supreme Crown of grief, and those repeated Vexations of it. Had I been Theefe-stolne, As my two Brother's, happy: but most miserable Is the desires that's glorious. Blessed be those How mean so ere, that have their honest wills, Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fie. Thanks good Sir, You're kindly welcome. What makes your admiration? What is the matter trow? What, deer Sir, Thus rap's you? Are you well? Continues well my Lord? His health beseech you? Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is. When he was here He did incline to sadness, and oft times Not knowing why. Will my Lord say so? Not he I hope. What do you pity Sir? Am I one Sir? You look on me: what wrack discern you in me Deserves your pity? I pray you Sir, Deliver with more openness your answers To my demands. Why do you pity me? You do seem to know Something of me, or what concerns me; pray you Since doubting things go ill, often hurts more Then to be sure they do. For Certainties Either are passed remedies; or timely knowing, The remedy then born. Discover to me What both you spur and stop. My Lord, I fear Has forgotten Britain. Let me hear no more. Revenged: How should I be revenged? 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 revenged? What hoa, Pisanio ? Away, I do condemn mine ears, that have So long attended thee. If thou Wertenberg Honourable Thou wouldst have told this tale for Virtue, not For such and end thou seekest, as base, as strange: Thou wrongest a Gentleman, who is as far From thy report, as thou from Honour: and Solicits here a Lady, that disdains Thee, and the Devil alike. What hoa, 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 Mars As in a Romish Stew, and to expound His beastly mind to us; he hath a Court He little cares for, and a Daughter, who He not respects at all. What hoa, Pisanio ? You make amends. All's well Sir: Take my pour in the Court for yours. Pray what is't? Willingly: And pawn mine Honour for their safety, since My Lord hath interest in them, I will keep them In my Bedchamber. Oh no, no. I thank you for your pains: But not away to morrow. I will write: Send your Trunk to me, it shall safe be kept, And truly yielded you: you're very welcome. Who's there? My woman: Helene? What hove is it? I have read three hours then: Mine eyes are weak, Fold down the leaf where I have left: to bed. Take not away the Taper, leave it burning: And if thou canst awake by four of the clock, I prithee call me: Sleep hath ceiz'd me wholly. To your protection I commend me, Gods, From Faith ies, and the Tempters of the night, Guard me beseech ye. Good morrow Sir, you lay out too much pains For purchasing but trouble: the thanks I give, Is telling you that I am poor of thanks, And scarce can spare them. If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me: If you swear still, your recompense is still That I regard it not. But that you shall not say, I yield being silent, I would not speak. I pray you spare me, in-faith I shall unfold equal discourtesy To your best kindness: one of your great knowing Should learn (being taught) forbearance. Fools are not mad Folks. As I am mad I do: If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad, That cures us both. I am much sorry (Sir) You put me to forget a Ladies manners By being so verbal: and learn now, for all, That I which know my heart, do here pronounce By the very truth of it, I care not for you, And am so near the lack of Charity To accuse my self, I hate you: which I had rather You felt, then make't my boast. Profane Fellow: Wertenberg thou the Son of Jupiter, and no more, But what thou art beside: thou were't too base, To be his Groom: thou were't dignified enough Even to the point of Envy. If 'twere made Comparative for your Virtues, to be stiled The under Hangman of his Kingdom; and hated For being preferred so well. He never can meet more mischance, then come To be but named of thee. His meanest Garment That ever hath but clipped his body; is dearer In my respect, then all the Heirs above thee, Were they all made such men: How now Pisanio ? To Dorothy my woman High thee presently. I am sprighted with a Fool, Frighted, and angered worse: Go bid my woman Search for a Jewel, that too casually Hath left mine Arm: it was thy Master's. Shrew me If I would lose it for a Revenue, Of any Kings in Europe. I do think, I saw't