Текст книги "William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition"

Автор книги: William Shakespeare

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1.5 Enter Queen, Ladies, and Cornelius, a doctor

QUEEN

Whiles yet the dew’s on ground, gather those flowers.

Make haste. Who has the note of them?

A LADY

I, madam.

QUEEN Dispatch.

Exeunt Ladies

Now, Master Doctor, have you brought those drugs?

CORNELIUS

Pleaseth your highness, ay. Here they are, madam.

He gives her a box

But I beseech your grace, without offence—

My conscience bids me ask—wherefore you have

Commanded of me these most poisonous compounds,

Which are the movers of a languishing death,

But though slow, deadly.

QUEEN

I wonder, doctor,

Thou ask‘st me such a question. Have I not been

Thy pupil long? Hast thou not learned me how

To make perfumes, distil, preserve—yea, so

That our great King himself doth woo me oft

For my confections? Having thus far proceeded,

Unless thou think’st me devilish, is’t not meet

That I did amplify my judgement in

Other conclusions? I will try the forces

Of these thy compounds on such creatures as

We count not worth the hanging, but none human,

To try the vigour of them, and apply

Allayments to their act, and by them gather

Their several virtues and effects.

CORNELIUS

Your highness

Shall from this practice but make hard your heart.

Besides, the seeing these effects will be

Both noisome and infectious.

QUEEN

O, content thee.

Enter Pisanio

(Aside) Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him

Will I first work. He’s factor for his master,

And enemy to my son. (Aloud) How now, Pisanio?—

Doctor, your service for this time is ended.

Take your own way.

CORNELIUS (aside)

I do suspect you, madam.

But you shall do no harm.

QUEEN (to Pisanio)

Hark thee, a word.

CORNELIUS (aside)

I do not like her. She doth think she has

Strange ling’ring poisons. I do know her spirit,

And will not trust one of her malice with

A drug of such damned nature. Those she has

Will stupefy and dull the sense a while,

Which first, perchance, she’ll prove on cats and dogs,

Then afterward up higher; but there is

No danger in what show of death it makes

More than the locking up the spirits a time,

To be more fresh, reviving. She is fooled

With a most false effect, and I the truer

So to be false with her.

QUEEN

No further service, doctor,

Until I send for thee.

CORNELIUS I humbly take my leave.

Exit

QUEEN (to Pisanio)

Weeps she still, sayst thou? Dost thou think in time

She will not quench, and let instructions enter

Where folly now possesses? Do thou work.

When thou shalt bring me word she loves my son

I’ll tell thee on the instant thou art then

As great as is thy master—greater, for

His fortunes all lie speechless, and his name

Is at last gasp. Return he cannot, nor

Continue where he is. To shift his being

Is to exchange one misery with another,

And every day that comes comes to decay

A day’s work in him. What shalt thou expect

To be depender on a thing that leans,

Who cannot be new built nor has no friends

So much as but to prop him?

⌈She drops her box. He takes it up⌉

Thou tak’st up

Thou know‘st not what; but take it for thy labour.

It is a thing I made which hath the King

Five times redeemed from death. I do not know

What is more cordial. Nay, I prithee take it.

It is an earnest of a farther good

That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how

The case stands with her; do’t as from thyself.

Think what a chance thou changest on, but think

Thou hast thy mistress still; to boot, my son,

Who shall take notice of thee. I’ll move the King

To any shape of thy preferment, such

As thou’lt desire; and then myself, I chiefly,

That set thee on to this desert, am bound

To load thy merit richly. Call my women.

Think on my words.

Exit Pisanio

A sly and constant knave,

Not to be shaked; the agent for his master,

And the remembrancer of her to hold

The hand-fast to her lord. I have given him that

Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her

Of liegers for her sweet, and which she after,

Except she bend her humour, shall be assured

To taste of too.

Enter Pisanio and Ladies

So, so; well done, well done.

