Qu. Beseech your patience: Peace Deere Lady daughter, peace. Sweet Soueraigne, Leaue vs to our selues, and make your self some comfort Out of your best aduice
Cym. Nay, let her languish A drop of blood a day, and being aged Dye of this Folly. Enter.
Enter Pisanio.
Qu. Fye, you must giue way: Heere is your Seruant. How now Sir? What newes? Pisa. My Lord your Sonne, drew on my Master
Qu. Hah? No harme I trust is done? Pisa. There might haue beene, But that my Master rather plaid, then fought, And had no helpe of Anger: they were parted By Gentlemen, at hand
Qu. I am very glad on't
Imo. Your Son's my Fathers friend, he takes his part To draw vpon an Exile. O braue Sir, I would they were in Affricke both together, My selfe by with a Needle, that I might pricke The goer backe. Why came you from your Master? Pisa. On his command: he would not suffer mee To bring him to the Hauen: left these Notes Of what commands I should be subiect too, When't pleas'd you to employ me
Qu. This hath beene Your faithfull Seruant: I dare lay mine Honour He will remaine so
Pisa. I humbly thanke your Highnesse
Qu. Pray walke a-while
Imo. About some halfe houre hence, Pray you speake with me; You shall (at least) go see my Lord aboord. For this time leaue me.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Clotten, and two Lords.
1. Sir, I would aduise you to shift a Shirt; the Violence of Action hath made you reek as a Sacrifice: where ayre comes out, ayre comes in: There's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent
Clot. If my Shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Haue I hurt him? 2 No faith: not so much as his patience
1 Hurt him? His bodie's a passable Carkasse if he bee not hurt. It is a through-fare for Steele if it be not hurt
2 His Steele was in debt, it went o'th' Backe-side the Towne
Clot. The Villaine would not stand me
2 No, but he fled forward still, toward your face
1 Stand you? you haue Land enough of your owne: But he added to your hauing, gaue you some ground
2 As many Inches, as you haue Oceans (Puppies.) Clot. I would they had not come betweene vs
2 So would I, till you had measur'd how long a Foole you were vpon the ground
Clot. And that shee should loue this Fellow, and refuse mee
2 If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damn'd
1 Sir, as I told you alwayes: her Beauty & her Braine go not together. Shee's a good signe, but I haue seene small reflection of her wit
2 She shines not vpon Fooles, least the reflection Should hurt her
Clot. Come, Ile to my Chamber: would there had beene some hurt done
2 I wish not so, vnlesse it had bin the fall of an Asse, which is no great hurt
Clot. You'l go with vs? 1 Ile attend your Lordship
Clot. Nay come, let's go together
2 Well my Lord.
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Imogen, and Pisanio.
Imo. I would thou grew'st vnto the shores o'th' Hauen, And questioned'st euery Saile: if he should write, And I not haue it, 'twere a Paper lost As offer'd mercy is: What was the last That he spake to thee? Pisa. It was his Queene, his Queene
Imo. Then wau'd his Handkerchiefe? Pisa. And kist it, Madam
Imo. Senselesse Linnen, happier therein then I: And that was all? Pisa. No Madam: for so long As he could make me with his eye, or eare, Distinguish him from others, he did keepe The Decke, with Gloue, or Hat, or Handkerchife, Still wauing, as the fits and stirres of's mind Could best expresse how slow his Soule sayl'd on, How swift his Ship