I pr'ythee, call me. Sleep hath seiz'd me wholly. Guard me, [Exit Lady. [Sleeps. IACHIMO comes 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, [Taking off her Bracelet. As slippery, as the Gordian knot was hard! The treasure of her honour. No more. To what end, Why should I write this down, that's riveted, To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it. Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. [Clock strikes. time, time! 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. 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, So, get you gone. If this penetrate, I will consider your music the better if it do not, it is a vice in her ears, which horse-hairs, and calves'-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; Queen. Clo. Senseless? not so. Mess. Enter a Messenger. So like you, Sir, ambassadors from Rome: The one is Caius Lucius. Albeit he comes on angry purpose now; But that's no fault of his: we must receive him And towards himself, his goodness forespent on us, When you have given good morning to your mistress, 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 "Their deer to the stand o' the stealer; and 't is gold One of her women lawyer to me; for Lady. Who's there, that knocks? Clo. Lady. [Knocks. [Knocks. Enter a Lady. A gentleman. No more? That's more Clo. Yes, and a gentlewoman's son. Lady. 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, 4 Clo. There's gold for you: sell me your good report. Lady. 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, 't were as deep with me: If you swear still, your recompense is still That I regard it not. Imo. But that you shall not say I yield, being silent, To your best kindness. One of your great knowing Clo. To leave you in your madness, 't were 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, : That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce, 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 Clo. |