I kissed the jack upon an up-cast,' to be hit away! | SCENE II-A bed-chamber; in one part of it I had a hundred pound on't: And then a whoreson a trunk. Imogen reading in her bed; a Lady jackanapes must take me up for swearing; as if I attending. borrowed mine oaths of him, and might not spend them at my pleasure.

1 Lord. What got he by that? You have broke his pate with your bowl.

2 Lord. If his wit had been like him that broke it, it would have run all out.

[Aside. Clo. When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths: Ha? 2 Lord. No, my lord; nor [Aside.] crop the ears

of them.

Imo. Who's there? my woman Helen?
Lady.

Imo. What hour is it?

Please you, madam. Almost midnight, madam: Imo. I have read three hours then: mine eyes

Lady.

are weak:

Fold down the leaf where I have left: To bed;
And if thou canst awake by four o'the clock,
Take not away the taper, leave it burning;

Clo. Whoreson dog!-I give him satisfaction? I pr'ythee, call me. Sleep hath seiz'd me wholly. 'Would, he had been one of my rank! 2 Lord. To have smelt like a fool. Clo. I am not more vexed at any thing in the earth,—A pox on't! I had rather not be so noble as I am; they dare not fight with me, because of the queen my mother: every jack-slave hath his belly full of fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that nobody can match.

[Exit Lady. [Aside. To your protection I commend me, gods! From fairies, and the tempters of the night, Guard me, beseech ye!

2 Lord. You are a cock and capon too; and you crow, cock, with your comb on. [Aside. Clo. Sayest thou?

1 Lord. It is not fit, your lordship should undertake every companion that you give offence to. Clo. No, I know that: but it is fit, I should commit offence to my inferiors.

2 Lord. Ay, it is fit for your lordship only. Clo. Why, so I say.

1 Lord. Did you hear of a stranger, that's come to court to-night?

Clo. A stranger! and I not know on't! 2 Lord. He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it not.

[Aside.

[Sleeps. Iachimo, from the trunk. Iach. The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd

sense

Repairs itself by rest: Our Tarquin thus
The chastity he wounded.-Cytherea,
Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken'd
How bravely thou becom'st thy bed! fresh lily!
And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch!
But kiss; one kiss!-Rubies unparagon'd,
Perfumes the chamber thus: The flame o'the taper
How dearly they do't!-'Tis her breathing that
Bows toward her; and would under-peep her lids,
To see the enclosed lights, now canopied
With blue of heaven's own tinct.-But my design?
Under these windows: White and azure, lac'd
To note the chamber:-I will write all down:-
Such, and such, pictures :-There the window:-

Such

1 Lord. There's an Italian come; and, 'tis The adornment of her bed ;-The arras, figures, thought, one of Leonatus' friends. Why, such, and such:-And the contents o'the

Clo. Leonatus? a banished rascal; and he's another, whatsoever he be. Who told you of this stranger?

1 Lord. One of your lordship's pages.

story,

Ah, but some natural notes about her body,
Above ten thousand meaner moveables
Would testify, to enrich mine inventory:

Clo. Is it fit I went to look upon him? Is there sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her! no derogation in't!

3

1 Lord. You cannot derogate, my lord. Clo. Not easily, I think.

2 Lord. You are a fool granted; therefore your issues being foolish, do not derogate. [Aside. Clo. Come, I'll go see this Italian: What I have lost to-day at bowls, I'll win to-night of him. Come, go.

2 Lord. I'll attend your lordship.

[Exeunt Cloten and first Lord.
That such a crafty devil as is his mother'
Should yield the world this ass! a woman, that
Bears all down with her brain; and this her son
Cannot take two from twenty for his heart,
And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess,
Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'st!
Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern'd;
A mother hourly coining plots; a wooer,
More hateful than the foul expulsion is
Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act

Of the divorce he'd make! The heavens hold
firm.

The walls of thy dear honour; keep unshak'd That temple, thy fair mind; that thou may'st stand,

To enjoy thy banish'd lord, and this great land!

[Exit.

(1) He is describing his fate at bowls; the jack is the small bowl at which the others are aimed. (2) Fellow. (3) i. e. Degrade yourself.

And be her sense but as a monument,
Thus in a chapel lying!-Come off, come off;-
[Taking off her bracelet.
As slippery, as the Gordian knot was hard!
'Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly,
As strongly as the conscience does within,
To the madding of her lord. On her left breast
A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops
I'the bottom of a cowslip: Here's a voucher,
Stronger than ever law could make this secret
Will force him think I have pick'd the lock, and

ta'en

The treasure of her honour. No more.-To what
end?