this morning: Confident I am. Last night 'twas on mine Arm; I kissed it, I hope it be not gone, to tell my Lord That I kiss aught but he. I hope so: go and search. I, I said so Sir, If you will make't and Actium, call witness to't. Your Mother too: She's my good Lady; and will conceive, I hope But the worst of me. So I leave your Sir, To the worst of discontent. How now Pisanio ? Who, thy Lord? That is my Lord Leonatus ? O, learned indeed were that Astronomer That knew the Stars, as I his Characters, Heeled lay the Future open. You good Gods, Let what is here contained, relish of Love, Of my Lords health, of his content: yet not That we two are asunder, let that grieve him; Some griefs are medicinable, that is one of them, For it does physic Love, of his content, All but in that. Good Wax, thy leave: blessed be You Bees that make these Locks of counsel. Lovers, And men in dangerous Bonds pray not alike, Though Forfeytours you cast in prison, yet You clasp young Cupid's Tables: good News Gods. Justice, and your Father's wrath (should he take me in his Dominion) could not be so cruel to me, as you: (o the dee rest of Creatures) would even renew me with your eyes. Take notice I am in Cambria at Milfordhaven: what your own Love, will out of this advise you, follow. So he wishes you all happiness, that remains loyal to his Vow, and your encrea sing in Love. Leonatus-Posthumus. Justice, and your Father's wrath (should he take me in his Dominion) could not be so cruel to me, as you: (o the dee rest of Creatures) would even renew me with your eyes. Take notice I am in Cambria at Milfordhaven: what your own Love, will out of this advise you, follow. So he wishes you all happiness, that remains loyal to his Vow, and your encrea sing in Love. O for a Horse with wings: Hearest thou Pisanio ? He is at Milfordhaven: Read, and tell me How far it's thither. If one of mean affairs May plod it in a week, why may not I Glide thither in a day? Then true Pisanio, Who longest Like me, to see thy Lord; who longest (O let me bore) but not Like me: yet longest But in a fainter kind. O not Like me: For mine beyond, beyond: say, and speak thick (Loves Counselor should fill the boars of hearing, To the smothering of the Sense) how far it is To this same blessed Milford. And by' the way Tell me how Wales: was made so happy, as Inherit such a Haven. But first of all, How we may steal from hence: and for the gap That we shall make in Time, from our hence-going, And our return, to excuse: but first, how get hence. Why should excuse be born or ere begotten? Weel talk of that hereafter. Prithee speak, How many store of Miles may we well rid Betwixt hour, and hour? Why, one that road to's Execution Man, Could never go so slow: I have herd of Riding wagers, Where Horses have been nimbler then the Sands That run in the Clocks behalf. But this is Foolrie, Go, bid my Woman feign a Sickness, say She'll home to her Father; and provide me presently A Riding Suit: No costly then would fit A Franklins Huswife. I see before me (Man) nor here, not here; Nor what ensues but have a Fog in them That I cannot look through. Away, I prithee, Do as I bid thee: There's no more to say: Accessible is none but Milford way. Thou toldest me when we came from ̄ horse, y e place Was near at hand: Never longed my Mother so To see me first, as I have now. Pisanio, Man: Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sighs From the inward of thee? One, but painted thus Would be interpreted a thing perplexed Beyond selfe-explication. Put thy self Into a haviour of less fear, ere wildness Vanquish my staider Senses. What's the matter? Why tenderest thou that Paper to me, with A look untender? If't be Summer News Smile too't before: if Winterly, thou needest But keep that countenance still. My Husbands hand? That Drug-damn'd Italy, hath out-craftied him, And he's at some hard point. Speak man, thy Tongue May take off some extremity, which to read Would be even mortal to me. False to his Bed? What is it to be false? To lie in watch there, and to think on him? To weep betwixt clock and clock? If sleep charge Nature, To break it with a fearful dream of him, And cry my self awake? That's false to's bed? Is it? I false? Thy Conscience witness: Jachimo, Thou didst accuse him of Incontinency, Thou then lookedest Like a Villain: now, me thinks Thy favours good enough. Some