She is alone the Arabian bird; and I
Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend
Arm me, audacity, from head to foot!
Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight;
Rather, directly fly.
Imogen. I have read three hours then : mine eyes are
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 pr'ythee, call me. Sleep hath seiz'd me wholly.
To your protection I commend me, gods!
From fairies, and the tempters of the night,
Guard me, beseech ye!
[Sleeps. Iachimo, 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 becom❜st 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 underpeep her lids,
To see the enclosed lights, now canopied
Under these windows: White and azure, lac'd
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,—
Ay, 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!
Imogen. I am sprighted with a fool;
Frighted, and anger'd worse ;-Go, bid my woman
Search for a jewel, that too casually
Hath left mine arm; it was thy master's: 'shrew me,
If I would lose it for a revenue
Of any king's in Europe. I do think,
I saw 't this morning: Confident I am,
Last night 'twas on mine arm; I kiss'd it:
I hope, it be not gone, to tell my lord
That I kiss aught but he.
Queen. That opportunity
Which then they had to take from us, to resume
We have again.-Remember, sir, my liege,
The kings your ancestors; together with
The natural bravery of your isle; which stands
As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in
With rocks unscaleable, and roaring waters;
With sands, that will not bear your enemies' boats,
But suck them up to the top-mast. A kind of conquest
Cæsar made here; but made not here his brag
Of, came, and saw, and overcame; with shame
(The first that ever touch'd him), he was carried
From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping,
(Poor ignorant baubles !) on our terrible seas,
Like egg-shells mov'd upon their surges, crack'd
As easily 'gainst our rocks: for joy whereof,
The fam'd Cassibelan, who was once at point
(O giglot fortune!) to master Cæsar's sword,
Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright,
And Britons strut with courage.
Cloten. Come, there's no more tribute to be paid. Our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time; and, as I said, there is no more such Cæsars: other of them may have crooked noses; but, to owe such straight arms, none. Cymbeline. Son, let your mother end.
Cloten. We have yet many among us can gripe as hard as Cassibelan: I do not say, I am one; but I have a hand. Why tribute? why should we pay tribute? If Cæsar can hide the sun from us with a blanket, or put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for light: else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now.
Pisanio. How! of adultery? wherefore write you not What monster's her accuser ?-Leonatus !
O, master! what a strange infection
Is fallen into thy ear? What false Italian
(As poisonous tongu'd, as handed) hath prevail'd
On thy too ready hearing ?-Disloyal? No:
She's punish'd for her truth; and undergoes,
More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults
As would take in some virtue.-O, my master !
Thy mind to her is now as low, as were
Thy fortunes.-How! that I should murder her?
Upon the love, and truth, and vows, which I
Have made to thy command?—I, her ?—her blood?
If it be so to do good service, never
Let me be counted serviceable. How look I,
That I should seem to lack humanity,
So much as this fact comes to? Do't: the letter
That I have sent her, by her own command
Shall give thee opportunity :-O damn'd paper!
Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble,
Art thou a feodary for this act, and look'st
So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes.
I am ignorant in what I am commanded.
Imogen. How now, Pisanio?
Pisanio. Madam, here is a letter from my lord.
Imogen. Who? thy lord? that is my lord? Leonatus?
O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer,
That knew the stars, as I his characters;
He'd lay the future open.-You good gods,
Let what is here contain'd relish of love,
Of my lord's health, of his content, yet not,
That we two are asunder, let that grieve him,-
(Some griefs are medicinable ;) that is one of them,
For it doth physick love ;—of his content,
All but in that !-Good wax, thy leave :-Bless'd be,
You bees, that make these locks of counsel ! Lovers,
And men in dangerous bonds, pray not alike;
Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet
You clasp young Cupid's tables.—Good news, gods!
[Reads.
Justice, and your father's wrath, should he take me in his
dominion, could not be so cruel to me as you, O the
dearest of creatures, would not even renew me with your
|