Oldalképek
PDF
ePub

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.

Iach. 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 other casual; a cunning thief, or a that-way-accomplished courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and last.

Post. Your Italy contains none so accomplished a courtier, to convince the honour of my mistress; if, in the holding or loss of that, you term her frail. I do nothing doubt, you have store of thieves; notwithstanding, I fear not my ring.

Phil. Let us leave here, gentlemen.

Post. Sir, with all my heart. This worthy signior, I thank him, makes no stranger of me; we are familiar at first.

Iach. With five times so much conversation, I should get ground of your fair mistress: make her go back, even to the yielding; had I admittance, and opportunity to friend.

Post. No, no.

Iach. I dare, thereupon, pawn the moiety of my estate to your ring; which, in my opinion, o'ervalues it something: but I make my wager rather against your confidence than her reputation; and, to bar your offence herein too, I durst attempt it against any lady in the world.

Post. You are a great deal abused in too bold a persuasion; and I doubt not you sustain what you're worthy of, by your attempt.

Iach. What's that?

Post. A repulse: though your attempt, as you call it, deserves more; a punishment too.

Phil. Gentlemen, enough of this: it came in too suddenly; let it die as it was born, and, I pray you, be better acquainted.

Iach. 'Would I had but my estate, and my neighbour's, upon the approbation of what I have spoke! Post. What lady would you chuse to assail?

Iach. Yours; whom in constancy, you think, stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring, that, commend me to the court where your lady is, with no more advantage than the opportunity of a second conference, and I will bring from thence that honour of hers, which you imagine so reserved.

Post. I will wage against your gold, gold to it: my ring I hold dear as my finger; 'tis part of it.

Yach. You are a friend, and therein the wiser. If you buy ladies' flesh at a million a dram, you cannot preserve it from tainting: but, I see, you have some religion in you, that you fear.

Post. This is but a custom in your tongue; you bear a graver purpose, I hope.

Iach. I am the master of my speeches; and would undergo what's spoken, I swear.

Post. Will you?-Let there be covenants drawn between us: my mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness of your unworthy thinking; I dare you to this match; here's my ring.

Phil. I will have it no lay.

Iach. By the gods, it is one :-If I bring you no sufficient testimony that I have enjoyed the dearest bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats are yours; provided, I have your commendation for my more free entertainment.

Post. I embrace these conditions; let us have articles betwixt us:-Only, thus far you shall answer. If you make your voyage upon her, and give me directly to understand you have prevailed, I am no farther your enemy, she is not worth our debate: if

she remain unseduced, (you not making it appear otherwise,) for your ill opinion, and the assault you have made to her chastity, you shall answer me with your sword.

Iach. Your hand: a covenant: we will have these things set down by lawful counsel, and straight away for Britain; lest the bargain should catch cold, and starve: I will fetch my gold, and have our two wagers recorded.

Post. Agreed.

[Exeunt.

ACT THE SECOND.

SCENE I.

Britain.

IMOGEN'S Apartment.

Enter IMOGen.

Imog. A father cruel, and a step-dame false; A foolish suitor to a wedded lady,

That hath her husband banished;-O, that husband!
My supreme crown of grief! and those repeated
Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stolen,

As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable
Is the desire that's glorious: Blessed be those,

How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills, Which seasons comfort.-Who may this be? Fie!

Enter PISANIO and IACHIMO.

Pisanio. Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome,
Comes from my lord with letters.
Iach. Change you, madam?

The worthy Leonatus is in safety,

And greets your highness dearly.

[Kneels, and presents a Letter.

Imog. Thanks, good sir;

You are kindly welcome.

Iach. All of her, that is out of door, most rich! If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare,,

She is alone the Arabian bird; and I
Have lost the wager. Boldness be my
Arm me, audacity, from head to foot!

friend!

Imog. [Reads.] He is one of the noblest note, to whose kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon him accordingly, as you value your trust. LEONATUS.

So far I read aloud:

But even the very middle of my heart

Is warm'd by the rest, and takes it thankfully.-
You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I

Have words to bid you; and shall find it so,
In all that I can do.

Iach. Thanks, fairest lady

What! are men mad? Hath nature

given them
To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop
Of sea and land, which can distinguish 'twixt
The fiery orbs above, and the twinn'd stones
Upon the number'd beach? and can we not
Partition make

"Twixt fair and foul?

Imog. What makes your admiration ?

eyes

Iach. It cannot be i'the eye; for apes and monkeys,

'Twixt two such shes, would chatter this way, and Contemn with mows the other.

Imog. What is the matter, trow?

Iach. The cloyed will,

That satiate, yet unsatisfy'd, desire,
Ravening first

The lamb, longs after for the garbage.
Imog. What, dear sir,

Thus raps you? Are well?

you

Iach. Thanks, madam; well:-'Beseech you, sir, * Desire my man's abode where I did leave him: He's strange, and peevish.

Pisanio. I was going, sir,

To give him welcome.

So

[Exit.

Imog. Continues well my lord? His health, 'beseech you?

Iach. Well, madam.

Imog. Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is. Iach. Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there merry and so gamesome: he is call'd

The Briton reveller.

Imog. When he was here,

He did incline to sadness; and oft times
Not knowing why.

Iach. I never saw him sad.

There is a Frenchman, his companion,
That, it seems, much loves

A Gallian girl at home: he furnaces

The thick sighs from him; whiles the jolly Briton (Your lord, I mean) laughs from's free lungs, cries, "O!

Can my sides hold, to think, that man,--who knows
By history, report, or his own proof,

What woman is, yea, what she cannot chuse
But must be,-will his free hours languish for
Assured bondage?"

Imog. Will my lord say so?

« ElőzőTovább »