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 ? 7 i, e. Degrade yourself. Lady. Please you, madam. Almost midnight, madam. Imo. I have read three hours then: mine eyes are Fold down the leaf where I have left: To bed: And if thou canst awake by four o'the clock, [Exit Lady. To your protection I commend me, gods! [Sleeps. IACHIMO, from the Trunk. Iach. The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd sense Repairs itself by rest: Our Tarquin thus The chastity he wounded.-Cytherea, How bravely thou becom'st thy bed! fresh lily! 8 1 Tapestry. 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', Would testify, to enrich mine inventory: : As slippery, as the Gordian knot was hard! Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. [Clock strikes. VOL. IX. ■ Tapestry. 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. 1 Lord. Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the most coldest that ever turn'd 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 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? 1 Lord. Day, my lord. Clo. I would this musick would come: I am advised 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 Phabus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chalic'd flowers that lies And winking Mary-buds begin So, get you gone: If this penetrate, I will consider your musick the better: 3 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. 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 musick, but she vouchsafes no notice. Cym. The exile of her minion is too new; She hath not yet forgot him: some more time 2 Cups. 3 Will pay you more for it. |