I croft the feas on purpose, and on promise
To see your Grace.

Imo. I thank you for your pains;
But not away to-morrow?

Tach. O, I muft, Madam.

Therefore I fhall befech you, if you please
To greet your Lord with writing, do't to-night.
I have outftood my time, which is material
To th' tender of our present.

Imo. I will write :

Send your trunk to me, it fhall safe be kept,

And truly yielded you.

You're very welcome.

[Exeunt.

ACT II. SCENE I.

Cymbeline's Palace.

Enter Cloten, and two Lords.

CLOTEN.

AS there ever man had fuch luck! when I

W kifs'd the Jack upon an up-caft, to be hit

away! I had an hundred pound on't. And then a whorefon jack-an-apes muft take me up for fwearing, as if I borrowed mine oaths of him, and might not fpend them at my pleasure.

I Lord. What got he by that? you have broke his pate with your bowl.

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

[Afide.

Clot. When a gentleman is difpofed to fwear, it is not for any ftanders-by to curtail his oaths.

Ha?

2 Lord.

2 Lord. No, my Lord; nor crop the ears of them.

[Afide. Clot. Whorefon dog! I give him fatisfaction?

'would, he had been one of my rank.

[Afide.

2 Lord. To have smelt like a fool.Clot. I am not vext more at any thing in the earth, -a pox on't! I had rather not be fo noble as I am; they dare not fight with me, because of the Queen my mother; every Jack-flave hath his belly full of fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that no body can match.

2 Lord. You are a cock and a capon too; and you crow, cock, with your comb on.

Clot. Say't thou?

[Afide.

1 Lord. It is not fit your Lordship fhould undertake every companion, that you give offence to.

Clot. No, I know that; but it is fit I fhould commit offence to my inferiors.

2 Lord. It is fit for your Lordship only.

Clot. Why, fo I fay.

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

Clot. A ftranger, and I not know on't?

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

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

Clot. Leonatus! a banish'd rafcal; and he's another, whatfoever he be. Who told you of this ftranger? 1 Lard. One of your Lordship's pages.

Clot. Is it fit I went to look upon him? is there no derogation in't?

2 No, my Lord, &c.] This, I lufion is to a fool's cap, which believe, fhould stand thus:

had a comb like a cock's.

4every companion,] The ufe of companion was the fame as of fellow now. It was a word of contempt.

1 Lord.

1 Lord. You cannot derogate, my Lord. Clot. Not eafily, I think.

2 Lord. You are a fool granted, therefore your if fues being foolish do not derogate.

[Afide. Clot. Come, I'll go fee this Italian: what I have loft to-day at bowls, I'll win to-night of him. Come;

go.

2 Lord. I'll attend your lordship.

[Exit Cloten. That fuch a crafty devil, as his mother,

Should yield the world this afs !a woman, that
Bears all down with her brain; and this her fon
Cannot take two from twenty for his heart,
And leave eighteen.-Alas, poor Princefs,
Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'ft!
Betwixt a father by thy ftep-dame govern'd,
A mother hourly coining plots; a wooer,
More hateful than the foul expulfion is
Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act
Of the divorce 5 he'd make.-The heav'ns hold firm
The walls of thy dear Honour; keep unshak'd
That Temple, thy fair Mind; that thou may'st stand
T' enjoy thy banish'd Lord, and this land!

great

SCENE II.

[Exeunt.

Changes to a magnificent Bed chamber; in one part of it, a large trunk.

Imogen is difcovered reading in ber bed, a Lady at

Imo.

tending.

HO's there? my woman Helen?

WLady. Please you, Madam

-hell made

In which he is followed by Dr.
Warburton.

Imo. What hour is it?

Lady. Almoft midnight, Madam.

Imo. 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 canft awake by four o' th' clock,
I pry'thee, call me. Sleep hath feiz'd me wholly.

[Exit Lady.
To your protection I commend me, Gods;
From Fairies, and the Tempters of the night,
Guard me, 'befeech ye.

[Sleeps. [lachimo rifes from the trunk. Iach. The crickets fing, and man's o'er-labour'd

fenfe

6

Repairs i felf by rest: our Tarquin thus
'Did loftly prefs the rushes, ere he waken'd
The chastity he wounded. Cytherea,

How bravely thou becom'ft thy bed! fresh lily,
And whiter than the fheets! that I might touch,
But kifs, one kifs-rubies unparagon'd,

How dearly they do't!-'tis her breathing, that
Perfumes the chamber thus: the flame o' th' taper
Bows tow'rd her, and would under-peep her lids,
To fee th' inclofed light, now canopy'd

8

Under thefe windows: white and azure! lac'd With blue of heav'n's own tinct.-But my defign's To note the chamber-I will write all down,

Such, and fuch, pictures-there, the window,-fuch Th' adornment of her bed-the arras, figures

our Tarquin-] The fpeaker is an Italian.

7 Did foftly prefs the rushes,-] It was the custom in the time of Our authour, to ftrew chambers with rushes, as we now cover

phemera Britannica.

-white AND azure, lac'd WITH blue of heav'n's own tina.-] We fhould read, -white with azure lac'd, THE blue of beav'n's own tinet.

them with carpets. The prac-i. e. the white fkin laced with

tice is mentioned in Caius de E- blue veins.

U 3

WARBURTON.

Why,

Why, fuch and fuch-and the contents o' th' ftory-
Ah, but fome nat'ral notes about her body,
Above ten thoufand meaner moveables,
Would teftify, t'enrich my 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 flipp'ry, as the Gordian knot was hard.
'Tis mine; and this will witnefs outwardly,
As ftrongly as the confcience does within,
To th' madding of her Lord. On her left breast
A mole cinque-fpotted, like the crimson drops
I' th' bottom of a cowflip. Here's a voucher,
Stronger than ever law could make this fecret
Will force him think, I've 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 rivetted,
Screw'd to my mem'ry? She hath been reading, late,
The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's turn'd down,
Where Philomel gave up-I have enough:
To th' trunk again, and fhut the fpring of it.
Swift, fwift, you Dragons of the night!
dawning

night! that