William Shakespeare - William Shakespeare - Complete Works

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.

FIRST LORD. What got he by that? You have broke his pate with your

bowl.

SECOND LORD. [Aside] If his wit had been like him that broke it, it

would have run all out.

CLOTEN. When a gentleman is dispos'd to swear, it is not for any

standers-by to curtail his oaths. Ha?

SECOND LORD. No, my lord; [Aside] nor crop the ears of them.

CLOTEN. Whoreson dog! I give him satisfaction? Would he had been

one of my rank!

SECOND LORD. [Aside] To have smell'd like a fool.

CLOTEN. I am not vex'd more at anything in th' earth. A pox on't! I

had rather not be so noble as I am; they dare not fight with me,

because of the Queen my mother. Every jackslave hath his bellyful

of fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that nobody

can match.

SECOND LORD. [Aside] You are cock and capon too; and you crow,

cock, with your comb on.

CLOTEN. Sayest thou?

SECOND LORD. It is not fit your lordship should undertake every

companion that you give offence to.

CLOTEN. No, I know that; but it is fit I should commit offence to

my inferiors.

SECOND LORD. Ay, it is fit for your lordship only.

CLOTEN. Why, so I say.

FIRST LORD. Did you hear of a stranger that's come to court

to-night?

CLOTEN. A stranger, and I not known on't?

SECOND LORD. [Aside] He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it

not.

FIRST LORD. There's an Italian come, and, 'tis thought, one of

Leonatus' friends.

CLOTEN. Leonatus? A banish'd rascal; and he's another, whatsoever

he be. Who told you of this stranger?

FIRST LORD. One of your lordship's pages.

CLOTEN. Is it fit I went to look upon him? Is there no derogation

in't?

SECOND LORD. You cannot derogate, my lord.

CLOTEN. Not easily, I think.

SECOND LORD. [Aside] You are a fool granted; therefore your issues,

being foolish, do not derogate.

CLOTEN. Come, I'll go see this Italian. What I have lost to-day at

bowls I'll win to-night of him. Come, go.

SECOND 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 endur'st,

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 mayst stand

T' enjoy thy banish'd lord and this great land! Exit

Enter IMOGEN in her bed, and a LADY attending

IMOGEN. Who's there? My woman? Helen?

LADY. Please you, madam.

IMOGEN. What hour is it?

LADY. Almost midnight, madam.

IMOGEN. I have read three hours then. Mine eyes are weak;

Fold down the leaf where I have left. To bed.

Take not away the taper, leave it burning;

And if thou canst awake by four o' th' clock,

I prithee call me. Sleep hath seiz'd me wholly. Exit LADY

To your protection I commend me, gods.

From fairies and the tempters of the night

Guard me, beseech ye!

[Sleeps. IACHIMO comes from the trunk]

IACHIMO. The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd sense

Repairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus

Did softly press the rushes ere he waken'd

The chastity he wounded. Cytherea,

How bravely thou becom'st thy bed! fresh lily,

And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch!

But kiss; one kiss! Rubies unparagon'd,

How dearly they do't! 'Tis her breathing that

Perfumes the chamber thus. The flame o' th' taper

Bows toward her and would under-peep her lids

To see th' enclosed lights, now canopied

Under these 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:

Such and such pictures; there the window; such

Th' adornment of her bed; the arras, figures-

Why, such and such; and the contents o' th' story.

Ah, but some natural notes about her body

Above ten thousand meaner movables

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 th' madding of her lord. On her left breast

A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops

I' th' 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 th' trunk again, and shut the spring of it.

Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning

May bare the raven's eye! I lodge in fear;

Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. [Clock strikes]

One, two, three. Time, time! Exit into the trunk

Enter CLOTEN and LORDS

FIRST LORD. Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the most

coldest that ever turn'd up ace.

CLOTEN. It would make any man cold to lose.

FIRST LORD. But not every man patient after the noble temper of

your lordship. You are most hot and furious when you win.

CLOTEN. Winning will put any man into courage. If I could get this

foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough. It's almost morning,

is't not?

FIRST LORD. Day, my lord.

CLOTEN. I would this music would come. I am advised to give her

music a 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.

Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,

And Phoebus 'gins arise,

His steeds to water at those springs

On chalic'd flow'rs that lies;

And winking Mary-buds begin

To ope their golden eyes.

With everything that pretty bin,

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 vice in her ears which horsehairs and calves' guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to boot, can never amend. Exeunt musicians

Enter CYMBELINE and QUEEN

SECOND LORD. Here comes the King.

CLOTEN. 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.

CYMBELINE. Attend you here the door of our stern daughter?

Will she not forth?

CLOTEN. I have assail'd her with musics, but she vouchsafes no