Enter Cloten.
I am near to the place where they should meet, if
Pisanio have mapp'd it truly. How fit his garments
-- 275 --
serve me! Why should his mistress, who was
made by him that made the taylor, not be fit too?
the rather (saving reverence of the word) for,
'tis said, a woman's fitness comes by fits. Therein I
must play the workman. I dare speak it to myself,
(for it is not vain-glory, for a man and his glass to
confer; in his own chamber, I mean) the lines of
my body are as well drawn as his; no less young,
more strong, not beneath him in fortunes, beyond
him in the advantage of the time, above him in
birth, alike conversant in general services, and more
remarkable in single oppositions: yet this 4 note
imperseverant
thing loves him in my despight. What mortality
is! Posthumus, thy head, which is now growing
upon thy shoulders, shall within this hour be off;
thy mistress enforced; thy garments cut to pieces 5 notebefore
thy face: and all this done, spurn her home to
her father; who may, haply, be a little angry for
my so rough usage: but my mother, having power
of his testiness, shall turn all into my commendations.
My horse is ty'd up safe: Out, sword, and
to a sore purpose! Fortune, put them into my hand!
This is the very description of their meeting-place;
and the fellow dares not deceive me.
