The Bodleian First Folio

A digital facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Bodleian Arch. G c.7.



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Reference: zz6r - Tragedies, p. 375

Left Column


The Tragedy of Cymbeline. Slauuer with lippes as common as the stayres That mount the Capitoll: Ioyne gripes, with hands Made hard with hourely falshood (falshood as
[695]
With labour:) then by peeping in an eye Base and illustrious as the smoakie light That's fed with stinking Tallow: it were fit That all the plagues of Hell should at one time Encounter such reuolt.
Imo.
[700]
My Lord, I feare Has forgot Brittaine.
Iach. And himselfe, not I Inclin'd to this intelligence, pronounce The Beggery of his change: but 'tis your Graces
[705]
That from my mu est Conscience, to my tongue, Charmes this report out.
Imo. Let me heare no more. Iach. O deerest Soule: your Cause doth strike my hart With pitty, that doth make me sicke. A Lady
[710]
So faire, and fasten'd to an Emperie Would make the great'st King double, to be partner'd With Tomboyes hyr'd, with that selfe exhibition Which your owne Coffers yeeld: with diseas'd ventures That play with all Infirmities for Gold,
[715]
Which rottennesse can lend Nature. Such boyl'd stuffe As well might poyson Poyson. Be reueng'd, Or she that bore you, was no Queene, and you Recoyle from your great Stocke.
Imo. Reueng'd:
[720]
How should I be reueng'd? If this be true, (As I haue such a Heart, that both mine eares Must not in haste abuse) if it be true, How should I be reueng'd?
Iach. Should he make me
[725]
Liue like Diana's Priest, betwixt cold sheets, Whiles he is vaulting variable Rampes In your despight, vpon your purse: reuenge it. I dedicate my selfe to your sweet pleasure, More Noble then that runnagate to your bed,
[730]
And will continue fast to your Affection, Still close, as sure.
Imo. What hoa, Pisanio? Iach. Let me my seruice tender on your lippes. Imo. Away, I do condemne mine eares, that haue
[735]
So long attended thee. If thou wert Honourable Thou would'st haue told this tale for Vertue, not For such an end thou seek'st, as base, as strange: Thou wrong'st a Gentleman, who is as farre From thy report, as thou from Honor: and
[740]
Solicites heere a Lady, that disdaines Thee, and the Diuell alike. What hoa, Pisanio? The King my Father shall be made acquainted Of thy Assault: if he shall thinke it fit, A sawcy Stranger in his Court, to Mart
[745]
As in a Romish Stew, and to expound His beastly minde to vs; he hath a Court He little cares for, and a Daughter, who He not respects at all. What hoa, Pisanio?
Iach. O happy Leonatus I may say,
[750]
The credit that thy Lady hath of thee Deserues thy trust, and thy most perfect goodnesse Her assur'd credit. Blessed liue you long, A Lady to the worthiest Sir, that euer Country call'd his; and you his Mistris, onely
[755]
For the most worthiest fit. Giue me your pardon, I haue spoke this to know if your Affiance Were deeply rooted, and shall make your Lord,

