Post. By your pardon, sir, I was then a young traveller; rather shunned to go even with what I heard, than in my every action to be guided by others' experiences: but, upon my mended judgment, (if I offend not to say it is mended,) my quarrel was not altogether slight.

French. 'Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords; and by such two, that would, by all likelihood, have confounded one the other, or have fallen both. [difference? Iach. Can we, with manners, ask what was the French. Safely, I think; 'twas a contention in public, which may, without contradiction, suffer the report, It was much like an argument that fell out last night, where each of us fell in praise of our country mistresses: This gentleman at that time vouching, (and upon warrant of bloody affirmation,) his to be more fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constantqualified, and less attemptible, than any the rarest of our ladies in France.

Iach. That lady is not now living; or this gentleman's opinion, by this worn out.

Post. She holds her virtue still, and I my mind. Iach. You must not so far prefer her 'fore ours of Italy.

Post. Being so far provoked as I was in France, I would abate her nothing; though I profess myself her adorer, not her friend.

Iach. As fair, and as good, (a kind of hand-inhand comparison,) had been something too fair, and too good for any lady in Britany. If she went before others I have seen, as that diamond of yours out-lustres many I have beheld, I could not but believe she excelled many: but I have not seen the most precious diamond that is, nor you the lady. [stone. Post. I praised her as I rated her: so do I my Iach. What do you esteem it at? Post. More than the world enjoys. Iach. Either your unparagoned mistress is dead, or she's outprized by a trifle.

Post. You are mistaken: the one may be sold, or given: if there were wealth enough for the purchase, or merit for the gift: the other is not a thing for sale, and only the gift of the gods.

Iach. Which the gods have given you? Post. Which, by their graces, I will keep. Iach. You may wear her in title yours: but, you know, strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds. Your ring may be stolen too: so, of your brace of unprizeable estimations, the one is but frail, and the other casual; a cunning thief, or a that-wayaccomplished courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and last.

Post. Your Italy contains none so accomplished a courtier, to convince the honour of my mistress; if, in the holding or loss of that, you term her frail. I do nothing doubt, you have store of thieves; notwithstanding, I fear not my ring.

Phi. Let us leave here, gentlemen.

Post. Sir, with all my heart. This worthy signior, I thank him, makes no stranger of me; we are familiar at first.

Iach. With five times so much conversation, I should get ground of your fair mistress: make her go back, even to the yielding; had I admittance, and opportunity to friend.

Post. No, no.

Phi. Gentlemen, enough of this; it came in too suddenly; let it die as it was born, and, I pray you, be better acquainted.

Iach. 'Would I had put my estate, and my neighbour's, on the approbation of what I bave spoke. Post. What lady would you choose to assail? Iach. Yours; whom in constancy, you think, stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring, that, commend me to the court where your lady is, with no more advantage than the opportunity of a second conference, and I will bring from thence that honour of hers, which you imagine so reserved.

Post. I will wage against your gold, gold to it: my ring I hold as dear as my finger; 'tis part of it. Iach. You are a friend, and therein the wiser. If you buy ladies' flesh at a million a dram, you cannot preserve it from tainting: But, I see, you have some religion in you, that you fear.

Post. This is but a custom in your tongue; you bear a graver purpose, I hope.

Iach. I am the master of my speeches; and would undergo what's spoken, I swear.

Post. Will you?—I shall but lend my diamond till your return:-Let there be covenants drawn between us: My mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness of your unworthy thinking: I dare you to this match: here's my ring.

Phi. I will have it no lay.

Iach. By the gods it is one:-If I bring you no sufficient testimony, that I have enjoyed the dearest bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats are yours; so is your diamond too. If I come off, and leave her in such honour as you have trust in, she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are yours:-provided, I have your commendation, for my more free entertainment.

Post. I embrace these conditions; let us have articles betwixt us:-only, thus far you shall answer. If you make your voyage upon her, and give me directly to understand you have prevail'd, I am no further your enemy, she is not worth our debate: if she remain unseduced, (you not making it appear otherwise,) for your ill opinion, and the assault you have made to her chastity, you shall answer me with your sword.

Iach. Your hand; a covenant: we will have these things set down by lawful counsel, and straight away for Britain; lest the bargain should catch cold, and starve: I will fetch my gold, and have our two wagers recorded.

Post. Agreed. [Exeunt Posthumus and Iachime. French. Will this hold, think you?

Phi. Signior Iachimo will not from it. Prav, let us follow 'em. [Exeunt.

SCENE VI.-Britain. A Room in Cymbeline's

Palace.

Enter Queen, Ladies, and CORNElius. Queen. Whiles yet the dew's on ground, gather those flowers:

Make haste: Who has the note of them? 1 Lady.

