Imo. But that you shall not say I yield, being

silent,

I would not speak. I pray you, spare me : i'faith, I shall unfold equal discourtesy

To your best kindness; one of your great knowing Should learn, being taught, forbearance.

Clo. To leave you in your madness, 'twere my sin: I will not.

Imo. Fools are not mad folks.

Clo.

Do you call me fool?

Imo. As I am mad, I do: If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad; That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir, You put me to forget a lady's manners, By being so verbal*: and learn now, for all, That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce, By the very truth of it, I care not for you; And am so near the lack of charity

(To accuse myself,) I hate you: which I had rather You felt, than make't my boast.

Clo. You sin against Obedience, which you owe your father. For The contract you pretend with that base wretch, (One, bred of alms, and foster'd with cold dishes, With scraps o'the court,) it is no contract, none : And though it be allow'd in meaner parties, (Yet who, than he, more mean?) to knit their souls (On whom there is no more dependency But brats and beggary) in self-figur'd knot † ; Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by The consequence o'the crown; and must not soil The precious note of it with a base slave, A hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth, A pantler, not so eminent.

Profane fellow!

Imo.
Wert thou the son of Jupiter, and no more,
But what thou art, besides, thou wert too base

So verbose, so full of talk.

In knots of their own tying.

A low fellow, only fit to wear a livery.

To be his groom: thou wert dignified enough,
Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made
Comparative for your virtues, to be styl'd
The under-hangman of his kingdom; and hated
For being preferr'd so well.

Clo.

The south-fog rot him! Imo. He never can meet more mischance, than

come

To be but nam'd of thee. His meanest garment,
That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer,
In my respect, than all the hairs above thee,
Were they all made such men.-How now, Pisanio?
Enter Pisanio.

Clo. His garment? Now, the devil

Imo. To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently:Clo. His garment?

Imo.

I am sprighted* with a fool; Frighted, and anger'd worse:-Go, bid my woman Search for a jewel, that too casually

Hath left mine arm; it was thy master's: 'shrew me,

If I would lose it for a revenue

Of any king's in Europe. I do think,

I saw't this morning: confident I am,
Last night 'twas on mine arm; I kiss'd it :
I hope, it be not gone, to tell my lord
That I kiss aught but he.

If you will make't an action, call witness to't.

Clo. I will inform your father.

Imo.
She's my good lady; and will conceive, I hope,
But the worst of me. So I leave you, sir,

To the worst of discontent.

* Haunted.

Your mother too :

[Exit.

Enter Posthumus and Philario.

Post. Fear it not, sir: I would, I were so sure To win the king, as I am bold, her honour Will remain hers.

Phi.

What means do you make to him?
Post. Not any; but abide the change of time;
Quake in the present winter's state, and wish
That warmer days would come: In these fear'd
hopes,

I barely gratify your love; they failing,
I must die much your debtor.

Phi. Your very goodness, and your company,
O'erpays all I can do. By this, your king
Hath heard of great Augustus: Caius Lucius
Will do his commission throughly: And, I think,
He'll grant the tribute, send the arrearages,
Or look upon our Romans, whose remembrance
Is yet fresh in their grief.
I do believe

Post.

(Statist* though I am none, nor like to be,)
That this will prove a war; and you shall hear
The legions, now in Gallia, sooner landed
In our not-fearing Britain, than have tidings
Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen
Are men more order'd, than when Julius Cæsar
Smil'd at their lack of skill, but found their courage
Worthy his frowning at: Their discipline

(Now mingled with their courages) will make known
To their approvers†, they are people, such
That mend upon the world.

* Statesman.

VOL. IX.

E

To those who try them.

Phi.

Enter Iachimo.

See! Iachimo?

Post. The swiftest harts have posted you by land : And winds of all the corners kiss'd your sails, To make your vessel nimble.

Phi.

Welcome, sir. Post. I hope, the briefness of your answer made The speediness of your return.

Jach.

Your lady

Is one the fairest that I have look'd upon.

Post. And, therewithal, the best; or let her

beauty

Look through a casement to allure false hearts,
And be false with them.

Iach.

Post. Their tenour good, I trust.

Iach.

Phi. Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court,

When you were there?

Iach.

But not approach'd.

Post.

Here are letters for you.

'Tis very like.

He was expected then,

All is well yet.—

Sparkles this stone as it was wont? or is't not
Tco dull for your good wearing?

Iach.

If I have lost it,

I should have lost the worth of it in gold.
I'll make a journey twice as far, to enjoy
A second night of such sweet shortness, which
Was mine in Britain; for the ring is won.
Post. The stone's too hard to come by.
Iach.

Your lady being so easy.

Post.

Not a whit,

Make not, sir,

Your loss your sport: I hope, you know that we Must not continue friends.

Good sir, we must,

Iach.
If you keep covenant: Had I not brought
The knowledge of your mistress home, I grant
We were to question further: but I now

Profess myself the winner of her honour,
Together with your ring; and not the wronger
Of her, or you, having proceeded but

By both your wills.

Post.
If you can make't apparent
That you have tasted her in bed, my hand,

And ring, is yours: if not, the foul opinion
You had of her pure honour, gains, or loses,
Your sword, or mine: or masterless leaves both
To who shall find them.

Iach. Sir, my circumstances, Being so near the truth, as I will make them, Must first induce you to believe: whose strength I will confirm with oath; which, I doubt not, You'll give me leave to spare, when you shall find, You need it not.

Post.

Iach.

Proceed.

First, her bed-chamber
(Where, I confess, I slept not; but, profess,
Had that was well worth watching,) It was hang'd
With tapestry of silk and silver; the story,
Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman,
And Cydnus swell'd above the banks, or for
The press of boats, or pride: A piece of work
So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive

In workmanship, and value; which, I wonder'd,
Could be so rarely and exactly wrought,
Since the true life on't was

Post.

This is true;

And this you might have heard of here, by me,

Or by some other.

Iach.

Must justify my knowledge.

Post.

More particulars

So they must,

The chimney

Or do your honour injury.
Iach.
Is south the chamber; and the chimney-piece,
Chaste Dian, bathing: never saw I figures
So likely to report themselves: the cutter
Was as another Nature, dumb; outwent her,