Iach.

Sir, (I thank her,) that.

She stripped it from her arm; I see her yet;

Her pretty action did outsell her gift,

And yet enriched it too. She gave it me, and said
She prized it once.

Post.

To send it me.

Iach.

May be, she plucked it off

She writes so to you? doth she?

Post. O, no, no, no; 'tis true.

It is a basilisk unto mine eye,

Here, take this too;
[Gives the ring.

Kills me to look on't.-Let there be no honor,
Where there is beauty; truth, where semblance; love,
Where there's another man. The vows of women
Of no more bondage be, to where they are made,
Than they are to their virtues; which is nothing.—
O above measure false!

Phi.

Have patience, sir,
And take your ring again; 'tis not yet won.
It may be probable she lost it; or,

Who knows if one of her women, being corrupted,
Hath stolen it from her.

And so, I hope, he came by't.- Back my ring;—
Render to me some corporal sign about her,

More evident than this; for this was stolen.

Iach. By Jupiter, I had it from her arm.

Post. Hark you, he swears; by Jupiter he swears.

'Tis true;-nay, keep the ring-'tis true. I am sure She would not lose it: her attendants are

All sworn and honorable.-They induced to steal it!
And by a stranger?-No, he hath enjoyed her.

The cognizance of her incontinency

Is this, she hath bought the name of whore thus dearly.-
There, take thy hire; and all the fiends of hell
Divide themselves between you!

Phi.

This is not strong enough to be believed

Of one persuaded well of

Post.

Sir, be patient.

Never talk on't;

She hath been colted by him.
Iach.
If you seek
For further satisfying, under her breast
(Worthy the pressing) lies a mole, right proud
Of that most delicate lodging. By my life,
I kissed it; and it gave me present hunger

To feed again, though full. You do remember

This stain upon her?

Post. Ay, and it doth confirm

Another stain, as big as hell can hold,

Were there no more but it.

Will you hear more?

Iach. Post. Spare your arithmetic; never count the turns Once, and a million!

No swearing.

If you will swear you have not done't, you lie;
And I will kill thee, if thou dost deny

Thou hast made me cuckold.

Iach.

I will deny nothing.

Post. O that I had her here, to tear her limb-meal! I will go there, and do't; i' the court; before Her father. I'll do something

Phi.

[Exit.

Quite besides

The government of patience!-You have won.
Let's follow him, and pervert the present wrath
He hath against himself..

Iach.

With all my heart. [Exeunt.

SCENE V. The same.

Another Room in the same.

Enter POSTHUMUS.

Post. Is there no way for men to be, but women
Must be half-workers? We are bastards all;
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,
Cryed, Oh! 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 'tis greater skill
In a true hate, to pray they have their will;
The very devils cannot plague them better.

[Exit.

ACT III.

SCENE I. Britain. A Room of State in Cymbeline's Palace.

Enter CYMBELINE, Queen, CLOTEN, and Lords, at one door; and at another, CAIUS LUCIUS, and Attendants.

Cym. Now say what would Agustus Cæsar with us? Luc. When Julius Cæsar (whose remembrance yet. Lives in men's eyes; and will to ears, and tongues, Be theme, and hearing ever) was in this Britain, And conquered it, Cassibelan, thine uncle, (Famous in Cæsar's praises, no whit less, Than in his feats deserving it,) for him, And his succession, granted Rome a tribute, Yearly three thousand pounds; which by thee lately Is left untendered.

Queen.

Shall be so ever.

Clo.

And, to kill the marvel,

There be many Cæsars,

Ere such another Julius. Britain is

A world by itself; and we will nothing pay,

For wearing our own noses.

Queen.

. That opportunity,

Which then they had to take from us, to resume

We have again.-Remember, sir, my liege,
The kings your ancestors; together with
The natural bravery of your isle; which stands
As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in

With rocks unscalable, and roaring waters;

With sands, that will not bear your enemies' boats,
But suck them up to the top-mast. A kind of conquest
Cæsar made here; but made not here his brag
Of came, and saw, and overcame: with shame
(The first that ever touched him,) he was carried
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
(0 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 ambition, (Which swelled so much, that it did almost stretch

The sides o' the world,) against all color, 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.

Luc.
VOL. IV.-9

I am sorry, Cymbeline,

That I am to pronounce Augustus Cæsar
(Cæsar, that hath more kings his servants, than
Thyself domestic officers) thine enemy.

Receive it from me, then :-War, and confusion,
In Cæsar's name pronounce I 'gainst thee; look
For fury not to be resisted. Thus defied,
I thank thee for myself.

Cym.
Thou art welcome, Caius.
Thy Cæsar knighted me; my youth I spent
Much under him; of him I gathered honor;
Which he, to seek of me again, perforce,
Behoves me keep at utterance. I am perfect,
That the Pannonians and Dalmatians, for
Their liberties, are now in arms; a precedent
Which, not to read, would show the Britons cold.
So Cæsar shall not find them.

Luc.

Let proof speak. Clo. His majesty bids you welcome. Make pastime with us a day or two longer. If you seek us afterwards in other terms, you shall find us in our salt-water girdle: if you beat us out of it, it is yours; if you fall in the adventure, our crows shall fare the better for you; and there's an end. Luc. So, sir.

Cym. I know your master's pleasure, and he mine; All the remain is, welcome.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Another Room in the same.

Enter PISANIO.

Pis. How! of adultery? Wherefore write you not What monster's her accuser?- Leonatus!

O master! what a strange infection

Is fallen into thy ear! What false Italian
(As poisonous-tongued, as handed) hath prevailed
On thy too ready hearing?-Disloyal? No.
She's punished for her truth; and undergoes,
More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults
As would take in some virtue.-0 my master!
Thy mind to her is now as low, as were
Thy fortunes.-How! that I should murder her?
Upon the love, and truth, and vows, which I

Have made to thy command?-I, her?- her blood?

If it be so to do good service, never

Let me be counted serviceable. How look I,
That I should seem to lack humanity,