Ah, but some natural notes about her body, [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 prevail'd, 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 tail 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. One, two, three,-Time, time! [Clock strikes. [Goes into the Trunk. The Scene 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. 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 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. Cloten. I would this musick would come: I am advised to give her musick o' the 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. Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, His steeds to water at those springs On chalic'd flowers that lies: And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes; So, get you gone: If this penetrate, I will consider your musick the better: if it do not, it is a vice in her ears, which horse-hairs, and cat-guts, can never amend. [Exeunt MUSICIANS. Enter CYMBELINE and QUEEN. 2 Lord. Here comes the king. Cloten. I am glad, I was up so late? for that's the reason I was up so early: He cannot choose but take this service I have done, fatherly.-Good morrow to your majesty, and to my gracious mother. Cymbeline. Attend you here the door of our stern daughter? Will she not forth? 9 Cups. 1 Will pay you more for it. Cloten. I have assailed her with musick, but she vouchsafes no notice. Cymbeline. 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 let's 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. Cloten. Senseless? not so. Enter a MESSENGER. Messenger. So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome; The one is Caius Lucius. Cymbeline. 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 sender; And towards himself his goodness forespent on us When you have given good morning to your mistress, To employ you towards this Roman.-Come, our queen. [Exeunt CYMBELINE, QUEEN, LORDS, and MESSENGER. Cloten. If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not, Let her lie still, and dream. By your leave, ho!—[Knocks. 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; One of her women lawyer to me; for Enter a LADY. Lady. Who's there, that knocks? Cloten. Lady. [Knocks, A gentleman. No more? That's more Cloten. Yes, and a gentlewoman's son. Lady. Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours, Can justly boast of; What's your lordship's pleasure? Cloten. Your lady's person; is she ready? Lady. To keep her chamber. Ay, Cloten. There's gold for you; sell me your good report. Lady. How! my good name? or to report of you What I shall think is good?—The princess Enter IMOGEN. Cloten. Good-morrow, fairest sister: Your sweet hand, Imogen. 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. Cloten. Still, I swear, I love you. Imogen. If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me: If you swear still, your recompence is still That I regard it not. Cloten. This is no answer. Imogen. But that you shall not say I yield, being silent, I would not speak. I pray you, spare me, I shall unfold equal discourtesy To your best kindness; one of your great knowing Cloten. To leave you in your madness, 'twere my sin: I will not. Imogen. Fools are not mad folks. Cloten. Do you call me fool? Imogen. As I am mad, I do; By being so verbal:2 and learn now, for all, (To accuse myself,) I hate you: which I had rather Cloten. A hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth, Imogen. Profane fellow ! Wert thou the son of Jupiter, and no more, 2 So verbose, so full of talk. A low fellow, only fit to wear a livery. |