Why should I write this down, that's riveted,
Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late
The tale of Tereus; here's the leaf turn'd down,
Where Philomel gave up ;-I have enough:
To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it.
Swift, swift, you dragons of the night!-that
dawning

May bare the raven's eye: I lodge in fear;
Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here.
One, two, three,-Time, time!
[Clock strikes.

[Goes into the trunk. The scene closes.

(4) It was anciently the custom to strew cham bers with rushes.

(5) i. e. The white skin laced with blue veins (6) Tapestry.

SCENE III.-An ante-chamber adjoining Imo-Albeit he comes on angry purpose now;
gen's apartment. Enter Cloten and Lords.
1 Lord. Your lordship is the most patient man
in loss, the most coldest that ever turn'd up ace.
Clo. It would make any man cold to lose.
noble temper of your lordship; You are most hot,
1 Lord. But not every man patient, after the
and furious, when you win.

Clo. Winning would put any man into courage: If I could get this foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough: It's almost morning, is't not?

1 Lord. Day, my lord.

Clo. I would this music would come: I am advised to give her music o'mornings; they say, it will penetrate.

Enter Musicians.

Come on; tune: If you can penetrate her with your fingering, so; we'll try with tongue too: if none will do, let her remain; but I'll never give o'er. First, a very excellent good-conceited thing; after, a wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich words to it,—and then let her consider.

SONG.

tress,

But that's no fault of his: We must receive him
According to the honour of his sender;
And towards himself his goodness forespent on us
We must extend our notice.-Our dear son,
Attend the queen, and us; we shall have need
When you have given good morning to your mis-
To employ you towards this Roman.-Come, our
[Exeunt Cym. Queen, Lords, and Mess.
Clo. If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not,
Let her lie still, and dream.-By your leave ho!-
[Knocks.

queen.

I know her women are about her: What
If I do line one of their hands? 'Tis gold
Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and
makes

Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up
Their deer to the stand of the stealer; and 'tis gold
Which makes the true man kill'd, and saves the
thief;

Nay, sometime, hangs both thief and true man:
What

Can it not do, and undo? I will make

Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, One of her women lawyer to me; for

And Phabus 'gins arise,

His steeds to water at those springs

On chalic'd' flowers that lies;

And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes;

With every thing that pretty bin:
My lady sweet, arise;
Arise, arise.

So, get you gone: If this penetrate, I will consider
your music the better:2 if it do not, it is a vice in
her ears, which horse-hairs, and cat-guts, nor the
voice of unpaved eunuch to boot, can never amend.
[Exeunt Musicians.

Enter Cymbeline and Queen.

2 Lord. Here comes the king.

Clo. I am glad, I was up so late; for that's the

I yet not understand the case myself.
By your leave.

Enter a Lady.

[Knocks.

Lady. How! my good name? or to report of you

reason I was up so early: He cannot choose but What I shall think is good?-The princess-

take this service I have done, fatherly.-Good morrow to your majesty, and to my gracious mother. Cym. Attend you here the door of our stern daughter?

Will she not forth?

Clo. I have assailed her with music, but she vouchsafes no notice.

Cym. The exile of her minion is too new;
She hath not yet forgot him: some more time
Must wear the print of his remembrance out,
And then she's yours.

Queen.
You are most bound to the king;
Who lets go by no vantages, that may
Prefer you to his daughter: Frame yourself
To orderly solicits; and be friended
With aptness of the season: make denials
Increase your services: so seem, as if
You were inspir'd to do those duties which
You tender to her: that you in all obey her,
Save when command to your dismission tends,
And therein you are senseless.
Clo.

Senseless? not so.

Enter Imogen.

Clo. Good morrow, fairest sister: Your sweet hand.

Imo. Good morrow, sir: You lay out too much
pains

For purchasing but trouble: the thanks I give,
Is telling you that I am poor of thanks,
And scarce can spare them.

Clo.
Still, I swear, I love you.
Imo. If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me:
If you swear still, your recompense is still
That I regard it not.

Clo.

This is no answer.

Imo. But that you shall not say I yield, being

silent,

I would not speak. I pray you, spare me: i'faith,
I shall unfold equal discourtesy

To your best kindness; one of your great knowing
Should learn, being taught, forbearance.

Clo. To leave you in your madness, 'twere my sin: I will not.

Imo. Fools are not mad folks.

Clo.

