Shakespeare - First Folio facsimile (1910)/The Tragedie of Cymbeline/Act 2 Scene 1

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Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter Clotten, and the two Lords.

Was there euer man had such lucke? when I kist
the Iacke vpon an vp-cast, to be hit away? I had a hun
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.

What got he by that? you haue broke his pate
with your Bowle.

If his wit had bin like him that broke it: it would
haue run all out.

When a Gentleman is dispos'd to sweare: it is
not for any standers by to curtall his oathes. Ha?

No my Lord; nor crop the eares of them.

Whorson dog: I gaue him satisfaction? would
he had bin one of my Ranke.

To haue smell'd like a Foole.

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 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.

You are Cocke and Capon too, and you crow
Cock, with your combe on.

Sayest thou?

It is not fit you Lordship should vndertake euery
Companion, that you giue offence too.

No, I know that: but it is fit I should commit
offence to my inferiors.

I, it is fit for your Lordship onely.

Why so I say.

Did you heere of a Stranger that's come to Court night?

A Stranger, and I not know on't?

He's a strange Fellow himselfe, and knowes it not.

There's an Italian come, and 'tis thought one of
Leonatus Friends.

Leonatus? A banisht Rascall; and he's another,
whatsoeuer he be. Who told you of this Stranger?

One of your Lordships Pages.

Is it fit I went to looke vpon him? Is there no
derogation in't?

You cannot derogate my Lord.

Not easily I thinke.

You are a Foole graunted, therefore your Issues
being foolish do not derogate.

Come, Ile go see this Italian: what I haue lost day at Bowles, Ile winne to night of him. Come: go.

Ile attend your Lordship.
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
Exeunt.T'enioy thy banish'd Lord: and this great Land.