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What! are men mad? Hath nature given them eyes
To see this vaulted arch, and the rich cope
O'er sea and land, which can distinguish 'twixt
The fiery orbs above, and the twinn'd stones
Upon th' unnumber'd beach; and can we not
Partition make with spectacles so precious
"Twixt fair and foul?

Imo.
What makes your admiration?
Iach. It cannot be i' the eye; for apes and monkeys,
'Twixt two such shes, would chatter this way, and
Contemn with mows the other: nor i' the judgment;
For idiots, in this case of favour, would
Be wisely definite: nor i' the appetite;
Sluttery, to such neat excellence oppos'd,
Should make desire vomit to emptiness,
Not so allur'd to feed.

Imo. What is the matter, trow?
Iach.

The cloyed will,

What, dear sir,

(That satiate yet unsatisfied desire,
That tub both fill'd and running) ravening first
The lamb, longs after for the garbage.
Imo.

Thus raps you? Are you well?

Iach. Thanks, madam, well.— Beseech you, sir, desire [TO PISANIO.

My man's abode where I did leave him; he
Is strange and peevish.
Pis.

To give him welcome.

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You look on me: what wreck discern you in me, Deserves your pity?

Iach.

Lamentable! What!

To hide me from the radiant sun, and solace
I' the dungeon by a snuff?

Imo.
I pray you, sir,
Deliver with more openness your answers
To my demands. Why do you pity me?
Iach. That others do,

I was about to say, enjoy your-But
It is an office of the gods to venge it,
Not mine to speak on't.

Imo.
You do seem to know
Something of me, or what concerns me: pray you,
(Since doubting things go ill, often hurts more
Than to be sure they do; for certainties
Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing,
The remedy then born) discover to me
What both you spur and stop.

Iach. Had I this cheek To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch, Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul To the oath of loyalty; this object, which Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye, Fixing it only here; should I (damn'd then) Slaver with lips as common as the stairs That mount the Capitol; join gripes with hands Made hard with hourly falsehood (falsehood as With labour), then bo-peeping in an eye, Base and illustrous as the smoky light That's fed with stinking tallow, it were fit, That all the plagues of hell should at one time Encounter such revolt.

I was going, sir,

[Exit PISANIO.

Has forgot Britain.

Imo. Continues well my lord? His health, 'beseech you?

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Imo.

Iach.

My lord, I fear,

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Inclin'd to this intelligence, pronounce

The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces That, from my mutest conscience, to my tongue Charms this report out.

Imo.

Let me hear no more.

Iach. O dearest soul! your cause doth strike my

heart

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How should I be reveng'd? If this be true,
(As I have such a heart, that both mine ears
Must not in haste abuse) if it be true,
How should I be reveng'd?
Iach.
Should he make me
Live, like Diana's priest, betwixt cold sheets,
Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps,

In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge it.
I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure,
More noble than that runagate to your bed,
And will continue fast to your affection,
Still close, as sure.

Imo.

What ho, Pisanio!

Iach. Let me my service tender on your lips.
Imo. Away! I do contemn mine ears, that have
So long attended thee.-If thou wert honourable,
Thou would'st have told this tale for virtue, not
For such an end thou seek'st, as base, as strange.
Thou wrong'st a gentleman, who is as far
From thy report, as thou from honour; and
Solicit'st here a lady, that disdains

Thee and the devil alike.-What ho, Pisanio!-
The king my father shall be made acquainted
Of thy assault: if he shall think it fit,
A saucy stranger, in his court, to mart
As in a Romish stew, and to expound
His beastly mind to us, he hath a court
He little cares for, and a daughter whom
He not respects at all.-What ho, Pisanio!-
Iach. O happy Leonatus! I may say;
The credit, that thy lady hath of thee,
Deserves thy trust; and thy most perfect goodness
Her assur'd credit.-Blessed live you long!
A lady to the worthiest sir, that ever
Country call'd his; and you his mistress, only
For the most worthiest fit. Give me your pardon.
I have spoke this, to know if your affiance
Were deeply rooted; and shall make your lord,
That which he is, new o'er: and he is one
The truest manner'd; such a holy witch,
That he enchants societies unto him:
Half all men's hearts are his.

Imo. You make amends. Iach. He sits 'mongst men, like a descended god: He hath a kind of honour sets him off, More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry, Most mighty princess, that I have adventur'd To try your taking of a false report; which hath Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment In the election of a sir so rare,

Which, you know, cannot err. The love I bear him Made me to fan you thus; but the gods made you, Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray, your pardon.

Imo. All's well, sir. Take my power i' the court
for yours.

Iach. My humble thanks. I had almost forgot
T'entreat your grace but in a small request,
And yet of moment too, for it concerns
Your lord; myself, and other noble friends,
Are partners in the business.

Imo.
Pray, what is't?
Iach. Some dozen Romans of us, and your lord,
(The best feather of our wing) have mingled sums,
To buy a present for the emperor;

Which I, the factor for the rest, have done
In France: 'tis plate of rare device, and jewels
Of rich and exquisite form. Their value's great,
And I am something curious, being strange,
To have them in safe stowage: may it please you
To take them in protection?

Imo.

Willingly,

And pawn mine honour for their safety: since
My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them
In my bed-chamber.

Iach.
They are in a trunk,
Attended by my men; I will make bold
To send them to you, only for this night,
I must aboard to-morrow.

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ACT II.