The violets, cowslips, and the primroses

Bear to my closet. Fare thee well, Pisanio.

Think on my words, Pisanio.

PISANIO

And shall do.

Exeunt Queen and Ladies

But when to my good lord I prove untrue,

I’ll choke mysetf—there’s all I’ll do for you.

Exit

1.6 Enter Innogen

INNOGEN

A father cruel and a stepdame false,

A foolish suitor to a wedded lady

That hath her husband banished. O, that husband,

My supreme crown of grief, and those repeated

Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stol‘n,

As my two brothers, happy; but most miserable

Is the desire that’s glorious. Blest be those,

How mean soe’er, that have their honest wills,

Which seasons comfort.

Enter Pisanio and Giacomo

Who may this be? Fie!

PISANIO

Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome

Comes from my lord with letters.

GIACOMO

Change you, madam?

The worthy Leonatus is in safety,

And greets your highness dearly.

He gives her the letters

INNOGEN

Thanks, good sir.

You’re kindly welcome.

She reads the letters

GIACOMO (aside)

All of her that is out of door most rich!

If she be furnished with a mind so rare

She is alone, th’Arabian bird, and I

Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend;

Arm me audacity from head to foot,

Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight;

Rather, directly fly.

INNOGEN (reads aloud) ’He is one of the noblest note, to whose kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon him accordingly, as you value

Your truest

Leonatus.’

(To Giacomo) So far I read aloud,

But even the very middle of my heart

Is warmed by th’ rest, and takes it thankfully.

You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I

Have words to bid you, and shall find it so

In all that I can do.

GIACOMO

Thanks, fairest lady.

What, are men mad? Hath nature given them eyes

To see this vaulted arch and the rich crop

Of sea and land, which can distinguish ‘twixt

The fiery orbs above and the twinned stones

Upon th’unnumbered beach, and can we not

Partition make with spectacles so precious

’Twixt fair and foul?

INNOGEN

What makes your admiration?

GIACOMO

It cannot be i‘th’ eye—for apes and monkeys,

’Twixt two such shes, would chatter this way and

Contemn with mows the other; nor i‘th’ judgement,

For idiots in this case of favour would

Be wisely definite; nor i’th’ appetite—

Sluttery, to such neat excellence opposed,

Should make desire vomit emptiness,

Not so allured to feed.

INNOGEN What is the matter, trow?

GIACOMO The cloyed will,

That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub

Both filled and running, ravening first the lamb,

Longs after for the garbage.

INNOGEN

What, dear sir,

Thus raps you? Are you well?

GIACOMO

Thanks, madam, well. (To Pisanio) Beseech you, sir,

Desire my man’s abode where I did leave him.

He’s strange and peevish.

PISANIO

I was going, sir,

To give him welcome.

Exit

INNOGEN Continues well my lord?

His health, beseech you?

GIACOMO

Well, madam.

INNOGEN

Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is.

GIACOMO

Exceeding pleasant, none a stranger there

So merry and so gamesome. He is called

The Briton Reveller.

INNOGEN

When he was here

He did incline to sadness, and oft-times

Not knowing why.

GIACOMO

I never saw him sad.

There is a Frenchman his companion, one

An eminent monsieur that, it seems, much loves

A Gallian girl at home. He furnaces

The thick sighs from him, whiles the jolly Briton—

Your lord, I mean—laughs from ’s free lungs,

cries ‘O,

Can my sides hold, to think that man, who knows

By history, report or his own proof

What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose

But must be, will ’s free hours languish

For assured bondage?’

INNOGEN

Will my lord say so?

GIACOMO

Ay, madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter.

It is a recreation to be by

And hear him mock the Frenchman. But heavens

know

Some men are much to blame.

INNOGEN

Not he, I hope.

GIACOMO

Not he; but yet heaven’s bounty towards him might

Be used more thankfully. In himself ’tis much;

In you, which I count his, beyond all talents.

Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound

To pity too.

INNOGEN

What do you pity, sir?

GIACOMO

Two creatures heartily.

INNOGEN

Am I one, sir?

You look on me; what wreck discern you in me

Deserves your pity?

GIACOMO

Lamentablel What,

To hide me from the radiant sun, and solace

I’th’ dungeon by a snuff?

INNOGEN

I pray you, sir,

Deliver with more openness your answers

To my demands. Why do you pity me?

GIACOMO That others do—

I was about to say enjoy your—but

It is an office of the gods to venge it,

Not mine to speak on’t.

INNOGEN

You do seem to know

Something of me, or what concerns me. Pray you,

Since doubting things go ill often hurts more

Than to be sure they do—for certainties

Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing,

The remedy then born—discover to me

What both you spur and stop.

GIACOMO

Had I this cheek

To bathe my lips upon; this hand whose touch,

Whose every touch, would force the feeler’s soul

To th’oath of loyalty; this object which

Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,

Firing it only here: should I, damned then,

Slaver with lips as common as the stairs

That mount the Capitol; join grips with hands

Made hard with hourly falsehood—faisehood as

With labour; then by-peeping in an eye

Base and illustrous as the smoky light

That’s fed with stinking tallow—it were fit

That all the plagues of hell should at one time

Encounter such revolt.

INNOGEN

My lord, I fear,

Has forgot Britain.

GIACOMO

And himself. Not I

Inclined to this intelligence pronounce

The beggary of his change, but ’tis your graces

That from my mutest conscience to my tongue

Charms this report out.

INNOGEN

Let me hear no more.

GIACOMO

O dearest soul, your cause doth strike my heart

With pity that doth make me sick. A lady

So fair, and fastened to an empery

Would make the great’st king double, to be partnered

With tomboys hired with that self exhibition

Which your own coffers yield; with diseased ventures

That play with all infirmities for gold

Which rottenness can lend to nature; such boiled stuff

As well might poison poison! Be revenged,

Or she that bore you was no queen, and you

Recoil from your great stock.

INNOGEN

Revenged?

How should I be revenged? If this be true—

As I have such a heart that both mine ears

Must not in haste abuse—if it be true,

How should I be revenged?

GIACOMO

Should he make me

Live like Diana’s priest betwixt cold sheets

Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps,

In your despite, upon your purse—revenge it.

I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure,

More noble than that runagate to your bed,

And will continue fast to your affection,

Still close as sure.

INNOGEN

What ho, Pisanio!

GIACOMO

Let me my service tender on your lips.

INNOGEN

Away, I do condemn mine ears that have

So long attended thee. If thou wert honourable

Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, not

For such an end thou seek‘st, as base as strange.

Thou wrong’st a gentleman who is as far

From thy report as thou from honour, and

Solicit’st here a lady that disdains

Thee and the devil alike. What ho, Pisanio!

The King my father shall be made acquainted

Of thy assault. If he shall think it fit

A saucy stranger in his court to mart

As in a Romish stew, and to expound

His beastly mind to us, he hath a court

He little cares for, and a daughter who

He not respects at all. What ho, Pisanio!

GIACOMO

O happy Leonatus! I may say

The credit that thy lady hath of thee

Deserves thy trust, and thy most perfect goodness

Her assured credit. Blessed live you long,

A lady to the worthiest sir that ever

Country called his; and you his mistress, only

For the most worthiest fit. Give me your pardon.

I have spoke this to know if your affiance

Were deeply rooted, and shall make your lord

That which he is new o’er; and he is one

The truest mannered, such a holy witch

That he enchants societies into him;

Half all men’s hearts are his.

INNOGEN

You make amends.

GIACOMO

He sits ’mongst men like a descended god.

