Imog. Good-morrow, sir: You lay out too much

pains

For purchasing but trouble.

Cloten. Still, I swear, I love you.

Imog. If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me: If you swear still, your recompense is still That I regard it not.

Cloten. This is no answer.

Imog. 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.

Imog. Fools cure not mad folks.

Cloten. Do you call me fool?
Imog. 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;

But I, which know my heart, do here pronounce,
By the very truth of it, I care not for you.

Cloten. 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.
Imog. Profane fellow!

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

To be his groom.

Cloten. The south fog rot him!

Imog. 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.

Cloten. How now?

Imog. Pisanio!

[Misses her Bracelet.

Cloten. His garment? Now, the devil

Enter PISANIO.

Imog. To Helena, my woman, hie thee presentlyCloten. His garment?

Imog. 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 mine arm; I kiss'd it then.

Pisanio. "Twill not be lost.

Imog. I hope so: go, and search.

Cloten. You have abus'd me:-

[Exit.

Imog. Your mother too:

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.

Cloten. I'll be reveng'd:

His meanest garment ?- -Well..

[Exit.

[Exit.

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.

Rome.

An Apartment in PHILARIO's House.

Enter POSTHUMUS and PHILARIO.

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

Phil. 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.

Phil. Your very goodness, and your company,
O'erpay's 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; or your countrymen
Will look upon our Romans, whose remembrance
Is yet fresh in their grief.

Post. 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

E

In our not fearing Britain, than have tidings
Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen
Are men more ordered, 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: and more than that, They have a king, whose love and justice to them May ask, and have, their treasures, and their blood. Phil. See! Iachimo!

Enter 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.

Phil. Welcome, sir !

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

Iach. 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. Here are letters for you.

Post. Their tenour good, I trust.

Iach. "Tis very like.

[POSTHUMUS reads the Letters.

Post. Was Caius Lucius in the Britain Court,

When you were there?

Iach. He was, my lord :-but I

Left, ere I saw him.

Phil. All is well yet.-`

Sparkles this stone as it was wont? or is't not
Too 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

1

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. Not a whit,

Your lady being so easy.
Post. Make not, sir,

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

Iach, Good sir, we must,

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 it 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. Proceed.

Iach. 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;

A piece of work

So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive
In workmanship and value.