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Imog. Good-morrow, sir: You lay out too much
pains For purchasing but trouble.
Cioten. Still, I swear, I love you.
Imog. If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me:
Cloten. This is no answer.
Cloten. To leave you in your madness,'twere my sin: I will not.
Imog. Fools cure not mad folks.
call me fool?
you. Cloten. The contract you pretend with that base
Imog. Profane fellow?
Cloten. The south fog rot him !
To be but nam’d of thee. His meanest garment,
In my respect, than all the hairs above thee,
Cloten. How now?
[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;
Pisanio. "Twill not be lost.
[Erit. Cloten. I'll be reveng’d:His meanest garment ?
ACT THE THIRD.
An Apartment in PHILARIO's House.
Enter Posthumus and PHILARIO.
Post. Fear it not, sii: I would, I were so sure
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 coine : 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, V'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; or your countrymen Will look upon our Romans, whose remembrance Is yet fresh in their grief.
Post. I do believe
shall hear The legions now in Gallia, sooner landed.
In our not fearing Britain, than have tidings
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
Post. And, therewithal, the best; or let her beauty
Iach. Here are letters for you.
[Posthumus reads the Letters. Post. Was Caius Lucius in the Britain Court, When you were there?
Iach. He was, my lord :--but I
Phil. All is well yet. -
Iach. If I have lost it,
A second night of such sweet shortness, which
Post. The stone's too hard to come by.
Iach. Not a wbit, Your lady being so easy.
Post. Make not, sir,
Iach, Good sir, we must,
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.
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.