« 이전계속 »
May bare the raven's eye. I lodge in fear;
[Clock strikes. One, two, three,-Time, time!
[Goes into the trunk. The scene closes.
An Antechamber adjoining Imogen's
Enter CLOTEN and Lords.
1 Lord. Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the most coldest that ever turned
Clo. It would make any man cold to lose.
1 Lord. But not every man patient, after the noble temper
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.
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.
Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phæbus 'gins arise,
On chaliced flowers that lies ;
1 The morning sun dries up the dew which lies in the cups of flowers. The cup of the flower is called the calir; whence chalice.
And winking Mary-buds begin
their golden eyes;
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 cat-guts, nor the voice of 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 daugh
ter? Will she not forth ? Clo. I have assailed her with music; but she vouch
safes no notice.
You are most bound to the king ;
Senseless ? not so.
1 i. e. I will pay you more amply for it.
Enter a Messenger.
A worthy fellow,
[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!
[Knocks. 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 killed, 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.
[Knocks. Enter a Lady. Lady. Who's there that knocks ? Clo.
A gentleman. Lady.
No more? Clo. Yes, and a gentlewoman's son. Lady.
That's more Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours, Can justly boast of. What's your lordship’s pleasure ?
1 That is, we must extend towards himself our notice of his goodness heretofore shown to us. 2 False is not here an adjective, but a verb. VOL. VI.
Clo. Your lady's person ; is she ready?
Lady. To keep her chamber. Clo. There's gold for you; sell me your good re
port. 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
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.
in your madness, 'twere my sin! I will not.
Imo. Fools are not mad folks.?
call me fool?
1 i. e. “a man of your knowledge, being taught forbearance, should learn it.”
2 This, as Cloten very well understands it, is a covert mode of calling him a fool. The meaning implied is this :—“If I am mad, as you tell me, I am what you can never be." “ Fools are not mad folks."
3 i. e. so verbose, so full of talk.
By the very truth of it, I care not for you;
You sin against
Profane fellow !
The south-fog rot him!
Enter PISANIO. Clo. His garment ? Now, the devilImo. To Dorothy, my woman, hie thee presently.-
1 In knots of their own tying.
3 “ If you were to be dignified only in comparison to your virtues, the under-hangman's place is too good for you."