ACT II. SCENE. A Bedchamber; in one part of it a Trunk. Fold down the leaf where I have left: To bed! [Sleeps. Iachimo from the Trunk. Iach. The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd sense Repairs itself by rest: Our Tarquin thus How bravely thou becom❜st thy bed! fresh lily! How dearly they do't.-Tis her breathing that The adornment of her bed;-The arras,‡ figures, ry, Ah, but some natural notes about her body, 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, end? To what Why should I write this down, that's riveted, Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. '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, 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 It is the woman's part: be it lying, note it, [her All faults that may be nam'd, nay that hell knows, They are not constant, but are changing still Not half so old as that. I'll write against them, ACT III. IMPATIENCE OF A WIFE TO MEET HER HUSBAND. O, for a horse with wings!-Hear'st thou, Pisanio? Glide thither in a day?-Then, true Pisanio, For mine's beyond beyond,) say, and speak thick,t * 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, 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. 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, That have a sharper known; well corresponding A cell of ignorance; travelling a-bed; Arv. |