CLOTEN. There is gold for you; sell me your good report. HELEN. HOW! my good name? or to report of you What I shall think is good?-The princess
Enter IMOGEN, L., HELEN goes off, L.
CLOTEN. Good-morrow, fairest sister, your sweet hand.
IMOGEN. Good-morrow, sir. You lay out too much pains
For purchasing but trouble; the thanks I give
Is telling you that I am poor of thanks,
And scarce can spare them.
Still, I swear I love you. IMOGEN. If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me. If you swear still, your recompense is still
IMOGEN. But that you shall not say I yield, being silent,
I would not speak. I pray you spare me; faith
I shall unfold equal discourtesy
To your best kindness; one of your great knowing
Should learn, being taught, forbearance.
CLOTEN. To leave you in your madness, 'twere my sin.
I will not.
Fools cure not mad folks.
CLOTEN. Do you call me fool?
IMOGEN.
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.
CLOTEN. 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 soi!
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!
Wert thou the son of Jupiter, and no more
But what thou art besides, thou wert too base
To be his groom; thou wert dignified enough,
Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made
Comparative for your virtues, to be styled
The under-hangman of his kingdom; and hated
For being preferred so well.
The south-fog rot him! IMOGEN. 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!
CLOTEN. His garment? Now, the devil
IMOGEN. TO Helena, my woman, hie thee presently.
CLOTEN. His garment?
I am sprited 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 my arm; I kiss'd it;
I hope it be not gone, to tell my lord
That I kiss ought but he.
PISANIO.
IMOGEN. I hope so; go and search.
CLOTEN.
Exit PISANIO, L. You have abus'd me:
If you will make't an action, call witness to't.
CLOTEN. I will inform your father.
IMOGEN.
She's my good lady; and will conceive, I hope,
To the worst of discontent.
"His meanest garment ?"-Well.
SCENE SIXTH.-Rome. An Apartment in Philario's House, as before (without the banquet).
Enter POSTIUMUS and PHILARIO, L.
POST. Fear it not, sir; I would I were so sure
To win the king, as I am bold her honour
Will remain, hers.
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 sear'd hopes,
I barely gratify your love; they failing,
I must die much your debtor.
PIILAR. 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 thoroughly: 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,
(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.
POST. The swiftest harts have posted you by land;
And winds of all the corners kiss'd your sails,
To make your vessel nimble.
Welcome, sir. POST. I hope the briefness of your answer made The speediness of your return.
Is one of the fairest that I have look'd upon. POST. And therewithal the best; or let her beauty Look through a casement to allure false kçarts, And be false with them.
IACH.
POST. Their tenour good, I trust.
IACH.
PHILAR. (L.) Was Caius Lucius in the Britain Court
Sparkles this stone as it was wont? or is't not
Too dull for your good wearing?
If I had 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.
Your loss your sport; I hope you know that we
Must not continue friends.
Good sir, we must,
If you keep covenant. Had I not brought
The knowledge of your mistress home, I grant
We were to question farther; 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
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.
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 fnd
You need it not.
First, her bed-chamber,---
(Where I confess, I slept not; but profess,
Had that was well worth watching) it was hanged
With tapestry of silk and silver; the story,
Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman,
And Cydnus swelled 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 wondered,
Could be so rarely and exactly wrought,
Since the true life on't was-
And this you might have heard of here, by mc,
Or by some other.
Is south the chamber; and the chimney piccc,
Chaste Dian, bathing; never saw I figures
So likely to report themselves; the cutter
Was as another Nature, dumb; outwent her,
Motion and breath left out.
This is a thing
Which you might from relation likewise reap;
Being, as it is, much spoke of. This is her honour!-
Let it be granted you have seen all this, (and praise
Be given to your remembrance,) the description
Of what is in her chamber nothing saves
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