8/

More than a mortal feeming. Be not angry,
Moft mighty Princefs, that I have adventur'd
To try you with a falfe report, which hath
Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment,
In the election of a Sir, fo rare,

Which you know cannot err. The love I bear him,
Made me to fan you thus; but the Gods made you,
Unlike all others, chafflefs. Pray your pardon. [yours.
Imo. All's well, Sir; take my pow'r i' th' Court for
Iach. My humble thanks; I had almost forgot
T'intreat your grace but in a fmall request,
And yet of moment too, for it concerns
Your Lord; my felf, and other noble friends
Are partners in the bufinefs.

Imo. Pray what is't?

Iach. Some dozen Romans of us, and your Lord,
(Beft feather of our wing,) have mingled fums
To buy a prefent for the Emperor :

Which I, the factor for the reft, have done
In France; 'tis plate of rare device, and jewels
Of rich and exquifite form, their values great;
And I am something curious, being strange,
To have them in fafe ftowage: may it please you
To take them in protection?

Imo. Willingly;

And pawn mine honour for their fafety. Since
My Lord hath int'reft in them, I will keep them
In my bed-chamber.

Iach. They are in a trunk

Attended by my men: I will make bold

To fend them to you, only for this night;

I muft aboard to-morrow.

Imo. O no, no.

lach. Yes, I beseech you
By length'ning my return.
I croft the feas on purpose,
To fee your Grace.

your taking of a

or I fhall short my word From Gallia

and on promise

Imo.

Imo. I thank you for your pains; But not away to-morrow?

Jach. I muft, Madam.

Therefore I fhall befeech you, if you please
To greet your Lord with writing, do't to-night.
I have out-ftood my time, which is material
To th' tender of our present.

Imo. I will write:

Send your trunk to me, it shall be safe kept,

And truly yielded you: you're very welcome. [Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I

CYMBELINE's Palace.

Enter CLOT E N, and two Lords.

CLOTEN.

AS there ever man had fuch luck! when I kifs'd

W the fack upon an up-caft, to be hit away! I had

an hundred pound on't; and then a whorfon jack-an-apes must take me up for fwearing, as if I borrowed mine oaths of him, and might not fpend them at my pleasure.

1 Lord. What got he by that? you have broke his pate with your bowl.

2 Lord. If his wit had been like 'his' that broke it, it would have run all out.

[Afide. Clot. When a gentleman is difpofed to fwear, it is not for any ftanders-by to curtail his oaths. Ha?

2 Lord. No, my Lord: nor crop the ears of them. Clot. Whorfon dog! I give him fatisfaction? would he had been one of my rank.

2 Lord. To have fmelt like a fool.

[Afide. Clot. I am not vext more at any thing in the earth,

a pox

a pox on't. I had rather not be fo noble as I am; they dare not fight with me, because of the Queen my mother; every jack-flave hath his belly full of fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that no body can match.

2 Lord. You are a cock and a capon too, and you crow, cock, with your comb on. [Afide.

Clot. Say'ft thou?

2 Lord. It is not fit your Lordship fhould undertake every companion, that you give offence to.

Clot. No, I know that: but it is fit I fhould commit offence to my inferiors.

2 Lord. Ay, it is fit for your Lordship only. Clot. Why, fo I fay.

I Lord. Did you hear of a stranger that's come to Court to-night?

Clot. A ftranger, and I not know on't?

2 Lord. He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it

not.

[Afide. I Lord. There's an Italian come, and 'tis thought one of Leonatus's friends.

Clot. Leonatus! a banish'd rascal; and he's another, "'whofoever he be. Who told you of this ftranger? I Lord. One of your Lordship's pages.

Clot. Is it fit I went to look upon him? is there no derogation in't?

2 Lord. You cannot derogate, my Lord.

Clot. Not eafily, I think.

2 Lord. You are a fool granted, therefore your iffues being foolish do not derogate.

[Exit Cloten.

[Afide. Clot. Come, I'll go fee this Italian: what I have loft to-day at bowls, I'll win to-night of him. Come; go. 2 Lord. I'll attend your Lordfhip. That fuch a crafty devil as his mother, Should yield the world this afs! a woman, that Bears all down with her brain, and this her fon Cannot take two from twenty for his heart,

I whatsoever

And

And leave eighteen. Alas poor Princess,
Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'ft!
Betwixt a father by thy ftep-dame govern'd,
A mother hourly coining plots; a wooer,
More hateful than the foul expulfion is

Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act

Of the divorce hell made. The heav'ns hold firm
The walls of thy dear honour, keep unshak'd
That temple thy fair mind, that thou may'ft ftand
T' enjoy thy banish'd Lord, and this great land! [Exe.

A magnificent Bed-chamber, in one part of it a large trunk.

Imogen is discover'd reading in her bed, a Lady attending.

Imo. W

HO's there? my woman Helen?

Lady. Please you, Madam

Imo. What hour is it?

Lady. Almoft 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 canft awake by four o' th' clock,
I pr'ythee call me — fleep hath feiz'd me wholly.

To your protection I commend me, Gods;
From fairies and the tempters of the night
Guard me, befeech ye!

[Exit Lady.

[Sleeps.

[Iachimo rifes from the trunk.

Iach. The crickets fing, and man's o'er-labour'd fenfe

Repairs it felf by reft: our Tarquin thus

Did foftly prefs the rushes, ere he waken'd

The chastity he wounded. Cytherea,

How bravely thou becom'ft thy bed! fresh lilly,
And whiter than the sheets! that I might touch,

2 he'll make..

But

But kifs, one kifs- rubies unparagon'd

How dearly they do't! 'tis her breathing that
Perfumes the chamber thus: the flame o' th' taper
Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids,
To fee th' inclofed lights, now canopy'd

3 'Under those curtains white with azure lac'd,
The blue of heav'n's own tinct. But my defign's
To note the chamber - I will write all down,
Such and fuch pictures -there the window-fuch
Th' adornment of her bed the arras, figures
Why, fuch and fuch and the contents o' th' ftory
Ah, but fome natʼral notes about her body,
Above ten thousand meaner moveables
Would teftifie, t' inrich mine inventory.
O fleep, thou ape of death, lye dull upon her,
And be her fenfe but as a monument,

-

Thus in a chappel lying! Come off, come off. -
[Taking off her bracelet.
As flipp'ry as the Gordian knot was hard.
'Tis mine, and this will witnefs outwardly,
As ftrongly as the confcience do's within,
To th' madding of her Lord. On her left breast
A mole cinque-fpotted, like the crimson drops
I' th' bottom of a cow-flip. Here's a voucher,
Stronger than ever law could make: this fecret
Will force him think I've pick'd the lock, and ta'en
The treasure of her honour. No more to what end?
Why fhould I write this down that's riveted,

Screw'd to my mem'ry? Sh' hath been reading late,
The tale of Tereus, here the leaf's turn'd down
Where Philomele gave up I have enough

To th' trunk again, and fhut the fpring of it.
Swift, fwift, you dragons of the night! that dawning
May 'bare it's raven-eye: I lodge in fear,

(a) The Raven's eye is remarkably large and grey.

Though

3 Under these windows white and azure, lac'd with... old edit. Warb. emend.

4 bear the . . . old edit. Warb, emend.