Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter Clotten, and the two Lords.
Clot. Was there euer man had such lucke? when I kist the Iacke vpon an vp-cast, to be hit away? I had a hundred pound on't: and then a whorson Iacke-an-Apes, must take me vp for swearing, as if I borrowed mine oathes of him, and might not spend them at my pleasure
1. What got he by that? you haue broke his pate with your Bowle
2. If his wit had bin like him that broke it: it would haue run all out
Clot. When a Gentleman is dispos'd to sweare: it is not for any standers by to curtall his oathes. Ha? 2. No my Lord; nor crop the eares of them
Clot. Whorson dog: I gaue him satisfaction? would he had bin one of my Ranke
2. To haue smell'd like a Foole
Clot. I am not vext more at any thing 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 Queene my Mother: euery Iacke-Slaue hath his belly full of Fighting, and I must go vp and downe like a Cock, that no body can match
2. You are Cocke and Capon too, and you crow Cock, with your combe on
Clot. Sayest thou? 2. It is not fit your Lordship should vndertake euery Companion, that you giue offence too
Clot. No, I know that: but it is fit I should commit offence to my inferiors
2. I, it is fit for your Lordship onely
Clot. Why so I say
1. Did you heere of a Stranger that's come to Court night? Clot. A Stranger, and I not know on't? 2. He's a strange Fellow himselfe, and knowes it not
1. There's an Italian come, and 'tis thought one of Leonatus Friends
Clot. Leonatus? A banisht Rascall; and he's another, whatsoeuer he be. Who told you of this Stranger? 1. One of your Lordships Pages
Clot. Is it fit I went to looke vpon him? Is there no derogation in't? 2. You cannot derogate my Lord
Clot. Not easily I thinke
2. You are a Foole graunted, therefore your Issues being foolish do not derogate
Clot. Come, Ile go see this Italian: what I haue lost to day at Bowles, Ile winne to night of him. Come: go
2. Ile attend your Lordship. Enter.
That such a craftie Diuell as is his Mother Should yeild the world this Asse: A woman, that Beares all downe with her Braine, and this her Sonne, Cannot take two from twenty for his heart, And leaue eighteene. Alas poore Princesse, Thou diuine Imogen, what thou endur'st, Betwixt a Father by thy Step-dame gouern'd, A Mother hourely coyning plots: A Wooer, More hatefull then the foule expulsion is Of thy deere Husband. Then that horrid Act Of the diuorce, heel'd make the Heauens hold firme The walls of thy deere Honour. Keepe vnshak'd That Temple thy faire mind, that thou maist stand T' enioy thy banish'd Lord: and this great Land.
Enter Imogen, in her Bed, and a Lady.
Imo. Who's there? My woman: Helene? La. Please you Madam
Imo. What houre is it? Lady. Almost midnight, Madam
Imo. I haue read three houres then: Mine eyes are weake, Fold downe the leafe where I haue left: to bed. Take not away the Taper, leaue it burning: And if thou canst awake by foure o'th' clock, I prythee call me: Sleepe hath ceiz'd me wholly. To your protection I commend me, Gods, From Fayries, and the Tempters of the night, Guard me beseech yee.
Iachimo from the Trunke.