Jay of Italy (Whose mother was her painting) hath betrayed him: Poor I am stale, a Garment out of fashion, And for I am richer then to hang by the walls, I must be ripped: To pieces with me: O! Men's Vows are women's Traitors. All good seeming By thy revolt (oh Husband) shall be thought Put on for Villainy; not born where't grows, But worn a Bait for Ladies. True honest men being herd, Like false Aeneas, Were in his time thought false: and Synons weeping Did scandal many a holy tear: took pity From most true wretchedness. So thou, Posthumus Wilt lay the Leaven on all proper men; Goodly, and gallant, shall be false and perjured From thy great fail: Come Fellow, be thou honest, Do thou thy Master's bidding. When thou seest him, A little witness my obedience. Look I draw the Sword my self, take it, and hit The innocent Mansion of my Love (my Heart:) Fear not, it's empty of all things, but Grief: Thy Master is not there, who was indeed The riches of it. Do his bidding, strike, Thou mayest be valiant in a better cause; But now thou seemest a Coward. Why, I must die: And if I do not by thy hand, thou art No Servant of thy Master's. Against Self-slaughter, There is a prohibition so Divine, That cravens my weak hand: Come, here's my heart: Something's afoot: Soft, soft, we'll no defence, Obedient as the Scabbard. What is here, The Scriptures of the Loyal Leonatus, All turned to Heresy? Away, away Corrupters of my Faith, you shall no more Be Stomachers to my heart: thus may poor Fools Believe false Teachers: Though those that are betrayed Do feel the Treason sharply, yet the Traitor S in worse case of woe. And thou Posthumus, That didst set up my disobedience against the King My Father, and makes me put into contempt the suits Of Princely Fellows, shalt hereafter find It is no act of common passage, but A strain of Rareness: and I grieve my self, To think, when thou shalt be disedg'd by her, That now thou tyreft on, how thy memory Will then be pang by me. Prithee dispatch, The Lamb intreats the Butcher. Where's thy knife? Thou art too slow to do thy Master's bidding When I desire it too. Doo't, and to bed then. Wherefore then Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abused So many Miles, with a pretence? This place? Mine Actium? and thine own? Our Horses labour? The Time inviting thee? The perturbed Court For my being absent? whereunto I never Purpose return. Why hast thou gone so far To be unbent? when thou hast 'ta e thy stand, the elected Dear before thee? Talk thy tongue weary, speak: I have herd I am a Strumpet, and mine ear Therein false struck, can take no greater wound, Nor tent, to bottom that. But speak. Most Like, Bringing me here to kill me. Some Roman Courtesan? Why good Fellow, What shall I do the while? Where bide? How live? Or in my life, what comfort, when I am Dead to my Husband? No Court, no Father, nor no more ado With that harsh, noble, simple nothing: That Clotten, whose Love-suite hath be to me As fearful as a Siege. Where then? Hath Britain all the Sun that shines? Day? Night? Are they not but in Britain? In the world's Volume Our Britain seems as of it, but not in't: In a great Pool, a Swannes-nest, prithee think There's livers out of Britain. O for such means, Though peril to my modesty, not death on't I would adventure. Nay be brief? I see into thy end, and am almost A man already. Thou art all the comfort The Gods will diet me with. Prithee away, There's more to be considered: but we'll even All that good time will give us. This attempt, I am Soldier too, and will abide it with A Princes Courage. Away, I prithee. Amen: I thank thee. I see a men life is a tedious one, I have tired my self: and for two nights together Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick, But that my resolution helps me: Milford, When from the Mountain top, Pisanio showed thee, Thou was't within a ken. O Jove, I think Foundations fly the wretched: such I mean, Where they should be relieved. Two Beggars told me, I could not miss my way. Will poor Folks lie That have Afflictions on them, knowing it's A punishment, or Trial? Yes; no wonder, When Rich-ones scarce tell true. To lapse in Fullness Is sorer, then to lie for Need: and Falsehood Is worse in Kings, then Beggars. My deer Lord, Thou art one of the false Ones: Now I think on thee, My hunger's gone; but even before, I was At point