And winking mary-buds begin 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 [Exeunt Musicians amend. 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 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 let's 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 3 Will pay you more for it. + With solicitations not only proper but well-timed. Increase your services: so seem, as if Clo. Senseless? not so. Enter a Messenger. Mess. So like you, sir, embassadors from Rome; The one is Caius Lucius. Cymb. 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 mis tress, Attend the queen, and us; we shall have need To employ you towards this Roman.- Come, our queen. [Exeunt CYMB. 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![Knocks. I know her women are about her; What 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 I One of her women lawyer to me; for yet not understand the case myself. By your leave. Enter a Lady. Lady. Who's there, that knocks? Clo. Lady. [Knocks. 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 plea sure? Clo. Your lady's person: Is she ready? 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, 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 That I regard it not. Clo. 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 my sin: I will not. 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; 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; 6 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 7 for a livery, a squire's cloth, A pantler, not so eminent. 5 So verbose, so full of talk. 6 In knots of their own tying. 7 A low fellow only fit to wear a livery. Imo. Profane fellow ! Wert thou the son of Jupiter, and no more, Clo. The south-fog rot him! Imo. He never can meet more mischance, than come To be but nam'd of thee. His meanest garment, Enter PISANIO. Clo. His garment? Now, the devil Imo. To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently: Clo. His garment? Imo. 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, Pis. 'Twill not be lost. Imo. I hope so: go, and search. [Exit PIs. 8 Haunted. VOL. IX. F |