When you have given good morning to your mis

tress,

Attend the queen and us: we shall have need To employ you towards this Roman.—Come, our queen.

[Exeunt CYMBELINE, QUEEN, Lords, and Messenger.

Clo. If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not, Let her lie still and dream.-By your leave, ho!

[Knocks.

I know her women are about her: what
If I do line one of their hands? 'Tis gold
Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and
makes

Diana's rangers, false themselves, yield up
Their deer to the stand of the stealer: and 't is gold
Which makes the true man killed, and saves the
thief;

Nay, sometime hangs both thief and true man: what

Can it not do, and undo? I will make
One of her women lawyer to me; for
I yet not understand the case myself.
By your leave.

[Knocks.

Imo. As I am mad, I do :

If
you 'll be patient, I'll no 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), I hate you: which I had rather
You felt, than make 't my boast.
You sin against

Clo.
Obedience, which you owe your father. For
The contract you pretend with that base wretch
(One bred of alms, and fostered with cold dishes,
With scraps o' the court), it is no contract, none:
And though it be allowed 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 curbed 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.

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

Imo. I am sprighted with a fool;
Frighted, and angered worse:-Go, bid my woman
Search for a jewel, that too casually
Hath left mine arm; it was thy master's: 'shrew

me,

Iach.

He was expected then,

All is well yet.—

But not approached.

Post.

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. Not a whit,

Your lady being so easy.

Post.

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. Is there no way for men to be, but women Must be half-workers? We are all bastards; And that most venerable man which I Did call my father, was I know not where When I was stamped; some coiner with his tools Made me a counterfeit: yet my mother seemed The Dian of that time: so doth my wife The nonpareil of this.-O vengeance, vengeance! Me of my lawful pleasure she restrained, And prayed me oft forbearance: did it with A pudency so rosy, the sweet view on 't Might well have warmed old Saturn; that I thought her

As chaste as unsunned snow.-O, all the devils!
This yellow Iachimo, in an hour,-was 't not?
Or less, at first. Perchance he spoke not; but,
Like a full-acorned boar, a German one,
Cried, "O!" and mounted: found no opposition
But what he looked for should oppose, and she
Should from encounter guard. Could I find out
The woman's part in me! For there's no motion
That tends to vice in man, but I affirm
It is the woman's part:-be it lying, note it,
The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;
Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges,

hers;

Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,
Nice longings, slanders, mutability,

All faults that may be named, nay, that hell knows,
Why, hers in part, or all; but rather, all:
For even to vice

They are not constant, but are changing still
One vice but of a minute old, for one

Not half so old as that. I'll write against them,
Detest them, curse them :-yet 't is greater skill
In a true hate, to pray they have their will:
The very devils cannot plague them better. [Exit.

From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping
(Poor ignorant baubles!) on our terrible seas,
Like egg-shells moved upon their surges, cracked
As easily 'gainst our rocks: for joy whereof,
The famed Cassibelan, who was once at point
(O, giglot fortune!) to master Cæsar's sword,
Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright,
And Britons strut with courage.

Clo. Come, there's no more tribute to be paid. Our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time; and, as I said, there is no more such Cæsars: other of them may have crooked noses; but, to owe such straight arms, none.

Cym. Son, let your mother end.

Clo. We have yet many among us can gripe as hard as Cassibelan: I do not say, I am one; but I have a hand.-Why tribute? why should we pay tribute? If Cæsar can hide the sun from us with a blanket, or put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for light; else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now.

Cym. You must know,

Till the injurious Romans did extort

This tribute from us, we were free: Cæsar's am

bition

(Which swelled so much that it did almost stretch
The sides o' the world), against all colour, here
Did put the yoke upon us; which to shake off
Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon
Ourselves to be. We do say, then, to Cæsar,
Our ancestor was that Mulmutius, which
Ordained our laws (whose use the sword of Cæsar
Hath too much mangled; whose repair and franchise
Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed,
Though Rome be therefore angry): Mulmutius
made our laws,

Who was the first of Britain which did put
His brows within a golden crown, and called
Himself a king.