Upon the number'd beach'; and can we not Imo. What makes your admiration? Iach. It cannot be i' the eye; for apes and monkeys, Imo. What is the matter, trow? (That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, The cloyed will, That tub both fill'd and running) ravening first Imo. Thus raps you? Are What, dear sir, Iach. Thanks, madam, well.-Beseech you, sir, desire [TO PISANIO. My man's abode where I did leave him; he Is strange and peevish. Pis. I was going, sir, To give him welcome. [Exit PISANIO. you? Imo. Continues well my lord? His health, 'beseech Iach. Well, madam. Imo. Is he dispos'd to mirth? I hope, he is. Iach. Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there So merry and so gamesome: he is call'd The Briton reveller. Upon the NUMBER'D BEACH ;] The "number'd beach must be taken, as Johnson observes, for numerous beach; and "twinned stones" of the preceding line refers to the likeness, as of twins, between the stones on the beach. Coleridge (Lit. Rem. vol. ii. p. 127) would read, with Farmer, umber'd for "number'd ;" but, if any change were required, we should be inclined to prefer that of Theobald, "th' unnumber'd beach. Imo. When he was here, He did incline to sadness; and oft-times Not knowing why. Iach. I never saw him sad. There is a Frenchman his companion, one, An eminent monsieur, that, it seems, much loves The thick sighs from him, whiles the jolly Briton What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose But must be,—will his free hours languish For assur'd bondage?" Imo. Will my lord say so? Iach. Ay, madam, with his eyes in flood with laugh ter: It is a recreation to be by, And hear him mock the Frenchman; but, heavens know, Some men are much to blame. Imo. Not he, I hope. Iach. Not he; but yet heaven's bounty towards him might Be us❜d more thankfully. In himself, 'tis much; To pity too. Imo. What do you pity, sir? Iach. Two creatures, heartily. Imo. Am I one, sir? You look on me: what wreck discern you in me, Deserves your pity? Iach. Lamentable! What! To hide me from the radiant sun, and solace I' the dungeon by a snuff? Imo. VOL. VIII. I pray you, sir, M Deliver with more openness your answers I was about to say, enjoy your-But Imo. You do seem to know Something of me, or what concerns me: pray you, Had I this cheek Iach. Imo. Has forgot Britain. Iach. My lord, I fear, And himself. Not I, Inclin'd to this intelligence, pronounce The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces 5 FIXING it only here ;] The first folio has fiering. The correction was made in the second folio. 6 Base and ILLUSTROUS-] All modern editors change "illustrous" to unlustrous, which may be more strictly correct; but the word is illustrous" (misprinted illustrious) in all the folios, and it ought on every account to be preferred, as that which came from the author's pen. That, from my mutest conscience, to my tongue, Imo. Let me hear no more. Iach. 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, 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, Which rottenness can lend nature! such boil'd stuff, Imo. Reveng'd! How should I be reveng'd? If this be true, (As I have such a heart, that both mine ears Must not in haste abuse) if it be true, How should I be reveng'd? Iach. Should he make me Live, like Diana's priest, betwixt cold sheets, In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge it. Imo. What ho, Pisanio! Iach. Let me my service tender on your lips. Thee and the devil alike.-What ho, Pisanio!- A lady to the worthiest sir, that ever Country call'd his; and you his mistress, only Imo. You make amends. Iach. He sits 'mongst men, like a descended god3: He hath a kind of honour sets him off, More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry, Which, you know, cannot err. The love I bear him 7 societies UNTO him:] "Societies into him," in the old copies: it was most likely a misprint, but not necessarily so. 8 like a DESCENDED god:] The first folio has defended, corrected to "descended" in the second folio. The error of course arose from a mistake by the compositor of the long s for the letter f. |