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By your leave ho!
[Knocks.

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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 'tis gold Which makes the true man kill'd, 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.

Enter a Lady.

Lady. Who's there, that knocks?

Clo.

Lady.

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That's more

Clo. Yes, and a gentlewoman's son.

Lady. Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours, Can justly boast of: What's your lordship's plea

sure?

Clo. Your lady's person: Is she ready?

Lady.

To keep her chamber.

Ay,

Clo. There's gold for you; sell me your good

report.

Lady. How! my good name? or to report of you What I shall think is good? The princess

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Enter IMOGEN.

Clo. Good-morrow, fairest sister: Your sweet hand.

Imo. Good-morrow, sir: You lay out too much

pains

For purchasing but trouble: the thanks I give,
Is telling you that I am poor of thanks,

And scarce can spare them.

Clo.

Still, I swear, I love you. Imo. If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me: If you swear still, your recompense is still

That I regard it not.

Clo.

This is no answer.

Imo. But that you shall not say I yield, being silent,

I would not speak. I pray you, spare me,
I shall unfold equal discourtesy

To your best kindness; one of your great knowing
Should learn, being taught, forbearance.

Clo. To leave you in your madness, 'twere my

I will not.

sin:

Imo. Fools are not mad folks.

Clo.

Do you call me fool?

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 verbal2: 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 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,

2 So verbose, so full of talk.

(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,

4

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
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

Enter PISANIO.

Clo. His garment? Now, the devil

now, Pisanio?

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,

> In knots of their own tying.

4 A low fellow only fit to wear a livery.

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5 Haunted.

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.

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

Imo.
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.

His meanest garment?

Your mother too;

[Exit.

I'll be reveng'd:

Well.

[Exit.

SCENE 1V.

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 thoroughly: 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,

I do believe,

nor like to be,)
; and you shall hear

That this will prove a war
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

To make your vessel nimble.

Phi.

your sails,

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.

'Tis very like.

Post. Their tenour good, I trust.

Iach.

Phi. Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court,

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