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 kill’d 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.