Imo. All's well, sir:Take my power i'the court for yours. lach. My humble thanks. I had almost forgot To entreat your grace but in a small request, And yet of moment too, for it concerns Your lord; myself, and other noble friends, Are partners in the business. Imo. Pray, what is't? lach. Some dozen Romans of us, and your lord (The best feather of our wing), have mingled sums, To buy a present for the emperor; Which I, the factor for the rest, have done In France: 'Tis plate, of rare device; and jewels, Imo. lach. They are in a trunk, Attended by my men: I will make bold' Imo. O, no, no. Iach. Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my word, I cross'd the seas on purpose, and on promise Imo. + I thank you for your pains; But not away to-morrow? I will write. Imo, [Exeunt. SCENE I. Court before CYMBELINE'S Palace, Clo. Was there ever man had such luck! when I kissed the jack upon an up-cast, to be hit away! I had a hundred pound on't: And then a whoreson jackanapes must take me up for swearing; as if I borrowed mine oaths of him, and might not spend 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 him that broke it, it would have run all out. [Aside. Clo. When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths: Ha? 2 Lord. No, my lord; nor [Aside] crop the ears of them. Clo. Whoreson dog!-I give him satisfaction? 'Would, he had been one of my rank! [Aside. 2 Lord. To have smelt like a fool. Clo. I am not more vexed at any thing in the earth, -A pox on't! I had rather not be so noble as I am; They dare not fight with me, because of the queen my mother: every jack-slave hath his belly full of fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that nobody can match. 2 Lord. You are a cock and capon too; and you crow, cock, with your comb on. [Aside. Clo. Sayest thou? 1 Lord. It is not fit, your lordship should undertake every companion that you give offence to. Clo No, I know that: but it is fit, I should commit offence to my inferiors. 2 Lord. Ay, it is fit for your lordship only. Clo. Why, so I say. 1 Lord. Ďid you hear of a stranger, that's come to court to-night? Clo. A stranger! and I not know on't? 2 Lord. He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it not. [Aside. 1 Lord. There's an Italian come; and, 'tis thought, one of Leonatus' friends. Clo. Leonatus? a bauished rascal; and he's another, whatsoever he be. Who told you of this stranger? 1 Lord. One of your lordship's pages. Clo. Is it fit I went to look upon him? Is there no derogation in't? 1 Lord. You cannot derogate, my lord. Clo. Not easily, I think. 2 Lord. You are a fool granted; therefore your issues being foolish, do not derogate. [Aside. Clo. Come, I'll go see this Italian: What I have lost to-day at bowls, I'll win to-night of him. Come, go. 2 Lord. I'll attend your lordship. [Exeunt Cloten and first Lord. That such a crafty devil as is his mother Should yield the world this ass! a woman, that Bears all down with her brain; and this her son Cannot take two from twenty for his heart, And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess, Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'st! Betwixt a father by thy step dame govern'd; A mother hourly coining plots; a wooer, Of the divorce he'd make! The heavens hold firm A Bed-chamber; in one Part of it, a Trunk. IMOGEN reading in her Bed; a Lady attending. Lady. Imo. What hour is it? Please you, madam. Lady. Almost 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; [Exit Lady. [Sleeps. Iachimo, 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! To note the chamber:-I will write all down :- One, two, three,-Time, time! [Clock strikes. [Goes into the Trunk. The Scene closes. SCENE III. An Antechamber adjoining IMOGEN's Apartment. Enter CLOTEN and Lords. 1 Lord. Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the most coldest that ever turn'd up ace. Clo. It would make any man cold to lose. 1 Lord. But not every man patient, after the noble |