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And if thou canst awake by four o' the clock,
I proythee, call me. Sleep hath seiz'd 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, 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:-
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 the Gordian knot was hard !

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As slippery,

rushes.

* 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,
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
l'the bottom of a cowslip: Here's a voucher,
Stronger than ever law could make : this secret
Will force him think I have prevail'd, and ta’en
The treasure of her honour. No more. To what

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.

SCENE III.

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?

of

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.

SONG.
Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,

And Phoebus 'gins arise,
His steeds to water

at those springs
On chalic'do flowers that lies
And winking Mary-buds begin

Το 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 better': if it do not, it is a vice in her

ears, which horse-hairs, and cats-guts, 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.

9 Cups.

· Will pay you more for it.

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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
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 inspird 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. - Our dear son,
When you have given good morning to your mis-

tress,
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. 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:

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.

[Knocks.

Enter a Lady.
Lady. Who's there, that knocks?
Clo.

A gentleman.
Lady:

No more?
Clo. Yes, and a gentlewoman's son.
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

Enter IMOGEN.

Clo. Good-morrow, fairest sister : Your sweet

hand.

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