An Antechamber adjoining Innogen's Apartments.
 Enter CLOTEN, 1st LORD and 2nd LORD.

1st Lord	Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the most 
	coldest that ever turned up ace.

Cloten	It would make any man cold to lose.

1st Lord	But not every man patient after the noble temper of your 
	lordship. You are most hot and furious when you win.

Cloten	Winning will put any man into courage. If I could get this 
	foolish Innogen, I should have gold enough. It's almost 
	morning, is't not?

1st Lord	Day, my lord.

Cloten	I would this music would come. I am advised to give her 
	music a mornings; they say it will penetrate.

                             Enter MUSICIANS.

	Come on, tune. If you can penetrate her with your 
	fingering, so. We'll try with tongue too. If none will do, 
	let her remain; but I'll never give o'er. First, a very 
	excellent good conceited thing; after, a wonderful sweet 
	air, with admirable rich words to it; and then let her 
	consider.

                                   SONG

Musician	Hark, hark, the lark at heaven's gate sings,
		And Phoebus 'gins arise,
	His steeds to water at those springs
		On chaliced flowers that lies;
	And winking Mary-buds begin to ope their golden eyes;
	With everything that pretty is, my lady sweet, arise;
		Arise, arise!

Cloten	So, get you gone. If this penetrate, I will consider your 
	music the better; if it do not, it is a vice in her ears, 
	which horse-hairs and calves'-guts, nor the voice of 
	unpaved eunuch to boot, can never amend.
													[Exeunt MUSICIANS.

                        Enter CYMBELINE and QUEEN.

2nd Lord	Here comes the king.

Cloten	I am glad I was up so late, for that's the reason I was up 
	so early. He cannot choose but take this service I have 
	done fatherly. Good morrow to your majesty, and to my 
	gracious mother.

Cymbeline	Attend you here the door of our stern daughter?
	Will she not forth?

Cloten	I have assailed her with musics, but she vouchsafes no 
	notice.

Cymbeline	The exile of her minion is too new;
	She hath not yet forgot him. Some more time
	Must wear the print of his remembrance on't,
	And then she's yours.

Queen								You are most bound to th' king,
	Who lets go by no vantages that may
	Prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself
	To orderly solicits, and be friended
	With aptness of the season; make denials
	Increase your services; so seem as if
	You were inspired to do those duties which
	You tender to her; that you in all obey her,
	Save when command to your dismission tends,
	And therein you are senseless.

Cloten											Senseless? - Not so.

                            Enter A MESSENGER.

Messenger	So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome;
	The one is Caius Lucius.

Cymbeline									A worthy fellow,
	Albeit he comes on angry purpose now;
	But that's no fault of his. We must receive him
	According to the honour of his sender,
	And towards himself, his goodness forespent on us,
	We must extend our notice. Our dear son,
	When you have given good morning to your mistress,
	Attend the queen and us; we shall have need
	T' employ you towards this Roman. Come, our queen.
													[Exeunt all but CLOTEN.

Cloten	If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not,
	Let her lie still, and dream. By your leave, ho!
													[Knocks.
	I know her women are about her; what
	If I do line one of their  hands? 'Tis gold
	Which buys admittance; oft it doth, yea, and makes
	Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up
	Their deer to th' stand o'th' stealer; and 'tis gold
	Which makes the true man killed and saves the thief;
	Nay, sometime hangs both thief and true man. What
	Can it not do and undo? I will make
	One of her women lawyer to me, for
	I yet not understand the case myself.
	By your leave!
													[Knocks.
                              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?

                              Enter INNOGEN.

										The princess.
													[Exit LADY.
Cloten	Good morrow, fairest. Sister, your sweet hand.

Innogen	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.

Innogen	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.

Innogen	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.

Innogen	Fools are not mad folks.

Cloten	Do you call me fool?

Innogen								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 th' 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 fostered with cold dishes,
	With scraps o'th' court, it is no contract, none;
	And though it be allowed 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 curbed from that enlargement by
	The consequence o'th' crown, and must not foil
	The precious note of it with a base slave,
	A hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth,
	A pantler, not so eminent.

Innogen										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!

Innogen	He never can meet more mischance than come
	To be but named of thee. His meanest garment
	That ever hath but clipped his body is dearer
	In my respect than all the hairs above thee,
	Were they all made such men.

                              Enter PISANIO.

										How now, Pisanio!

Cloten	'His garment!' Now the devil-

Innogen	To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently.

Cloten	'His garment!'

Innogen						I am sprited with a fool,
	Frighted, and angered 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 kissed it.
	I hope it be not gone to tell my lord
	That I kiss aught but he.

Pisanio									'Twill not be lost.

Innogen	I hope so. Go and search.
													[Exit PISANIO.
Cloten										You have abused me.
	'His meanest garment!'

Innogen									Ay, I said so, sir.
	If you will make't an action, call witness to't.

Cloten	I will inform your father.

Innogen										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!
													[Exit.
