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Cymbeline (Folio 1, 1623)
960Scena Tertia.
961Enter Clotten, and Lords.
9651. But not euery man patient after the noble temper
967you winne.
Clot
The Tragedie of Cymbeline. 377
968Winning will put any man into courage: if I could get
970most morning, is't not?
9711 Day, my Lord.
974trate. Enter Musitians.
976gering, so: wee'l try with tongue too: if none will do, let
978lent good conceyted thing; after a wonderful sweet aire,
980der.
981SONG.
Hearke, hearke, the Larke at Heauens gate sings,
984His Steeds to water at those Springs
985 on chalic'd Flowres that lyes:
986And winking Mary-buds begin to ope their Golden eyes
989So, 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
991which Horse-haires, and Calues-guts, nor the voyce of
992vnpaued Eunuch to boot, can neuer amed.
993Enter Cymbaline, and Queene.
9942 Heere comes the King.
997uice I haue done, fatherly. Good morrow to your Ma-
998iesty, and to my gracious Mother.
1000Will she not forth?
1002safes no notice.
1003Cym. The Exile of her Minion is too new,
1004She hath not yet forgot him, some more time
1005Must weare the print of his remembrance on't,
1006And then she's yours.
1008Who let's go by no vantages, that may
1009Preferre you to his daughter: Frame your selfe
1010To orderly solicity, and be friended
1014You tender to her: that you in all obey her,
1020Cym. A worthy Fellow,
1021Albeit he comes on angry purpose now;
1022But that's no fault of his: we must receyue him
1023According to the Honor of his Sender,
1025We must extend our notice: Our deere Sonne,
1026When you haue giuen good morning to your Mistris,
1027Attend the Queene, and vs, we shall haue neede
1028T' employ you towards this Romane.
1029Come our Queene. Exeunt.
1031Let her lye still, and dreame: by your leaue hoa,
1032I know her women are about her: what
1033If I do line one of their hands, 'tis Gold
1034Which buyes admittance (oft it doth) yea, and makes
1037Which makes the True-man kill'd, and saues the Theefe:
1038Nay, sometime hangs both Theefe, and True-man: what
1039Can it not do, and vndoo? I will make
1040One of her women Lawyer to me, for
1042By your leaue. Knockes.
1043Enter a Lady.
1044La. Who's there that knockes?
1045Clot. A Gentleman.
1046La. No more.
1047Clot. Yes, and a Gentlewomans Sonne.
1048La. That's more
1052La. I, to keepe her Chamber.
1053Clot. There is Gold for you,
1054Sell me your good report.
1055La. How, my good name? or to report of you
1057Enter Imogen.
1059Imo. Good morrow Sir, you lay out too much paines
1060For purchasing but trouble: the thankes I giue,
1061Is telling you that I am poore of thankes,
1066That I regard it not.
1072Should learne (being taught) forbearance.
1074I will not.
1075Imo. Fooles are not mad Folkes.
1076Clot. Do you call me Foole?
1077Imo. As I am mad, I do:
1078If you'l be patient, Ile no more be mad,
1079That cures vs both. I am much sorry (Sir)
1080You put me to forget a Ladies manners
1081By being so verball: and learne now, for all,
1082That I which know my heart, do heere pronounce
1083By th' very truth of it, I care not for you,
1084And am so neere the lacke of Charitie
1086You felt, then make't my boast.
1088Obedience, which you owe your Father, for
1092And though it be allowed in meaner parties
1093(Yet who then he more meane) to knit their soules
1094(On whom there is no more dependancie
1096Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement, by
aaa The
378The Tragedy of Cymbeline.
1098The precious note of it; with a base Slaue,
1099A Hilding for a Liuorie, a Squires Cloth,
1100A Pantler; not so eminent.
1101Imo. Prophane Fellow:
1102Wert thou the Sonne of Iupiter, and no more,
1104To be his Groome: thou wer't dignified enough
1105Euen to the point of Enuie. If 'twere made
1106Comparatiue for your Vertues, to be stil'd
1107The vnder Hangman of his Kingdome; and hated
1108For being prefer'd so well.
1109Clot. The South-Fog rot him.
1111To be but nam'd of thee. His mean'st Garment
1112That euer hath but clipt his body; is dearer
1115Enter Pisanio,
1116Clot. His Garments? Now the diuell.
1118Clot. His Garment?
1120Frighted, and angred worse: Go bid my woman
1121Search for a Iewell, that too casually
1122Hath left mine Arme: it was thy Masters. Shrew me
1123If I would loose it for a Reuenew,
1124Of any Kings in Europe. I do think,
1127I hope it be not gone, to tell my Lord
1128That I kisse aught but he.
1131Clot. You haue abus'd me:
1132His meanest Garment?
1135Clot. I will enforme your Father.
1136Imo. Your Mother too:
1137She's my good Lady; and will concieue, I hope
1138But the worst of me. So I leaue your Sir,