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
Will force him think I have prevail'd, and ta'en
The treasure of her honour. No more. - To what
end?

Why should I write this down, that's riveted,
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!

dawning

-

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

--

that

[Clock strikes.

The Scene closes.

An Ante-chamber adjoining Imogen's Apartment.

Enter CLOTEN and Lords.

her ears, which horse-hairs, and cat-guts, 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 Must wear the print of his remembrance out, And then she's yours.

Queen. You are most bound to the king; Who let's go by no 'vantages, that may Prefer you to his daughter: Frame yourself To orderly solicits; and be friended With aptness of the season: make denials Increase your services: so seem, as if You were inspir'd to do those duties which You tender to her: that you in all obey her, Save when command to your dismission tends, And therein you are senseless. Clo. Senseless? not so.

But that's no fault of his: We must receive him
According to the honour of his sender;
And towards himself his goodness forespent on us
We must extend our notice.
Our dear son,
When you have given good morning to your mistress,
Attend the queen, and us; we shall have need
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.

I know her women are about her: What
If I do line one of their hands? 'Tis gold
Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and makes
Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up
Their deer to the stand of the stealer; and 'tis gold
Which makes the true man kill'd, and saves the thief;
Nay, sometime, hangs both thief and true man: What
Can it not do, and undo? I will make
One of her women lawyer to me; for
I yet not understand the case myself.
By your leave.

Enter a Lady.

Lady. Who's there, that knocks?

Clo.

Lady.

[Knocks.

A gentleman.

No more?

That's more

Clo. Yes, and a gentlewoman's son.
Lady.

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,

Enter PISANIO.

Clo. His garment? Now, the devil —
Imo. To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently:
Clo. His garment?

5

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.

'Twill not be lost. [Exit Pis. You have abus'd me:

Imo. I hope so; go, and search.
Clo.

His meanest garment?

This is no answer.

Imo. But that you shall not say

silent,

I would not speak. I pray you, spare me,
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.
Clo.

;

Do you call me fool? Imo. As I am mad, I do; If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir, You put me to forget a lady's manners, By being so verbal 2; and learn now, for all, That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce, By the very truth of it, I care not for you; 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,
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 3:
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.
Ay; I said so, sir.
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.

His meanest garment?

SCENE IV.

[Exit.

I'll be reveng'd: Well.

-

[Exit.

Rome. An Apartment in Philario's House.

Enter POSTHUMUS and PHILARIO.

Post. Fear it not, sir: would, I were so sure To win the king, as I am bold, her honour Will remain hers.

Phi.

What means do you make to him?
Post. Not any; but abide the change of time;
Quake in the present winter's state, and wish
That warmer days would come: In these fear'd
hopes,

I barely gratify your love; they failing,
I must die much your debtor.

Phi. Your very goodness, and your company
O'erpays all I can do. By this, your king
Hath heard of great Augustus: Caius Lucius
Will do his commission thoroughly: And, I think,
He'll grant the tribute, send the arrearages,
Or look upon our Romans, whose remembrance
Is yet fresh in their grief.

Post.

6

I do believe, (Statist though I am none, nor like to be,) That this will prove a war; and you shall hear The legions, now in Gallia, sooner landed In our not-fearing Britain, than have tidings Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen Are men more order'd, than when Julius Cæsar Smil'd at their lack of skill, but found their courage Worthy his frowning at: Their discipline (Now mingled with their courages) will make known To their approvers 7, they are people, such That mend upon the world.

Phi.

Enter IACHIMO.

See! Iachimo?

Post. The swiftest harts have posted you by land: And winds of all the corners kiss'd your sails, To make your vessel nimble.

Phi.

5 Haunted. 6 Statesmen.

Welcome, sir.

7 To those who try them.

Iach.

Good sir, we must, If you keep covenant: Had I not brought The knowledge of your mistress home, I grant We were to question further: but I now Profess myself the winner of her honour, Together with your ring; and not the wronger Of her, or you, having proceeded but By both your wills.

Post. If you can make't apparent, The ring is yours: If not, the foul opinion You had of her pure honour, gains, or loses, Your sword, or mine; or masterless leaves both To who shall find them.

