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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. WHO's there? my woman Helen?

Lady. Pleafe you, Madam

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 pr'ythee, 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, 'beseech ye.

[Sleeps.

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

Repairs itself by reft: our Tarquin thus

Did foftly prefs the rufhes, ere he waken'd

The chastity he wounded. Cytherea,

How bravely thou becom'ft thy bed! fresh lilly,
And whiter than the sheets! 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

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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-

Why, fuch, and fuch-and the contents o'th' ftory-
Ah, but fome natʼral notes about her body,
Above ten thousand meaner moveables,
Would teftify, t'enrich my inventory.
Sleep, thou ape of Death, lye dull

upon

her!

And

And be her sense but as a monument,
Thus in a chappel 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 do's within,
To th' madding of her lord. On her left breast
A mole cinque-fpotted, like the crimson drops
F'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 Philomele gave up I have enough.-
To th' trunk again, and fhut the spring of it.
Swift, fwift, you Dragons of the night! that dawning.
May bear the raven's eye: I lodge in fear,

Though this a heav'nly angel, hell is here. [Clock ftrikes. One, two, three: time, time!

[Goes into the trunk, the Scene closes.

SCENE changes to another part of the Palace, facing Imogen's Apartments.

Lord.

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Enter Cloten, and Lords.

OUR lordship is the moft patient man in lofs, the coldest that ever turn'd up ace.

Clot. It would make any man cold to lofe.

1 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 B could get this foolish Imogen, I fhould have gold enough: It's almoft morning, is't not?

1 Lord. Day, my lord.

Clot. I would, this mufick would come: I am advis'd. to give her mufick o' mornings; they fay, it will penetrate..

Euter

Enter Muficians.

a

Come on, tune; if you can penetrate her with your fingering, fo; we'll try with tongue too; if none will do, let her remain: but I'll never give o'er. First, very excellent good conceited thing; after, a wonderful fweet air with admirable rich words to it; and then let her confider.

SONG.

Hark, bark! the lark at heav'n's gate fings,
And Phoebus 'gins arife,

His feeds to water at thofe fprings

On chalic'd flowers that lyes:

And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes;
With every thing that pretty is,
My lady feet, arife:
Arife, arife.

So, get you gone-
your mufick the better:
ears, which horfe-hairs,
unpav'd eunuch to boot,

if this penetrate, I will confider if it do not, it is a vice in her and cats'-guts, nor the voice of can never amend.

[Exeunt Muficians.

Enter Queen and Cymbeline.

2 Lord. Here comes the King.

Clot. I am glad I was up fo late, for that's the reason I was up fo early: he cannot chufe but take this fervice I have done, fatherly. Good morrow to your Majesty, and to my gracious mother.

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Cym. Attend you here the door of our stern daughter ? Will the not forth?

Clot. I have affail'd her with muficks, but fhe vouchfafes no notice.

Cym. The exile of her minion is too new;

She hath not yet forgot him: fome more time
Muft wear the print of his remembrance out,
And then she's yours.

Queth's

Queen. You are most bound to th' King,
Who lets go by no vantages, that may
Prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself
To orderly follicits; and be friended
With aptness of the season ; make denials
Encrease your services; so seem, as if
You were infpir'd to do thofe duties, which
You tender to her: that you in all obey her,
Save when command to your difmiffion tends,
And therein you are fenfeless.

Clot. Senfelefs? not fo.

Enter a Messenger.

Mef. So like you, Sir, Ambassadors from Rome; The one is Caius Lucius.

Cym. A worthy fellow,

Albeit he comes on angry purpofe now;

But that's no fault of his: we must receive him
According to the honour of his fender;

And towards himself, his goodness fore-fpent on us,
We must extend our notice :

Our dear fon,
When you have giv'n good morning to your mistress,
Attend the Queen and us; we fhall have need
T'employ you towards this Roman. Come, our Queen,

[Exeunt. Clot. If the be up, I'll fpeak with her; if not, Let her lye ftill, 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, makes
Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up
Their deer to th' stand o'th' stealer: and 'tis gold,
Which makes the true man kill'd, and faves the thief;

Nay, fometimes, 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 cafe myself.
By your leave..

[Knocks

Enter

Enter a Lady.

Lady. Who's there, that knocks?
Clot. A Gentleman.

Lady. No more ?

Clot. Yes, and a gentlewoman's fon.

Lady. That's more

Than fome, whofe tailors are as dear as yours,

Can justly boast of: what's your lordship's pleafure?
Clot. Your lady's perfon; is the ready?

Lady. Ay, to keep her chamber.

Clot. There is gold for you, fell me your good report. Lady. How, my good name? or to report of you What I fhall think is good? The Princess

Enter Imogen.

Clot. Good morrow, faireft: fifter, your sweet hand. Imo. Good morrow, Sir; you lay out too much pains For purchafing but trouble; the thanks I give,

Is telling you that I am poor of thanks,

And fcarce can fpare them.

Clot. Still, I fwear, I love you.

Imo. If you but faid fo, 'twere as deep with me: If you fwear ftill, your recompence is still

That I regard it not.

Clot. This is no answer.

Imo. But that you fhall not fay I yield, being filent,
I would not speak. I pray you, fpare me-faith,
I fhall unfold equal difcourtefie

To your best kindness: one of your great knowing
Should learn (being taught) forbearance.

Clot. To leave you in your madness, 'twere my fin;: (8)

I will not.

(3) To leave you in your Madness, 'tweremy Sing.

I will not.

Imo. Fools are not Madfolks

Clot. Do you call me fool?

Imo, As I am mad, I do.]

Imo

But

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