Britain. A Room in CYMBELINE'S Palace. |
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Enter QUEEN, Ladies, and CORNELIUS. |
Queen. Whiles yet the dew's on ground, gather those flowers: |
Make haste; who has the note of them? |
First Lady. I, madam. |
Queen. Dispatch. [Exeunt Ladies. |
Now, Master doctor, have you brought those drugs? |
Cor. 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 these 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. |
Cor. Your highness |
Shall from this practice but make hard your heart; |
Besides, the seeing these effects will be |
Both noisome and infectious. |
Queen. O! content thee. |
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Enter PISANIO. |
[Aside.] Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him |
Will I first work: he's for his master, |
And enemy to my son. How now, Pisanio! |
Doctor, your service for this time is ended; |
Take your own way. |
Cor. [Aside.] I do suspect you, madam; |
But you shall do no harm. |
Queen. [To PISANIO.] Hark thee, a word. |
Cor. [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. |
Cor. I humbly take my leave. [Exit. |
Queen. Weeps she still, sayst 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 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 redeem'd from death; I do not know |
What is more cordial: nay, I prithee, 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 shak'd; 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 leigers for her sweet, and which she after, |
Except she bend her humour, shall be assur'd |
To taste of too. |
|
Re-Enter PISANIO and Ladies. |
So, so;—well done, well done. |
The violets, cowslips, and the prime-roses |
Bear to my closet. Fare thee well, Pisanio: |
Think on my words. [Exeunt QUEEN and Ladies. |
Pis. 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. |
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