SCENE I.-Court before CYMBELINE's Palace. Enter CLOTEN, and Two Lords, as from the Bowling-alley. Clo. Was there ever man had such luck! when I kissed the jack upon an up-cast, to be hit away! I had a hundred pound on't: and then a whoreson jackanapes must take me up for swearing; as if I borrowed mine oaths of him, and might not spend them at my pleasure.

1 Lord. What got he by that? You have broke his pate with your bowl.

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mother. Every jack-slave hath his belly full of fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that no body can match.

2 Lord. [Aside.] You are cock and capon too; and you crow, cock, with your comb on.

Clo. Sayest thou?

2 Lord. It is not fit, your lordship should undertake every companion that you give offence to.

Clo. No, I know that; but it is fit I should commit offence to my inferiors.

2 Lord. Ay, it is fit for your lordship only. Clo. Why, so I say.

And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch!
But kiss; one kiss!-Rubies unparagon'd, [Kissing ker.
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 the 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:—
[Takes out his tables.
Such, and such, pictures :-there the window;—such
Th' adornment of her bed :-the arras, figures,

1 Lord. Did you hear of a stranger, that's come to Why, such, and such;—and the contents o' the story.—

court to-night?

Clo. A stranger! and I not know on't?

2 Lord. [Aside.] He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it not.

1 Lord. There's an Italian come; and, 'tis thought, one of Leonatus' friends.

Clo. Leonatus! a banished rascal; and he's another, 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. [Aside.] You are a fool granted; therefore, your issues being foolish do not derogate.

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
Bears all down with her brain; and this her son
Cannot take two from twenty for his heart,
And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess!
Thou divine Imogen, what thou endurest,
Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern'd;
A mother hourly coining plots; a wooer,
More hateful than the foul expulsion is
Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act

Of the divorce he'd make! The heavens hold firm
The walls of thy dear honour; keep unshak'd
That temple, thy fair mind; that thou may'st stand
T'enjoy thy banish'd lord, and this great land! [Exit.
SCENE II.-A Bed-Chamber; in one part of it, a
great Trunk.

IMOGEN reading in her Bed; HELEN attending.
Imo. Who's there? my woman, Helen?
Lady.

Please you, madam.

Imo. What hour is it?

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Ah! but some natural notes about her body,
Above ten thousand meaner moveables
Would testify, t' 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 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 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, that dawning
May dare the raven's eye: I lodge in fear;
Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here.

One, two, three,-time, time!

[Clock strikes.

[Exit into the Trunk.

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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;

And winking Mary-buds begin

To ope their golden eyes;

With every thing that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise;

Arise, arise!

So, get you gone. If this penetrate, I will consider
your music the better: if it do not, it is a fault in her
ears, which horse-hairs, and calves'-guts, nor the voice
of an unpav'd 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?

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.

Clo.
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,

Clo. I have assailed her with music, but she vouch- I would not speak. I pray you, spare me faith,

safes 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 lets 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.

Enter a Messenger.
Mess. So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome :
The one is Caius Lucius.

A worthy fellow,

Cym.
Albeit he comes on angry purpose now;
But that's no fault of his: we must receive him
According to the honour of his sender;

[Calls.

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!-
I know her women are about her what
If I do line one of their hands? 'Tis gold
Which buys admittance; oft it doth; and makes
Diana's rangers, false themselves, yield up
Their deer to the stand o' 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.

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

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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: 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,
Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by
The consequence o' the crown, and must not foil
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
But what thou art besides, thou wert too base
To be his groom: thou wert dignified enough,
Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made
Comparative for your virtues, to be styl'd
The under-hangman of his kingdom, and hated
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,
[Knocks. That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer
In my respect than all the hairs above thee,
Were they all made such men.-How now, Pisanio!
Enter PISANIO.

A gentleman.

No more?

That's more

Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours,

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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 's commission throughly; 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.
I do believe,
(Statist though I am none, nor like to be)
That this will prove a war; and you shall hear
The legion, 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, they are people, such That mend upon the world.

Phi.

Enter IACHIMO.

See! Iachimo?

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Post.

Sparkles this stone as it was wont? or is't not
Too dull for your good wearing?
If I had lost,

Iach.

I should have lost the worth of it in gold.
I'll make a journey twice as far, t' enjoy
A second night of such sweet shortness, which
Was mine in Britain; for the ring is won.
Post. The stone's too hard to come by.
Iach.

Your lady being so easy.

Post.

Make not, sir,

Not a whit,

Your loss your sport: I hope, you know that we Must not continue friends.

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 farther; 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
That you have tasted her in bed, my hand
And ring are 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. Iach.

Proceed.

First, her bedchamber, (Where, I confess, I slept not, but, profess, Had that was well worth watching) it was hang'd With tapestry of silk and silver; the story, Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman, And Cydnus swell'd above the banks, or for The press of boats, or pride: a piece of work So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive In workmanship, and value; which, I wonder'd, Could be so rarely and exactly wrought, Since the true life on't 'twas.

Post. This is most true; And this you might have heard of here, by me, Or by some other. Iach.

More particulars Must justify my knowledge.

Post.

Or do your honour injury. Iach.

So they must,

The chimney

Is south the chamber; and the chimney-piece,
Chaste Dian, bathing: never saw I figures
So likely to report themselves: the cutter
Was as another nature, dumb; outwent her,
Motion and breath left out.

Post.

This is a thing, Which you might from relation likewise reap, Being, as it is, much spoke of.

Iach. The roof of the chamber With golden cherubins is fretted her andirons (I had forgot them) were two winged Cupids Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely

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