Cymbeline 2.i

ACT II. SCENE I.
Britain. Before CYMBELINE'S palace

Enter CLOTEN and the two LORDS

[The key to this scene may be Lord 2's final few lines, which are spoken to Imogen, even though she isn't there:

The heavens hold firm
The walls of thy dear honour, keep unshak'd
That temple, thy fair mind, that thou mayst stand
T' enjoy thy banish'd lord and this great land!

The speech is in verse, even though the rest of the scene is prose. It's as though something nobel suddenly erupts from base soil.

Lord 2, I think, represents a suppressed segment of the court: those lords who long for Postumus's return and who turn to Imogen, meanwhile, to keep the flame burning. Scenes like this make the conflict bigger than a family drama.
]

CLOTEN. Was there ever man had such luck! When I [] kiss'd the jack [hit the target in a game of bowls], upon an [] up-cast [accident] to be hit away! I had a hundred pound on't; and then a whoreson jackanapes must take me up for swearing, as if I borrowed mine oaths of him, and might not spend them at my pleasure.

[Cloten screwed everything up. He bowled badly. He got into some kind of social mishap. It was obvious to everyone whose fault it all was, so Cloten needs to mend his broken pride. He has to coax the lords to say, "You truly have had the worst luck!" So he complains, drops hints, infantilizes himself...]

[Action: praise, worship]
FIRST LORD. What got he by that? You have broke his pate with your bowl.

[Action: mock]
SECOND LORD. [Aside] If [] his [the guy Cloten beat] wit had been like him that broke it, it would have run all out.

[Action: test, challenge]
CLOTEN. When a gentleman is dispos'd to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths. Ha?

[Action: kowtow ... then mock
SECOND LORD. No, my lord; [Aside] { nor crop the ears of them. }

{complicated pun on "curtail" (above): donkeys had their ears cropped}

[Action: boast ... then rail]
CLOTEN. Whoreson dog! I give him satisfaction? Would he had been one of my rank!

[Action: mock]
SECOND LORD. [Aside] To have [] smell'd [pun on rank] like a fool.

[Action: list grievances]
CLOTEN. I am not vex'd more at anything in th' earth. A pox on't! I had rather not be so noble as I am; they dare not fight with me, because of the Queen my mother. Every jackslave hath his bellyful of fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that nobody can match.

[Action: mock]
SECOND LORD. [Aside] You are cock and [] capon [castrated rooster] too; and you crow, cock, with your [] comb [as in coxcomb: fool's cap] on.

[Action: catch out (Cloten possibly suspects something.)]
CLOTEN. Sayest thou?

[Action: cover]
SECOND LORD. It is not fit your lordship should [] undertake [fight] every [] companion [contemptible fellow] that you give offence to.

[Action: brush away ... then set the agenda]
CLOTEN. No, I know that; but it is fit I should commit offence to my inferiors.

[Action: praise]
SECOND LORD. Ay, it is fit for your lordship only.
CLOTEN. Why, so I say.

[Action: change the subject. (Is Lord 1 aware of Lord 2's sentiments? Is he trying to avert danger?)]
FIRST LORD. Did you hear of a stranger that's come to court to-night?
CLOTEN. A stranger, and I not known on't?

[Action: mock]
SECOND LORD. [Aside] He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it not.
FIRST LORD. There's an Italian come, and, 'tis thought, one of Leonatus' friends.
CLOTEN. Leonatus? A banish'd rascal; and he's another, whatsoever he be. Who told you of this stranger?
FIRST LORD. One of your lordship's pages.
CLOTEN. Is it fit I went to look upon him? Is there no [] derogation [detraction from my honor] in't?
SECOND LORD. You cannot derogate, my lord.
CLOTEN. Not easily, I think.
SECOND LORD. [Aside] You are a fool granted; therefore your [] issues [actions], being foolish, do not derogate.
CLOTEN. Come, I'll go see this Italian. What I have lost to-day at bowls I'll win to-night of him. Come, go.
SECOND LORD. I'll attend your lordship.
Exeunt CLOTEN and FIRST LORD

[Action: speak freely, blurt it out]

That such a crafty devil as is his mother
Should yield the world this ass! A woman that
Bears all down with her brain; and this her son
Cannot take two from twenty, for his heart,
And leave eighteen.

[Action: paint a picture]
Alas, poor princess,
Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'st,
Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern'd,
A mother hourly coining plots, a wooer
More hateful than the foul [] expulsion [banishment] is
Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act
Of the divorce he'd make!

[Action: bolster, cheerlead, buttress, pray, demand]

The heavens hold firm
The walls of thy dear honour, keep unshak'd
That temple, thy fair mind, that thou mayst stand
T' enjoy thy banish'd lord and this great land! Exit