Ev'n to the point of envy, if 'twere made
Comparative for your virtues to be flil'd
The under-hangman of his realm; and hated
For being preferr'd fo well.

Clot. The fouth-fog rot him!

Imo. He never can meet more mifchance, than come
To be but nam'd of thee. His meanest garment
That ever hath but clipt his body, 's dearer
In my respect, than all the hairs above thee,
Were they all made fuch men,

Clot. How now?

Imo. Pifanio!

Enter Pifanio.

Clot. His garment? now, the devil

Imo. To Dorothy, my woman, hye thee prefently.

Clot. His garment?

Imo. I am fprighted with a fool,

Frighted, and angred worfe

-go bid

my woman

Search for a jewel, that too cafually

Hath left mine arm- -it was thy master's. 'Shrew me

If I would lofe it for a revenue

Of any King in Europe. I do think

I saw't this morning; confident I am,
Laft night 'twas on my arm; I kiffed it.
I hope it be not gone to tell my Lord
That I kifs ought but him.
Pif. "Twill not be loft.

Imo. I hope fo; go and fearch.
Clot. You have abus'd me

His meaneft garment?

Imo. Ay, I faid fo, Sir;

[Exit Pifanio

Call witnefs to't, if you will make't an action,

Clot. 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 th' worft of discontent.

Clot. I'll be reveng'd;

His meaneft garment ?—well,

23

[Exit.

[Exit.

SCENE

SCENE V. ROME.
Enter Pofthumus, and Philario.

Poft. Fear it not, Sir; I would I were fo fure
To win the King, as I am bold her honour
Will remain hers.

Phil. What means do you make to him?

Poft. Not any, but abide the change of time,
Quake in the prefent winter's ftate, and wifh
That warmer days would come; in these fear'd hopes
I barely gratifie your love; they failing,

I muft die much your debtor.

Phil. Your very goodness, and your company,
O'erpays all I can do. By this, your King
Hath heard of great Auguftus; Caius Lucius
Will do's commiffion throughly. And I think
He'll grant the tribute, fend th' arrearages,
Ere look upon our Romans, whofe remembrance
Is yet fresh in their grief.

Poft. I do believe,

(Statift though I am none, nor like to be,)
That this will prove a war; and you fhall hear
The legions now in Gallia, fooner landed
In our not-fearing Britain, than have tidings
Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen
Are men more order'd than when Julius Cæfar
Smil'd at their lack of fkill, but found their courage
Worthy his frowning at. Their difcipline

Now mingled with their courages, will make known
To their approvers, they are people fuch

As mend upon the world.

SCENE VI. Enter Iachimo.'

Phil. See Iachimo.

Poft. Sure the swift harts have pofted you by land; And winds of all the corners kiss'd your fails,

To make your veffel nimble.

Phil. Welcome Sir!

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

Tach. Your Lady

Is of the fairest I e'er look'd upon

Poft. And therewithal the beft, or let her beauty
Look through a casement to allure false hearts,
And be falfe with them.

lach. Here are letters for

you.

Poft. Their tenour good, I truft.
Iach. 'Tis very like.

Peft. Was Caius Lucius in the Britain Court,
When you were there?

Iach. He was expected then,

But was not yet approach'd.

Poft. All is well yet.

Sparkles this ftone as it was wont, or is't not
Too dull for your good wearing?

Iach. If I've loft it,

I fhould have loft the worth of it in gold;
I'll make a journey twice as far, t'enjoy
A fecond night of fuch sweet shortnefs, which
Was mine in Britain; for the ring is won.
Poft. The ftone's too hard to come by.
Iach. Not a whit,

Your Lady being fo eafie.

Poft. Make not, Sir,

Your lofs your fport; I hope you know that we
Muft not continue friends.

Iach. Good Sir, we muft,

If you keep covenant; had I not brought
The knowledge of your mistress home, I grant
We were to queftion farther; but I now
Profefs my felf the winner of her honour,
Together with your ring; and not the wronger
Of her, or you, having proceeded but
By both your wills.

Poft. If you can make't apparent
That you have tafted her in bed; my hand,
And ring is yours. If not, the foul opinion
You had of her pure honour, gains or lofes
Your fword or mine, or mafter less leaves both
To who fhall find them.

lach. Sir, my circumstances

Being fo near the truth, as I will make them,

M

Muft first induce you to believe; whose strength
I will confirm with oath, which I doubt not
You'll give me leave to fpare, when you shall find
You need it not.

Poft. Proceed.

Jach. First, her bed-chamber,

(Where I confefs I flept not, but profefs
Had that was well worth watching) it was hang'd
With tapestry of filver'd filk; the story
Proud Cleopatra, when the met her Roman,
And Cydnus fwell'd above the banks or for
The prefs of boats, or pride: a piece of work
So bravely done, fo rich, that it did ftrive
In workmanship, and value; which I wonder'd
Could be fo rarely and exactly wrought,
Since the true life on't was.

Poft. Why, this is true;

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

Iach. More particulars

Muft juftifie my knowledge.
Poft. So they muft,

Or do your honour injury.
Iach. The chimney

Is fouth the chamber, and the chimney-piece
Chaft Dian, bathing; never faw I figures
So lively to report themselves; the cutter
Was.as another nature, dumb out-went her,
Motion and breath left out.

Poft. This is a thing

Which you might from relation likewife reap;
Being, as it is, much spoke of.

Iach. The roof o'th' chamber

With golden cherubims is fretted. Th' andirons,
(I had forgot them) were two winking Cupids
Of filver, each on one foot standing, nicely
Depending on their brands.

Poft. What's this t'her honour?

Let it be granted you have seen all this,
Praise be to your remembrance, the defcription

Of

Of what is in her chamber nothing faves

The wager you have laid.

Iach. Then if you can

[Pulling out the Bracelet.

Be pale, I beg but leave to air this jewel: fee!

And now 'tis up again; it must be married
To that your diamond. I'll keep them.
Poft. Jove!

Once more let me behold it? Is it that
Which I left with her ?

Iach. Sir, I thank her, that:

She ftripp'd it from her arm, I fee her yet,
Her pretty action did out-fell her gift,
And yet enrich'd it too; fhe gave it me,
And faid the priz'd it once.

Poft. She pluck'd it off

To fend it me.

Kills me to look on't let there be no honour,

:

Where there is beauty'; truth, where femblance; love,
Where there's another man.

The vows of women

Of no more bondage be to where they're made,

Than they are to their virtues, which is nothing;
O, above meafure falfe!-

Phil. Have patience, Sir,

P

And take your ring again: 'tis not yet won;

It may be probable fhe loft it; or

Who knows one of her women, being corrupted,
Might not have flol'n it from her?

Poft. Very true,

And fo I hope he came by't; back my ring,
Render to me fome corporal fign about her
More evident than this; for this was stole.
Iach. By Jupiter, I had it from her arm.
Poft. Hark you, he fwears; by Jupiter he fwears.
Tis true-nay, keep the ring

'tis true; I'm fure

She could not lofe it; her attendants are

All honourable! they induc'd to fteal it!

And by a stranger!-no, he hath enjoy'd her.

The