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 Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours, Can justly boast of. What's your lordship's pleasure? CLOTEN Your lady's person: is she ready? Lady Ay, 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?--The princess!
Enter IMOGEN CLOTEN Good morrow, fairest: sister, your sweet hand.
Exit Lady IMOGEN 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. IMOGEN 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. IMOGEN 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. IMOGEN Fools are not mad folks. CLOTEN Do you call me fool? IMOGEN 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 the 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 foster'd with cold dishes, With scraps o' the court, it is no contract, none:
And though it be allow'd 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 curb'd from that enlargement by The consequence o' the crown, and must not soil The precious note of it with a base slave.
A hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth, A pantler, not so eminent. IMOGEN 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! IMOGEN He never can meet more mischance than come To be but named of thee. His meanest garment, That ever hath but clipp'd 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-- IMOGEN To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently-- CLOTEN 'His garment!' IMOGEN I am sprited with a fool.
Frighted, and anger'd 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 kiss'd it:
I hope it be not gone to tell my lord That I kiss aught but he. PISANIO 'Twill not be lost. IMOGEN I hope so: go and search.
Exit PISANIO CLOTEN You have abused me:
'His meanest garment!' IMOGEN Ay, I said so, sir:
If you will make't an action, call witness to't. CLOTEN I will inform your father. IMOGEN Your mother too:
She's my good lady, and will conceive, I hope, But the worst of me. So, I leave you, sir, To the worst of discontent.
Exit CLOTEN I'll be revenged:
'His meanest garment!' Well.