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1 Lord. There's an Italian come, and 'tis thought, one of Leonatus' friends.
Cloten. 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.
Cloten. Is it fit, I went to look upon him? Is there no derogation in it?
2 Lord. You cannot derogate, my lord.
Come, I'll go see this Italian; and if he'll play,
A Bed-chamber.—In one part of it a Trunk.
Imogen reading in her Bed.—Helen attending.
Imog. Who's there? my woman Helen?
Helen. Please you, madam,—"
Imog. What hour is it?
Helen. Almost midnight, madam.
Imog. 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 canst awake by four o' the clock, I pr'ythee, call me. Sleep hath seiz'd me wholly.
[Exit Helen. To your protection I commend me, gods ! From fairies, and the tempters of the night, Guard me, 'beseech you! [Sleeps. Iachimo comes out of the Trunk.
Iach. The crickets sing, and man's o'erlabour'd
Perfumes the chamber thus: The flame o' the taper
such The adornment of her bed ;—The arras, figures, Why, such, and such:—And the contents o' the
[Taking off her Bracelet.
Why should I write this down, that's riveted, Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's turn'd down,
Where Philomel gave up. I have enough:
To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it.
[Clock strikes. One, two, three:—Time, time!
[Goes into the Trunk.—The Scene closes.
Enter Cloten and the Two Lords.
I Lord. Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the coldest that ever turned up ace.
Cloten. 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.
Cloten. Winning will put any man into courage. If I could get this foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough: It's almost morning, is't not?
2 Lord. Day, my lord.
Cloten. I would the maskers and musicians were come; I am advised to give her music o' mornings; they say, it will penetrate.
[A Flourish of Music within.
1 Lord. Here they are, my lord.
Cloten. Come, let's join them. [Exeunt.
An Antechamber to Imogen's Apartment.
Enter Cloten, the Two Lords, Musicians, as Maskers.
Cloten. Come on, tune first a very excellent good conceited thing, after a wonderful sweet ..air, with admirable rich words to it, and then let her consider.
Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sittgs,
And Phatbus 'gins arise,
On chalic'dflowers that lies; • ,-
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes; ,.'-'
With every thing that pretty bin;
My lady sweet arise;
Cloten. 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 cats'-guts, nor the voice of eunuch to boot, can never amend. Come, now to our dancing.
And if she is immoveable with this, she is an immoveable princess, and not worth my notice.
A Dance of Maskers.
Cloten. Leave us to ourselves. [Exeunt Lords, Sj-c. 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 worn-TM are about her; What,
Helen: Who's there, that knocks?
Cloten. A gentleman.
Helen -No more ?
Cloteti, Yes, and a gentlewoman's son.
Helen, That's more Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours, Can justly boast of: what's your lordship's pleasure?
Cloten. Your lady's person: Is she ready?
Helen. Ay, to keep her chamber.
Cloten. There's gold for you; sell me your good report.
Helen. How? my good name? or to report of you What I shall think is good? The princess
Cloten. Good morrow, fairest sister: Your sweet hand. [Exit Helen.