How dearly they do't!-'Tis her breathing that
Perfumes the chamber thus: The flame o' the taper
Bows toward her; and would under-peep her lids,
To fee the enclosed lights, now canopied
Under thefe windows: White and azure, lac'd
With blue of heaven's own tinct.-But my design?
To note the chamber :-I will write all down :-

:

Such, and fuch, pictures ;-There the window:-Such
The adornment of her bed ;-The arras, figures,
Why, fuch, and fuch :-And the contents o' the story,-
Ah, but fome natural notes about her body,
Above ten thousand meaner moveables
Would teftify, to enrich mine inventory:

O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her!
And be her fenfe but as a monument,
Thus in a chapel lying!-Come off, come off;—
[Taking off her bracelet.
As flippery, as the Gordian knot was hard!—
'Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly,
As ftrongly as the confcience does within,
To the madding of her lord. On her left breast
A mole cinque-fpotted, like the crimson drops
I' the bottom of a cowflip: Here's a voucher,
Stronger than ever law could make: this fecret
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 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

Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. [Clock ftrikes. One, two, three,-Time, time!

[Goes into the trunk. The fcene closes.

SCENE III.

An Ante-Chamber adjoining Imogen'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 lofe.

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

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

get

1 Lord. Day, my lord.

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

Enter Muficians.

Come on; tune: If you can penetrate her with your fingering, fo; we'll try with tongue too: let her remain; but I'll never give o'er. cellent good-conceited thing; after, a

if none will do, First, a very exwonderful sweet

air, with admirable rich words to it, and then let her confider.

SONG.

Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate fings,

And Phabus 'gins arise,
His feeds to water at thofe fprings

On chalic'd flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes;
With every thing that pretty bin:
My lady fweet, arife;
Arife, arife.

So, get you gone: If this penetrate, I will confider your mufick the better: if it do not, it is a vice in her ears, which horse-hairs, and cats-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 fo late; for that's the reason I was up fo early: He cannot choose but take this fervice I have done, fatherly.-Good morrow to your majefty, and to my gracious mother.

Cym. Attend you here the door of our stern daughter? Will the not forth?

Clo. I have affail'd her with mufick, but the vouchfafes no notice.

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

Queen.

You are most bound to the king;

Whe

Who lets go by no vantages, that may
Prefer you to his daughter: Frame yourself
To orderly folicits; and be friended
With aptnefs of the season: make denials
Increase your services: so seem, as if
You were infpir'd to do thofe 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.

Senfeless? not fo.

Enter a Meffenger.

Me. So like you, fir, 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: We must receive him
According to the honour of his fender;

And towards himself his goodnefs forefpent on us
We must extend our notice.-Our dear fon,

When you have given good morning to your mistress,
Attend the queen, and us; we shall have need

To employ you towards this Roman.-Come, our queen. [Exeunt CYM. Queen, Lords, and Meff.

Clo. If the be up, I'll speak with her; if not, Let her lie ftill and dream.—By your leave, ho!

I know her women are about her; What
If I do line one of their hands? 'Tis gold

[Knocks.

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, fometime, hangs both thief and true man: What

Can it not do, and undo? I will make
One of her women lawyer to me; for
I yet not understand the cafe myself.

Than fome, whofe tailors are as dear as yours,

Can juftly boast of: What's your lordship's pleasure?
Clo. Your lady's perfon: Is fhe ready?

Lady.

To keep her chamber.

Ay,

Clo. There's gold for you; fell me your good report. Lady. How! my good name? or to report of What I shall think is good?-The princefs

Enter IMOGEN.

you

Clo. Good-morrow, fairest sister: Your sweet hand. Imo. Good-morrow, fir: 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 fwear, I love you.

Imo. If you but faid fo, 'twere as deep with me: If you fwear ftill, your recompence is still

That I regard it not.

Clo.

This is no answer.