He hath a kind of honour sets him off

More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry,

Most mighty princess, that I have adventured

To try your taking of a false report, which hath

Honoured with confirmation your great judgement

In the election of a sir so rare

Which you know cannot err. The love I bear him

Made me to fan you thus, but the gods made you,

Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray, your pardon.

INNOGEN

All’s well, sir. Take my power i’th’ court for yours.

GIACOMO

My humble thanks. I had almost forgot

T’entreat your grace but in a small request,

And yet of moment too, for it concerns

Your lord; myself and other noble friends

Are partners in the business.

INNOGEN

Pray what is’t?

GIACOMO

Some dozen Romans of us, and your lord—

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 value’s great,

And I am something curious, being strange,

To have them in safe stowage. May it please you

To take them in protection?

INNOGEN

Willingly,

And pawn mine honour for their safety; since

My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them

In my bedchamber.

GIACOMO

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 tomorrow.

INNOGEN

O, no, no!

GIACOMO

Yes, I beseech, or I shall short my word

By length’ning my return. From Gallia

I crossed the seas on purpose and on promise

To see your grace.

INNOGEN

I thank you for your pains;

But not away tomorrow!

GIACOMO

O, I must, madam.

Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please

To greet your lord with writing, do’t tonight.

I have outstood my time, which is material

To th’ tender of our present.

INNOGEN

I will write.

Send your trunk to me, it shall safe be kept,

And truly yielded you. You’re very welcome.

Exeunt severally

2.1 Enter Cloten and the two Lords

CLOTEN Was there ever man had such luck? When I kissed the jack upon an upcast, 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 smelled like a fool.

CLOTEN I am not vexed more at anything in th‘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 an you crow cock with your comb on.

CLOTEN Sayst 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 tonight?

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 today at bowls I’ll win tonight 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 Innogen, what thou endur‘st,

Betwixt a father by thy stepdame governed,

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’d make! The heavens hold firm

The walls of thy dear honour, keep unshaked

That temple, thy fair mind, that thou mayst stand

T’enjoy thy banished lord and this great land! Exit

2.2 A trunk ⌈and arras⌉. A bed is ⌈thrust forth⌉ with Innogen in it, reading a book. Enter to her Helen, a lady

INNOGEN

Who’s there? My woman Helen?

HELEN Please you, madam.

INNOGEN

What hour is it?

HELEN

Almost midnight, madam.

INNOGEN

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’th’ clock,

I prithee call me. Sleep hath seized me wholly.

⌈Exit Helen⌉

To your protection I commend me, gods.

From fairies and the tempters of the night

Guard me, beseech ye.

She sleeps.

Giacomo comes from the trunk

GIACOMO

The crickets sing, and man’s o‘er-laboured sense

Repairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus

Did softly press the rushes ere he wakened

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 unparagoned,

How dearly they do‘t! ’Tis her breathing that

Perfumes the chamber thus. The flame o‘th’ taper

Bows toward her, and would underpeep her lids,

To see th’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.

He writes in his tables

Such and such pictures, there the window, such

Th‘adornment of her bed, the arras, figures,

Why, such and such; and the contents o’th’ story.

Ah, but some natural notes about her body

Above ten thousand meaner movables

Would testify t’enrich mine inventory.

O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her,

And be her sense but as a monument

Thus in a chapel lying. Come off, come off;

As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard.

He takes the bracelet from her arm

‘Tis mine, and this will witness outwardly,

As strongly as the conscience does within,

To th’ madding of her lord. On her left breast

A mole, cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops

I’th’ bottom of a cowslip. Here’s a voucher

Stronger than ever law could make. This secret

Will force him think I have picked the lock and

ta’en

The treasure of her honour. No more. To what end?

Why should I write this down that’s riveted,

Screwed to my memory? She hath been reading late,

The tale of Tereus. Here the leaf’s turned down

Where Philomel gave up. I have enough.

To th’ trunk again, and shut the spring of it.

Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning

May bare the raven’s eye! I lodge in fear.

