The adornment of her bed ;-The arras, figures, -- Would testify, to enrich mine inventory: One, two, three.-Time, time! [Clock strikes. [Goes into the trunk. The Scene closes. SCENE III-An Ante-Chamber adjoining Imogen's Apartment. Enter Cloten and Lords. 1 Lord. Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the most coldest that ever turned up ace. Clo. It would make any man cold to lose. 1Lord. But not every man patient, after the noble temper of your lordship; You are most hot, and furi ous, when you win. Clo. Winning would put any man into courage: If I could get this foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough: It's almost morning, is't not? 1 Lord. Day, my lord. Clo. I would this music would come: I am advised to give her music o'mornings; they say, it will penetrates 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. SONG. Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, 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 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 herears, which horse-hairs, and cats guts, nor the voice of unpaved 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 daugh ter? Will she not forth? Clo. I have assailed her with music, but she vouchsafes no notice. Cym. The exile of her minion is too new; She hath not yet forgot him: some more time 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. Mes. So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome; The one is Caius Lucius. Cym. A worthy fellow, 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 goodnesss forespent on us When you have given good morning to your mistress, [Exeunt Cym. Queen, Lords, and Messenger. Clo. If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not, Let her lie still, and dream.-By your leave bo! [Knocks. I know her women are about her: What Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and makes Their deer to the stand of the stealer; and 'tis gold Enter a Lady. Who's there, that knocks? [Knocks. Lady. Clo. A gentleman, Lady. No more? Yes, and a gentlewoman's son. Clo. Lady. That's more 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, 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 Imo. But that you shall not say I yield, being silent, I would not speak. I pray you, spare me: i'faith, 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. Imo. As I am mad, I do : Do you call me fool? If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad; By being so verbal and learn now, for all, (To accuse myself) I hate you: which I had rather You felt, than make't my boast. Clo. Imo. Profane fellow ! Wert thou the son of Jupiter, and no more, |