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And if thou canst awake by four o' the clock,
[Exit Lady To your protection I commend me, gods! From fairies, and the tempters of the night, Guard me, beseech ye!
[Sleeps. IACHIMO, from the Trunk. Iach. The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd 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 tły 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, lac'd With blue of heaven's own tinct.S But my design? To note the chamber :- I will write all down :Such and such, pictures :
There the window:-
[Taking off her Bracelet. as the Gordian knot was hard !
* It was anciently the custom to strew chambers with 8i, c. The white skin laced with blue veins.
'Tis mine ; and this will witness outwardly,
end ? Why should I write this down, that's rivetted, 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.
An Ante-Chamber 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 temper
your lordship: You are most hot, ånd furious, when you win.
Clo. Winning would 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.
Clo. I would this musick would come: I am advised to give her musick o’the 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.
And Phoebus 'gins arise,
at those springs
Το ope their golden eyes ;
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, can never amend.
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.
· Will pay you more for it.
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;
Queen. You are most bound to the king;
Senseless ? not so.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. So like you, sir, embassadors from Rome;
A worthy fellow,
[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. 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 killd, and saves the
thief; Nay, sometime, hangs both thief and true man:
Enter a Lady.
That's more Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours, Can justly boast of: What's your lordship's plea
sure? Clo. Your lady's person : Is she ready? Lady.
Ay, To keep her chamber. 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
Clo. Good-morrow, fairest sister : Your sweet