Is to exchange one misery with another,

And every day that comes comes to decay

A day’s work in him. What shalt thou expect

To be depender on a thing that leans,

Who cannot be new built nor has no friends

So much as but to prop him?

⌈She drops her box. He takes it up⌉

Thou tak’st up

Thou know‘st 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 an earnest of a farther good

That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how

The case stands with her; do’t as from thyself.

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 myself, I chiefly,

That set thee on to this desert, am bound

To load thy merit richly. Call my women.

Think on my words.

Exit Pisanio

A sly and constant knave,

Not to be shaked; the agent for his master,

And the remembrancer of her to hold

The hand-fast to her lord. I have given him that

Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her

Of liegers for her sweet, and which she after,

Except she bend her humour, shall be assured

To taste of too.

Enter Pisanio and Ladies

So, so; well done, well done.

The violets, cowslips, and the primroses

Bear to my closet. Fare thee well, Pisanio.

Think on my words, Pisanio.

PISANIO

And shall do.

Exeunt Queen and Ladies

But when to my good lord I prove untrue,

I’ll choke mysetf—there’s all I’ll do for you.

Exit

1.6 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.

Enter Pisanio and Giacomo

Who may this be? Fie!

PISANIO

Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome

Comes from my lord with letters.

GIACOMO

Change you, madam?

The worthy Leonatus is in safety,

And greets your highness dearly.

He gives her the letters

INNOGEN

Thanks, good sir.

You’re kindly welcome.

She reads the letters

GIACOMO (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 aloud) ’He is one of the noblest note, to whose kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon him accordingly, as you value

Your truest

Leonatus.’

(To Giacomo) 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.

GIACOMO

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 th’unnumbered beach, and can we not

Partition make with spectacles so precious

’Twixt fair and foul?

INNOGEN

What makes your admiration?

GIACOMO

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?

GIACOMO The cloyed 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?

GIACOMO

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?

GIACOMO

Well, madam.

INNOGEN

Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is.

GIACOMO

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.

GIACOMO

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—