Cymbeline Part 5

Imo. I thanke you for your paines: But not away to morrow

Iach. O I must Madam.

Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please To greet your Lord with writing, doo't to night, I haue out-stood my time, which is materiall To'th' tender of our Present

Imo. I will write: Send your Trunke to me, it shall safe be kept, And truely yeelded you: you're very welcome.

Exeunt.

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter Clotten, and the two Lords.

Clot. Was there euer man had such lucke? when I kist the Iacke vpon an vp-cast, to be hit away? I had a hundred pound on't: and then a whorson Iacke-an-Apes, must take me vp for swearing, as if I borrowed mine oathes of him, and might not spend them at my pleasure

1. What got he by that? you haue broke his pate with your Bowle

2. If his wit had bin like him that broke it: it would haue run all out

Clot. When a Gentleman is dispos'd to sweare: it is not for any standers by to curtall his oathes. Ha?

2. No my Lord; nor crop the eares of them

Clot. Whorson dog: I gaue him satisfaction? would he had bin one of my Ranke

2. To haue smell'd like a Foole

Clot. I am not vext more at any thing in th' earth: a pox on't I had rather not be so n.o.ble as I am: they dare not fight with me, because of the Queene my Mother: euery Iacke-Slaue hath his belly full of Fighting, and I must go vp and downe like a c.o.c.k, that no body can match

2. You are c.o.c.ke and Capon too, and you crow c.o.c.k, with your combe on

Clot. Sayest thou?

2. It is not fit your Lords.h.i.+p should vndertake euery Companion, that you giue offence too

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

2. I, it is fit for your Lords.h.i.+p onely

Clot. Why so I say

1. Did you heere of a Stranger that's come to Court night?

Clot. A Stranger, and I not know on't?

2. He's a strange Fellow himselfe, and knowes it not

1. There's an Italian come, and 'tis thought one of Leonatus Friends

Clot. Leonatus? A banisht Rascall; and he's another, whatsoeuer he be. Who told you of this Stranger?

1. One of your Lords.h.i.+ps Pages

Clot. Is it fit I went to looke vpon him? Is there no derogation in't?

2. You cannot derogate my Lord

Clot. Not easily I thinke

2. You are a Foole graunted, therefore your Issues being foolish do not derogate

Clot. Come, Ile go see this Italian: what I haue lost to day at Bowles, Ile winne to night of him. Come: go

2. Ile attend your Lords.h.i.+p.

Enter.

That such a craftie Diuell as is his Mother Should yeild the world this a.s.se: A woman, that Beares all downe with her Braine, and this her Sonne, Cannot take two from twenty for his heart, And leaue eighteene. Alas poore Princesse, Thou diuine Imogen, what thou endur'st, Betwixt a Father by thy Step-dame gouern'd, A Mother hourely coyning plots: A Wooer, More hatefull then the foule expulsion is Of thy deere Husband. Then that horrid Act Of the diuorce, heel'd make the Heauens hold firme The walls of thy deere Honour. Keepe vnshak'd That Temple thy faire mind, that thou maist stand T' enioy thy banish'd Lord: and this great Land.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Imogen, in her Bed, and a Lady.

Imo. Who's there? My woman: Helene?

La. Please you Madam

Imo. What houre is it?

Lady. Almost midnight, Madam

Imo. I haue read three houres then: Mine eyes are weake, Fold downe the leafe where I haue left: to bed.

Take not away the Taper, leaue it burning: And if thou canst awake by foure o'th' clock, I prythee call me: Sleepe hath ceiz'd me wholly.

To your protection I commend me, G.o.ds, From Fayries, and the Tempters of the night, Guard me beseech yee.

Sleepes.

Iachimo from the Trunke.

Iach. The Crickets sing, and mans ore-labor'd sense Repaires it selfe by rest: Our Tarquine thus Did softly presse the Rushes, ere he waken'd The Chast.i.tie he wounded. Cytherea, How brauely thou becom'st thy Bed; fresh Lilly, And whiter then the Sheetes: that I might touch, But kisse, one kisse. Rubies vnparagon'd, How deerely they doo't: 'Tis her breathing that Perfumes the Chamber thus: the Flame o'th' Taper Bowes toward her, and would vnder-peepe her lids.

To see th' inclosed Lights, now Canopied Vnder these windowes, White and Azure lac'd With Blew of Heauens owne tinct. But my designe.

To note the Chamber, I will write all downe,

Such, and such pictures: There the window, such Th' adornement of her Bed; the Arras, Figures, Why such, and such: and the Contents o'th' Story.

Ah, but some naturall notes about her Body, Aboue ten thousand meaner Moueables Would testifie, t' enrich mine Inuentorie.

O sleepe, thou Ape of death, lye dull vpon her, And be her Sense but as a Monument, Thus in a Chappell lying. Come off, come off; As slippery as the Gordian-knot was hard.

'Tis mine, and this will witnesse outwardly, As strongly as the Conscience do's within: To'th' madding of her Lord. On her left brest A mole Cinque-spotted: Like the Crimson drops I'th' bottome of a Cowslippe. Heere's a Voucher, Stronger then euer Law could make; this Secret Will force him thinke I haue pick'd the lock, and t'ane The treasure of her Honour. No more: to what end?

Why should I write this downe, that's riueted, Screw'd to my memorie. She hath bin reading late, The Tale of Tereus, heere the leaffe's turn'd downe Where Philomele gaue vp. I haue enough, To'th' Truncke againe, and shut the spring of it.

Swift, swift, you Dragons of the night, that dawning May beare the Rauens eye: I lodge in feare, Though this a heauenly Angell: h.e.l.l is heere.

Clocke strikes

One, two, three: time, time.

Enter.