Will force him think I have pick'd the lock, and ta'en The treasure of her honour, No more.-To what end? 110 Why should I write this down, that's riveted, May bare the raven's eye: I lodge in fear: Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. One, two, three :-Time, time! [Clock strikes. [Goes into the Trunk: the Scene closes. SCENE III. Another Room in the Palace. Enter CLOTEN, and Two Lords. 1 Lord. Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the most coldest that ever turn'd up ace. 121 Clot. It would make any man cold to lose. 1 Lord. But not every man patient, after the noble temper of your lordship; You are most hot, and furious, when you win. Clot. Winning will 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. 129 Clot. I would this musick would come: I am advis'd to give her musick o' mornings; they say, it will pe netrate. 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 sings, And Phabus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chalic'd flowers that lies ; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes; 149 So, get you gone: If this penetrate, I will consider your musick the better if it do not, it is a vice in her ears, which horse-hairs, and cats-guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to boot, can never amend. [Exeunt Musicians. Enter Enter CYMBELINE, and Queen. 2 Lord. Here comes the king. 152 Clot. 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? Clot. I have assail'd her with musicks, but she vouchsafes no notice. Cym. The exile of her minion is too new; Queen. You are most bound to the king: Clot. Senseless? not so. 161 170 Enter Enter a Messenger. Mes. So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome; The one is Caius Lucius. Cym. A worthy fellow, Albeit he comes on angry purpose now; But that's no fault of his : We must receive him 180 And towards himself, his goodness forespent on us, queen. [Knocks. 190 I know her women are about her; What Their deer to the stand o' the stealer: and 'tis gold [Knocks. Enter Enter a Lady. Lady. Who's there, that knocks ? Clot. A gentleman. Lady. No more? Clot. Yes, and a gentlewoman's son. Lady. That's more 200 Than some, whose tailors are as dear as your's, Lady. Ay, to keep her chamber. Clot. There's gold for you; sell me your good re port. Lady. How I my good name? or to report of you What I shall think is good?-The princess 211 Enter IMOGEN. Clot. 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 them. Clot. Still, I swear, I love you. Imo. If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me: If you swear still, your recompence is still That I regard it not. Clot. This is no answer. 220 |