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do, let her remain: but I'll never give o'cr. First, a very excellent good conceited thing; after, a wonderful sweet air with admirable rich words to it, and then let her consider.
S Ο Ν G.
Hark, hark! the lark at heav'n's gate fings,
And Phoebus 'gins arise,
His feeds to water at those Springs
On challic'd flowers that lies:
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden ejes;
With every thing that pretty bin,
Aly lady sweet, arise :
So, get you gone--if this penetrate, I will con.
music the better : if it do not, it is a vice in her ears, which horfe-hairs, and cats'-guts, nor the voice of unpav'd eunuch to boot, can amend.
(Exeunt Musicians. Enter Queen and Cymbeline. 2 Lord. Here comes the King.
Clot. I am glad I was up so late, for that's the reason I was up so early : he cannot chufe but take this service I have done, fatherly. Good-morrow to your Majesty, and to my gracious mother. Cym. Attend you here the door of our ftern
daughter ? Will she not forth ?
Clot. I have aflail'd her with musics, but the vouchsafes no notice.
Cym. The exile of her minion is too new; She hath not yet forgoi him: some more time Must wear the print of hiş remembrance out, 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
To orderly solicits ; and be friended
With aptness of the season; make denials
Encrease your services ; so feem, as if
You were inspir'd 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.
Clot. Senseless ? not so.
Enter a Messenger.
Mef. So like you, Sir, Ambassadors from Rome;
The one is Caius Lucius,
Cym. 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 fender ;
And towards himself, his goodness fore-spent on us,
We must extend our notice : Our dear son,
When you have giv'n good morning to your mistress,
Attend the Queen and us; we shall have need
T' employ you towards this Roman. Come, our
F she be up, I'll speak with her; if not,
Let her lie still, and dream. By your leave,
I know, her women are about her what
If I do line one of their hands ?
Which buys admittance, (oft it doth,) yea, makes
Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up
Their deer lo th' ftand oth' ftcaler: and 'tis gold,
Which makes the true man kill'd, and saves the thief;
Nay, sometimes, 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
Enter a Lady.
Lady. Who's there, that knocks?
Clot. A Gentleman.
Lady. No more?
Clot. Yes, and a gentlewoman's son.
Lady. That's more
Than fome, whose taylors are as dear as yours,
Can justly boast of: what's your lordship's pleasure ?
Clot. Your lady's person; is she ready ?
Lady. Ay, to keep her chamber.
(report. Clot. There is gold for you, fell me your good Lady. How, my good name? or to report of
you What I shall think is good ? The Princess
Clot. Good-morrow, faireft: lifter, your sweet hand.
Imo. Good-morrow, Sir; you lay out too much
For purchasing but trouble; the thanks I give,
Is telling you that I am poor of thanks,
And scarce can spare them.
Clot. Still, I swear, I love you,
Imo. If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me: If you swear ftill, your recompence is ftill Tbat I regard it not,
Clot. This is no answer.
Imo. But that you shall not say I yield, being filent, I would
not speak. I pray you, Ipare me-faith, I shall unfold equal discourtesy To your best kindness : * one of your great knowing
Should -one of your great knowing Should learn (being Taught) forbearance.) But sure, whoever is Taught, necessarily Learns. Learning is not the fit and reasonable Consequence of being Taught, but is the Thing itself. Shakespear withut doubt wrote,
Should learn (being tort) forbearance.
Clot. To leave you in your madness, 'twere my sin; I will not.
Imo. Fools cure not mad-folks.
call me fool ?
Imo. 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,
You put me to forget a lady's manners
By being so verbal : and learn now for all,
That I, who know my heart, do here pronounce
truth of it, I care not for you: And am so near the lack of charity To accuse myself, I hate you: which I had rather You felt, than make
Clot. You sin against
Obedience, which you owe your father; for
The contract you pretend with that base wretch,
(One, bred of alms, and foster'd with cold dishes,
With scraps o'th' court,) it is no contract, none :
And though it be allow'd in meaner parties,
(Yet who than he, more mean?) to knit their souls
On whom there is no more dependency
But brats and beggary,) in self-finger'd knot;
Yet you are curb'd 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;
A pantler; not so eminent.-
Imo. Prophane 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 dignify'd enough,
Ev'n to the point of Envy, if 'twere made
Comparative for your virtues, to be stild
- one of your
great knowing Should learn (being Tort) forbearance. Tort, an old French Word, signifying the being in the Wrong.
The under-hangman of bis realm ; and hated
For being preferr'd so well.
Clot. The south-fog rot him!
Imo. He never can meet more mischance, than
To be but nam'd of thee. His meanest garment,
That ever had but clipt his body, 's dearer
In my respect, than all the hairs above thee,
Were they all made such men. How now, Pisanio ?
Clot. His garment? now, the devil-
Imo. To Dorothy, my woman, hie thee presently.
Clot. His garment ?
Imo. I am sprighted with a fool. -
Frighted, and angred worse-go, bid my woman
Search for a jewel, that too casually
Hath left mine arm-it was thymaiter's. 'Shrew me,
If I would lose it for a revenue
Of any King in Europe. I do think,
I saw't this morning ; confident I am,
Last night 'twas on my arm; I kissed it.
I hope, it be not gone, to tell my lord
That I kiss aught but him.
Pis. 'Twill not be loft.
Imo. I hope fo; go, and search.
Clot. You have abus'd me
His meancft garment ?
Imo. Ay, I said fo, Sir;
If you will make't an action, call witness to't.
Clot. I will inform your father, ,
Imo. 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. Clot. I'll be reveng'd, His meanest garment?----well.