Must wear the print of his remembrance out, And then she's yours. You are most bound to the king; Who let's go by no vantages, that may Prefer you to his daughter: Frame yourself With aptness of the season : 4 make denials Senseless? not so. Enter a Messenger. Mess. So like you, sir, embassadors from Rome; The one is Caius Lucius. Сут. A worthy fellow, Albeit he comes on angry purpose now; And towards himself his goodness forespent on us To employ you towards this Roman. -Come, our queen. [Exeunt CYM. Queen, Lords, and Mess. Clo. If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not, Let her lie still, and dream.-By your leave ho! [Knocks. + With solicitations not only proper but well-timed. I know her women are about her; What Their deer to the stand of the stealer; and 'tis gold Enter a Lady. Lady. Who's there, that knocks ? [Knocks. Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours, Can justly boast of: What's your lordship's pleasure ? Clo. Your lady's person: Is she ready? Lady. To keep her chamber. Ay, Clo. There's gold for you; sell me your good report. Lady. How! my good name? or to report of you What I shall think is good? -The princess Enter IMOGEN. Clo. Good-morrow, fairest sister: Your sweet hand. Imo. Good-morrow, sir: You lay out too much pains For purchasing but trouble: the thanks I give, Is telling you that I am poor of thanks, And scarce can spare them. Still, I swear, I love you. Imo. If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me : If you swear still, your recompense is still That I regard it not. Clo. This is no answer. Imo. But that you shall not say I yield, being silent, I would not speak. I pray you, spare me: i'faith, I shall unfold equal discourtesy To your best kindness; one of your great knowing Should learn, being taught, forbearance. Clo. To leave you in your madness, 'twere my sin: I will not. Imo. Fools are not mad folks. Imo. As I am mad, I do: Do you call me fool? If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad; That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir, By being so verbal : 5 and learn now, for all, And am so near the lack of charity, (To accuse myself) I hate you: which I had rather You felt, than make't my boast. Clo. You sin against Obedience, which you owe your father. For The contract you pretend with that base wretch, (One, bred of alms, and foster'd with cold dishes, 5 So verbose, so full of talk. With scraps o'the court,) it is no contract, none: And though it be allow'd in meaner parties, (Yet who, than he, more mean?) to knit their souls (On whom there is no more dependency But brats and beggary) in self-figur'd knot; 6 Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by The consequence o'the crown; and must not soil The precious note of it with a base slave, A hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth, A pantler, not so eminent. Imo. Profane fellow! Wert thou the son of Jupiter, and no more, For being preferr'd so well. Clo. The south-fog rot him! Imo. He never can meet more mischance, than come To be but nam'd of thee. His meanest garment, Were they all made such men.-How now, Pisanio ? Enter PISANIO. Clo. His garment? Now, the devil Imo. To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently :Clo. His garment ? 6 In knots of their own tying. 7 A low fellow only fit to wear a livery. Imo. I am sprighted with a fool; Frighted, and anger'd worse :-Go, bid my woman Search for a jewel, that too casually Hath left mine arm; it was thy master's: 'shrew me, If I would lose it for a revenue Of any king's in Europe. I do think, I saw't this morning: confident I am, Last night 'twas on mine arm; I kiss'd it : I hope, it be not gone, to tell my lord That I kiss aught but he. Pis. Imo. I hope so: go, and search. 'Twill not be lost. [Exit PIs. You have abus'd me : His meanest garment ? Ay; I said so, sir. If you will make't an action, call witness to't. Clo. I will inform your father. Imo. Your mother too: She's my good lady; and will conceive, I hope, But the worst of me. So I leave you, sir, To the worst of discontent. Clo. [Exit. I'll be reveng'd: [Exit, His meanest garment ?-Well. SCENE IV. Rome. An Apartment in Philario's House, Enter POSTHUMUS and PHILARIO. Post. Fear it not, sir: I would, I were so sure To win the king, as I am bold, her honour 8 Haunted. |