of them.

Clo. Whoreson dog!-I give him satisfaction? 'Would, he had been one of my rank !

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 pr'ythee, call me. Sleep hath seiz'd me wholly.
[Exit Lady.
your protection I commend me, gods!
From fairies, and the tempters of the night,
Guard me, beseech ye!

Clo. Sayest thou?

1 Lord. It is not fit, your lordship should undertake every companion2 that you give offence to. Clo. No, I know that: but it is fit, I should commit offence to my inferiors.

2 Lord. Ay, 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!

2 Lord. He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it not. [Aside. 1 Lord. There's an Italian come; and, 'tis 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,3 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, 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 may'st stand,

To enjoy thy banish'd lord, and this great land!

[Exit.

[Sleeps. Iachimo, from the trunk. lach. The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd

sense

Repairs itself by rest: Our Tarquin thus
Did softly press the rushes,4 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'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.5-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,6 figures, 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:

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 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 dawn-
ing

May bare the raven's eye: 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.

(4) It was anciently the custom to strew chambers with rushes.

(5) i. e. The white skin laced with blue veins. (6) Tapestry.

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 turn'd up ace. 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 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 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 Phabus '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 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 2 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 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 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 :3 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.

tress,

When you have given good morning to your mis-
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 he!I know her women are about her; What [Knocks. If I do line one of their hands? 'Tis gold Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and 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;

makes

Imo. Fools are not mad folks.
Clo.

Do you call me fool?
Imo. As I am mad, I do :
If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad;

(3) With solicitations not only proper, but welltimed.

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.
Clo.
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 2
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.

Imo.
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.

Clo.
The south fog rot him!
Imo. He never can meet more mischance, than

Clo. His garment? Now, the devil—
Imo. To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently :-
Clo. His garment?

Imo.
I am sprited4 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.
Pis.

"Twill not be lost.
Imo. I hope so: go, and search. [Exit Pis.
Clo.
You have abus'd me :-

His meanest garment?

Imo.

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:

Imo. 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. Clo.

[Exit. I'll be reveng'd:

His meanest garment?-Well.

[Exit.

SCENE IV.-Rome. An apartment in Philario's

house. Enter Posthumus and Philario.

Post. Fear it not, sir: I would, I were so sure

(1) So verbose, so full of talk.

(2) In knots of their own tying.

(3) A low fellow, only fit to wear a livery.

To win the king, as I am bold, her honour Will remain hers.

Phi.

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'c
hopes,

I barely gratif, 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.
Post.
I do believe
(Statists 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.

Post. I hope, the briefness of your answer made The speediness of your return. Your lady

Iach.

Is one the fairest that I have look'd upon.
Post. And, therewithal, the best; or let her

beauty

Look through a casement to allure false hearts, And be false with them.

Iach.

Here are letters for you. Post. Their tenor good, I trust. lach.

'Tis very like. Phi. Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court, When you were there?

Iach.

But not approach'd.

Post.

He was expected then,

All is well yet.

Sparkles this stone as it was wont? or is't not Too dull for your good wearing?

Iach.

If I have lost it I should have lost the worth of it in gold. I'll make a journey twice as far, to enjoy A second night of such sweet shortness, which Was mine in Britain; for the ring is won. Post. The stone's too hard to come by. lach.

Your lady being so easy.

Not a whit,

Post. Make not, sir, Your loss your sport: I hope, you know that we Must not continue friends. Iach. Good sir, we must, If you keep covenant: Had I not brought The knowledge of your mistress home, I grant We were to question further: but I now Profess myself the winner of her honour, Together with your ring: and not the wronger Of her, or you, having proceeded but

(4) Haunted. (5) Statesman. (6) To those who try them.

By both your wills. Post.

If you can make't apparent That you have tasted her in bed, my hand, And ring, is yours: If not, the foul opinion You had of her pure honour, gains, or loses, Your sword, or mine; or masterless leaves both To who shall find them.

Iach. Sir, my circumstances, Being so near the truth, as I will make them, Must first induce you to believe: whose strength I will confirm with oath; which, I doubt not, You'll give me leave to spare, when you shall find You need it not. Proceed.

Post.

Iach.

First, her bed-chamber|| (Where, I confess, I slept not; but, profess, Had that was well worth watching,) it was hang'd With tapestry of silk and silver; the story, Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman, And Cydnus swell'd above the banks, or for The press of boats, or pride: A piece of work So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive In workmanship, and value; which, I wonder'd, Could be so rarely and exactly wrought, Since the true life on't was

Post. O, that I had her here, to tear her limbmeal!

I will go there, and do't; i'the court; before
Her father:-I'll do something-

[Exit.
Phi.
Quite beside
The government of patience!-You have won :
Let's follow him, and pervert the present wrath
He hath against himself.
Iach.

With all my heart.

[Exeunt Another room in the same. Enter Posthumus.

SCENE V-The same.

