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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 musick would come: I am advised to give her musick o' mornings; they say, it will penetrate.

Enter Musicians.

Come 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.

SONG.

Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings1,
And Phoebus 'gins arise,

His steeds to water at those springs

On chalic'd flowers that lies;

1 The same hyperbole occurs in Milton's Paradise Lost, book v.:

ye birds

That singing up to heaven's gate ascend.'

And in Shakspeare's 29th Sonnet:

'Like to the lark at break of day arising

From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate.'

And again in Venus and Adonis :

'Lo, here the gentle lark, weary of rest,

From his moist cabinet mounts up on high,

And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast

The sun ariseth in his majesty.'

Perhaps Lyly's Alexander and Campaspe suggested this song: who is't now we hear;

None but the lark so shrill and clear;

Now at heaven's gates she claps her wings,

The morn not waking till she sings.

Hark, hark'

Passages in Chaucer, Spenser, Skelton, &c. have been pointed out by Mr. Douce, which have parallel thoughts.

2 The morning dries up the dew which lies in the cups of

And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes;
With every thing that pretty bin :
My lady sweet, arise;
Arise, arise.

So, get you gone: If this penetrate, I will consider your musick the better3: if it do not, it is a vice in her ears, which horse-hairs, and cat-guts, nor the voice 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 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

flowers called calices or chalices. The marigold is one of those flowers which closes itself up at sunset.

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So Shakspeare in King Henry VIII. :

'Great princes' favorites their fair leaves spread,

But as the marigold at the sun's eye.'

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A similar idea is expressed in A Courtlie Controversie of Cupid's Cantels, 1578, p. 7:- Floures which unfolding their tender leaves, at the breake of the gray morning, seemed to open their smiling eies, which were oppressed with the drowsinesse of the passed night,' &c.

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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 Increase your services: so seem, as if You were inspir'd 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.

Clo.

Senseless? not so.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. So like you, sir, embassadors from Rome; The one is Caius Lucius.

Сут.

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 5.-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 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.

4 With solicitations not only proper but well timed.'

5 That is, we must extend towards himself our notice of his goodness heretofore shown to us. Shakspeare has many similar elipses. Thus in Julius Cæsar:

Thine honourable metal may be wrought
From what it is dispos'd [to].'

See the next Scene, note 5.

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 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.
By your leave.

Enter a Lady.

Lady. Who's there, that knocks?

Clo.

Lady.

[Knocks.

A gentleman.

No more?

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 pleasure? Clo. Your lady's person: Is she ready?

Lady.

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

6 False is not here an adjective, but a verb. Thus in Tamburlaine, Part I. :

And make him false his faith unto the king.' Shakspeare has one form of the verb to false in The Comedy of Errors, Act ii, Sc. 2: Nay not sure in a thing falsing.'

For purchasing but trouble: the thanks I give,
that I am poor

Is telling you
And scarce can spare them.
Clo.

of thanks,

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, forbearance7.

Clo. To leave you in your madness, 'twere my sin: I will not.

Imo. Fools are not mad folks 8.

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 verbal9: 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.

Obedience, which you owe your

You sin against

father. For

The contract you pretend with that base wretch

7 i. e. ' a man of your knowledge, being taught forbearance, should learn it.'

8 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.'

9 i. e. so verbose, so full of talk.

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