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Clot. Say't thou?
1 Lord. It is not fit your Lordship fhould undertake (4) every companion, that you give offence to.
Clot. No, I know that; but it is not fit I fhould commit offence to my inferiors.
2 Lord. It is fit for your Lordship only.
Clot. Why, fo I fay.
1 Lord. Did you hear of a stranger that's come to court to-night?
Clot. A ftranger, and I not know on't ?
2 Lord. He's a ftrange fellow himself, and knows it
[Afide. 1 Lord. There's an Italian come, and, 'tis thought, one of Leonatus's friends.
Clot. Leonatus! a banifh'd rafcal; and he's another, whatfoever he be. Who told you of this ftranger?
1 Lord. One of your Lordship's pages.
Clot. Is it fit I went to look upon him? is there no derogation in't?
1 Lord. You cannot derogate, my Lord.
Clot. Not eafily, I think.
2 Lord. You are a fool granted, therefore your if fues being foolish do not derogate.
[Afide. Clot. Come, I'll go fee this Italian: what I have loft to-day at bowls, I'll win to-night of him. Come;
2 Lord. I'll attend your Lordship.
That fuch a crafty devil, as his mother,
Should yield the world this afs!- -a woman, that Bears all down with her brain; and this her fon
Cannot take two from twenty for his heart,
And leave eighteen.
Alas, poor Princefs,
Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'ft!
(4) every companion,] The ufe of companion was the fame as of fellow now. It was a word of contempt.
Of the divorce (5) he'd make.-The heav'ns hold firm
Changes to a magnificent Bed-chamber; in one part of it, a large trunk.
Imogen is difcovered reading in her bed, a Lady at
HO's there? my woman Helen?
Imo. What hour is it?
Lady. Almoft midnight, Madam..
Imo. I have read three hours then, mine
Fold down the leaf where I have left. To bed.
[Iachimo rifes from the trunk. Iach. The crickets fing, and man's o'er-labour'd
Repairs itfelf by reft: (6) our Tarquin thus
(7) Did foftly prefs the rushes, ere he waken'd
In which he is followed by Dr. Warburton.
our Tarquin] The fpeaker is an Italian.
(7) Did foftly prefs the rushes,
It was the cuftom in the
The chastity he wounded. Cytherea,
How bravely thou becom'ft thy bed! fresh lily,.
How dearly they do't!'tis her breathing, that
Under thefe windows: (8) white and azure! lac'd
O Sleep, thou ape of Death, lie dull upon her;
As flipp'ry, as the Gordian knot was hard.
time of our authour, to frew chambers with rushes, as we now cover them with carpets. The practice is mentioned in Gaius de Ephemera Britannica.
18) white AND azure! lac'd
WITH blue of heav'n's own tinct-] We should read,
-white with azure lac'd,
THE blue of heav'n's own tine. i. e. the white fkin faced with blue veins..