Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: Jennifer Forsyth
Peer Reviewed

Cymbeline (Modern)

960[2.3]
Enter Clotten and Lords
1 Lord
Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the most coldest that ever turned up ace.
Clotten
It would make any man cold to lose.
9651 Lord
But not every man patient after the noble temper of your lordship: you are most hot and furious when you win.
[Clotten]
Winning will put any man into courage. If I could get this foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough. It's 970almost morning, is't not?
1 Lord
Day, my Lord.
Clotten
I would this music would come. I am advised to give her music o' mornings; they say it will penetrate.
Enter Musicians
975Come 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 980consider.
[Musicians and possibly Clotten]
Hark, hark, the lark at Heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
985On chaliced flowers that lies,
And winking Mary-buds begin to ope their golden eyes;
With every thing that pretty is, my lady sweet, arise,
Arise, arise.
[Clotten]
So, get you gone. If this penetrate, I will consider your 990music the better; if it do not, it is a voice in her ears which horse-hairs and calves' guts nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to boot can never amend.
[Exeunt Musicians]
Enter Cymbeline and Queen
2 Lord
Here comes the King.
995Clotten
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.
Cymbeline
Attend you here the door of our stern daughter?
1000Will she not forth?
Clotten
I have assailed her with musics, but she vouchsafes no notice.
Cymbeline
The exile of her minion is too new;
She hath not yet forgot him. Some more time
1005Must wear the print of his remembrance on't,
And then she's yours.
Queen
You are most bound to th' King,
Who lets go by no vantages that may
Prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself
1010To orderly solicits and be friended
With aptness of the season; make denials
Increase your services; so seem as if
You were inspired to do those duties which
You tender to her, that you in all obey her
1015Save when command to your dismission tends,
And therein you are senseless.
Clotten
Senseless? Not so.
[Enter Messenger]
Messenger
So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome;
The one is Caius Lucius.
1020Cymbeline
A worthy fellow
Albeit he comes on angry purpose now,
But that's no fault of his. We must receive him
According to the honor of his sender,
And towards himself, his goodness forespent on us,
1025We must extend our notice. Our dear son,
When you have given good morning to your mistress,
Attend the Queen and us; we shall have need
T'employ you towards this Roman. Come, our Queen.
Exeunt [all but Clotten]
1030Clotten
If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not,
Let her lie still and dream. -- By your leave, ho! --
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
1035Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up
Their deer to th' stand o'th' stealer; and 'tis gold
Which makes the true man killed and saves the thief --
Nay, sometime hangs both thief and true man. What
Can it not do, and undo? I will make
1040One of her women lawyer to me, for
I yet not understand the case myself. --
By your leave.
Knocks
Enter a Lady
Who's there that knocks?
1045Clotten
A gentleman.
Lady
No more?
Clotten
Yes, and a gentlewoman's son.
Lady
That's more
Than some whose tailors are as dear as yours
1050Can justly boast of. What's your lordship's pleasure?
Clotten
Your lady's person. Is she ready?
Lady
Aye,
To keep her chamber.
Clotten
There is gold for you;
Sell me your good report.
1055Lady
How, my good name?
Or to report of you what I shall think
Is good? The princess.
Enter Imogen
Clotten
Good morrow, fairest; Sister, your sweet hand.
Imogen
Good morrow, sir; you lay out too much pains
1060For purchasing but trouble. The thanks I give
Is telling you that I am poor of thanks
And scarce can spare them.
Clotten
Still I swear I love you.
Imogen
If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me;
1065If you swear still, your recompense is still
That I regard it not.
Clotten
This is no answer.
Imogen
But that you shall not say I yield, being silent,
I would not speak. I pray you spare me; faith,
1070I shall unfold equal discourtesy
To your best kindness. One of your great knowing
Should learn, being taught, forbearance.
Clotten
To leave you in your madness 'twere my sin;
I will not.
1075Imogen
Fools are not mad folks.
Clotten
Do you call me fool?
Imogen
As I am mad, I do:
If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad;
That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir,
1080You put me to forget a lady's manners
By being so verbal; and learn now, for all,
That I which know my heart do here pronounce
By th' very truth of it, I care not for you
And am so near the lack of charity --
1085To accuse myself -- I hate you, which I had rather
You felt than make't my boast.
Clotten
You sin against
Obedience which you owe your father, for
The contract you pretend with that base wretch,
1090One bred of alms and fostered with cold dishes,
With scraps o'th' court, it is no contract, none.
And though it be allowed in meaner parties --
Yet who than he more mean? -- to knit their souls,
On whom there is no more dependency
1095But brats and beggary, in self-figured knot,
Yet you are curbed from that enlargement by
The consequence o'th' crown and must not foil
The precious note of it with a base slave,
A hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth,
1100A pantler -- not so eminent.
Imogen
Profane fellow!
Wert thou the son of Jupiter and no more
But what thou art besides, thou wert too base
To be his groom. Thou wert dignified enough
1105Even to the point of envy if 'twere made
Comparative for your virtues to be styled
The under-hangman of his kingdom, and hated
For being preferred so well.
Clotten
The south fog rot him!
He never can meet more mischance than come
To be but named of thee. His meanest garment
That ever hath but clipped his body is dearer
In my respect than all the hairs above thee,
Were they all made such men. How now, Pisanio?
1115Enter Pisanio
Clotten
His garment? Now the devil!
Imogen [To Pisanio]
To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently.
Clotten
His garment?
Imogen [To Pisanio]
I am sprighted with a fool,
1120Frighted, and angered 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 loose it for a revenue
Of any king's in Europe. I do think
1125I saw't this morning; confident I am,
Last night 'twas on mine arm; I kissed it.
I hope it be not gone to tell my lord
That I kiss aught but he.
Pisanio
'Twill not be lost.
I hope so; go and search.
[Exit Pisanio]
Clotten
You have abused me.
His meanest garment?
Imogen
Aye, I said so, sir;
If you will make't an action, call witness to't.
1135Clotten
I will inform your father.
Imogen
Your mother, too:
She's my good lady and will conceive, I hope,
But the worst of me. So I leave you, sir,
To th' worst of discontent.
Exit
1140Clotten
I'll be revenged:
His meanest garment? Well.
Exit