Iach. Sir, my circumstances, Being so near the truth, as I will make them, Must first induce you to believe: whose strength I will confirm with oath; which, I doubt not, You'll give me leave to spare, when you shall find You need it not.

Post. Once more let me behold it: Is it that Which I left with her?

Iach.

Jove!

Sir, (I thank her,) that: She stripp'd it from her arm; I see her yet; Her pretty action did outsell her gift, And yet enrich'd it too: She gave it me, and said, She priz'd it once.

Post.

To send it me.

Iach.

May be, she pluck'd it off,

She writes so to you? doth she? Post. O, no, no, no; 'tis true. Here, take this [Gives the Ring.

too;

It is a basilisk unto mine eye,

Kills me to look on't: - Let there be no honour, Where there is beauty: truth, where semblance;

love,

Where there's another man: The vows of women Of no more bondage be, to where they are made, Than they are to their virtues; which is nothing:O, above measure false !

Phi. Have patience, sir, And take your ring again; 'tis not yet won: It may be probable, she lost it; or, Who knows, if one of her women, being corrupted,

Hath stolen it from her?

Very true;

Post. And so, I hope, he came by't: - Back my ring;Render to me some corporal sign about her, More evident than this: for this was stolen. Iach. By Jupiter, I had it from her arm. Post. Hark you, he swears; by Jupiter he swears 'Tis true; nay, keep the ring-'tis true: I am

sure,

She would not lose it: her attendants are
All sworn and honourable: - They induc'd to

steal it!

And by a stranger? — No, he hath enjoy'd her. There, take thy hire: and all the fiends of hell Divide themselves between you!

Phi.

This is not strong enough to be believ'd Of one persuaded well of

Post. Iach.

Sir, be patient:

Never talk on't.

If you seek

Another stain, as big as hell can hold, Were there no more but it.

Iach.

I am a counterfeit. Yet my mother seem'd The Dian of that time: so doth my wife

· O vengeance, vengeance! I thought her chaste as unsunn'd snow. Could I find out

No swearing.

The woman's part in me! For there's no motion
That tends to vice in man, but I affirm

It is the woman's part: Be it lying, note it,
The woman's; flattering, her's; deceiving, her's;
Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,
Nice longing, slanders, mutability,

All faults that may be nam'd, nay that hell knows,

Why, her's, in part, or all; but, rather, all:
For ev'n to vice

They are not constant, but are changing still
One vice, but of a minute old, for one
Not half so old as that. I'll write against them,
Detest them, curse them: Yet 'tis greater

skill

In a true hate, to pray they have their will:
The very devils cannot plague them better. [Exit.

beline's Palace.

(0, giglot fortune!) to master Cæsar's sword, Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright, And Britons strut with courage.

Clo. Come, there's no more tribute to be paid: Our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time; and, as I said, there is no more such Cæsars: other of them may have crooked noses; but to owe 8 such straight arms, none.

Cym. Son, let your mother end.

Clo. We have yet inany among us can gripe as hard as Cassibelan: I do not say, I am one; but I have a hand. Why tribute? why should we pay tribute? If Cæsar can hide the sun from us with a blanket, or put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for light; else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now.

Cym. You must know,

Till the injurious Romans did extort

This tribute from us, we were free: Cæsar's ambition,
(Which swell'd so much, that it did almost stretch
The sides o' the world,) against all colour, here
Did put the yoke upon us; which to shake off,
Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon
Ourselves to be. We do say then to Cæsar,
Our ancestor was that Mulmutius, which
Ordain'd our laws; (whose use the sword of Cæsar
Hath too much mangled; whose repair, and fran-
chise,

Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed,
Though Rome be therefore angry;) Mulmutius,
Who was the first of Britain, which did put
His brows within a golden crown, and call'd
Himself a king.

Luc.
I am sorry, Cymbeline,
That I am to pronounce Augustus Cæsar
(Cæsar, that hath more kings his servants, than
Thyself domestick officers,) thine enemy:
Receive it from me, then: — - War, and confusion,
In Cæsar's name pronounce I 'gainst thee: look
8 Own.