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THE NEW YORK PUCLIEC LIBINARY

ASTOR, LENOX AND TILDEN FOUNDATIONS)

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Imogen sleeps. Jachimo. from the trunk. Jachimo. - How bravely thou becomill thy bed).

London Pub. July 2-1804. by F.& c. Rivington, S. Pauli Church Yard.

The chastity he wounded. --Cytherea,
How bravely thou becom'st thy bed! fresh lily!
And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch!
But kiss; one kiss!—Rubies unparagon'd,
How dearly they do't!—'Tis her breathing that
Perfumes the chamber thus: The flame o'the taper
Bows toward her; and would under-peep her lids,
To see the enclosed lights, now. canopied
Under these windows: White and azure, lac'd
With blue of heaven's own tinct. But my design?
To note the chamber:-I will write all down:-
Such, and such, pictures :-There the window:-

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,
Above ten thousand meaner moveables
Would testify, to enrich mine inventory:
O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her!
And be her sense but as a monument,
Thus in a chapel lying !-Come off, come off;

. [Taking off her Bracelet.
As slippery, as the Gordian knot was hard !-
'Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly,
As strongly as the conscience does within,
To the madding of her lord. On her left breast
A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops
I'the bottom of a cowslip. Here's a voucher,
Stronger than ever law could make: this secret

author to strew chambers with rushes, as we now cover them with carpets.

* Under these windows:] i. e. her eyelids. s- like the crimson drops

I'the bottom of a cowslip:) This simile contains the smallest out of a thousand proofs that Shakspeare was an observer of nature, though, in this instance, no very accurate describer of it, for the drops alluded to are of a deep yellow. STEEVENS.

Will force him think I have 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 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. Swift, swift, you dragons of the night!'--that

dawnino "ragons of

May ban

May bare the raven's eye: I lodge in fear;
Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here.

[Clock strikes. One, two, three,-Time, time!

Goes into the Trunk. The Scene closes.

SCENE III.

An Ante-Chamber adjoining Imogen's Apartment.

Enter Cloten and Lords. i 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.

i Lord. But not every man patient, after the noble temper of your lordship; You are most hot, and furious, 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?

i Lord. Day, my lord.
Clo. I would this musick would come: I am ad-

*— you dragons of the night!] The task of drawing the chariot of night was assigned to dragons, on account of their supposed watchfulness.

vised to give her musick 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 Phoebus 'gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs

On chalic'd flowers that lies;s
And winking Mary-buds begin

To ope their golden eyes;o
With every thing that pretty bin:
My lady sweet, arise;

Arise, arise.

So, get you gone: If this penetrate, I will consider your musick the better:? if it do not, it is a vice in her ears, which horse-hairs, and cats-guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to boot, can never amend.

[Exeunt Musicians.

s His steeds to water at those springs

On chalic'd flowers that lies;] i. e, the morning sun dries up the dew which lies in the cups of flowers: The cup of a flower is called calir, whence chalice. . And winking Mary-buds begin

To ope their golden eyes;] The marigold is supposed to shut itself up at sun-set.

i- I will consider your musick the better:] i. e. I will pay you more amply for it.

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