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I hope it be not gone to tell my lord |
That I kiss aught but he. |
PISANIO. 'Twill not be lost. |
IMOGEN. I hope so. Go and search. Exit PISANIO |
CLOTEN. You have abus'd me. |
'His meanest garment'! |
IMOGEN. Ay, I said so, sir. |
If you will make 't an action, call witness to 't. |
CLOTEN. I will inform your father. |
IMOGEN. Your mother too. |
She's my good lady and will conceive, I hope, |
But the worst of me. So I leave you, sir, |
To th' worst of discontent. Exit |
CLOTEN. I'll be reveng'd. |
'His mean'st garment'! Well. Exit |
SCENE IV. |
Rome. PHILARIO'S house |
Enter POSTHUMUS and PHILARIO |
POSTHUMUS. Fear it not, sir; I would I were so sure |
To win the King as I am bold her honour |
Will remain hers. |
PHILARIO. What means do you make to him? |
POSTHUMUS. 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. |
PHILARIO. 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's commission throughly; and I think |
He'll grant the tribute, send th' arrearages, |
Or look upon our Romans, whose remembrance |
Is yet fresh in their grief. |
POSTHUMUS. 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 Caesar |
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. |
Enter IACHIMO |
PHILARIO. See! Iachimo! |
POSTHUMUS. The swiftest harts have posted you by land, |
And winds of all the comers kiss'd your sails, |
To make your vessel nimble. |
PHILARIO. Welcome, sir. |
POSTHUMUS. I hope the briefness of your answer made |
The speediness of your return. |
IACHIMO. Your lady |
Is one of the fairest that I have look'd upon. |
POSTHUMUS. And therewithal the best; or let her beauty |
Look through a casement to allure false hearts, |
And be false with them. |
IACHIMO. Here are letters for you. |
POSTHUMUS. Their tenour good, I trust. |
IACHIMO. 'Tis very like. |
PHILARIO. Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court |
When you were there? |
IACHIMO. He was expected then, |
But not approach'd. |
POSTHUMUS. All is well yet. |
Sparkles this stone as it was wont, or is't not |
Too dull for your good wearing? |
IACHIMO. If I have lost it, |
I should have lost the worth of it in gold. |
I'll make a journey twice as far t' enjoy |
A second night of such sweet shortness which |
Was mine in Britain; for the ring is won. |
POSTHUMUS. The stone's too hard to come by. |
IACHIMO. Not a whit, |
Your lady being so easy. |
POSTHUMUS. Make not, sir, |
Your loss your sport. I hope you know that we |
Must not continue friends. |
IACHIMO. 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 |
By both your wills. |
POSTHUMUS. 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. |
IACHIMO. 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. |
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