other, 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 Lord. You are a fool granted; therefore your issues being foolish, do not derogate. [Aside. 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 Cloten and first Lord. That such a crafty devil as is his mother Should yield the world this ass! a woman, that [Exit. SCENE II.-A bed-chamber; in one part of it a trunk. IMOGEN, reading in her bed; a Lady attending. Imo. Who's there? my woman Helen? Imo. What hour is it? Lady. Almost midnight, madam. Imo. I have read three hours then: mine eyes are weak : Fold down the leaf, where I have left: To bed: [Sleeps. IACHIMO, from the trunk. Iach. The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd sense Repairs itself by rest: Our Tarquin thus How bravely thou becom'st thy bed! fresh lily! Such The adornment of her bed:- -The arras, figures, Why, such, and such ·- -And the contents o' the story, Ah, but some natural notes about her body, Would testify, to enrich mine inventory: O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her! And be her sense but as a monument, end? Why should I write this down, that's rivetted, One, two, three:-Time, time! [Clock strikes. [Goes into the trunk. The scene closes. 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 firious, 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 advised to give her music o'mornings; they say, 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 winking Mary-buds begin 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.-Good-morrow 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; Queen. You are most bound to the king; 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; But that's no fault of his: We must receive him And towards himself, his goodness forespent on us,. To employ you towards this Roman.-Come, our queen. [Exeunt Cym, Queen, Lords, and Mess. |