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Must wear the print of his remembrance out,
And then she's

yours. Queen.

You are most bound to the king; Who let's go by no vantages, that may Prefer you to his daughter : Frame yourself To orderly solicits; and be friended With aptness of the season: 4 make denials Increase your services : so seem, 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. Clo.

Senseless? not so,

Enter a Messenger. Mess. So like you, sir, embassadors 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 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 To employ you towards this Roman.--Come, our

queen.

[Exeunt Cym. Queen, Lords, and Mess. Clo. If she be up, I'll speak with her ; if not, Let her lie still, and dream.-By your leave ho!-

[Knocks.

4 With solicitations not only proper but well-timed.

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
Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up
Their deer to the stand of the stealer ; and 'tis gold
Which makes the true man kill'd, and saves the thief;
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.

[Knocks.

Enter a Lady.
Lady. Who's there, that knocks ?
Clo.

A gentleman.
Lady.

No more?
Clo. Yes, and a gentlewoman's son.
Lady.

That's more
Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours,
Can justly boast of: What's your lordship’s pleasure ?

Clo. Your lady's person : Is she ready?
Lady.

Ay,
To keep her chamber.

Clo. There's 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.

Clo. Good-morrow, fairest sister : 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.
Clo.

Still, I swear, I love you.
Imo. If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me:
If you swear still, your recompense is still
That I regard it not.
Clo.

This is no answer. Imo. But that you shall not say I yield, being silent, I would not speak. I pray you, spare me : i'faith, I shall unfold equal discourtesy To your best kindness; one of your great knowing Should learn, being taught, forbearance.

Clo. To leave you in your madness, 'twere my sin: I will not,

Imo. Fools are not mad folks.
Clo.

Do you 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 fotget a lady's manners,
By being so verbal :5 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 ;
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. Clo.

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,

5 So verbose, so full of talk.

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
(On whom there is no more dependency
But brats and beggary) in self-figur'd knot ;6
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,
A hilding 7 for a livery, a squire's cloth,
A pantler, not so eminent.
Imo.

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,
Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made
Comparative for your virtues, to be styl'd
The under-hangman of his kingdom ; and hated
For being preferr'd so well.
Clo. .

The south-fog rot him! Imo. He never can meet more mischance, than

come

To be but nam'd of thee. His meanest garment,
That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer,
In my respect, than all the hairs above thee,
Were they all made such men..How now, Pisanio ?

Enter PISANI0. Clo. His garment? Now, the devilImo. To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently:-Clo. His garment ?

6 In knots of their own tying. ? A low fellow only fit to wear a livery.

Imo. .

I am sprighted with a fool; 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, 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. Pis.

"Twill not be lost. Imo. I hope so : go, and search. [Exit Pis. Clo.

You have abus'd me : His meanest garment ? Imo.

Ay; I said so, sir.
If

you will make't an action, call witness to't.
Clo. 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 the worst of discontent.

[Erit. Clo.

I'll be reveng'd :His meanest garment ?-Well.

[Exit.

1

SCENE IV.

Rome. An Apartment in Philario's House,

Enter PostHUMUS and PuiLARIO.
Post. Fear it not, sir : I would, I were so sure
To win the king, as I am bold, her honour

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8 Haunted.

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