Page 468 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

IACHIMO

O dearest soul: your cause doth strike my heart
With pity that doth make me sick! A lady
So fair, and fasten’d to an empery [120]

Would make the great’st king double, to be partner’d
With tomboys hir’d with that self exhibition
Which your own coffers yield! with diseas’d ventures,
That play with all infirmities for gold
Which rottenness can lend Nature! Such boil’d stuff [125]

As well might poison poison! Be reveng’d,
Or she that bore you was no queen, and you
Recoil from your great stock.

IMOGEN
Reveng’d!

How should I be reveng’d? If this be true,
(As I have such a heart that both mine ears [130]
Must not in haste abuse) if it be true,
How should I be reveng’d?

IACHIMO
Should he make me

Live like Diana’s priest, betwixt cold sheets,
Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps,
In your despite, upon your purse − Revenge it. [135]

I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure,
More noble than that runagate to your bed,
And will continue fast to your affection,
Still close as sure.

IMOGEN
What ho, Pisanio!

IACHIMO
Let me my service tender on your lips. [140]

IMOGEN

Away, I do condemn mine ears, that have