Cloten. Leave us to ourselves. [Exeunt LORDS, &c. 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, Their deer to the stand of the stealer: and 'tis gold What Can it not do and undo? I will make Enter HELEN. Helen. Who's there, that knocks? Cloten. A gentleman. Helen. No more? Cloten. Yes, and a gentlewoman's son. Helen. That's more [Knocks. Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours, Helen. Ay, to keep her chamber. Cloten. There's gold for you; sell me your good report. Helen. How? my good name? or to report of you What I shall think is good? The princess Enter IMOGEN. Cloten. Good morrow, fairest sister: Your sweet hand. [Exit HELEN. Imog. Good-morrow, sir: You lay out too much pains For purchasing but trouble. Cloten. Still, I swear, I love you. Imog. If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me: If you swear still, your recompense is still That I regard it not. Cloten. This is no answer. Imog. But that you shall not say I yield, being silent, I would not speak. I pray you, spare me: 'faith, Το your best kindness: one of your great knowing Cloten. To leave you in your madness, 'twere my sin: I will not. Imog. Fools cure not mad folks. Cloten. Do you call me fool? Imog. As I am mad, I do : If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad; But I, which know my heart, do here pronounce, Cloten. 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. Imog. Profane fellow ! Wert thou the son of Jupiter, and no more, Cloten. The south fog rot him! Imog. He never can meet more mischance, than come To be but named of thee. His meanest garment In my respect, than all the hairs above thee, Cloten. How now? Imog. Pisanio! [Misses her Bracelet. Cloten. His garment? Now, the devil Enter PISANIO. Imog. To Helen, my woman, hie thee presentlyCloten. His garment? Imog. I am sprited 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 then. Pisanio. "Twill not be lost. Imog. I hope so: go, and search. Cloten. You have abused me : [Exit. Imog. 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. [Exit. ACT THE THIRD. SCENE I. Rome. An Apartment in PHILARIO's House. Enter POSTHUMUS and PHILARIO. Post. Fear it not, sir: I would, I were so sure Phil. What means do you make to him? Post. Not any; but abide the change of time; I barely gratify your love; they failing, Phil. Your very goodness, and your company, Post. I do believe (Statist though I am none, nor like to be) That this will prove a war; and you shall hear The legions now in Gallia, sooner landed D In our not fearing Britain, than have tidings Now mingled with their courages, will make known 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 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. Iach. 'Tis very like.. [POSTHUMUS reads the Letter. Phil. Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court When you were there? Iach. He was, my lord :-but I Left ere I saw him. Post. All is well yet.― Sparkles this stone as it was wont? or is't not Iach. If I have lost it, I should have lost the worth of it in gold. |