Page 470 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

To try your taking of a false report, which hath
Honour’d with confirmation your great judgement
In the election of a sir so rare, [175]
Which you know cannot err. The love I bear him

Made me to fan you thus, but the gods made you
(Unlike all others) chaffless. Pray, your pardon.

IMOGEN
All’s well, sir: take my power i’ th’ court for yours.

IACHIMO
My humble thanks. I had almost forgot [180]
T’ entreat your grace, but in a small request,

And yet of moment too, for it concerns:
Your lord, myself, and other noble friends
Are partners in the business.

IMOGEN
Pray, what is’t?

IACHIMO
Some dozen Romans of us, and your lord [185]

(The best feather of our wing) have mingled sums
To buy a present for the emperor:
Which I (the factor for the rest) have done
In France: ’tis plate of rare device, and jewels

Of rich and exquisite form, their values great, [190]
And I am something curious, being strange,
To have them in safe stowage: may it please you
To take them in protection?

IMOGEN
Willingly:

And pawn mine honour for their safety, since
My lord hath interest in them; I will keep them [195]
In my bedchamber.