ACT II. II. SCENE I. W CYMBELINE's Palace. Enter Cloten, and two lords. CLOTEN. AS there ever man had fuch luck! when I kifs'd the Jack upon an up-caft, to be hit away! I had an hundred pound on't; and then a whorfon jack-an-apes 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 run all out. Clot. When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is not for any ftanders-by to curtail his oaths. Ha? 2 Lord. No, my lord: nor crop the ears of them. Clot. Whorfon dog! I give him fatisfaction? would he had been one of my rank. 2 Lord. To have smelt like a fool. [afide. a pox Clot. I am not vext more at any thing in the earth, 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-slave 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. [afide. Clot. Clot. 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 fhould commit offence to my inferiors. 2 Lord. Ay, it is fit for your lordship only. Clot. Why fo I say. 1 Lord. Did you hear of a stranger that's come to court to-night? Clot. A stranger, and I not know on't? 2 Lord. He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it not. 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, wherefoever 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. Clot. Not eafily, I think. 2 Lord. You are a fool granted, therefore your iffues 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 Clot. Of Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act Of the divorce ---- he'll make the heav'ns hold firm [Exeunt. SCENE II. A magnificent bed-chamber, in one part of it a large trunk. Imogen is discover'd reading in her bed, a lady attending. Imo. HO's there? my woman Helen? WLady. Please you, madam--- Imo. What hour is it? Lady. Almost midnight, madam. 1110 Imo. I have read three hours then, mine eyes are weak, I pr'ythee call me----sleep hath seiz'd me wholly. [Exit lady. Guard me, befeech ye. [Лleeps. [Iachimo rifes from the trunk. Iach. The crickets fing, and man's o'er-labour'd sense Repairs it felf by reft: our Tarquin thus Did foftly press the rushes, ere he waken'd The chastity he wounded. Cytherea, How bravely thou becom'ft thy bed! fresh lilly, Bows Bows tow'rd her, aud would under-peep her lids, Would teftifie, t'enrich mine inventory. 11 [Taking off her bracelet. As flipp'ry as the gordian-knot was hard. Screw'd to my mem'ry. Sh' hath been reading late, Swift, swift, you dragons of the night! that dawning a ope the raven's eye: I lodge in fear, May 2 ope Though this a heav'nly angel, hell is here. [Clock frikes. One, two, three: time, time! [Goes into the trunk, the Scene clofes. a bear SCENE I Lord. SCENE III. The Palace again. Enter Cloten and Lords. Y the coldeft that ever turn'd up ace. OUR lordship is the most patient man in loss, Clot. 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. Clot. Winning will put any man into courage: If I could this foolish Imogen, I shall have gold enough: It's almost morning, is't not? 1 Lord. Day, my lord. get Clot. I would this mufick would come: I am advised to give her musick a-mornings, they fay it will penetrate. Enter Muficians. Come on, tune; if you can penetrate here 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, a very excellent good conceited thing; after, a wonderful sweet air with admirable rich words to it; and then let her confider. SONG Hark, bark, the lark at heav'n's gate fings, His feeds to water at thofe Springs On chalic'd flowers that lyes: And winking Mary-buds begin With every thing that pretty is, VO L. VI. U So |