_Host._ How? _out of tune on the strings_?
_Jul._ Not so; but yet _so false_, that he grieves my very
_heart-strings_.
_Host._ You have a _quick ear_.
_Jul._ Ay; I would I were deaf! it makes me have a _slow
heart_.
_Host._ I perceive, _you delight not in music_.
_Jul._ Not a whit, when it _jars_ so.
_Host._ Hark! what fine _change_ is in the music.
_Jul._ Ay, that _change_ (Proteus' unfaithfulness) is the
spite.
_Host_ (misunderstanding again). You would have them
_always_ play but _one thing_?
_Jul._ I would always have _one_ (Proteus) play but one
thing.
L. 85.
_Silvia_ (from window). 'I thank you for your music,
gentlemen.'
The next passage is of a serenade in the early morning. Cloten
arranges for the musicians (who seem in this case to be professional
players) to give two pieces, one instrumental, followed by a song.
_Cymbeline_ II, iii, 11. Cloten serenades Imogen.
_Cloten._ I would this _music would come_. I am advised to
give her _music o' 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: ... _First_, a
very excellent good-conceited thing; _after_, a wonderful
sweet air, with admirable rich words to it,--_and then_ let
her consider.
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