Cymbeline

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima

Enter Clotten, and the two Lords.

Clot. Was there euer man had such lucke? when I kist the Iacke vpon an vp-cast, to be hit away? I had a hundred pound on't: and then a whorson Iacke-an-Apes, must take me vp for swearing, as if I borrowed mine oathes of him, and might not spend them at my pleasure   1. What got he by that? you haue broke his patewith your Bowle   2. If his wit had bin like him that broke it: it wouldhaue run all out   Clot. When a Gentleman is dispos'd to sweare: it isnot for any standers by to curtall his oathes. Ha?  2. No my Lord; nor crop the eares of them   Clot. Whorson dog: I gaue him satisfaction? wouldhe had bin one of my Ranke2. To haue smell'd like a FooleClot. I am not vext more at any thing in th' earth: a pox on't I had rather not be so Noble as I am: they dare not fight with me, because of the Queene my Mother: euery Iacke-Slaue hath his belly full of Fighting, and I must go vp and downe like a Cock, that no body can match   2. You are Cocke and Capon too, and you crowCock, with your combe on   Clot. Sayest thou?  2. It is not fit your Lordship should vndertake eueryCompanion, that you giue offence too   Clot. No, I know that: but it is fit I should commitoffence to my inferiors2. I, it is fit for your Lordship onelyClot. Why so I say   1. Did you heere of a Stranger that's come to Courtnight?  Clot. A Stranger, and I not know on't?  2. He's a strange Fellow himselfe, and knowes it not   1. There's an Italian come, and 'tis thought one ofLeonatus Friends   Clot. Leonatus? A banisht Rascall; and he's another,whatsoeuer he be. Who told you of this Stranger?  1. One of your Lordships Pages   Clot. Is it fit I went to looke vpon him? Is there noderogation in't?  2. You cannot derogate my LordClot. Not easily I thinke   2. You are a Foole graunted, therefore your Issuesbeing foolish do not derogate   Clot. Come, Ile go see this Italian: what I haue lostto day at Bowles, Ile winne to night of him. Come: go   2. Ile attend your Lordship.Enter.That such a craftie Diuell as is his MotherShould yeild the world this Asse: A woman, thatBeares all downe with her Braine, and this her Sonne,Cannot take two from twenty for his heart,And leaue eighteene. Alas poore Princesse,Thou diuine Imogen, what thou endur'st,Betwixt a Father by thy Step-dame gouern'd,A Mother hourely coyning plots: A Wooer,More hatefull then the foule expulsion isOf thy deere Husband. Then that horrid ActOf the diuorce, heel'd make the Heauens hold firmeThe walls of thy deere Honour. Keepe vnshak'dThat Temple thy faire mind, that thou maist standT' enioy thy banish'd Lord: and this great Land.Exeunt.Scena Secunda

Enter Imogen, in her Bed, and a Lady.

  Imo. Who's there? My woman: Helene?  La. Please you Madam   Imo. What houre is it?  Lady. Almost midnight, Madam   Imo. I haue read three houres then:Mine eyes are weake,Fold downe the leafe where I haue left: to bed.Take not away the Taper, leaue it burning:And if thou canst awake by foure o'th' clock,I prythee call me: Sleepe hath ceiz'd me wholly.To your protection I commend me, Gods,From Fayries, and the Tempters of the night,Guard me beseech yee.Sleepes.Iachimo from the Trunke.  Iach. The Crickets sing, and mans ore-labor'd senseRepaires it selfe by rest: Our Tarquine thusDid softly presse the Rushes, ere he waken'dThe Chastitie he wounded. Cytherea,How brauely thou becom'st thy Bed; fresh Lilly,And whiter then the Sheetes: that I might touch,But kisse, one kisse. Rubies vnparagon'd,How deerely they doo't: 'Tis her breathing thatPerfumes the Chamber thus: the Flame o'th' TaperBowes toward her, and would vnder-peepe her lids.To see th' inclosed Lights, now CanopiedVnder these windowes, White and Azure lac'dWith Blew of Heauens owne tinct. But my designe.To note the Chamber, I will write all downe,Such, and such pictures: There the window, suchTh' adornement of her Bed; the Arras, Figures,Why such, and such: and the Contents o'th' Story.Ah, but some naturall notes about her Body,Aboue ten thousand meaner MoueablesWould testifie, t' enrich mine Inuentorie.O sleepe, thou Ape of death, lye dull vpon her,And be her Sense but as a Monument,Thus in a Chappell lying. Come off, come off;As slippery as the Gordian-knot was hard.'Tis mine, and this will witnesse outwardly,As strongly as the Conscience do's within:To'th' madding of her Lord. On her left brestA mole Cinque-spotted: Like the Crimson dropsI'th' bottome of a Cowslippe. Heere's a Voucher,Stronger then euer Law could make; this SecretWill force him thinke I haue pick'd the lock, and t'aneThe treasure of her Honour. No more: to what end?Why should I write this downe, that's riueted,Screw'd to my memorie. She hath bin reading late,The Tale of Tereus, heere the leaffe's turn'd downeWhere Philomele gaue vp. I haue enough,To'th' Truncke againe, and shut the spring of it.Swift, swift, you Dragons of the night, that dawningMay beare the Rauens eye: I lodge in feare,Though this a heauenly Angell: hell is heere.Clocke strikesOne, two, three: time, time.Enter.Scena Tertia

Enter Clotten, and Lords.

1. Your Lordship is the most patient man in losse, the most coldest that euer turn'd vp AceClot. It would make any man cold to loose1. But not euery man patient after the noble temper of your Lordship; You are most hot, and furious when you winne. Winning will put any man into courage: if I could get this foolish Imogen, I should haue Gold enough: it's almost morning, is't not? 1 Day, my LordClot. I would this Musicke would come: I am aduised to giue her Musicke a mornings, they say it will penetrate. Enter Musitians.Come on, tune: If you can penetrate her with your fingering, so: wee'l try with tongue too: if none will do, let her remaine: but Ile neuer giue o're. First, a very excellent good conceyted thing; after a wonderful sweet aire, with admirable rich words to it, and then let her consider.

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