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Be assur'd, madam,
Imo. I did not take my leave of him, but had
THE BASENESS OF FALSEHOOD TO A WIFE.
Doubting things go ill, often hurts more
Had I this cheek
ACT II. SCENE. A Bedchamber;
in one part of it a Trunk. Imogen reading in her Bed; a Lady attending. Imo. Mine eyes are weak:Fold down the leaf where I have left: To bed! Takс not away the taper, leave it burning: And if thou canst awake by four o’ the clock, I prythee, call me. Sleep hath seiz'd me wholly.
[Exit Lady. To your protection I commend me, gods! From fairies, and the tempters of the night, Guard me, beseech ye!
[Sleeps. Iachimo from the Trunk. lach. The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd Repairs itself by rest: Our Tarquin thus Did softly press the rushes,* ere he waken'd The chastity he wounded. Cytherea, How bravely thou becom'st thy bed! fresh lily! And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch! But kiss ! one kiss! Rubies unparagond, How dearly they do't.-Tis her breathing that Perfumes the chamber thus: The flame o' the taper Bows toward her; and would underpeep her lids, To see the enclosed lights, now canopied Under these windows: White and azure, lac'd With blue of heav'ns own tinct. But my design? To note the chamber:-I will write all down: Such, and such pictures;—There the window:
* It was anciently the custom to strew chambers witb fushes.
ti. e. The white skin laced with blue veins. * Tapestry:
And be her sense but as a monument,
[Taking off her Bracelet
. As slippery, as the Gordian knot was hard! 'Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly, As strongly as the conscience does within, To the madding of her lord. On her left breast A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops i' the bottom of a cowslip: Here's a voucher, Stronger than ever law could make: this secret Will force him think I have pick'd the lock, and ta’en The treasure of her honour. No more.
To what end? Why should I write this down, that's riveted, Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's turn'd down, Where Philomel gave up;--I have enough: To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it, Swift, swift, you dragons of the night!—that dawning May bear the raven's eye: I lodge in fear; Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here.
[Goes into the Trunk. The Scene closes.
A SATIRE OF WOMEN.
Is there no way for men to be, but women Must be half-workers? We are bastards all; And that most venerable man, which I Did call my father, was I know not where When I was stamp’d; some coiner with his tools Made me a counterfeit; Yet my mother seem'd The Dian of that time: so doth my wife The nonpariel of this.-0 vengeance, vengeance!
Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd,
Could I find out The woman's part in me! For there's no motion That tends to vice in man, but I affirm It is the woman's part: be it lying, note it, The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers; Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain, Nice longings, slanders, mutability, All faults that may be nam’d, nay that hell knows, Why, hers, in part, or all; but, rather, all: For ev'n to vice They are not constant, but are changing still One vice, but of a minute old, for one · Not half so old as that. I'll write against them, Detest them, curse them :-Yet ’tis greater skill In a true bate, to pray they have their will: The very devils cannot plague them better
IMPATIENCE OF A WIFE TO MEET HER HUSBAND.
O, for a horse with wings !-Hear’st thou, Pisanio? He is at Milford-Haven: Read, and tell me How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs May plod it in a week, why may not I Glide thither in a day?-Then, true Pisanio, (Who long'st like me, to see thy lord: who long'st,0, let me bate, but not like me:-yet longost, But in a fainter kind;--0, not like me; For mine's beyond beyond,) say, and speak thickt. (Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing, To the smothering of the sense,) how far it is To this same blessed Milford: And, by the way, Tell me how Wales was made so happy, as * Modesty. + Crowd one word on another, as fast as possible.
To inherit such a haven: But first of all,
One score, 'twixt sun and sun, Madam, 's enough for you; and too much too.
Imo. Why, one that rode to his execution, man,
Madam, you're best consider.
[Ereu SCENE. Wales. A mountainous Country, with
without Good morrow to the sun, Hail, thou fair heaven! We house i' the rock, yet use thee
not so hardly As prouder livers do.
* A freeholder. + Strut, walk proudly.