Imo. As I am mad, I do :

Do you call me fool1

If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad;

(3) With solicitations not only proper, but welltimed.

That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir,
You put me to forget a lady's manners,
By being so verbal:' and learn now, for all,
That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce,
By the very truth of it, I care not for you;
And am so near the lack of charity

(To accuse myself,) I hate you: which I had rather
You felt, that make't my boast.

Clo.
You sin against
Obedience, which you owe your father. For
The contract you pretend with that base wretch,
(One, bred of alms, and foster'd with cold dishes,
With scraps o'the court,) it is no contract, none:
And though it be allow'd in meaner parties,
(Yet who, than he, more mean?) to knit their souls
(On whom there is no more dependency
But brats and beggary) in self-figur'd knot;2
Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by
The consequence o'the crown; and must not soil
The precious note of it with a base slave,
A hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth,
A pantler, not so eminent.

Imo.
Profane fellow!
Wert thou the son of Jupiter, and no more,
But what thou art, besides, thou wert too base
To be his groom: thou wert dignified enough,
Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made
Comparative for your virtues, to be styl'd
The under-hangman of his kingdom; and hated
For being preferr'd so well.
Clo.

The south fog rot him!
Imo. He never can meet more mischance, than

come

To be but nam'd of thee. His meanest garment,
That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer,
In my respect, than all the hairs above thee,
Were they all made such men.-How now, Pisanio?
Enter Pisanio.

Clo. His garment? Now, the devil-
Imo. To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently:-
Clo. His garment?

Imo.
I am spirited with a fool;
Frighted, and anger'd worse:-Go, bid my woman
Search for a jewel, that too casually

To win the king, as I am bold, her honour
Will remain hers.

Phi.
What means do you make to him?
Post. Not any; but abide the change of time;
Quake in the present winter's state, and wish
That warmer days would come: In these fear'd
hopes,

I barely gratify your love; they failing,
I must die much your debtor.

Phi. Your very goodness, end your company,
O'erpays all I can do. By this, your king
Hath heard of great Augustus: Caius Lucius
Will do his commission throughly: And, I think,
He'll grant the tribute, send the arrearages,
Or look upon our Romans, whose remembrance
Is yet fresh in their grief.
Post.
I do believe
(Statist though I am none, nor like to be,
That this will prove a war; and you shall near
The legions, now in Gallia, sooner landed
In our not-fearing Britain, than have tidings
Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen
Are men more order'd, than when Julius Cæsar
Smil'd at their lack of skill, but found their courage
Worthy his frowning at: Their discipline
(Now mingled with their courages) will make known
To their approvers, they are people, such
That mend upon the world.

Post. Their tenor good, I trust.
Iach.
"Tis very like.
Phi. Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court,
When you were there?

Iach.

But not approach'd.

Post.

He was expected then,

All is well yet.—

Sparkles this stone as it was wont? or is't not
Too dull for your good wearing?

Hath left mine arm; it was thy master's: 'shrew me,
If I would lose it for a revenue
Of any king's in Europe. I do think,
I saw't this morning: confident I am,
Last night 'twas on mine arm; I kiss'd it:
hope, it be not gone, to tell my lord
That I kiss aught but he.
Pis.
'Twill not be lost.
Imo. I hope so: go, and search. [Exit Pis.
Clo.
me:-I'll make a journey twice as far, to enjoy
I should have lost the worth of it in gold.
A second night of such sweet shortness, which
Was mine in Britain; for the ring is won.
Post. The stone's too hard to come by.
Jach.

His meanest garment?

Imo.

You have abus'd

Ay; I said so, sir.

If you will make't an action, call witness to't.
Clo. I will inform your father.
Imo.

She's my good lady; and will conceive, I hope,
But the worst of me. So I leave you, sir,
To the worst of discontent.

Clo.

Your mother too :

[Exit.

I'll be reveng'd:

[Exit.

His meanest garment?-Well.
SCENE IV.-Rome. An apartment in Philario's
house. Enter Posthumus and Philario.
Post. Fear it not, sir: I would, I were so sure

(1) So verbose, so full of talk.

2) In knots of their own tying. (3) A low fellow, only fit to wear a livery.

lach.

If I have lost it,

Make not, sir,

Not a whit,

Your loss your sport: I hope, you know that we
Must not continue friends.

SCENE I-Britain. A room of state in Cymbe-Though Rome be therefore angry;) Mulmutius, line's palace. Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, and Lords, at one door; and at another, Caius Lucius, and Attendants.