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ACT II Scene III An ante-chamber adjoining Imogen's apartments. 
 Enter CLOTEN and Lords 
First Lord Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the 
 most coldest that ever turned up ace. 
CLOTEN It would make any man cold to lose. 
First Lord But not every man patient after the noble temper of 5
 your lordship. You are most hot and furious when you win. 
CLOTEN Winning will put any man into courage. If I could 
 get this foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough. 
 It's almost morning, is't not? 
First Lord Day, my lord. 10
CLOTEN I would this music would come: I am advised to give 
 her music o' 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. 15
 First, a very excellent good-conceited thing; 
 after, a wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich 
 words to it: and then let her consider. 
 'Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, 
 And Phoebus 'gins arise, 20
 His steeds to water at those springs 
 On chaliced flowers that lies; 
 And winking Mary-buds begin 
 To ope their golden eyes: 
 With every thing that pretty is, 25
 My lady sweet, arise: 
 Arise, arise.' 
CLOTEN So, get you gone. If this penetrate, I will 
 consider your music the better: if it do not, it is 
 a vice in her ears, which horse-hairs and 30
 calves'-guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to 
 boot, can never amend. 
 Exeunt Musicians. 
Second Lord Here comes the king. 
CLOTEN I am glad I was up so late; for that's the reason I 
 was up so early: he cannot choose but take this 35
 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? 
 Will she not forth? 
CLOTEN I have assailed her with music, but she vouchsafes no notice. 40
CYMBELINE 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, 45
 Who lets go by no vantages that may 
 Prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself 
 To orderly soliciting, and be friended 
 With aptness of the season; make denials 
 Increase your services; so seem as if 50
 You were inspired 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. 
CLOTEN Senseless! not so. 55
 Enter a Messenger. 
Messenger So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome; 
 The one is Caius Lucius. 
CYMBELINE A worthy fellow, 
 Albeit he comes on angry purpose now; 
 But that's no fault of his: we must receive him 60
 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 mistress, 
 Attend the queen and us; we shall have need 65
 To employ you towards this Roman. Come, our queen. 
 Exeunt all but CLOTEN. 
CLOTEN 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 70
 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 o' the stealer; and 'tis gold 
 Which makes the true man kill'd and saves the thief; 75
 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. 80
 Enter a Lady. 
Lady Who's there that knocks? 
CLOTEN A gentleman. 
Lady No more? 
CLOTEN Yes, and a gentlewoman's son. 
Lady Aside. That's more 85
 Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours, 
 Can justly boast of. What's your lordship's pleasure? 
CLOTEN Your lady's person: is she ready? 
Lady Ay, 
 To keep her chamber. 90
CLOTEN There is 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. 
CLOTEN Good morrow, fairest: sister, your sweet hand. 95
 Exit Lady. 
IMOGEN Good morrow, sir. You lay out too much pains 
 For purchasing but trouble; the thanks I give 
 Is telling you that I am poor of thanks 
 And scarce can spare them. 
CLOTEN Still, I swear I love you. 100
IMOGEN If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me: 
 If you swear still, your recompense is still 
 That I regard it not. 
CLOTEN This is no answer. 
IMOGEN But that you shall not say I yield being silent, 105
 I would not speak. I pray you, spare me: 'faith, 
 I shall unfold equal discourtesy 
 To your best kindness: one of your great knowing 
 Should learn, being taught, forbearance. 
CLOTEN To leave you in your madness, 'twere my sin: 110
 I will not. 
IMOGEN Fools are not mad folks. 
CLOTEN Do you call me fool? 
IMOGEN As I am mad, I do: 
 If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad; 115
 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, which know my heart, do here pronounce, 
 By the very truth of it, I care not for you, 120
 And am so near the lack of charity-- 
 To accuse myself--I hate you; which I had rather 
 You felt than make't my boast. 
CLOTEN You sin against 
 Obedience, which you owe your father. For 125
 The contract you pretend with that base wretch, 
 One bred of alms and foster'd with cold dishes, 
 With scraps o' the 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, 130
 On whom there is no more dependency 
 But brats and beggary, in self-figured knot; 
 Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by 
 The consequence o' the crown, and must not soil 
 The precious note of it with a base slave. 135
 A hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth, 
 A 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 140
 To be his groom: thou wert dignified enough, 
 Even 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. 145
CLOTEN The south-fog rot him! 
IMOGEN He never can meet more mischance than come 
 To be but named of thee. His meanest garment, 
 That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer 
 In my respect than all the hairs above thee, 150
 Were they all made such men. How now, Pisanio! 
 Enter PISANIO. 
CLOTEN 'His garment!' Now the devil-- 
IMOGEN To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently-- 
CLOTEN 'His garment!' 
IMOGEN I am sprited with a fool. 155
 Frighted, and anger'd 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 lose it for a revenue 
 Of any king's in Europe. I do think 160
 I saw't this morning: confident I am 
 Last night 'twas on mine arm; I kiss'd it: 
 I hope it be not gone to tell my lord 
 That I kiss aught but he. 
PISANIO 'Twill not be lost. 165
IMOGEN I hope so: go and search. 
CLOTEN You have abused me: 
 'His meanest garment!' 
IMOGEN Ay, I said so, sir: 
 If you will make't an action, call witness to't. 170
CLOTEN 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 the worst of discontent. 175
CLOTEN I'll be revenged: 
 'His meanest garment!' Well. 

Cymbeline, Act 2, Scene 4


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