A Bedchamber; in one part of it a Trunk. |
|
IMOGEN reading in her bed; a Lady attending. |
Imo. Who's there? my woman Helen? |
Lady. Please you, madam. |
Imo. What hour is it? |
Lady. Almost midnight, madam. |
Imo. I have read three hours then; mine eyes are weak; |
Fold down the leaf where I have left; to bed: |
Take not away the taper, leave it burning, |
And if thou canst awake by four o' the clock, |
I prithee, call me. Sleep has seized me wholly. [Exit Lady. |
To your protection I commend me, gods! |
From fairies and the tempters of the night |
Guard me, beseech ye! [Sleeps. IACHIMO comes from the trunk. |
Iach. The crickets sing, and man's o'erlabour'd sense |
Repairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus |
Did softly press the rushes ere he waken'd |
The chastity he wounded. Cytherea, |
How bravely thou becom'st thy bed! fresh lily, |
And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch! |
But kiss: one kiss! Rubies unparagon'd, |
How dearly they do't! 'Tis her breathing that |
Perfumes the chamber thus; the flame of the taper |
Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids, |
To see the enclosed lights, now canopied |
Under these windows, white and azure lac'd |
With blue of heaven's own tinct. But my design, |
To note the chamber: I will write all down: |
Such and such pictures; there the window; such |
Th' adornment of her bed; the arras, figures, |
Why, such and such; and the contents o' the story. |
Ah! but some natural notes about her body, |
Above ten thousand meaner moveables |
Would testify, to enrich mine inventory. |
O sleep! thou ape of death, lie dull upon her; |
And be her senses but as a monument |
Thus in a chapel lying. Come off, come off;— [Taking off her bracelet. |
As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard! |
'Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly, |
As strongly as the conscience does within, |
To the madding of her lord. On her left breast |
A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops |
I' the bottom of a cowslip: here's a voucher; |
Stronger than ever law could make: this secret |
Will force him think I have pick'd the lock and ta'en |
The treasure of her honour. No more. To what end? |
Why should I write this down, that's riveted, |
Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late |
The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's turn'd down |
Where Philomel gave up. I have enough: |
To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it. |
Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning |
May bare the raven's eye! I lodge in fear; |
Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. [Clock strikes. |
One, two, three: time, time! [Goes into the trunk. The scene closes. |
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