Cymbeline

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My humble thanks. I had almost forgot
To entreat your grace but in a small request,
And yet of moment to, for it concerns
Your lord; myself and other noble friends,
Are partners in the business.

Imogen Pray, what is’t? Iachimo

Some dozen Romans of us and your lord⁠—
The best feather of our wing⁠—have mingled sums
To buy a present for the emperor;
Which I, the factor for the rest, have done
In France: ’tis plate of rare device, and jewels
Of rich and exquisite form; their values great;
And I am something curious, being strange,
To have them in safe stowage: may it please you
To take them in protection?

Imogen

Willingly;
And pawn mine honour for their safety: since
My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them
In my bedchamber.

Iachimo

They are in a trunk,
Attended by my men: I will make bold
To send them to you, only for this night;
I must aboard to-morrow.

Imogen O, no, no. Iachimo

Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my word
By lengthening my return. From Gallia
I cross’d the seas on purpose and on promise
To see your grace.

Imogen

I thank you for your pains:
But not away to-morrow!

Iachimo

O, I must, madam:
Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please
To greet your lord with writing, do’t to-night:
I have outstood my time; which is material
To the tender of our present.

Imogen

I will write.
Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept,
And truly yielded you. You’re very welcome. Exeunt.

Act II

Scene I

Britain. Before Cymbeline’s palace.

	Enter Cloten and two Lords.
Cloten	Was there ever man had such luck! when I kissed the jack, upon an up-cast to be hit away! I had a hundred pound on’t: and then a whoreson jackanapes must take me up for swearing; as if I borrowed mine oaths of him and might not spend them at my pleasure.
First Lord	What got he by that? You have broke his pate with your bowl.
Second Lord	Aside. If his wit had been like him that broke it, it would have run all out.
Cloten	When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths, ha?
Second Lord	No my lord; aside nor crop the ears of them.
Cloten	Whoreson dog! I give him satisfaction? Would he had been one of my rank!
Second Lord	Aside. To have smelt like a fool.
Cloten	I am not vexed more at any thing in the earth: a pox on’t! I had rather not be so noble as I am; they dare not fight with me, because of the queen my mother: every Jack-slave hath his bellyful of fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that nobody can match.
Second Lord	Aside. You are cock and capon too; and you crow, cock, with your comb on.
Cloten	Sayest thou?
Second Lord	It is not fit your lordship should undertake every companion that you give offence to.
Cloten	No, I know that: but it is fit I should commit offence to my inferiors.
Second Lord	Ay, it is fit for your lordship only.
Cloten	Why, so I say.
First Lord	Did you hear of a stranger that’s come to court to-night?
Cloten	A stranger, and I not know on’t!
Second Lord	Aside. He’s a strange fellow himself, and knows it not.
First Lord	There’s an Italian come; and, ’tis thought, one of Leonatus’ friends.
Cloten	Leonatus! a banished rascal; and he’s another, whatsoever he be. Who told you of this stranger?
First Lord	One of your lordship’s pages.
Cloten	Is it fit I went to look upon him? is there no derogation in’t?
Second Lord	You cannot derogate, my lord.
Cloten	Not easily, I think.
Second Lord	Aside. You are a fool granted; therefore your issues, being foolish, do not derogate.
Cloten	Come, I’ll go see this Italian: what I have lost to-day at bowls I’ll win to-night of him. Come, go.
Second Lord	I’ll attend your lordship. Exeunt Cloten and First Lord. That such a crafty devil as is his mother Should yield the world this ass! a woman that Bears all down with her brain; and this her son Cannot take two from twenty, for his heart, And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess, Thou divine Imogen, what thou endurest, Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern’d, A mother hourly coining plots, a wooer More hateful than the foul expulsion is Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act Of the divorce he’ld make! The heavens hold firm The walls of thy dear honour, keep unshaked That temple, thy fair mind, that thou mayst stand, To enjoy thy banish’d lord and this great land! Exit.

Scene II

Imogen’s bedchamber in Cymbeline’s palace: a trunk in one corner of it.

	Imogen in bed, reading; a Lady attending.
Imogen	Who’s there? my woman Helen?
Lady	Please you, madam
Imogen	What hour is it?
Lady	Almost midnight, madam.
Imogen	I have read three hours then: mine eyes are weak: Fold down the leaf where I have left: to bed: Take not away the taper, leave it burning; And if thou canst awake by four o’ the clock, I prithee, call me. Sleep hath seized me wholly. Exit Lady. To your protection I commend me, gods. From fairies and the tempters of the night Guard me, beseech ye. Sleeps. Iachimo comes from the trunk.
Iachimo	The crickets sing, and man’s o’er-labour’d sense Repairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken’d The chastity he wounded. Cytherea, How bravely thou becomest thy bed, fresh lily, And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch! But kiss; one kiss! Rubies unparagon’d, How dearly they do’t! ’Tis her breathing that Perfumes the chamber thus: the flame o’ the taper Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids, To see the enclosed lights, now canopied Under these windows, white and azure laced With blue of heaven’s own tinct. But my design, To note the chamber: I will write all down: Such and such pictures; there the window; such The adornment of her bed; the arras; figures, Why, such and such; and the contents o’ the story. Ah, but some natural notes about her body, Above ten thousand meaner moveables Would testify, to