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About this text

  • Title: Cymbeline (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editor: Jennifer Forsyth
  • ISBN: 1-55058-300-X

    Copyright Jennifer Forsyth. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Jennifer Forsyth
    Peer Reviewed

    Cymbeline (Folio 1, 1623)

    960Scena Tertia.
    Enter Clotten, and Lords.
    1. Your Lordship is the most patient man in losse, the
    most coldest that euer turn'd vp Ace.
    Clot. It would make any man cold to loose.
    9651. But not euery man patient after the noble temper
    of your Lordship; You are most hot, and furious when
    you winne.
    The Tragedie of Cymbeline. 377
    Winning will put any man into courage: if I could get
    this foolish Imogen, I should haue Gold enough: it's al-
    970most morning, is't not?
    1 Day, my Lord.
    Clot. I would this Musicke would come: I am adui-
    sed to giue her Musicke a mornings, they say it will pene-
    trate. Enter Musitians.
    975Come on, tune: If you can penetrate her with your fin-
    gering, so: wee'l try with tongue too: if none will do, let
    her remaine: but Ile neuer giue o're. First, a very excel-
    lent good conceyted thing; after a wonderful sweet aire,
    with admirable rich words to it, and then let her consi-
    Hearke, hearke, the Larke at Heauens gate sings,
    and Phoebus gins arise,
    His Steeds to water at those Springs
    985 on chalic'd Flowres that lyes:
    And winking Mary-buds begin to ope their Golden eyes
    With euery thing that pretty is, my Lady sweet arise:
    Arise, arise.
    So, get you gone: if this pen trate, I will consider your
    990Musicke the better: if it do not, it is a voyce in her eares
    which Horse-haires, and Calues-guts, nor the voyce of
    vnpaued Eunuch to boot, can neuer amed.
    Enter Cymbaline, and Queene.
    2 Heere comes the King.
    995Clot. I am glad I was vp so late, for that's the reason
    I was vp so earely: he cannot choose but take this Ser-
    uice I haue done, fatherly. Good morrow to your Ma-
    iesty, and to my gracious Mother.
    Cym. Attend you here the doore of our stern daughter
    1000Will she not forth?
    Clot. I haue assayl'd her with Musickes, but she vouch-
    safes no notice.
    Cym. The Exile of her Minion is too new,
    She hath not yet forgot him, some more time
    1005Must weare the print of his remembrance on't,
    And then she's yours.
    Qu. You are most bound to'th' King,
    Who let's go by no vantages, that may
    Preferre you to his daughter: Frame your selfe
    1010To orderly solicity, and be friended
    With aptnesse of the season: make denials
    Encrease your Seruices: so seeme, as if
    You were inspir'd to do those duties which
    You tender to her: that you in all obey her,
    1015Saue when command to your dismission tends,
    And therein you are senselesse.
    Clot. Senselesse? Not so.
    Mes. So like you (Sir) Ambassadors from Rome;
    The one is Caius Lucius.
    1020Cym. A worthy Fellow,
    Albeit he comes on angry purpose now;
    But that's no fault of his: we must receyue him
    According to the Honor of his Sender,
    And towards himselfe, his goodnesse fore-spent on vs
    1025We must extend our notice: Our deere Sonne,
    When you haue giuen good morning to your Mistris,
    Attend the Queene, and vs, we shall haue neede
    T' employ you towards this Romane.
    Come our Queene. Exeunt.
    1030Clot. If she be vp, Ile speake with her: if not
    Let her lye still, and dreame: by your leaue hoa,
    I know her women are about her: what
    If I do line one of their hands, 'tis Gold
    Which buyes admittance (oft it doth) yea, and makes
    1035Diana's Rangers false themselues, yeeld vp
    Their Deere to'th' stand o'th' Stealer: and 'tis Gold
    Which makes the True-man kill'd, and saues the Theefe:
    Nay, sometime hangs both Theefe, and True-man: what
    Can it not do, and vndoo? I will make
    1040One of her women Lawyer to me, for
    I yet not vnderstand the case my selfe.
    By your leaue. Knockes.
    Enter a Lady.
    La. Who's there that knockes?
    1045Clot. A Gentleman.
