That he enchants societies into him;
Half all men’s hearts are his.
IMOGEN You make amends.
IACHIMO He sits ‘mongst men like a descended god:
He hath a kind of honour sets him off,
More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry,
Most mighty princess, that I have adventured
To try your taking a false report; which hath
Honour’d with confirmation your great judgment
In the election of a sir so 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, chaffless. Pray, your pardon.
IMOGEN All’s well, sir: take my power i’ the court
for yours.
IACHIMO My humble thanks. I had almost forgot
To entreat your grace but in a small request,
And yet of moment to, for it concerns
Your lord; myself and other noble friends,
Are partners in the business.
IMOGEN Pray, what is’t?
IACHIMO 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
Of rich and exquisite form; their values great;
And I am something curious, being strange,
To have them in safe stowage: may it please you
To take them in protection?
IMOGEN Willingly;
And pawn mine honour for their safety: since
My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them
In my bedchamber.
IACHIMO They are in a trunk,
Attended by my men: I will make bold
To send them to you, only for this night;
I must aboard to-morrow.
IMOGEN O, no, no.
IACHIMO Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my word
By lengthening my return. From Gallia
I cross’d the seas on purpose and on promise
To see your grace.
IMOGEN I thank you for your pains:
But not away to-morrow!
IACHIMO O, I must, madam:
Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please
To greet your lord with writing, do’t to-night:
I have outstood my time; which is material
To the tender of our present.
IMOGEN I will write.
Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept,
And truly yielded you. You’re very welcome.
Exeunt
Act 2
Scene 1
Britain. Before Cymbeline’s palace.
Enter CLOTEN and two Lords
CLOTEN 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.
First Lord What got he by that? You have broke his pate with
your bowl.
Second Lord [Aside]
If his wit had been like him that broke it,
it would have run all out.
CLOTEN When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is not for
any standers-by to curtail his oaths, ha?
Second Lord No my lord;
Aside
nor crop the ears of them.
CLOTEN Whoreson dog! I give him satisfaction?
Would he had been one of my rank!
Second Lord [Aside]
To have smelt like a fool.
CLOTEN I am not vexed more 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 bellyful of
fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that
nobody can match.
Second Lord [Aside]
You are cock and capon too; and you crow,
cock, with your comb on.
CLOTEN Sayest thou?
Second Lord It is not fit your lordship should undertake every
companion that you give offence to.
CLOTEN No, I know that: but it is fit I should commit
offence to my inferiors.
Second Lord Ay, it is fit for your lordship only.
CLOTEN Why, so I say.
First Lord Did you hear of a stranger that’s come to court to-night?
CLOTEN A stranger, and I not know on’t!
Second Lord [Aside]
He’s a strange fellow himself, and knows it
not.
First Lord There’s an Italian come; and, ’tis thought, one of
Leonatus’ friends.
CLOTEN Leonatus! a banished rascal; and he’s another,
whatsoever he be. Who told you of this stranger?
First Lord One of your lordship’s pages.
CLOTEN Is it fit I went to look upon him? is there no
derogation in’t?
Second Lord You cannot derogate, my lord.
CLOTEN Not easily, I think.
Second Lord [Aside]
You are a fool granted; therefore your
issues, being foolish, do not derogate.
CLOTEN Come, I’ll go see this Italian: what I have lost
to-day at bowls I’ll win to-night of him. Come, go.
Second 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 endurest,
Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern’d,
A mother hourly coining plots, a wooer
More hateful than the foul expulsion is
Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act
Of the divorce he’ld make! The heavens hold firm
The walls of thy dear honour, keep unshaked
That temple, thy fair mind, that thou mayst stand,
To enjoy thy banish’d lord and this great land!
Exit
Scene 2
Imogen’s bedchamber in Cymbeline’s palace:
a trunk in one corner of it.
IMOGEN in bed, reading; a Lady attending
IMOGEN Who’s there? my woman Helen?
Lady Please you, madam
IMOGEN What hour is it?
Lady Almost midnight, madam.
IMOGEN 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 canst awake by four o’ the clock,
I prithee, call me. Sleep hath seized me wholly
Exit Lady
To your protection I commend me, gods.
From fairies and the tempters of the night
Guard me, beseech ye.
Sleeps. IACHIMO comes from the trunk
IACHIMO 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 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 bracelet
As 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 strikes
One, two, three: time, time!
Goes into the trunk. The scene closes
Scene 3
An ante-chamber adjoining Imogen’s apartments.
Enter CLOTEN and Lords
First Lord Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the
most coldest that ever turned up ace.
CLOTEN It would make any man cold to lose.
First Lord But not every man patient after the noble temper of
your lordship. You are most hot and furious when you win.
CLOTEN 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?
First Lord Day, my lord.
CLOTEN I would this music would come: I am advised to give
her music 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