Another Room in the Palace.
 Enter INNOGEN.

Innogen	A father cruel, and a stepdame 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-stol'n,
	As my two brothers, happy; but most miserable
	Is the desire that's glorious. Blest 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.

Iachimo										Change you, madam;
	The worthy Leonatus is in safety,
	And greets your highness dearly.
													[Presents a letter.
Innogen											Thanks, good sir,
	You're kindly welcome.

Iachimo	[Aside.] All of her that is out of door most rich!
	If she be furnished with a mind so rare,
	She is alone th' Arabian bird, and I
	Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend!
	Arm me, audacity, from head to foot,
	Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight;
	Rather, directly fly.

Innogen	[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 warmed by th' 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.

Iachimo									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 twinned stones
	Upon the numbered beach, and can we not
	Partition make with spectacles so precious
	'Twixt fair and foul?

Innogen								What makes your admiration?

Iachimo	It cannot be i'th' eye, for apes and monkeys
	'Twixt two such shes would chatter this way and
	Contemn with mows the other; nor i'th' judgement,
	For idiots in this case of favour would
	Be wisely definite; nor i'th' appetite,
	Sluttery to such neat excellence opposed
	Should make desire vomit emptiness,
	Not so allured to feed.

Innogen	What is the matter, trow?

Iachimo										The cloyd will,
	That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub
	Both filled and running, ravening first the lamb,
	Longs after for the garbage.

Innogen									What, dear sir,
	Thus raps you? Are you well?

Iachimo	Thanks, madam, well.
					[To PISANIO.] 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.
Innogen	Continues well my lord? His health, beseech you?

Iachimo	Well, madam.

Innogen	Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is.

Iachimo	Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there
	So merry and so gamesome. He is called
	The Briton reveller.

Innogen								When he was here
	He did incline to sadness, and oft-times
	Not knowing why.

Iachimo							I never saw him sad.
	There is a Frenchman his companion, one
	An eminent monsieur 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 choose
	But must be - will's free hours languish for
	Assurd bondage?'

Innogen								Will my lord say so?

Iachimo	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.

Innogen										Not he, I hope.

Iachimo	Not he; but yet heaven's bounty towards him might
	Be used 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.

Innogen					What do you pity, sir?

Iachimo	Two creatures heartily.

Innogen									Am I one, sir?
	You look on me. What wreck discern you in me
	Deserves your pity?

Iachimo								Lamentable! What,
	To hide me from the radiant sun, and solace
	I'th' dungeon by a snuff?

Innogen										I pray you, sir,
	Deliver with more openness your answers
	To my demands. Why do you pity me?

Iachimo	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.

Innogen									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 - for certainties
	Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing,
	The remedy then born - discover to me
	What both you spur and stop.

Iachimo											Had I this cheek
	To bathe my lips upon; this hand whose touch,
	Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul
	To th' oath of loyalty; this object which
	Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,
	Firing it only here; should I, damned then,
	Slaver with lips as common as the stairs
	That mount the Capitol, join gripes with hands
	Made hard with hourly falsehood - falsehood as
	With labour - then by-peeping in an eye
	Base and illustrous as the smoky light
	That's fed with stinking tallow; it were fit
	That all the plagues of hell should at one time
	Encounter such revolt.

Innogen									My lord, I fear,
	Has forgot Britain.

Iachimo								And himself. Not I
	Inclined 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.

Innogen									Let me hear no more.

Iachimo	O dearest soul, your cause doth strike my heart
	With pity that doth make me sick! A lady
	So fair, and fastened to an empery,
	Would make the great'st king double, to be partnered
	With tomboys hired with that self-exhibition
	Which your own coffers yield, with diseased ventures
	That play with all infirmities for gold
	Which rottenness can lead nature! Such boiled stuff
	As well might poison poison! Be revenged,
	Or she that bore you was no queen, and you
	Recoil from your great stock.

Innogen											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?

Iachimo										Should he make me
	Live like Diana's priest, betwixt cold sheets,
	Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps,
	In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge it.
	I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure,
	More noble than that runagate to your bed,
	And will continue fast to your affection,
	Still close as sure.

Innogen								What ho, Pisanio!

Iachimo	Let me my service tender on your lips.

Innogen	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 such an end thou seek'st, as base, as strange.
	Thou wrong'st a gentleman who is as far
	From thy report as thou from honour; and
	Solicit'st here a lady that disdains
	Thee and the devil alike. - What ho, 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 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 who
	He not respects at all. - What ho, Pisanio!

Iachimo	O happy Leonatus! I may say
	The credit that thy lady hath of thee
	Deserves thy trust, and thy most perfect goodness
	Her assured credit. Blessd live you long!
	A lady to the worthiest sir that ever
	Country called his; and you his mistress, only
	For the most worthiest 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 mannered, such a holy witch
	That he enchants societies into him;
	Half all men's hearts are his.

Innogen											You make amends.

Iachimo	He sits 'mongst men like a descended god.
	He hath a kind of honour sets him off
	More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry,
	Most mighty princess, that I have adventured
	To try your taking of a false report, which hath
	Honoured with confirmation your great judgement
	In the election of a sir so 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, chaffless. Pray, your pardon.

Innogen	All's well, sir; take my power i'th' court for yours.

Iachimo	My humble thanks. I had almost forgot
	T' entreat your grace but in a small request,
	And yet of moment too, for it concerns.
	Your lord, myself, and other noble friends,
	Are partners in the business.

Innogen											Pray, what is't?

Iachimo	Some dozen Romans of us, and your lord-
	The best feather of our wing - have mingled sums
	To buy a present for the emperor;
	Which I, the factor for the rest, have done
	In France. 'Tis plate of rare device, and jewels
	Of rich and exquisite form, their values great;
	And I am something curious, being strange,
	To have them in safe stowage. May it please you
	To take them in protection?

Innogen										Willingly;
	And pawn mine honour for their safety, since
	My lord hath interest in them. I will keep them
	In my bedchamber.

Iachimo							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 tomorrow.

Innogen									O, no, no.

Iachimo	Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my word
	By lengthening my return. From Gallia
	I crossed the seas on purpose and on promise
	To see your grace.

Innogen								I thank you for your pains;
	But not away tomorrow!

Iachimo										O, I must, madam.
	Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please
	To greet your lord with writing, do't tonight.
	I have outstood my time, which is material
	To th' tender of our present.

Innogen											I will write.
	Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept,
	And truly yielded you. You're very welcome.
													[Exeunt.
