ACT II.

SCENE. A Bedchamber; in one part of it a Trunk.
IMOGEN reading in her Bed; a Lady attending.
Imo. 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 pr'ythee, call me. Sleep hath seiz'd 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 from the Trunk. Iach. 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 becom❜st 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 underpeep her lids,
To see the enclosed lights, now canopied
Under these windows: White and azure, lac'd
With blue of heav'ns 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 sto

ry,

Ah, but some natural notes about her body,
Above ten thousand meaner moveables
Would testify to enrich mine inventory:
O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her!

It was anciently the custom to strew chambers witb r. :shes.

ti. e. The white skin laced with blue veins.

Tapestry.

And be her sense but as a monument,
Thus in a chapel lying!-Come off, come off;-
[Taking off her Bracelet.
As slippery, as the Gordian knot was hard!
'Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly,
As strongly as the conscience does within,
To the madding of her lord. On her left breast
A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops
I' the bottom of a cowslip: Here's a voucher,
Stronger than ever law could make: this secret
Will force him think I have pick'd the lock, and ta'en
The treasure of her honour. No more.

end?

To what

Why should I write this down, that's riveted,
Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late
The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's turn'd down,
Where Philomel gave up; I have enough:
To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it,
Swift, swift, you dragons of the night!-that dawning
May bear the raven's eye: I lodge in fear;

Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here.
[Goes into the Trunk.

'Tis gold

GOLD.

The Scene closes.

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, sometimes, hangs both thief and true man:

What

Can it not do, and undo?

A SATIRE OF WOMEN.

Is there no way for nien to be, but women Must be half-workers? We are bastards all; And that most venerable man, which I Did call my father, was I know not where When I was stamp'; some coiner with his tools Made me a counterfeit; Yet iny mother seem'd The Dian of that time: so doth my wife The nonpariel of this.-O vengeance, vengeance! * Modesty.

Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd,
And pray'd me, oft, forbearance: did it with
A pudency so rosy, the sweet view on't

Might well have warm'd old Saturn; that I thought As chaste as unsun'd snow:

*

Could I find out

The woman's part in me! For there's no motion
That tends to vice in man, but I affirm

It is the woman's part: be it lying, note it,
The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;
Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,
Nice longings, slanders, mutability,

[her

All faults that may be nam'd, nay that hell knows,
Why, hers, in part, or all; but, rather, all;
For ev'n to vice

They are not constant, but are changing still
One vice, but of a minute old, for one

Not half so old as that. I'll write against them,
Detest them, curse them:-Yet 'tis greater skill
In a tre hate, to pray they have their will:
The very devils cannot plague them better

ACT III.

IMPATIENCE OF A WIFE TO MEET HER HUSBAND.

O, for a horse with wings!-Hear'st thou, Pisanio?
He is at Milford-Haven: Read, and tell me
How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs
May plod it in a week, why may not I

Glide thither in a day?-Then, true Pisanio,
(Who long'st like me, to see thy lord: who long'st,→
O, let me bate, but not like me:-yet long'st,-
But in a fainter kind;-0, not like me;

For mine's beyond beyond,) say, and speak thick,t
(Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing,
To the smothering of the sense,) how far it is
To this same blessed Milford: And, by the way,
Tell me how Wales was made so happy, as

* Modesty.

Crowd one word on another, as fast as possible

To inherit such a haven: But first of all,

How we may steal from hence; and, for the gap That we shall make in time, from our hence-going, And our return, to excuse :-but first, how get hence;

Why should excuse be born or e'er begot?

We'll talk of that hereafter. Pr'ythee, speak,
How many score of miles may we well ride
"Twixt hour and hour?

Pisa.

One score, 'twixt sun and sun, Madam, 's enough for you; and too much too.

Imo. Why, one that rode to his execution. man, Could never go so slow: I have heard of riding

wagers,

Where horses have been nimbler than the sands That run i'the clocks behalf:-But this is foolery:Go, bid my woman feign a sickness; say

She'll home to her father: and provide me, presently A riding suit; no costlier than would fit

A franklin's housewife.

Pisa.

Madam, you're best consider. Imo. I see before me, man, nor here, nor here, Nor what ensues; but have a fog in them, That I cannot look through. Away, I pr'ythee; Do as I bid thee: There's no more to say; Accessible is none but Milford way. [Exeunt. SCENE. Wales. A mountainous Country, with a Cave.

Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS. Bel. A goodly day not to keep ouse, with such Whose roof's as low as ours! Stoop, boys: This gate Instructs you how to adore the heavens; and bows

you

To morning's holy office: the gates of monarchs Are arch'd so high, that giants may jet through And keep their impious turbantis on, without Good morrow to the sun,--Hail, thou fair heaven We house i' the rock, yet use thee not so hardiy As prouder livers do.

A treeholder.

† Strut, walk proudly.

Gui.

Arv.

Hail, heaven!

Hail, heaven!

Bel. Now, for our mountain sport: Up to yon hill, Your legs are young; I'll tread these flats. Consider, When you above perceive me like a crow,

That it is place which lessens, and sets off.
And you may then revolve what tales I have told you,
Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war:
This service is not servile, so being done,
But being so allow'd: To apprehend thus,
Draws us a profit from all things we see:
And often, to our comfort, shall we find
The sharded* beetle in a safer hold
Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O, this life
Is nobler, than attending for a check;
Richer, than doing nothing for a babe;
Prouder, than rustling in unpaid-for silk:
Such gain the cap of him, that makes them fine,
Yet keeps his book uncross'd: no life to ours.†

Gui. Out of your proof you speak: we, poor unfledg'd,

Have never wing'd from view o' the nest; nor know not

What air's from home. Haply, this life is best,
If quiet life be best; sweeter to you,

That have a sharper known; well corresponding
With your stiff age; but, unto us, it is

A cell of ignorance; travelling a-bed;
A prison for a debtor, that not dares
To stride a limit.‡

Arv.
What should we speak of,
When we are old as you? when we shall hear
The rain and wind beat dark December, how
In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse
The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing:
We are beastly; subtle as the fox, for prey;
Like warlike as the wolf, for what we eat:
Our valour is, to chase what flies; our cage
We make a quire, as doth the prison bird,
* Scaly-winged. ti. Comnied with ours.
To overpass, his bo