Post. Is there no way for men to be, but women Must be half workers? We are bastards all; And that most venerable man, which I Did call my father, was I know not where When I was stamp'd; some coiner with his tools Made me a counterfeit: Yet my mother seem'd

(2) The badge; the token.

The Dian of that time: so doth my wife
The nonpareil of this.-O vengeance, vengeance!
Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd,
And pray'd me, oft, forbearance: did it with
A pudency so rosy, the sweet view on't
Might well have warm'd old Saturn; that I thought||

her

As chaste as unsunn'd snow:-O, all the devils!-
This yellow Iachimo, in an hour,-was't not?-
Or less,-at first: Perchance he spoke not; but,
Like a full-acorn'd boar, a German one,
Cry'd, oh! and mounted: found no opposition
But what he look'd for should oppose, and she
Should from encounter guard. Could I find out
The woman's part in me! For there's no motion
That tends to vice in man, but I affirm
It is the woman's part: Be it lying, note it,
The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;
Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,
Nice longings, slanders, mutability,

All faults that may be nam'd, nay that hell knows,
Why, hers, in part, or all; but, rather, all:
For ev'n to vice

They are not constant, but are changing still
One vice, but of a minute old, for one
Not half so old as that. I'll write against them,
Detest them, curse them :-Yet 'tis greater skill
In a true hate, to pray they have their will:
The very devils cannot plague them better. [Exit.

ACT III.

SCENE I.-Britain. A room of state in Cymbeline's palace. Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, and Lords, at one door; and at another, Caius Lucius, and Attendants. Cym. Now say,

what would Augustus Cæsar

with us? Luc. When Julius Cæsar (whose remembrance yet

Live's in men's eyes; and will to ears, and tongues,
Be theme, and hearing ever,) was in this Britain,
And conquer'd it, Cassibelan, thine uncle,
(Famous in Cæsar's praises, no whit less
Than in his feats deserving it,) for him,
And his succession, granted Rome a tribute,
Yearly three thousand pounds; which by thee
lately

Is left untender'd.
Queen.
Shall be so ever.

Clo.

And, to kill the marvel,

There be many Cæsars,

Ere such another Julius. Britain is

A world by itself; and we will nothing pay,

For wearing our own noses.

Queen. That opportunity, Which then they had to take from us, to resume We have again.-Remember, sir, my liege, The kings your ancestors; together with The natural bravery of your isle; which stands As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in With rocks unscaleable, and roaring waters; With sands, that will not bear your enemies' boats, But suck them up to the top-mast. A kind of con

quest

Cæsar made here; but made not here his brag, Of, came, and saw, and overcame: with shame (The first that ever touch'd him,) he was carried

From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping
(Poor ignorant baubles!) on our terrible seas,
Like egg-shells mov'd upon their surges, crack'd
As easily 'gainst our rocks: for joy whereof,
The fam'd Cassibelan, who was once at point
(O, giglet? fortune!) to master Cæsar's sword,
Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright,
And Britons strut with courage.

Clo. Come, there's no more tribute to be paid: Our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time; and, as I said, there is no more such Caesars: other of them may have crooked noses; but, to owe such straight arms, none.

Cym. Son, let your mother end.

Clo. We have yet many among us can gripe as hard as Cassibelan: I do not say, I am one; but I have a hand.-Why tribute? why should we pay tribute? If Cæsar can hide the sun from us with a blanket, or put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for light; else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now.

Cym. You must know,

Till the injurious Romans did extort

This tribute from us, we were free: Cæsar's ambition

(Which swell'd so much, that it did almost stretch
The sides o'the world,) against all colour, here
Did put the yoke upon us; which to shake off,
Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon
Ourselves to be. We do say then to Cæsar,
Our ancestor was that Mulmutius, which
Ordain'd our laws; (whose use the sword of Cæsar
Hath too much mangled; whose repair, and fran

chise,

Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed,
Though Rome be therefore angry ;) Mulmutius,
Who was the first of Britain, which did put
His brows within a golden crown, and call'd
Himself a king.

Luc.
I am sorry, Cymbeline,
That I am to pronounce Augustus Cæsar
(Cæsar, that hath more kings his servants, than
Thyself domestic officers,) thine enemy:
Receive it from me, then :-War, and confusion,
In Cæsar's name pronounce I 'gainst thee: look
For fury not to be resisted :-Thus defied,
I thank thee for myself.

Cym. Thou art welcome, Caius. Thy Cæsar knighted me; my youth I spent Much under him; of him I gather'd honour; Which he, to seek of me again, perforce, Behoves me keep at utterance ;3 I am perfect, That the Pannonians and Dalmatians, for Their liberties, are now in arms: a precedent Which not to read, would show the Britons cold: So Cæsar shall not find them.

Let proof speak.

Luc. Clo. His majesty bids you welcome. Make pastime with us a day, or two, longer: If you seek us afterwards in other terms, you shall find us in our salt-water girdle: if you beat us out of it, it is yours; if you fall in the adventure, our crows shall fare the better for you; and there's an end. Luc. So, sir.

Cym. I know your master's pleasure, and he