Posthumus.
Fear it not, sir; I would I were so sure
To win the king, as I am bold, her honour
Will remain hers.

Phil.
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.

Phil.
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's commission thoroughly. And I think
He'll grant the tribute; or your countrymen,
Will look upon our Romans, whose remembrance
Is yet fresh in their grief.

Post.
I do believe,
Statist though I am none, nor like to be,
That this will prove a war; they'll send no tribute;
Our countrymen, the Britons,
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 courage, will make known
To their approvers, they are people, such
As mend upon the world; and more than that,
They have a king, whose love and justice to them,
May ask and have their treasures, and their blood.* ^note Enter Iachimo.

Phil.
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.

Phil.
Welcome, sir.

Post.
I hope the briefness of your answer made
The speediness of your return.

Iach.
Your lady,
Is one of the fairest that ever I look'd upon.

Post.
And therewithal the best, or let her beauty

Look thro' a casement to allure false hearts,
And be false with them.

Iach.
Here are letters for you.

Post.
Their tenor good, I trust.

Iach.
'Tis very like. [Posthumus reads the Letters.

Phil.
Was Caius Lucius in the British court,
When you were there?

Iach.
He was expected then,
But not approach'd.

Post.
All is well, yet.
Sparkles this stone as it was wont? or is't not
Too dull for your good wearing?

Iach.
If I'd lost it,
I should have lost the worth of it in gold;
I'll make a journey twice as far, t'enjoy
A second night of such sweet shortness, as
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 farther; 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
They need it not.

Post.
Proceed.

Iach.
First her bed-chamber,
Where I confess I slept not, but profess
Had that was well worth watching; it was hang'd
With richest stuff, the colours blue and silver:
A piece of work
So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive
In workmanship and value.

Post.
This is true;
And this you might have heard of here, by him or me,
Or by some other.

Iach.
More particulars
Must justify my knowledge.

Post.
So they must,
Or do your honour injury.

Iach.
The chimney
Is south the chamber, and the chimney-piece
Chaste Dian, bathing; never saw I figures
So likely to report themselves; the painting
Was as another nature dumb, out-went her,
Motion and breath left out.

Post.
This is a thing
Which you might from relation likewise reap,
Being, as it is, much spoke of.

Iach.
The roof o'th' chamber
With golden cherubims is fretted.

Post.
What's this t' her honour?
Let it be granted you have seen all this,
(Praise be your rememberance) the description
Of what is in her chamber, nothing saves
The wager you have laid.

Iach.
Then if you can [Pulling out the Bracelet.
Be pale, I beg, but leave to air this jewel: see!—
And now 'tis up again.

Post.
Jove!
Once more let me behold it: Is it that
Which I left with her?

Iach.
Sir, I thank her, that
She strip'd it from her arm, I see her yet.
Her pretty action did out-self her gift,
And yet enrich'd it, too; she gave it me,
And said she priz'd it, once.

Post.
May be, she pluck'd it off, to send it me.

Iach.
She writes so to you? Doth she?

Post.
O no, no, no, 'tis true. Here, take this too, [Gives the Ring.
It is a basilisk unto mine eye,
Kills me to look on't: let there be no honour,
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're made,
Than they are to their virtues, which is nothing;
O, above measure false!—

Phil.
Have patience, sir!
And take your ring again: 'tis not yet won;
It may be probable she lost it; or
Who knows, one of her women, being corrupted,
Hath stol'n it from her.

Post.
Very true,
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 stole.

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 could not lose it; her attendants are
All honourable; they induc'd 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!

Phil.
Sir, be patient;
This is not strong enough to be believ'd,
Of one persuaded well of—

Post.
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 kist it. 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.

Iach.
Will you hear more?

Post.
Spare your arithmetick.
Ne'er count the turns: once, and a million.

Iach.
I'll be sworn—

Post.
No swearing:
If you will swear you have not don't, you lye,
And I will kill thee, if thou dost deny
Thou'st made her strumpet.

Iach.
I'll deny nothing.

Post.
O that I had her here, to tear her limb-meal;
I will go there, and do't i'th' court, before
Her father—I'll do something—* ^note [Exit.

Phil.
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.

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