Phil. Have patience, fir,
And take your ring again ; 'tis not yet won :
It may be probable, fhe lost it; or,
Who knows if one of her women, being corrupted,
Hath stolen it from her.

Poft. Very true ;
And so, I hope, he came byt :-Back my ring ;-
Render to me some corporal sign about her,
More evident tnan this; for this was stolen.

lach. By Jupiter, I had it from her arm.

Poft. Hark you, he swears; by Jupiter he swears.
'Tis true ;-nay, keep the ring—'ris true: I am sure,
She could not lose it : her attendants are
All sworn, and honourable :-They induc'd to steal it!
And, by a stranger ?-No; he hath enjoy'd her :
• The cognizance of her incontinency
Is this,—she hath bought the name of whore thus dearly.--
There, take thy hire; and all the fiends of hell
Divide themselves between you !

Pbil. Sir, be patient :
This is not strong enough to be believ'd
Of one persuaded well of -

Post. Never talk on't:
She hath been colted by him.

lach. If you seek
For further satisfying, under her breast,
(Worthy her pressing) lies a mole, right proud
Of that most delicate lodging: By my life,
I kiss'd it; and it gave me present hunger
To feed again, though full. You do remember
This stain upon her ?

Poft. Ay, and it doth confirm

Tbe cognizance)-The token.

Another

Another stain, as big as hell can hold,
Were there no more but it.

lach. Will you hear more?

Poft. Spare your arithmetick: never count the turns; Once, and a million !

lach. I'll be sworn,

Pojt. No swearing If

you will swear you have not done't, you lye; And I will kill thee, if thou dost deny Thou hast made me cuckold.

lach. I will deny nothing.

Poft. O, that I had her here, to tear her limb-meal!
I will go there, and do't; i' the court; before
Her father :---I'll do something

[Exit. Pbil. Quite besides The government of patience !-- You have won : Let’s follow him, and ' pervert the present wrath He hath against himself. lacb. With all

my
heart.

[Exeunt.

S CE N E V.

Another Room in Philario's House.

Did call

my

Enter Pofthumus.
Pojt. Is there no way for men to be, but women
Must be half-workers? We are all bastards;
And that most venerable man, which I

father, was I know not where
When I was stamp'd; some coiner with his cools
Made me a counterfeit: Yet my mother seem'd
The Dian of that time : so doth my wife
The non-pareil of this.-Oh vengeance, vengeance !
perver:)--divert the dire effects of prevent.

Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd,
And pray'd me, oft, forbearance: did it with
A pudency so rosy, the sweet view on't
Might well have warm’d old Saturn; that I thought her
As chaste as unsunn'a fnow :-0, all the devils ! -
This "yellow Iachimo, in an hour, was't not?-
Or less,-at first: Perchance he spoke not; but,
Like a full-acorn'd boar, a German one,
Cry'd, oh! and mounted : found no opposition,
But what he look'd for should oppose, and she
Should from encounter guard, Could I find out
The woman's part in me! For there's no motion
That tends to vice in man, but I affirm
It is the woman's part : Be’t lying, note it,
The woman's ; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;
Luft and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers;
Ambitionts, coverings, 'change of prides, disdain,
Nice longings, Nanders, mutability,
All faults that may be nam'd, nay, that hell knows,
Why, hers, in part, or all; but, rather, all:
For even to vice
They are not constant, but are changing still
One vice, but of a minute old, for one
Nor half so old as that. * I'll write against them,
Detest them, curse them :-Yet 'tis greater skill
In a true hate, to pray they have their will:
The very devils cannot plague them better. [Exis.

k yellow-fallow.

change of prides,]-changes of pride. * I'll write]—I'll enter my protett.

ACT

A CT III.

SCENE I.

Cymbeline's Palace.

Enter, in state, Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, and Lords, at

one door ; and at another, Caius Lucius, and Attendants.

Cym. Now say, what would Augustus Cæsar with us?

Luc. When Julius Cæsar (whose remembrance yet Lives in men's eyes; and will to ears, and tongues, Be theme, and hearing ever) was in this Britain, And conquer'd ir, Caffibelan, thine uncle, (Famous in Cæsar's praises, no whit less Than in his feats deserying it) for him, And his succession, granted Rome a tribute, Yearly three thousand pounds ; which by thee lately Is left untender'd.

Queen. And, to kill the marvel,
Shall be so ever.

Clot. There be many Cæsars,
Ere such another Julius. Britain is
A world by itself; and we will nothing pay
For wearing out our own noses.

Queen. That opportunity,
Which then they had to take from us, to resume
We have again.-Remember, sir, my liege,
The kings your ancestors; together with
The natural bravery of your ise ; which stands
As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in
With rocks unscaleable, and roaring waters;

Tbere be] –There will, or may be.
oats-wooden forts and and castles.

With

N 3

With fands, that will not bear your enemies' boats,
But suck them up to the top-mait. A kind of conquest
Cæsar made here; but made not here his brag
Of, came, and faw, and overcame : with shaine
(The first that ever touch'd him) he was carried
From off our coast, twice beaten ; and his shipping,
(Poor Pignorant baubles !) on our terrible seas,
Like egg-shells mov’d upon their surges, crack'd
As easily ’gainst our rocks : For joy whereof,
The fam'd Caffibelan, who was once at point
(O, giglet fortune !) to master Cælar's sword,
Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright,
And Britons strut with courage.

Clot. Come, there's no more tribute to be paid : Our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time; and, as I said, there is no more such Cæsars : other of them may have crook'd noses; but, to own such strait arms, none.

Cym. Son, let your mother end.

Clot. We have yet many among us can gripe as hard as Caffibelan: I do not say, I am one; but I have a hand. -Why tribute? why should we pay tribute ? If Cæsar can hide the sun from us with a blanket, or put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for light; else, lis, no more tribute, pray you now.

Cym. You must know, 'Till the injurious Roman did extort This tribute from us, we were free: Cæsar's ambition, (Which swell’d so much, that it did almost stretch The sides o' the world) ' against all colour, here Did

put the yoke upon us; which to shake off, Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon

9

P (Poor ignorant boubles!))-useless, ill adapted to the service.

may bave crook'd noses ;)—may resemble Julius in the nose, but pone of them will ever match him in bravery. Against all colour,]-of justice, without the least few of right.

Ourselves