Cymbeline

who has the note of them? First Lady I, madam. Queen

Dispatch. Exeunt Ladies.
Now, master doctor, have you brought those drugs?

Cornelius

Pleaseth your highness, ay: here they are, madam: Presenting a small box.
But I beseech your grace, without offence⁠—
My conscience bids me ask⁠—wherefore you have
Commanded of me those most poisonous compounds,
Which are the movers of a languishing death;
But though slow, deadly?

Queen

I wonder, doctor,
Thou ask’st me such a question. Have I not been
Thy pupil long? Hast thou not learn’d me how
To make perfumes? distil? preserve? yea, so
That our great king himself doth woo me oft
For my confections? Having thus far proceeded⁠—
Unless thou think’st me devilish⁠—is’t not meet
That I did amplify my judgment in
Other conclusions? I will try the forces
Of these thy compounds on such creatures as
We count not worth the hanging, but none human,
To try the vigour of them and apply
Allayments to their act, and by them gather
Their several virtues and effects.

Cornelius

Your highness
Shall from this practise but make hard your heart:
Besides, the seeing these effects will be
Both noisome and infectious.

Queen O, content thee. Enter Pisanio.

Aside. Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him
Will I first work: he’s for his master,
An enemy to my son. How now, Pisanio!
Doctor, your service for this time is ended;
Take your own way.

Cornelius

Aside. I do suspect you, madam;
But you shall do no harm.

Queen To Pisanio. Hark thee, a word. Cornelius

Aside. I do not like her. She doth think she has
Strange lingering poisons: I do know her spirit,
And will not trust one of her malice with
A drug of such damn’d nature. Those she has
Will stupify and dull the sense awhile;
Which first, perchance, she’ll prove on cats and dogs,
Then afterward up higher: but there is
No danger in what show of death it makes,
More than the locking-up the spirits a time,
To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool’d
With a most false effect; and I the truer,
So to be false with her.

Queen

No further service, doctor,
Until I send for thee.

Cornelius I humbly take my leave. Exit. Queen

Weeps she still, say’st thou? Dost thou think in time
She will not quench and let instructions enter
Where folly now possesses? Do thou work:
When thou shalt bring me word she loves my son,
I’ll tell thee on the instant thou art then
As great as is thy master, greater, for
His fortunes all lie speechless and his name
Is at last gasp: return he cannot, nor
Continue where he is: to shift his being
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? The Queen drops the box: Pisanio takes it up. Thou takest up
Thou know’st not what; but take it for thy labour:
It is a thing I made, which hath the king
Five times redeem’d from death: I do not know
What is more cordial. Nay, I prethee, take it;
It is an earnest of a further 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.

Re-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. Exeunt Queen and Ladies.

Pisanio

And shall do:
But when to my good lord I prove untrue,
I’ll choke myself: there’s all I’ll do for you. Exit.

Scene VI

The same. Another room in the palace.

	Enter Imogen.
Imogen	A father cruel, and a step-dame false; A foolish suitor to a wedded lady, That hath her husband banish’d;⁠—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.
Imogen	Thanks, good sir: You’re kindly welcome.
Iachimo	Aside. All of her that is out of door most rich! If she be furnish’d with a mind so rare, She is alone the 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.
Imogen	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 warm’d by the 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 twinn’d stones Upon the number’d beach? and can we not Partition make with spectacles so precious ’Twixt fair and foul?
Imogen	What makes your admiration?
Iachimo	It cannot be i’ the eye, for apes and monkeys ’Twixt two such shes would chatter