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:2 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.

Clo. You sin against Obedience, which you owe your father. For The contract3 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-figur'd 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.

Profane fellow!

Imo.
Wert thou the son of Jupiter, and no more,
But what thou art, besides, thou wert too base

2 so verbal:] is, so verbose, so full of talk.

3 The contract, &c.] Here Shakspeare has not preserved, with his common nicety, the uniformity of character. The speech of Cloten is rough and harsh, but certainly not the talk of one"Who can't take two from twenty, for his heart,

"And leave eighteen-."

His argument is just and well enforced, and its prevalence is allowed throughout all civil nations: as for rudeness, he seems not to be much undermatched. JOHNSON.

in self-figur'd knot;] A self-figured knot is a knot formed. by yourself.

5A hilding for a livery,] A low fellow, only fit to wear a livery, and serve as a lacquey.

To be his groom: thou wert dignified enough,
Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made
Comparative for your virtues, to be styl'd

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 nam'd 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.-How now, Pisanio?

Enter PISANIO.

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 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.

Imo. I hope so: go,

Clo.

His meanest garment?

6

if 'twere made

"Twill not be lost.

Comparative for your virtues,] If it were considered as a compensation adequate to your virtues, to be styled, &c.

7 I am sprighted with a fool;] i. e. I am haunted by a fool, as by a spright.

Imo.

If

you

Ay; I said so, sir.

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.

[Exit.

Clo.

I'll be reveng'd:

His meanest garment?-Well.

[Exit.

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 fear'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.

Post. (Statist though I am none, That this will prove a war;

• Statist-] i. e. Statesman.

I do believe,
nor like to be,)
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
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.

Phi.

Enter IACHIMO.

See! 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 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.

Post. Their tenour good, I trust.

'Tis very

like.

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?

If I have lost it,

Iach.
I should have lost the worth of it in gold.

• To their approvers ] i. e. To those who try them.

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