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.

Iach. 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 banish'd ;—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.
Tach. 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 friend!
Arm me, audacity, from head to foot!

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.

So far I read aloud:

LEON ATUS.

But even the

middle of very

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 eyes
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?

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 you well?

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.

[Exit.

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

you?

Iach. Well, madam.

Imog. Is he dispos'd to mirth? I hope, he is. Iach. Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there So 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 ?

Iach. Ay, madam; with his eyes in flood with

laughter.

It is a recreation to be by,

And hear him mock the Frenchman: But, Heavens know,

Some men are much to blame.

Imog. Not he, I hope.

Iach. Not he: But yet Heaven's bounty towards him might

Be us'd more thankfully. In himself, 'tis much; In you, which I account his, beyond all talents,Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound

To pity too.

Imog. What do you pity, sir?

Iach. Two creatures, heartily.

Imog. Am I one, sir?

You look on me,-What wreck discern you in me Deserves your pity?

Iach. Lamentable! What!

To hide me from the radiant sun, and solace
I'the dungeon by a snuff?

Imog. I pray you, sir,

Deliver with more openness your answers
To my demands. Why do you pity me?
Iach. That others do,

I was about to say, enjoy your

-But

It is an office of the gods to venge it,

Not mine to speak on't.

Imog. You do seem to know

Something of me, or what concerns me; 'Pray you, (Since doubting things go ill, often hurts more Than to be sure they do,)—

Discover to me

What both you spur and stop.

Iach. Had I this cheek,

To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch,
Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul
To the oath of loyalty: this object, which