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I muft a board to-morrow.
Imo. O no, no.
lach. Yes, I beseech you: or I Mall Mort my word, By lengh’ning my return. From Gallia, I crost the seas on purpose, and on promise To fee
lach. O, I must, Madam.
Imo. I will write:
А ст ІІ.
Enter Cloten, and two Lords.
kiss'd the Jack upon an up-caft, to be hit away! I had an hundred pound on't; and then a whoreson jack-anapes must take me up for swearing, as if I borrowed mine 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 bowi.
2 Lord. If his wit had been like him that broke it, it would have run all out.
[Aside. Clot. When a gentleman is dispos'd to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths. Ha? K5
2 Lord. No, my Lord ; nor crop the ears of them.
[Aside. Clot. Whoreson dog! I give him satisfaction ? 'would, he had been one of
rank. 2 Lord. To have smelt like a fool.
[Afide. Clot. I am not vext more at any thing in the earth,
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-llave 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
(Afide. Clor. Say't thou ?
2 Lord. It is not fit your Lordship should undertake every companion, that you give offence to.
Clot. 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. Clot. Why, so I fay.
i Lord. Did you hear of a stranger that's comes to court to-night?
Clot. A stranger, and I know not on't ? 2 Lord. He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it
[Afide. 1 Lord. There's an Italian come, and, 'tis thought, one of Leonatus's friends.
Clot. Leonatus! a banish'd rascal ; and he's another, whatsoever he be. Who told you of this stranger ?
1 Lord. One of your Lordship's pages.
Clot. Is it fit I went to look upon him? is there no derogation in't ?
2 Lord. You cannot derogate, my Lord.
issues being foolish do not derogate.
[4fide. Clot. Come, I'll go see 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.
That such a crafty devil, as his mother,
(7) More hateful than the foul Expulsion is
Of thy dear Husband, than that borrid AEZ
The Walls of thy dear honour, &c.]
or the horrid Attempt of making that Banishment perpetual, by “ his marrying her in her Lord's absence.” Having made this Reflexion, he subjoins a virtuous Wish, that Heaven may preferve her Honour unblemished, and her to enjoy her Husband back, and her Rights in the Kingdom,
SCENE changes to a magnificent Bed-chamber ;
in one part of it, a large trunk. Imogen is discover'd reading in her bed, a Lady attending. Imo. H O's there my woman Helen? Lady. Please
Imo. I have read three hours then, mine eyes are weak,
[Exit Lady To your protection I commend me, Gods; From Fairies, and the Tempters of the night, Guard me, 'beseech ye.
[Iachimo rises from the trunka lach. The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd sense Repairs itself by reft: our Tarquin thus Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken'd The chattity he wounded. Cytherea, How bravely thou becom'st thy bed ! fresh lily, And whiter than the sheets ! that I might touch, But kiss, ore kissrubies unparagon'd, How dearly they do't!'tis her breathing, that Perfumes the chamber thus: the fiame oʻth taper Bows tow'rd her, and would under-peep her lids, To see th' inclosed light, now canopy'd Under these windows : white and azure, lac'd With blue of heav'ns own tinct. But my design's To note the chamber I will write all down, Such, and fuch, pictures- there, the window,—such Thi adornment of her bed the arras, tiguresWhy, such and fuch-and the contents o'th' story Ab, but some nat’ral notes about her body, Above ten thousand meaner moveables, Would teftify, t'enrich my inventory; O Sleep, thou ape of Death, lie dull upon her!
And be her sense but as a monument,
[Taking off her bracelet.
[Goes into the trunk, the Scene closes.
SCENE changes to another part of the Palace,
facing imogen's Apartments.
Enter Cloten, and Lords.
Y the .
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 furious, when you win.
Clot. Winning will put any man into courage: If I could get this foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough: It's almoft morning, is't not?
i Lord. Day, my Lord.
Clit. I would, this music come: I am advis'd to give her musick o' mornings; they say, it will penetrate.