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

2 Lord. Åy, it is fit for your lordship only.

Clo. Why, so I say.

1 Lord. Did you hear of a stranger that 's come to court to-night?

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

not.

2 Lord. He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it [Aside. 1 Lord. There's an Italian come; and, 't is 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. You are a fool granted; therefore your issues, being foolish, do not derogate. [Aside. 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 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. From 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, To enjoy thy banish'd lord, and this great land! [Exit.

SCENE II-A Bed-Chamber; in one part of it a

Trunk.

IMOGEN reading in her bed; a Lady attending.

Imo. Who's there? my woman Helen?

Lady.

Imo. What hour is it?

Lady.

Please you, madam.

Almost midnight, madam.

Imo. 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' the clock,
I prithee, call me. Sleep hath seiz'd me wholly.

To your protection I commend me, gods!

From fairies, and the tempters of the night,

[Exit Lady.

Guard me, beseech ye! [Sleeps. IACH., from the trunk. Iach. 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.-T is 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 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
The adornment of her bed :-The arras, figures,"

a M. Mason would read "the arras-figures;" but Iachimo subsequently describes, not only the figures of the arras, but its particular quality

"Tapestry of silk and silver; the story

Proud Cleopatra," &c.

Why, such, and such:-And the contents o' the story.
Ah, but some natural notes about her body
Above ten thousand meaner moveables
Would testify, to 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!
"T is 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 bare the raven's eye! la I lodge in fear;
Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here.

One, two, three,-Time, time!

[Clock strikes.

[Goes into the trunk. The scene closes.

SCENE III.-Without the Palace, under 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.

a To bare the raven's eye, is to open the raven's eye-the eye of one of the earliest-waking and the quickest-seeing of birds.

Clo. It would make any man cold to lose.

1 Lord. But not every man patient after the noble temper of your lordship. You are most hot and furious when you win.

Clo. 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?

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 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.

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 everything that pretty is a-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 voice in her ears, which horse-hairs and calves'-guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to boot, can never amend.

[Exeunt Musicians.

a Hanmer changed this to bin-a pretty word. But is occurs in the folio. We print the lines as they are printed in that edi tion; by which, in all probability, a different time of the air was indicated-a more rapid movement.

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?

Clo. I have assailed her with musics, but she vouchsafes 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, befriended 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.

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 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