QUEEN

No, be assured you shall not find me (Daughter) After the slander of most Stepmothers, Euill-ey'd unto you. You're my Prisoner, but Your Gaoler shall deliver you the keys That lock up your restraint. For you Posthumus, So soon as I can win the offended King, I will be known your Advocate: marry yet The fire of Rage is in him, and 'twere good You leaned unto his Sentence, with what patience Your wisdom may inform you. You know the peril: I'll fetch a turn about the Garden, pitying The pangs of barred Affections, though the King Hath charged you should not speak together. Be brief, I pray you: If the King come, I shall incur, I know not How much of his displeasure: yet I'll move him To walk this way: I never do him wrong, But he do's buy my Injuries, to be Friends: Pays deer for my offences. Beseech your patience: Peace Dear Lady daughter, peace. Sweet Sovereign, Leave us to our selves, and make your self some comfort Out of your best advice. Fie, you must give way: Here is your Servant. How now Sir? What news? Hah? No harm I trust is done? I am very glad on't. This hath been Your faithful Servant: I dare lay mine Honour He will remain so. Pray walk awhile. While yet the dewe's on ground, Gather those Flowers, Make haste. Who ha the note of them? I wonder, Doctor, Thou askest me such a Question: Have I not be Thy Pupil long? Hast thou not learned me how To make Perfumes? Distil? Preserve? Yea so, That our great King himself does woo me oft For my Confections? Having thus far proceeded, (Unless thou thinkest me devilish) is't not meet That I did amplify my judgement 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 several virtues, and effects. Oh content thee Here comes a flattering Rascal, upon him Will I first work: He's for his Master, And enemy to my Son. How now Pisanio ? Doctor, your service for this time is ended, Take your own way. Hark thee, a word. No further service, Doctor, Until I send for thee. Weeps she still (sayest thou?) Dost thou think in time She will not quench, and let instructions enter Where Folly now possesses? Do thou work: When thou shalt bring me word she loves my Son, I'll tell thee on the instant, thou art then As great as is thy Master: Greater, for His Fortune's all lie speechless, and his name Is at last gasp. Return he cannot, nor Continue where he is: To shift his being, Is to exchange one misery with another, And every day that comes, comes to decay A days work in him. What shalt thou expect To be depender on a thing that leans? Who cannot be new built, nor ha no Friends So much, as but to prop him? Thou takest up Thou knowest not what: But take it for thy labour, It is a thing I made, which hath the King Five times redeemed from death. I do not know What is more Cordial. Nay, I prithee take it, It is and earnest of a farther good That I mean to thee. Tell thy Mistress how The case stands with her: doo't, as from thy self; Think what a chance thou changest on, but think Thou hast thy Mistress still, to boot, my Son, Who shall take notice of thee. I'll move the King To any shape of thy Preferment, such As thou'lt desire: and then my self, I chiefly, That set thee on to this desert, am bound To load thy merit richly. Call my women. Think on my words. A sly, and constant knave, Not to be shaked: the Agent for his Master, And the Remembrancer of her, to hold The handfast to her Lord. I have given him that, Which if he take, shall quite unpeople her Of Leidgers for her Sweet: and which, she after Except she bend her humour, shall be assured To taste of too. So, so: Well done, well done: The Violets, Cowslippes, and the Primroses Bear to my Closet: Fare thee well, Pisanio. Think on my words. You are most bound to the King, Who let's go by no vantages, that may Prefer you to his daughter: Frame your self To orderly solicity, and be friended With aptness of the season: make denials Increase your Services: so seem, as if You were inspired to do those duties which You tender to her: that you in all obey her, Save when command to your dismission tends, And therein you are senseless. And to kill the marvel, Shall be so ever. That opportunity Which then they had to take from's, to resume We have again. Remember Sir, my Liege, The Kings your Ancestors, together with The natural bravery of your Isle, which stands As Neptune's Park, ribbed, and paled in With Oaks vnskaleable, and roaring Waters, With Sands that will not bear your Enemies Boats, But suck them up to the Topmast. A kind of Conquest Caesar made here, but made not here his brag Of Came, and Saw, and Overcame: with shame (The first that ever touched him) he was carried From off our Coast, twice beaten: and his Shipping (Poor ignorant Baubles) on our terrible Seas Like Eggshells moved upon their Surges, cracked As easily against our Rocks. For joy whereof, The famed Cassibulan, who was once at point (O giglet Fortune) to master Caesars Sword, Made Luds-Towne with reioycing-Fires bright, And Britain's strut with Courage. He goes hence frowning: but it honours us That we have given him cause. It's not sleepy business, But must be looked too speedily, and strongly. Royal Sir, Since the exile of Posthumus, most retired Hath her life been: the Cure whereof, my Lord. It's time must do. Beseech your Majesty, Forbear sharp speeches to her. She's a Lady So tender of rebukes, that words are stroke;, And strokes death to her. My Lord, when last I went to visit her, She prayed me to excuse her keeping close, Whereto constrained by her infirmity, She should that duty leave unpaid to you Which daily she was bound to proffer: this She wished me to make known: but our great Court Made me too blame in memory. Son, I say, follow the King. Go, look after: Pisanio, thou that standest so for Posthumus, He hath a Drug of mine: I pray, his absence Proceed by swallowing that. For he believes It is a thing most precious. But for her, Where is she gone? Haply despair hath seized her: Or winged with fervour of her love, she's flown To her desired Posthumus : gone she is, To death, or to dishonour, and my end Can make good use of either. She being down, I have the placing of the British Crown. How now, my Son? All the better: may This night forestall him of the coming day. Dispatch. Now Master Doctor, have you brought those drug?