IACHIMO.
My humble thanks. I had almost forgot
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
(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;
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
In my bedchamber.
IACHIMO.
They are in a trunk,
Attended by my men. I will make bold
To send them to you only for this night;
I must aboard tomorrow.
IMOGEN.
O, no, no.
IACHIMO.
Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my word
By length’ning my return. From Gallia
I cross’d the seas on purpose and on promise
To see your Grace.
IMOGEN.
I thank you for your pains.
But not away tomorrow!
IACHIMO.
O, I must, madam.
Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please
To greet your lord with writing, do’t tonight.
I have outstood my time, which is material
To th’ tender of our present.
IMOGEN.
I will write.
Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept
And truly yielded you. You’re very welcome.