It is a thing I made, which hath the king
Five times redeem'd from death: I do not know
What is more cordial:-Nay, I pr'ythee, take it;
It is an earnest of a further good

That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how
The case stands with her; do't, as from thyself.
Think what a chance thou changest on; but
think

Thou hast thy mistress still; to boot, my son,
Who shall take notice of thee: I'll move the king
To any shape of thy preferment, such
As thou'lt desire; and then myself, I chiefly,
That set thee on to this desert, am bound
To load thy merit richly. Call my women:
Think on my words. Exit Pisa.-A sly and
constant knave;

Not to be shak'd: the agent for his master;
And the remembrancer of her, to hold
The hand fast to her lord.---I have given him that,
Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her
Of liegers for her sweet; and which she, after,
Except she bend her humour, shall be assur'd

Re-enter PISANIO, and Ladies.

To taste of too.-So, so;-well done, well done:
The violets, cowslips, and the primroses,
Bear to my closet:-Fare thee well, Pisanio;
Think on my words. [Exeunt Queen and Ladies.
Pis. And shall do:

But when to my good lord I prove untrue,
I'll choke myself: there's all I'll do for you.

[Exit.

SCENE VII.-Another room in the same.
Enter IMOGEN.

Imo. A father cruel, and a step-dame false;
A foolish suitor to a wedded lady,
That hath her husband banish'd;-0, that hus-
band!

My supreme crown of grief! and those repeated
Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stolen,
As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable
Is the desire that's glorious: Blessed be those,
How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills,
Which seasons comfort.-Who may this be? Fye!

Enter PISANIO and IACHIMO.

Pis. Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome; Comes from my lord with letters. Iach. Change you, madam? The worthy Leonatus is in safety, And greets your highness dearly.

Imo. Thanks, good sir: You are kindly welcome.

[Presents a letter.

Iach. All of her, that is out of door, most rich!

Aside.

If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare,
She is alone the Arabian bird; and I
Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend!
Arm me, audacity, from head to foot!

monkeys,

'Twixt two such shes, would chatter this way, and Contemn with mows the other: Nor i'the judgment;

For idiots, in this case of favour, would
Be wisely definite: Nor i'the appetite;
Sluttery, to such neat excellence oppos'd,
Should make desire vomit emptiness,
Not so allur'd to feed.

Imo. What is the matter, trow?
Iach. The cloyed will,

(That satiate yet unsatisfied desire,

That tub both fill'd and running,) ravening first
The lamb, longs after for the garbage.
Imo. What, dear sir,

Thus raps you? Are you well?

Iach. Thanks, madam; well:-'Beseech you, sir, desire [To Pisanio. My man's abode, where I did leave him: he Is strange and peevish.

Pis. I was going, sir, To give him welcome.

[Exit Pisanio. Imo. Continues well my lord? His health, beseech you?

$76

cries, O!

Can my sides hold, to think, that man,-who

knows

By history, report, or his own proof,
What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose
But must be,-will his free hours languish for
Assured bondage?

Imo. Will my lord say so?

Charms this report out.

Imo. Let me hear no more.

Iach. O dearest soul! your cause doth strike

my heart

It is a recreation to be by,

Which your own coffers yield! with diseas'd ven

tures,

vens know,

Some men are much to blame.
Imo. Not he, I hope.

Jach. Not he: But yet heaven's bounty to-
wards him might

Be us'd more thankfully. In himself, 'tis much;
In you, which I count his, beyond all talents,
Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound
To pity too.

Imo. What do you pity, sir?

Iach. Two creatures, heartily.

Imo. Am I one, sir?

Which rottenness can lend nature; such boil'd

Imo. Reveng'd!

Deserves your pity?

Iach. Lamentable! What!

To hide me from the radiant sun, and solace I'the dungeon by a snuff?

Imo. I pray you, sir,

Deliver with more openness your answers
To my demands. Why do you pity me?
Iach. That others do,

I was about to say, enjoy your-But
It is an office of the gods to venge it,
Not mine to speak on't.

Imo. You do seem to know
Something of me, or what concerns me; 'Pray you,
(Since doubting things go ill, often hurts more
Than to be sure they do: For certainties
Either are past remedies; or, timely knowing,
The remedy then born,) discover to me
What both you spur and stop.

Iach. Had I this cheek

To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch,
Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul
To the oath of loyalty; this object, which
Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,
Fixing it only here: should I (damn'd then,)
Slaver with lips as common as the stairs
That mount the Capitol ; join gripes with hands
Made hard with hourly falsehood (falsehood, as
With labour;) then lie peeping in an eye,
Base and unlustrous as the smoky light
That's fed with stinking tallow; it were fit,
ees of hell should at one time

Encounter such revolt,

Has forgot Britain.

fear,

Lach. And himself. Not I,

Inclined to this intelligence, pronounce

The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces,

In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge it.
I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure;
More noble than that runagate to your bed;
And will continue fast to your affection,
Still close, as sure.

Imo. What ho, Pisanio!

