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I would not speak. I pray you, spare me: i'faith,
Clo, To leave you in your madness, 't were my sin: I will not,
Imo. Fools are not mad folks. clo.
Do you call me foot ? Imo. As I am mad, I do: If you'll be patient, l'll go 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), 1 hate you: which I had rather You felt, than make't my boast. clo.
You sin against Obedieuce, 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 meaper 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 knott; 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 I for a livery, a squire's cloth, A pantler, not so eminent. Imo.
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,
# So verbose, so full of talk.
Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made
The south-fog rot him!
come To be but oam'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 devilImo. 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. Pis.
'Twill not be lost. Imo. I hope so: go, and search. (Exit Pis. Clo.
You have abus'd me:-
Ay; I said so, sir.
Your mother too:
I'll be reveng'd:His meanest garment?-Well.
Rome. An apartment in Philario's house.
Enter Posthumus and Philario. Post. Pear it not, sir: I would, I were so sure To win the king, as I am bold, her honour Will remain bers. 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. 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 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,
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. Iach.
Here are letters for you.
'Tis very like. Phi. Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court, When you were there? Iach.
He was expected then,
All is well yet.-
If I have lost it,
Post. The stone's too hard to come by.
Not a whit,
Make not, sir,
• To those who try them.
Your loss your sport : I hope, you know that we Must not continue friends, lach.
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'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.
First, her bed chamber (Where, I confess, I slept oot; 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
This is true;