to sink, for Food. But what is this? Here is a path too't it's some savage hold: I were best not call; I dare not call: yet Famine Ere clean it overthrow Nature, makes it valiant. Plenty, and Peace breeds Cowards: Hardness ever Of Hardiness is Mother. Hoa? who's here? If any thing that's civil, speak: if savage, Take, or lend. Hoa? No answer? Then I'll enter. Best draw my Sword; and if mine Enemy But fear the Sword Like me, he'll scarcely look on't. Such a Foe, good Heavens. Good Master's harm me not: Before I entered here, I called, and thought To have begged, or bought, what I have took: good troth I have stolen nought, nor would not, though I had found Gold strewed in the Floor. Here's money for my Meat, I would have left it on the Board, so soon As I had made my Meal; and parted With Prayers for the Provider. I see you're angry: Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should Have died, had I not made it. To Milfordhaven. Fidele Sir: I have a Kinsman, who Is bound for Italy; he embarked at Milford, To whom being going, almost spent with hunger, I am fallen in this offence. amongst Friends? If Brother's: would it had been so, that they Had been my Father's Sons, then had my prize Been less, and so more equal ballasting To thee Posthumus. Great men That had a Court no bigger then this Cave, That did attend themselves, and had the virtue Which their own Conscience sealed them: laying by That nothing-guift of differing Multitudes Could not out-peere these twain. Pardon me Gods, I'd change my sex to be Companion with them, Since Leonatus false. Thanks Sir. So man and man should be, But Clay and Clay, differs in dignity, Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick, So sick I am not, yet I am not well: But not so Citizen a wanton, as To seem to die, ere sick: So please you, leave me, Stick to your Journal course: the breach of Custom, Is breach of all. I am ill, but your being by me Cannot amend me. Society, is no comfort To one not sociable: I am not very sick, Since I can reason of it: pray you trust me here, I'll rob none but my self, and let me die Stealing so poorly. I wish you sport. These are kind Creatures. Gods, what lies I have herd: Our Courtiers say, all's savage, but at Court; Experience, o thou disproou'st Report. the emperious Seas breeds Monsters; for the Dish, Poor Tributary Rivers, as sweet Fish: I am sick still, heartsick; Pisanio, I'll now taste of thy Drug. Well, or ill. I am bound to you. I am nothing; or if not, Nothing to be were better: This was my Master, A very valiant Britain, and a good, That here by Mountaineers lies slain: Alas, There is no more such Master's: I may wander From East to Occident, cry out for Service, Try many, all good: serve truly: never Find such another Master. Richard du Champ: If I do lie, and do No harm by it, though the Gods hear, I hope They'll pardon it. Say you Sir? Fidele Sir. I'll follow Sir. But first, and it please the Gods, I'll hide my Master from the Flies, as deep As these poor Pick-axes can dig: and when With wild wood-leaues & weeds, I have strewed his graven And on it said a Century of prayers (Such as I can) twice over, I'll weep, and sigh, And leaving so his service, follow you, So please you entertain me. I humbly thank your Highness. No, no, alack, There's other work in hand: I see a thing Bitter to me, as death: your life, good Master, Must shuffle for it self. He is a Roman, no more kin to me, Then I to your Highness, who being born your vassal Am something nearer. I'll tell you (Sir) in private, if you please To give me hearing. Fidele Sir. My boon is, that this Gentleman may render Of whom he had this Ring. Peace my Lord, hear, hear. O get thee from my sighed, Thou gavest me poison: dangerous Fellow hence, Breath not where Princes are. It poisoned me. Most Like I did, for I was dead. Why did you throw your wedded Lady from you? Think that you are upon a Rock, and now Throw me again. Your blessing, Sir. I am sorry for't, my Lord. That headless man I thought had been my Lord No, my Lord: I have God two World's by't. O my gentle Brother's, Have we thus met? O never say hereafter But I am truest speaker. You called me Brother When I was but your Sister: I you Brother's, When we were so indeed. You are my Father too, and did relieve me: To see this gracious season. My good Master, I will yet do you service.