Iach. Let me my service tender on your lips. Imo. Away!—I do condemn mine ears, that have

So long attended thee.-If thou wert honourable,
Thou would'st have told this tale for virtue, not
For such an end thou seek'st; as base, as strange.
Thou wrong'st a gentleman, who is as far
From thy report, as thou from honour; and
Solicit'st here a lady, that disdains

Thee and the devil alike.-What ho, Pisanio!-
The king my father shall be made acquainted
Of thy assault: if he shall think it fit,
As in a Romish stew, and to expound
A saucy stranger, in his court, to mart
His beastly mind to us; he hath a court
He little cares for, and a daughter whom
He not respects at all.-What ho, Pisanio!-
Iach. O happy Leonatus! I may say;
Deserves thy trust; and thy most perfect good-
The credit that thy lady hath of thee,

Imo. You make amends.

Jach. Hesits'mongst men, like a descended god: He hath a kind of honour sets him off, More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry, Most mighty princess, that I have adventur'd To try your taking of a false report; which hath Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment In the election of a sir so rare,

Which you know cannot err: The love I bear him Made me to fan you thus; but the gods made you, Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray, your pardon. Imo. All's well, sir: Take my power i' the

court for yours.

Iach. My humble thanks. I had almost forgot To entreat your grace but in a small request, And yet of moment too, for it concerns Your lord; myself, and other noble friends, Are partners in the business.

Imo. Pray, what is't?

Iach. Some dozen Romans of us, and your lord, (The best feather of our wing) have mingled sums, To buy a present for the emperor : Which I, the factor for the rest, have done In France: 'Tis plate, of rare device; and jewels, Of rich and exquisite form; their values great; And I am something curious, being strange,

SCENE I.-Court before CYMBELINE's palace.

Enter CLOTEN, and two Lords.

Clo. Was there ever man had such luck! when I kissed the jack upon an up-cast, to be hit away! I had an hundred pound on't: And then a whoreson jackanapes must take me up for swearing; as if I borrowed mine oaths of him, and might not spend them at my pleasure. 1 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 ran all out.

[Aside. Clo. When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths: Ha?

2 Lord. No, my lord; nor [Aside.] crop the

ears of them.

Clo. Whoreson dog!-I give him satisfaction? 'Would, he had been one of my rank!

[Aside.

2 Lord. To have sinelt like a fool. Clo. I am not more vexed at any thing in the earth,—A pox 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-slave hath his belly full of fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that nobody can match.

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

Clo. Sayest thou?

1 Lord. It is not fit, your lordship should undertake every companion that you give of fence to.

Clo. 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. Clo. Why, so I say.

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

Clo. A stranger! and I not know on't! 2 Lord. He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it not. Aside.

1 Lord. There's an Italian come; and, 'tis thought, one of Leonatus' friends.

Clo. Leonatus! a banished rascal; and he's another, whatsoever he be. Who told you of this stranger?

1 Lord. One of your lordship's pages. Clo. Is it fit, I went to look upon him? Is there no derogation in't?

1 Lord. You cannot derogate, my lord.
Clo. Not easily, I think.

2

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

[Asid.

Clo. Come, I'll go see this Italian: What I have lost to-day at bowls, I'll win to-night of him. Come, go.

2 Lord. I'll attend your lordship. [Exeunt loten and first Lord. That such a crafty devil as is his mother Should yield the world this ass! a woman, that Bears all down with her brain; and this her son Cannot take two from twenty for his heart, And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess, Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'st! Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern'd; A mother hourly coining plots; a wooer, More hateful than the foul expulsion is Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act Of the divorce he'd make! The heavens hold firm The walls of thy dear honour; keep unshak'd That temple, thy fair mind; that thou may'st stand,

To enjoy thy banish'd lord, and this great land! [Exit. SCENE II-A bed-chamber; in one part of it

a trunk.

Repairs itself by rest: Our Tarquin thus
Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken’d
The chastity he wounded.-Cytherea,

How bravely thou becom'st thy bed! fresh lily!

O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her!
And be her sense but as a monument,
Thus in a chapel lying!-Come off, come off;-
[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 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 memory? She hath been reading

late

SCENE III.-An anti-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 turned up ace. Clo. 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.

Clo. 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.

Clo. I would this music would come: I am

But kiss; one kiss!-Rubies unparagon'd, How dearly they do't!-'Tis her breathing that Perfumes the chamber thus: The flame o'the

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,
And Phabus '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 music the better; if it do not, it is a vice in her ears, which horse-hairs, and cat-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 so late; for that's the reason I was up so early: He cannot choose but take this service I have done, fatherly.-Goodmorrow to your majesty, and to my gracious mother.

Cym. Attend you here the door of our stern daughter?

Will she not forth?

Clo. I have assailed her with music, but she vouchsafes no notice.

Cym. 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 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.

Clo. Senseless? not so.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome;

The one is Caius Lucius.

Cym. A worthy fellow,

Albeit he comes on angry purpose now ;'

Clo. 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.

Clo. 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.

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.

[Exeunt Cym. Queen, Lords, and Mess. Clo. 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

Clo. To leave you in your madness, 'twere my sin: I will not.

Imo. Fools are not mad folks. Clo. Do you call me fool? Imo. As I am mad, I do : If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad ; That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir, You put me to forget a lady's manners, By being so verbal and learn now, for all, That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce, By the very truth of it, I care not for you; And am so near the lack of charity,

(To accuse myself) I hate you: which I had rather

You felt, than make't my boast.