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-figured knot,
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 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,
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 preferr'd so well.

Clo.

The south-fog rot him! Imo. He never can meet more mischance than

come

To be but named 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.—

Enter PISANIO.

How now? Pisanio!

Clo. His garment? Now, the devil-
Imo. To Dorothy my woman hie thee pre-

sently :

Clo. His garment !

Imo.

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 :
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 PISANIO.

Clo.

His meanest garment!

Imo.

You have abused me :

Ay; I said so, sir.

If you will make't an action, call witness to't.
Clo. I will inform your father.

Imo.
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.

Clo.

[Exit.

:

I'll be revenged :

[Exit.

His meanest garment!-Well.

SCENE IV.-Rome.

An Apartment in

Philario's House.

Enter POSTHUMUS and PHILARIO.

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

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 sear'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.
I do believe,

Post.
(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
Smiled 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.

Phi.

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.

Phi.

Welcome, sir.

Post. I hope the briefness of your answer

made

The speediness of your return.

Iach. Your lady 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 hearts, And be false with them.

Iach.

Here are letters for you.

'Tis very like.

Post. Their tenour good, I trust.

Iach.

Phi. Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court,

When you were there?

Iach.

But not approach'd.

Post.

He was expected then,

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
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.

Your lady being so easy.

Post.

Not a whit,

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'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.

Iach.

Proceed.

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,
And Cydnus swell'd 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 wonder'd,
Could be so rarely and exactly wrought,
Since the true life on't was-

Post.

This is true;

And this you might have heard of here, by me, Or by some other.

More particulars

So they must,

The chimney

Or do your honour injury.
Iach.