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Unlike all others, chaffless. 'Pray, your pardon. Imog. All's well, sir: Take my pow'r i'the court for yours.
Iach. My humble thanks.—I had almost forgot,
Your lord; myself, and other noble friends,
Imog. Pray, what is't?
Iach. Some dozen Romans of us, and your
Which I, the factor for the rest, have done
In France: "Tis plate, of rare device; and jewels,
And pawn mine honour for their safety: since
Iach. They are in a trunk,
Attended by my men: I will make bold
Imog. O no, no.
Iach. Yes, I beseech, or I shall short my
Imog. I thank you for your pains;
But not away to-morrow?
Iach. O, I must, madam:
Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please
Imog. I will write.
Send your trunk to me; it shall be safe kept,
Enter Cloten and Two Lords.
Cloten. Was there ever man had such luck! when I kiss'd 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 my 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. [Aside.] If his wit had been like him that broke it, it would have run all out.
Cloten. 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 crop the ears of them. [Aside. Cloten. Whoreson dog!—I give him satisfaction ? 'Would he had been one of my rank!
A plague 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 no body can match.
1 Lord. It is not fit, your lordship should undertake every companion that you give offence to.
Cloten. 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.
Cloten. Why, so I
2 Lord. Here comes the king.
Enter Cymbeline and Queen.
Cloten. Good-night to your majesty, and gracious mother.
Cym. Attend you here the door of our stern daughter?
Will she not forth?
Cloten. She vouchsafes no notice; but I will assail her before morning with mask and music.
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.
Enter Messenger, and whispers the First Lord. Queen. You are most bound to the king, Who lets go by no 'vantages, that may
Prefer you to his daughter.
1 Lord. So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome; The one is Caius Lucius.
Cym. A worthy fellow,
Albeit he comes on angry purpose now;
But that's no fault of his :—Our dear son,
When you have given good morning to your mistress, Attend the Queen and us, we shall have need
T employ you towards this Roman.
Betimes to-morrow we'll hear th' embassy.
[Exeunt Cymbeline and Queen.
1 Lord. Did you hear of another stranger, that's come to court to-night?
Cloten. Another stranger, and I not know on't? 2 Lord. He's a strange fellow himself, and knows
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.
Cloten. Not easily, I think.
Come, I'll go see this Italian; and if he'll play,
Father, we'll hear the ambassador—Come, let's go.
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;
IACHIMO comes out of the Trunk.
Iach. The crickets sing, and man's o'erlabour'd
Repairs itself by rest: Our Tarquin thus
How bravely thou becom'st thy bed! fresh lily!
"Tis her breathing that
Perfumes the chamber thus: The flame o' the taper
Under these windows: White and azure, lac'd
The adornment of her bed ;—The arras, figures,
Ah, but some natural notes about her body,
To what end?
Why should I write this down, that's riveted,