Imo.
Who's there? my woman Helen?

Lad.
Please you, madam.

Imo.
What hour is it?

Lad.
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 can'st awake by four o'the clock,
I pr'ythee, call me. [Exit Lady.] Sleep hath seis'd me wholly.
To your protection I commend me, gods:
From fairies, and the tempters of the night,
Guard me, beseech ye! [sleeps. Jachimo, from the Trunk.

Jac.
The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'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 lilly!
And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch!
But kiss; one kiss! Rubies unparagon'd, [kissing her.
How dearly they do't! 'Tis her breathing that

Perfumes the chamber thus: The flame o'the taper14Q1260
Bows toward her; and would under-peep her lids,
To see the inclosed lights, now canopy'd
Under the windows ^note: 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
The adornment of her bed; The arras, figures?
Why, such, and such; And the contents of the story,—
Ah, but some natural notes about her body,
(Above ten thousand meaner moveables they
Would testify) to enrich mine inventory.
O sleep, thou ape of death, lye dull upon her!
And be her sense but as a monument,
Thus in a chapel lying! Come off, come off; ^note [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. To ^note 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 Philomele 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 bear ^note the raven's eye: I lodge in fear;

Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here.
One, two, three,—[counting the Clock.] Time, time! [Shuts the Trunk upon himself. The Scene closes.

Previous section

Next section