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.
(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.
You look on me: what wreck discern you in me, Deserves your pity?
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.
Imo. Continues well my lord? His health, 'beseech you?
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.
Iach. O dearest soul! your cause doth strike my
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
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.—
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.
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.
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.
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;
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?
Can justly boast of. What's your lordship's pleasure? Clo. Your lady's person: is she ready? Lady.
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.
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,
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.
Enter a Messenger. Mess. So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome : The one is Caius Lucius.
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;
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.
Lady. Who's there, that knocks?
Clo. Yes, and a gentlewoman's son. Lady.
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.
Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours,
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.
Sparkles this stone as it was wont? or is't not Too dull for your good wearing? If I had lost,
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.
Your loss your sport: I hope, you know that we Must not continue friends.
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.
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.
Or do your honour injury. Iach.
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.
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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