| Act 2, Scene 2
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a trunk in one corner of it.IMOGEN
IMOGEN in bed, reading; a Lady attending
Who's there? my woman Helen?Lady
Please you, madamIMOGEN
What hour is it?Lady
Almost midnight, madam.IMOGEN
I have read three hours then: mine eyes are weak:IACHIMO
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 prithee, call me. Sleep hath seized me wholly
Exit LadyTo your protection I commend me, gods.
From fairies and the tempters of the night
Guard me, beseech ye.
Sleeps. IACHIMO comes from the trunk
The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd senseScene III
Repairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus
Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken'd
The chastity he wounded. Cytherea,
How bravely thou becomest 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 laced
With blue of heaven's own tinct. 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; 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.
O 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 braceletAs 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 dawning
May bare the raven's eye! I lodge in fear;
Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here.
Clock strikesOne, two, three: time, time!
Goes into the trunk. The scene closes
An ante-chamber adjoining Imogen's apartments.First Lord
Enter CLOTEN and Lords
Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, theCLOTEN
most coldest that ever turned up ace.
It would make any man cold to lose.First Lord
But not every man patient after the noble temper ofCLOTEN
your lordship. You are most hot and furious when you win.
Winning will put any man into courage. If I couldFirst Lord
get this foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough.
It's almost morning, is't not?
Day, my lord.CLOTEN
I would this music would come: I am advised to giveCLOTEN
her music o' mornings; they say it will penetrate.
Enter MusiciansCome 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.
SONGHark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus 'gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chaliced flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes:
With every thing that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise:
So, get you gone. If this penetrate, I willSecond Lord
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.
Here comes the king.CLOTEN
I am glad I was up so late; for that's the reason ICYMBELINE
was up so early: he cannot choose but take this
service I have done fatherly.
Enter CYMBELINE and QUEENGood morrow to your majesty and to my gracious mother.
Attend you here the door of our stern daughter?CLOTEN
Will she not forth?
I have assailed her with music, but she vouchsafes no notice.CYMBELINE
The exile of her minion is too new;QUEEN
She hath not yet forgot him: some more time
Must wear the print of his remembrance out,
And then she's yours.
You are most bound to the king,CLOTEN
Who lets go by no vantages that may
Prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself
To orderly soliciting, and be friended
With aptness of the season; make denials
Increase your services; so seem as if
You were inspired 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.Messenger
Enter a Messenger
So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome;CYMBELINE
The one is Caius Lucius.
A worthy fellow,CLOTEN
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 all but CLOTEN
If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not,Lady
Let her lie still and dream.
KnocksBy 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 o' 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.
KnocksBy your leave.
Enter a Lady
Who's there that knocks?CLOTEN
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?
Your lady's person: is she ready?Lady
To keep her chamber.
There is gold for you;Lady
Sell me your good report.
How! my good name? or to report of youCLOTEN
What I shall think is good?--The princess!
Good morrow, fairest: sister, your sweet hand.IMOGEN
Good morrow, sir. You lay out too much painsCLOTEN
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.IMOGEN
If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me:CLOTEN
If you swear still, your recompense is still
That I regard it not.
This is no answer.IMOGEN
But that you shall not say I yield being silent,CLOTEN
I would not speak. I pray you, spare me: 'faith,
I shall unfold equal discourtesy
To your best kindness: one of your great knowing
Should learn, being taught, forbearance.
To leave you in your madness, 'twere my sin:IMOGEN
I will not.
Fools are not mad folks.CLOTEN
Do you call me fool?IMOGEN
As I am mad, I do:CLOTEN
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.
You sin againstIMOGEN
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-figured 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.
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 styled
The under-hangman of his kingdom, and hated
For being preferred so well.
The south-fog rot him!IMOGEN
He never can meet more mischance than comeCLOTEN
To be but named 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!
'His garment!' Now the devil--IMOGEN
To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently--CLOTEN
I am sprited with a fool.PISANIO
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.
'Twill not be lost.IMOGEN
I hope so: go and search.CLOTEN
You have abused me:IMOGEN
'His meanest garment!'
Ay, I said so, sir:CLOTEN
If you will make't an action, call witness to't.
I will inform your father.IMOGEN
Your mother too:CLOTEN
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 revenged:
'His meanest garment!' Well.
| Act 2, Scene 2
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