SCENE I
Britain. Before Cymbeline’s palace.
[Enter CLOTEN and two Lords]
CLOTEN
Was there ever man had such luck! when I kissed the jack, upon an up-cast 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.
Was there ever man had such luck! when I kissed the jack, upon an up-cast 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.
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?
When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths, ha?
Second Lord
No my 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!
Whoreson dog! I give him satisfaction? Would he had been one of my rank!
Second Lord
| [Aside] | To have smelt like a fool. |
CLOTEN
I am not vexed more at any thing in the 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.
I am not vexed more at any thing in the 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; and you crow, cock, with your comb on. |
CLOTEN
Sayest thou?
Sayest thou?
Second Lord
It is not fit your lordship should undertake every companion that you give offence to.
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.
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.
Ay, it is fit for your lordship only.
CLOTEN
Why, so I say.
Why, so I say.
First Lord
Did you hear of a stranger that’s come to court to-night?
Did you hear of a stranger that’s come to court to-night?
CLOTEN
A stranger, and I not know on’t!
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.
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?
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.
One of your lordship’s pages.
CLOTEN
Is it fit I went to look upon him? is there no derogation in’t?
Is it fit I went to look upon him? is there no derogation in’t?
Second Lord
You cannot derogate, my lord.
You cannot derogate, my lord.
CLOTEN
Not easily, I think.
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 to-day at bowls I’ll win to-night of him. Come, go.
Come, I’ll go see this Italian: what I have lost to-day at bowls I’ll win to-night of him. Come, go.
Second Lord
I’ll attend your lordship.
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 Imogen, what thou endurest,
Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern’d,
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’ld make! The heavens hold firm
The walls of thy dear honour, keep unshaked
That temple, thy fair mind, that thou mayst stand,
To enjoy thy banish’d lord and this great land!
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 Imogen, what thou endurest,
Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern’d,
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’ld make! The heavens hold firm
The walls of thy dear honour, keep unshaked
That temple, thy fair mind, that thou mayst stand,
To enjoy thy banish’d lord and this great land!
[Exit]
