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So, get you gone: If this penetrate, I will consider your musick the better: if it do not, it is a vice in her ears, 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 daughter? Will she not forth?

Clo. I have assail'd her with musick, 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 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.


Senseless? not so.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome; The one is Caius Lucius.


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
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; yea, and makes
Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up

Their deer to the stand of 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.

Enter a Lady.

Lady. Who's there, that knocks?


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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?


To keep her chamber.


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


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.


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.


This is no answer.

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

I will not.


Imo. Fools are not mad folks.


Imo. As I am mad, I do:

sin: my

Do you call me fool?

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.

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 soil.
The precious note of it with a base slave,
A hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth,
A pantler, not so eminent.


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.


The south-fog rot him!

Imo. He never can meet more mischance, than come To be but nam'd of thee. His meanest garment, 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.

Clo. His garment? Now, the devil

Imo. To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently:-
Clo. His garment?


I am sprighted with a fool; Frighted, and anger'd worse:-Go, bid my woman Search for a jewel, that too casually

Hath left mine arm; it was thy master's: 'shrew me, If I would lose it for a revenue

Of any king's in Europe. I do think,

I saw 't this morning: confident I am,
Last night 'twas on mine arm; I kiss'd it:
I hope, it be not gone, to tell my lord
That I kiss aught but he.

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Ay; I said so, sir.

If you will make 't an action, call witness to 't.
Clo. I will inform your father.


Your mother too:

She's my good lady; and will conceive, I hope,

But the worst of me. So I leave you, sir,

To the worst of discontent.



I'll be reveng'd:

His meanest garment? Well.



Rome. An Apartment in Philario's House.


Post. Fear it not, sir: I would, I were so sure To win the king, as I am bold, her honour

Will remain hers.


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 his 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.


I do believe,

(Statist though I am none, nor like to be,)
That this will prove a war; and you shall hear
The legions, 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.



See! Iachimo!

Post. The swiftest harts have posted you by land: And winds of all the corners kiss'd your sails,

To make your vessel nimble.


Welcome, sir.

Post. I hope, the briefness of your answer made


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