Imatges de pÓgina

Will force him think I have pick'd the lock, and

ta'en The treasure of her honour, No more.--To what end?

110 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 this a heavenly angel, hell is here.

[ Clock strikes. One, two, three :

-Time, time!
[Goes into the Trunk : the Scene closes.


Another Room in the Palace. Enter CLOTEN, and Two



i Lord. Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the most coldest that ever turn'd up ace.

Clot. It would make any man cold to lose.

i Lord. But not every man patient, after the noble temper of your lordship ; You are most hot, and fu rious, when you win. Clot. Winning will put any man into courage : If I Diij



could get this foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough : It's almost morning, is't not?

i Lord. Day, my lord.

Clot. I would this musick would come: I am advis'd to give her musick 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.

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

And Phæbus '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 musick 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.

152 Clot. 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. Cym. Attend you here the door of our stern

daughter Will she not forth?

Clot. I have assail'd her with musicks, but she vouchsafes no notice.

Cym. The exile of her minion is too new; 161
She hath not yet forgot him ; some more time
Must wear the print of his remembrance out,
And then she's your's.

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.

Clot. Senseless ? not so.


Enter a Messenger.

Mes. So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome; The one is Caius Luciùs.

Cym. A worthy fellow, Albeit he comes on angry purpose now ; But that's no fault of his : We must receive him 180 According to the honour of his sender; And towards himself, his goodness forespent on us, We must extend our notice.--Our dear son, 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.

[Excunt. Clot. 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

190 Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and makes Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up Their deer to the stand o' 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 One of her women lawyer to me; for I yet not understand the case myself, By your leave.



Enter a Lady.


Lady. Who's there, that knocks ?
Clot. A gentleman.
Lady. No more?
Clot. Yes, and a gentlewoman's son.

Lady. That's more
Than some, whose tailors are as dear as your's,
Can justly boast of: What's your lordship's pleasure ?
* Clot. Your lady's person: Is she ready?

Lady. Ay, to keep her chamber.
Clot. There's gold for you ; sell me your good re.

port. Lady. How I my good name? or to report of you What I shall think is good ? --The princess-



Clot. 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.

Clot. Still, I swear, I love you.

Imo. If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me : If you swear still, your recompence is still That I regard it not. Clot. This is no answer.


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