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Right Column


That which he is, new o're: And he is one The truest manner'd: such a holy Witch,
[760]
That he enchants Societies into him: Halfe all men hearts are his.
Imo. You make amends. Iach. He sits 'mongst men, like a defended God; He hath a kinde of Honor sets him off,
[765]
More then a mortall seeming. Be not angrie (Most mighty Princesse) that I haue aduentur'd To try your taking of a false report, which hath Honour'd with confirmation your great Iudgement, In the election of a Sir, so rare,
[770]
Which you know, cannot erre. The loue I beare him, Made me to fan you thus, but the Gods made you (Vnlike all others) chaffelesse. Pray your pardon.
Imo. All's well Sir: Take my powre i'th'Court for yours. Iach.
[775]
My humble thankes: I had almost forgot T'intreat your Grace, but in a small request, And yet of moment too, for it concernes: Your Lord, my selfe, and other Noble Friends Are partners in the businesse.
Imo.
[780]
Pray what is't?
Iach. Some dozen Romanes of vs, and your Lord (The best Feather of our wing) haue mingled summes To buy a Present for the Emperor: Which I (the Factor for the rest) haue done
[785]
In France: 'tis Plate of rare deuice, and Iewels Of rich, and exquisite forme, their valewes great, And I am something curious, being strange To haue them in safe stowage: May it please you To take them in protection.
Imo.
[790]
Willingly: And pawne mine Honor for their safety, since My Lord hath interest in them, I will keepe them In my Bed‑chamber.
Iach. They are in a Trunke
[795]
Attended by my men: I will make bold To send them to you, onely for this night: I must aboord to morrow.
Imo. O no, no. Iach. Yes I beseech: or I shall short my word
[800]
By length'ning my returne. From Gallia, I crost the Seas on purpose, and on promise To see your Grace.
Imo. I thanke you for your paines: But not away to morrow. Iach.
[805]
O I must Madam. Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please To greet your Lord with writing, doo't to night, I haue out‑stood my time, which is materiall To'th'tender of our Present.
Imo.
[810]
I will write: Send your Trunke to me, it shall safe be kept, And truely yeelded you: you're very welcome.
Exeunt.
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima. [Act 2, Scene 1] 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 hun­

[815]

dred pound on't: and then a whorson Iacke‑an‑Apes, must

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Actus Secundus. Scena Prima. [Act 2, Scene 1] 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 hun­

[815]

dred 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.
[820]

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.
[825]

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

[830]

not fight with me, because of the Queene my Mo­

ther: 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

[835]

Cock, with your combe on.

Clot.

Sayest thou ?

2.

It is not fit you Lordship should vndertake euery

Companion, that you giue offence too.

Clot.

No, I know that: but it is fit I should commit

[840]

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.
[845]

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,

[850]

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

der This r has slipped below the rest of the line.ogation in't?

2.

You cannot derogate my Lord.

Clot.
[855]

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.
[860]

Ile attend your Lordship.

Exit. 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,
[865]
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
[870]
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.
Exeunt.
 

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<div type="scene" n="1">
   <head rend="italic center">Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.</head>
   <head type="supplied">[Act 2, Scene 1]</head>
   <stage rend="center" type="entrance">Enter Clotten, and the two Lords.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clot.</speaker>
      <p n="813">Was there euer man had such lucke? when I kist
      <lb n="814"/>the Iacke vpon an vp‑cast, to be hit away? I had a hun­
      <lb n="815"/>dred pound on't: and then a whorson Iacke‑an‑Apes,<pb facs="FFimg:axc0886-0.jpg" n="376"/>
         <cb n="1"/>
         