    La. No more.
    Clot. Yes, and a Gentlewomans Sonne.
    La. That's more
    Then some whose Taylors are as deere as yours,
    1050Can iustly boast of: what's your Lordships pleasure?
    Clot. Your Ladies person, is she ready?
    La. I, to keepe her Chamber.
    Clot. There is Gold for you,
    Sell me your good report.
    1055La. How, my good name? or to report of you
    What I shall thinke is good. The Princesse.
    Enter Imogen.
    Clot. Good morrow fairest, Sister your sweet hand.
    Imo. Good morrow Sir, you lay out too much paines
    1060For purchasing but trouble: the thankes I giue,
    Is telling you that I am poore of thankes,
    And scarse can spare them.
    Clot. Still I sweare I loue you.
    Imo. If you but said so, 'twere as deepe with me:
    1065If you sweare still, your recompence is still
    That I regard it not.
    Clot. This is no answer.
    Imo. But that you shall not say, I yeeld being silent,
    I would not speake. I pray you spare me, 'faith
    1070I shall vnfold equall discourtesie
    To your best kindnesse: one of your great knowing
    Should learne (being taught) forbearance.
    Clot. To leaue you in your madnesse, 'twere my sin,
    I will not.
    1075Imo. Fooles are not mad Folkes.
    Clot. Do you call me Foole?
    Imo. As I am mad, I do:
    If you'l be patient, Ile no more be mad,
    That cures vs both. I am much sorry (Sir)
    1080You put me to forget a Ladies manners
    By being so verball: and learne now, for all,
    That I which know my heart, do heere pronounce
    By th' very truth of it, I care not for you,
    And am so neere the lacke of Charitie
    1085To accuse my selfe, I hate you: which I had rather
    You felt, then make't my boast.
    Clot. You sinne against
    Obedience, which you owe your Father, for
    The Contract you pretend with that base Wretch,
    1090One, bred of Almes, and foster'd with cold dishes,
    With scraps o'th' Court: It is no Contract, none;
    And though it be allowed in meaner parties
    (Yet who then he more meane) to knit their soules
    (On whom there is no more dependancie
    1095But Brats and Beggery) in selfe-figur'd knot,
    Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement, by
    aaa The
    378The Tragedy of Cymbeline.
    The consequence o'th' Crowne, and must not foyle
    The precious note of it; with a base Slaue,
    A Hilding for a Liuorie, a Squires Cloth,
    1100A Pantler; not so eminent.
    Imo. Prophane Fellow:
    Wert thou the Sonne of Iupiter, and no more,
    But what thou art besides: thou wer't too base,
    To be his Groome: thou wer't dignified enough
    1105Euen to the point of Enuie. If 'twere made
    Comparatiue for your Vertues, to be stil'd
    The vnder Hangman of his Kingdome; and hated
    For being prefer'd so well.
    Clot. The South-Fog rot him.
    1110Imo. He neuer can meete more mischance, then come
    To be but nam'd of thee. His mean'st Garment
    That euer hath but clipt his body; is dearer
    In my respect, then all the Heires aboue thee,
    Were they all made such men: How now Pisanio?
    1115Enter Pisanio,
    Clot. His Garments? Now the diuell.
    Imo. To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently.
    Clot. His Garment?
    Imo. I am sprighted with a Foole,
    1120Frighted, and angred worse: Go bid my woman
    Search for a Iewell, that too casually
    Hath left mine Arme: it was thy Masters. Shrew me
    If I would loose it for a Reuenew,
    Of any Kings in Europe. I do think,
    1125I saw't this morning: Confident I am.
    Last night 'twas on mine Arme; I kiss'd it,
    I hope it be not gone, to tell my Lord
    That I kisse aught but he.
    Pis. 'Twill not be lost.
    1130Imo. I hope so: go and search.
    Clot. You haue abus'd me:
    His meanest Garment?
    Imo. I, I said so Sir,
    If you will make't an Action, call witnesse to't.
    1135Clot. I will enforme your Father.
    Imo. Your Mother too:
    She's my good Lady; and will concieue, I hope
    But the worst of me. So I leaue your Sir,
    To'th' worst of discontent. Exit.
    1140Clot. Ile be reueng'd:
    His mean'st Garment? Well. Exit.