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 gratifie your love; they failing,
I must die much your debtor.

Phi.
Your very goodness, and your company,
O'er-pays all I can do. By this, your King
Hath heard of great Augustus; Caius Lucius
Will do's commission throughly. And, I think,(17) ^note

He'll grant the tribute; send th' arrearages,
E'er 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; and you shall hear(18) ^note

Enter Iachimo.

Phi.
See, Iachimo.—

Post.
Sure, the swift 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 of the fairest I e'er 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.

Post.
Was Caius Lucius in the Britain 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've 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, which
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 easie.

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 my self 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,(19) ^note


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.
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 tapestry of silk and silver; the story
Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman,
And Cydnus swell'd above the banks or for
The press of boats, or pride:—A piece of work
So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive
In workmanship, and value; which, I wonder'd,
Could be so rarely and exactly wrought,
Since the true life on't was—

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

Iach.
More Particulars
Must justifie my knowledge.

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

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

Post.
This is a thing,(20) ^note


Which you might from relation likewise reape;
Being, as it is, much spoke of.

Iach.
The roof o'th' chamber
With golden cherubims is fretted: Th' andirons,
(I had forgot them) were two winking Cupids
Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely
Depending on their brands.

Post.
What's this t' her honour?(21) ^note

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; it must be married
To that your diamond. I'll keep them.

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-sell 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;
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,
Then 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, one of her women, being corrupted,
Hath stoln 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'm sure,
She could not lose it; her attendants are
All honourable; they induc'd to steal it!
And, by a stranger!—no, he hath enjoy'd 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.
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, lyes a mole, right proud
Of that most delicate lodging. By my life,
I kist 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.

Iach.
Will you hear more?

Post.
Spare your arithmetick.
Count not the Turns: once, and a million!

Iach.
I'll be sworn—

Post.
No swearing:
If you will swear you have not done't, you lie.
And I will kill thee, if thou dost deny
Thou'st made me cuckold.

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— [Exit.

Phi.
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. Re-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 stampt. Some coyner with his tools
Made me a counterfeit; yet my mother seem'd
The Dian of that time; so doth my wife
The Non-pareil of this—Oh vengeance, vengeance!
Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd,
And pray'd me, oft, forbearance; did it with
A pudency so rosie, the sweet view on't
Might well have warm'd old Saturn—that I thought her
As chaste, as unsunn'd snow. Oh, all the Devils!
This yellow Iachimo in an hour—was't not?—
Or less: at first? perchance, he spoke not, but
Like a full acorn'd Boar, a German one,(22) ^note
Cry'd, oh! and mounted; found no opposition
But what he look'd 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't 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 nam'd, 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.

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