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Imo. Will my lord fay fo?

Iach. Ay, madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter. It is a recreation to be by

And hear him mock the Frenchman: but heav'n knows
Some men are much to blame.

Imo. Not he, I hope.

Iach. Not he. But yet heav'n's bounty tow'rds him might

Be us'd more thankfully. In himself 'tis much;

In you, whom I count his beyond all talents,

Whilft I am bound to wonder, I am bound

To pity too.

Imo. What do you pity, Sir?

Iach. Two creatures heartily.

Imo. Am I one, Sir?

You look on me; what wreck difcern you in me
Deferves your pity?

Iach. Lamentable! what

To hide me from the radiant fun, and folace
I'th' dungeon by a snuff?

Imo. I pray you, Sir,

Deliver with more openness your answers To my demands. Why do you pity me? lach. 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.

Imo. You do feem to know

Something of me, or what concerns me; pray you

(Since doubting things go ill, often hurt more
Than to be fure they do; for certainties
Or are paft remedies, or timely knowing,
The remedy then born;) discover to me
What both you spur and stop.

lach. Had I this cheek

To bath my lips upon; this hand, whose touch,
Whofe very touch would force the feeler's foul
To th' oath of loyalty; this object, which
Takes pris'ner the wild motion of mine eye,
Fixing it only here; fhould I, damn'd then,
Slaver with lips, as common as the stairs
That mount the capitol? join gripes with hands
Made hard with hourly falfhood, as with labour?
Then glad my self by peeping in an eye
Base and unlustrious as the fmoaky light
That's fed with stinking tallow? it were fit
That all the plagues of hell should at one time
Encounter fuch revolt.

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Inclin❜d to this intelligence, pronounce

The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces
That from my mutest conscience, to my tongue,
Charms this report out.

Imo. Let me hear no more.

Iach. O dearest foul! your cause doth strike my heart With pity, that doth make me fick. A lady

So fair, and fastned to an empery,

Would make the great'st king double! to be partner'd
With tomboys, hir'd with that self-exhibition

Which your own coffers yield! with diseas'd venters
To play with all infirmities for gold,

Which rottenefs lends nature! fuch boyl'd stuff
As well might poifon poison! Be reveng❜d,
Or fhe that bore you was no Queen, and you
Recoil from your great stock.

VOL VI.

T

Imo.

Imo. Reveng❜d!

How should I be reveng'd, if this be true?
As I have fuch a heart, that both mine ears
Must not in hafte abuse; if it be true,
How fhall I be reveng❜d?

Iach. Should he make me

Live like Diana's prieft, betwixt cold sheets?
Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps

In your despight, upon your purse? revenge it!
I dedicate my self to your fweet pleasure,
More noble than that runagate to your bed,
And will continue fast to your affection,
Still close, as fure.

Imo. What ho, Pifanio!

Iach. Let me my service tender on your lips.
Imo. Away, I do condemn mine ears, that have
So long attended thee. If thou wert honourable
Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, not
For fuch an end thou seek'ft, as base, as strange:
Thou wrong'st a gentleman, who is as far
From thy report, as thou from honour; and
Sollicit❜ft here a lady, that disdains

Thee, and the devil alike. What ho, Pifanio!
The king my father fhall be made acquainted
Of thy affault; if he shall think it fit,
A fawcy stranger in his court to mart
As in a Romish stew, and to expound
His beastly mind to us; he hath a court
He little cares for, and a daughter whom
He not respects at all. What ho, Pifanio!
Iach. O happy Leonatus, I may fay,
The credit that thy lady hath of thee
Deferves thy truft, and thy most perfect goodness

Her

Her affur'd credit! bleffed live you long,
A lady to the worthieft Sir, that ever

Country call'd his; and you his mistress, only
For the most worthy fit. Give me your pardon.
I have spoke this, to know if your affiance
Were deeply rooted; and shall make your lord,
That which he is, new o'er: and he is one
The truest-manner'd, fuch a holy witch,
That he inchants focieties into him:
Half all mens hearts are his.

Imo. You make amends.

Iach. He fits 'mongst men like a descended god;
He hath a kind of honour fets him off,
More than a mortal feeming. Be not angry,
Most mighty Princess, that I have adventur'd
To try your taking of a false report, which hath
Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment,
In the election of a Sir, fo rare,

Which you know cannot err. The love I bear him,
Made me to fan you thus; but the gods made you,
Unlike all others, chafflefs. Pray, your pardon.
Imo. All's well, Sir; take my pow'r i'th' court for yours.
Iach. My humble thanks; I had almost forgot
T' intreat your grace but in a small request,

And

yet

of moment too, for it concerns

Your lord; my felf, and other noble friends
Are partners in the business.

Imo. Pray what is't?

Iach. Some dozen Romans of us, and your lord,
(Beft feather of our wing,) have mingled sums
To buy a present for the Emperor:

Which I, the factor for the reft, have done
In France; 'tis plate of rare device, and jewels

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Of rich and exquifite form, their values great;
And I am something curious, being strange,
To have them in fafe ftowage: may it please you
To take them in protection.

Imo. Willingly;

And pawn mine honour for their safety. Since
My lord hath int'reft in them, I will keep them
In my bed-chamber.

lach. They are in a trunk

Attended by my men: I will make bold

To send them to you, only for this night;

I must aboard to-morrow.

Imo. O no, no.

Iach. Yes, I beseech you: or I shall short my word

By length'ning my return. From Gallia,

I croft the feas on purpose, and on promise

To fee your grace.

Imo. I thank you for your pains;

But not away to-morrow?

Iach. I muft, madam.

Therefore I shall befeech you, if you please
To greet your lord with writing, do't to-night.
I have out-stood my time, which is material
To th' tender of our present.

Imo. I will write :

Send your trunk to me, it shall be safe kept,
And truly yielded you: You're very welcome.

[Exeunt.

ACT

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