Imatges de pÓgina
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Imog. I will write. Send

your trunk to me; it shall be safe kept, And truly yielded you: You are very welcome.

{Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Cymbeline's Palace.

Enter Cloten and Two Lords. Cloten. Was there ever man had such luck! when I kiss'd the jack upon an up-cast, to be bit away! I had an hundred pound on't: and then a whoreson jackanapes must take me up for swearing; as if I borrowed my oaths of him, and might not spend them at my pleasure.

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

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

Cloten. 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 crop the ears of them.

[Aside. Cloten. Whoreson dog !—I give him satisfaction ? 'Would he had been one of my rank ! A plague 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 no body can match.

1 Lord. It is not fit, your lordship should unders take every companion that you give offence to,

Cloten. 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. Cloten. Why, so I say. 2 Lord. Here comes the king.

Enter CYMBELINE and Queen. Cloten. Good-night to your majesty, and gracious

mother. Cym. Attend

you

here the door of our stern daughter ? Will she not forth?

Cloten. She vouchsafes no notice; but I will assail her before morning with mask and music.

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. Enter MESSENGER, and whispers the First LORD.

Queen. You are most bound to the king, Who lets go by no 'vantages, that may Prefer you to his daughter.

1 Lord. So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome; The one is Caius Lucius.

Cym. A worthy fellow, Albeit he comes on angry purpose now; But that's no fault of his :-Our dear son, When you have given good morning to your mistress, Attend the Queen and us, we shall have need T' employ you towards this Roman. Betimes to-morrow we'll hear th'embassy. Come, madam. [Exeunt CYMBELINE and Queen.

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

Cloten. Another stranger, and I not know on't?

2 Lord. He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it not.

[Aside. 1 Lord. There's an Italian come, and 'tis thought, one of Leonatus' friends.

Cloten. 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.

Cloten. Is it fit, I went to look upon him ? Is there no derogation in it?

2 Lord. You cannot derogate, my lord.'

Cloten. Not easily, I think,
Come, I'll go see this Italian; and if he'll play,
I'll game with him; and to-morrow, with our
Father, we'll hear the ambassador-Come, let's go.
1 Lord, I attend your lordship.

[Ereunt.

SCENE III.

A Bed-chamber.--In one part of it a Trunk.

Imogen reading in her Bed.-Helen attending.
Imog. Who's there ? my woman Helen?
Helen. Please you, madam,-
Imog. What hour is it?
Helen, Almost midnight, madam.
Imog. I have read three hours then: mine eyes are

weak :
Fold down the leaf where I have left: To bed :
Take not away the taper, leave it burning;
And if thou canst awake by four oʻthe clock,
I pr’ythee, call me. Sleep hath seiz'd me wholly.

[Exit Helen.
To your protection I commend me, gods !
From fairies, and the tempters of the night,
Guard me, 'bescech you !

Sleeps.

1

LACHIMO comes out of the Trunk.
Iach. The crickets sing, and man's o'erlabour'd

sense

Repairs itself by rest : Our Tarquin thus
Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken'd
The chastity he wounded.-Cytherea,
How bravely thou becom'st thy bed! fresh lily!
And whiter than the sheets ! That I might touch!
But kiss; one kiss !
'Tis her breathing that
Perfumes the chamber thus: The fame o' the taper
Bows towards her; and would under-peep her lids,
To see the enclosed lights, now canopy'd
Under these windows: White and azure, lac'd
With blue of heaven's own tinct.-But my design?
To note the chamber :-) will write all down :-
Such, and such, pictures :—There the window:-

uch
The adornment of her bed ;-The arras, figures,
Why, such, and such :—And the contents o' the

story,
Ah, but some natural notes about her body,
Above ten thousand meaner moveables
Would testify, to enrich mine inventory.
O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon

her!
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 Gordion 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
l'the bottom of a cowslip : Here's a voucher,
Stronger than ever law could make.
To what end?
Wby should I write this down, that's riveted,

Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late
The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's 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.

[Clock strikes. One, two, three :--Time, time!

[Goes into the Trunk.-The Scene closes.

SCENE IV.

Cymbeline's Palace.

Enter Cloten and the Two LORDS.

1 Lord. Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the coldest that ever turned up ace.

Cloten. It would make any man cold to lose.

1 Lord. But not every man patient, after the noble temper of your lordship: You are most hot, and furious, when you win.

Cloten. Winning will put any man into courage. If I could get this foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough: It's almost morning, is't not ? 2 Lord. Day, my

lord. Cloten. I would the maskers and musicians were come; I am advised to give her music o’mornings ; they say, it will penetrate.

[A Flourish of Music within. i Lord. Here they are, my lord. Cloten. Come, let's join them.

[Exeunt.

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