Though this’ a heavenly angel, hell is here.

Clock strikes

One, two, three. Time, time!

Exit into the trunk. ⌈The bed and trunk are removed⌉

2.3 Enter Cloten and the two 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 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 Innogen I should have gold enough. It’s almost morning, is’t not?

FIRST LORD Day, my lord.

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. First, a very excellent good-conceited thing; after, a wonderful sweet air with admirable rich words to it; and then let her consider.

⌈Music⌉

⌈MUSICIAN⌉ (sings)

Hark, hark, the lark at heaven gate sings,

And Phoebus gins arise,

His steeds to water at those springs

On chaticed flowers that lies,

And winking Mary-buds begin to ope their golden eyes;

With everything that pretty is, 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 calves’ guts nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to boot can never amend.

Exeunt Musicians

Enter Cymbeline and the Queen

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 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 musics, but she vouchsafes no notice.

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 (to Cloten) You are most bound to th’ King,

Who lets go by no vantages that may

Prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself

To orderly solicits, and be friended

With aptness of the season. Make denials

Increase your services; so seem as if

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.

Enter a Messenger

MESSENGER (to Cymbeline)

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

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

T’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.

⌈He knocks⌉

By your leave, ho!—

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 th’ stand o’th’ stealer; and ’tis gold

Which makes the true man killed 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?

CLOTEN

A gentleman.

LADY

No more?

CLOTEN

Yes, and a gentlewoman’s son.

LADY That’s more

⌈Aside⌉ Than some whose tailors are as dear as

yours

Can justly boast of. (To him) What’s your lordship’s

pleasure?

CLOTEN

Your lady’s person. Is she ready?

LADY Ay.

⌈Aside⌉ To keep her chamber.

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?

Enter Innogen

The Princess.

⌈Exit⌉

CLOTEN

Good morrow, fairest. Sister, your sweet hand.

INNOGEN

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.

INNOGEN

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.

INNOGEN

But that you shall not say I yield being silent,

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.

I will not.

INNOGEN

Fools cure not mad folks.

CLOTEN

Do you call me fool?

INNOGEN

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 forget a lady’s manners

By being so verbal; and learn now for all

That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce

By th’ 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.

CLOTEN

You sin against

Obedience which you owe your father. For

The contract you pretend with that base wretch,

One bred of alms and fostered with cold dishes,

With scraps o‘th’ court, it is no contract, none.

And though it be allowed 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-figured knot,

Yet you are curbed from that enlargement by

The consequence o’th’ crown, and must not foil

The precious note of it with a base slave,

A hilding for a livery, a squire’s cloth,

A pantler—not so eminent.

INNOGEN

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 styled

The under-hangman of his kingdom, and hated

For being preferred so well.

CLOTEN

The south-fog rot him!

INNOGEN

He never can meet more mischance than come

To be but named of thee. His meanest garment

That ever hath but clipped his body is dearer

In my respect than all the hairs above thee,

Were they all made such men. How now, Pisanio!

Enter Pisanio

CLOTEN His garment? Now the devil—

INNOGEN (to Pisanio)

To Dorothy, my woman, hie thee presently.

CLOTEN

His garment?

INNOGEN (to Pisanio) I am sprited with a fool,

Frighted, and angered 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 kissed it.

I hope it be not gone to tell my lord

That I kiss aught but he.

PISANIO

’Twill not be lost.

INNOGEN

I hope so. Go and search.

Exit Pisanio

CLOTEN

You have abused me.

‘His meanest garment’?

INNOGEN

Ay, I said so, sir.

If you will make’t an action, call witness to’t.

CLOTEN

I will inform your father.

INNOGEN

Your mother too.

She’s my good lady, and will conceive, I hope,

But the worst of me. So I leave you, sir,

To th’ worst of discontent.

Exit

CLOTEN

I’ll be revenged.

‘His meanest garment’? Well! Exit