      <lb n="816"/>must take me vp for swearing, as if I borrowed mine
      <lb n="817"/>oathes of him, and might not spend them at my pleasure.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-lor.1">
      <speaker>1.</speaker>
      <p n="818">What got he by that? you haue broke his pate
      <lb n="819"/>with your Bowle.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-lor.2">
      <speaker>2.</speaker>
      <p n="820">If his wit had bin like him that broke it: it would
      <lb n="821"/>haue run all out.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clot.</speaker>
      <p n="822">When a Gentleman is dispos'd to sweare: it is
      <lb n="823"/>not for any standers by to curtall his oathes. Ha?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-lor.2">
      <speaker>2.</speaker>
      <p n="824">No my Lord; nor crop the eares of them.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clot.</speaker>
      <p n="825">Whorson dog: I gaue him satisfaction? would
      <lb n="826"/>he had bin one of my Ranke.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-lor.2">
      <speaker>2.</speaker>
      <p n="827">To haue smell'd like a Foole.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clot.</speaker>
      <p n="828">I am not vext more at any thing in th'earth: a
      <lb n="829"/>pox on't. I had rather not be so Noble as I am: they dare
      <lb n="830"/>not fight with me, because of the Queene my Mo­
      <lb n="831"/>ther: euery Iacke‑Slaue hath his belly full of Fighting,
      <lb n="832"/>and I must go vp and downe like a Cock, that no body
      <lb n="833"/>can match.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-lor.2">
      <speaker>2.</speaker>
      <p n="834">You are Cocke and Capon too, and you crow
      <lb n="835"/>Cock, with your combe on.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clot.</speaker>
      <p n="836">Sayest thou<c rend="italic">?</c>
      </p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-lor.2">
      <speaker>2.</speaker>
      <p n="837">It is not fit you Lordship should vndertake euery
      <lb n="838"/>Companion, that you giue offence too.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clot.</speaker>
      <p n="839">No, I know that: but it is fit I should commit
      <lb n="840"/>offence to my inferiors.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-lor.2">
      <speaker>2.</speaker>
      <p n="841">I, it is fit for your Lordship onely.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clot.</speaker>
      <p n="842">Why so I say.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-lor.1">
      <speaker>1.</speaker>
      <p n="843">Did you heere of a Stranger that's come to Court
      <lb n="844"/>night?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clot.</speaker>
      <p n="845">A Stranger, and I not know on't?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-lor.2">
      <speaker>2.</speaker>
      <p n="846">He's a strange Fellow himselfe, and knowes it not.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-lor.1">
      <speaker>1.</speaker>
      <p n="847">There's an Italian come, and 'tis thought one of
      <lb n="848"/>
         <hi rend="italic">Leonatus</hi>Friends.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clot.</speaker>
      <p n="849">
         <hi rend="italic">Leonatus</hi>? A banisht Rascall; and he's another,
      <lb n="850"/>whatsoeuer he be. Who told you of this Stranger<c rend="italic">?</c>
      </p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-lor.1">
      <speaker>1.</speaker>
      <l n="851">One of your Lordships Pages.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clot.</speaker>
      <p n="852">Is it fit I went to looke vpon him? Is there no
      <lb n="853"/>der<note type="physical" resp="#ES">This r has slipped below the rest of the line.</note>ogation in't?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-lor.2">
      <speaker>2.</speaker>
      <p n="854">You cannot derogate my Lord.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clot.</speaker>
      <p n="855">Not easily I thinke.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-lor.2">
      <speaker>2.</speaker>
      <p n="856">You are a Foole graunted, therefore your Issues
      <lb n="857"/>being foolish do not derogate.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-clo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clot.</speaker>
      <p n="858">Come, Ile go see this Italian: what I haue lost
      <lb n="859"/>to day at Bowles, Ile winne to night of him. Come: go.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-lor.2">
      <speaker>2.</speaker>
      <p n="860">Ile attend your Lordship.</p>
      <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit.</stage>
      <l n="861">That such a craftie Diuell as is his Mother</l>
      <l n="862">Should yeild the world this Asse: A woman, that</l>
      <l n="863">Beares all downe with her Braine, and this her Sonne,</l>
      <l n="864">Cannot take two from twenty for his heart,</l>
      <l n="865">And leaue eighteene. Alas poore Princesse,</l>
      <l n="866">Thou diuine<hi rend="italic">Imogen</hi>, what thou endur'st,</l>
      <l n="867">Betwixt a Father by thy Step‑dame gouern'd,</l>
      <l n="868">A Mother hourely coyning plots: A Wooer,</l>
      <l n="869">More hatefull then the foule expulsion is</l>
      <l n="870">Of thy deere Husband. Then that horrid Act</l>
      <l n="871">Of the diuorce, heel'd make the Heauens hold firme</l>
      <l n="872">The walls of thy deere Honour. Keepe vnshak'd</l>
      <l n="873">That Temple thy faire mind, that thou maist stand</l>
      <l n="874">T'enioy thy banish'd Lord: and this great Land.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exeunt.</stage>
</div>

        
        

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