Britain. A room in Cymbeline's palace.
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?
CORNELIUS
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 those 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.
CORNELIUS
Your highness
Shall from this practise but make hard your heart:
Besides, the seeing these effects will be
Both noisome and infectious.
QUEEN
O, content thee.
Enter PISANIO
Aside
Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him
Will I first work: he's for his master,
An enemy to my son. How now, Pisanio!
Doctor, your service for this time is ended;
Take your own way.