I, madam, Queen. Despatch.[Exeunt Ladies. Now, master doctor; have you brought those drugs? Cor. Pleaseth your highness, ay: here they are, madam: (Presenting a small box.)

But I beseech your grace, (without offence;
My conscience bids me ask; wherefore you have
Commanded of me these most poisonous compounds,
Which are the movers of a languishing death;
But, though slow, deadly?

Queen.

I do wonder, doctor, Thou ask'st me such a question: Have I not been Thy pupil long? Hast thou not learn'd me how To make perfumes? distil? preserve? yea, so, That our great king himself doth woo me oft For my confections? Having thus far proceeded, (Unless thou think'st me devilish,) is't not meet, That I did amplify my judgment in

Strange lingering poisons: I do know her spirit,
And will not trust one of her malice with
A drug of such damn'd nature: Those, she has,
Will stupify and dull the sense awhile: [dogs;
Which first, perchance, she'll prove on cats, and
Then afterward up higher; but there is
No danger in what shew of death it makes,
More than the locking up the spirits a time,
To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool'd
With a most false effect; and I the truer,
So to be false with her.
Queen.
Until I send for thee.
Cor.
I humbly take my leave. [Exit.
Queen. Weeps she still, say'st thou? Dost thou
think, in time

No further service, doctor,

She will not quench; and let instructions enter
Where folly now possesses? Do thou work;
When thou shalt bring me word, she loves my son,
I'll tell thee, on the instant, thou art then
As great as is thy master: greater; for
His fortunes all lie speechless, and his name
Is at last gasp: Return he cannot, nor
Continue where he is: to shift his being,
Is to exchange one misery with another;
And every day that comes, comes to decay
A day's work in him: What shalt thou expect,
To be depender on a thing that leans?
Who cannot be new built; nor has no friends,

(The Queen drops a box: Pisanio takes it up.)
So much as but to prop him?-Thou tak'st up
Thou know'st not what; but take it for thy labour:
It is a thing I made, which hath the king
Five times redeem'd from death: I do not know
What is more cordial :-Nay, I pr'ythee, take it;
It is an earnest of a further good

That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how
The case stands with her; do't, as from thyself.
Think what a chance thou changest on; but think
Thou hast thy mistress still; to boot, my son,
Who shall take notice of thee: I'll move the king
To any shape of thy preferment, such
As thou'lt desire; and then myself, I chiefly,
That set thee on to this desert, am bound
To load thy merit richly. Call my women:
Think on my words. (Exit Pisa.)—A sly and con-
stant knave;

Not to be shak'd: the agent for his master;
And the remembrancer of her, to hold
The hand fast to her lord.-I have given him that,
Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her
Of liegers for her sweet; and which she, after,
Except she bend her humour, shall be assur'd
Re-enter PISANIO and Ladies.

To taste of too. So, so ;-well done, well done:
The violets, cowslips, and the primroses,
Bear to my my closet:-Fare thee well, Pisanio;
Think on my words. [Exeunt Queen and Ladies.

Pis.

And shall do:

But when to my good lord I prove untrue,
I'll choke myself: there's all I'll do for you. [Exit.
SCENE VII.-Another Room in the same.
Enter IMOGEN,

Imo. A father cruel, and a step-dame false;
A foolish suitor to a wedded lady,

That hath her husband banish'd;-O, that husband!
My supreme crown of grief! and those repeated
Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stolen,
As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable
Is the desire that's glorious: Blessed be those,
How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills,
Which seasons comfort.-Who may this be? Fy!
Enter PISANIO and IACHIMO.
Pis. Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome;
Comes from my lord with letters.
Iach.

Change you, madam ?

The worthy Leonatus is in safety. And greets your highness dearly.

Imo.

You are kindly welcome.

(Presents a letter.) Thanks, good sir:

Is warm'd by the rest, and takes it thankfully.-
You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I
Have words to bid you; and shall find it so
In all that I can do.

Lach.
Thanks, fairest lady.—
What! are men mad? Hath nature given them eyes
To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop
Of sea and land, which can distinguish 'twixt
The fiery orbs above, and the twinn'd stones
Upon the number'd beach? and can we not
Partition make with spectacles so precious
"Twixt fair and foul?

Imo.

What makes your admiration? Iach. It cannot be i'the eye; for apes and monkeys,

Twixt two such shes, would chatter this way, and
Contemn with mows the other: Nor i'the judgment;
For idiots, in this case of favour, would'
Be wisely definite: Nor i'the appetite;
Sluttery, to such neat excellence oppos'd,
Should make desire vomit emptiness,
Not so allur'd to feed.

Imo. What is the matter, trow?
Iach.

The cloyed will,

(That satiate yet unsatisfied desire,
That tub both fill'd and running,) ravening first
The lamb, longs after for the garbage.
Imo.

What, dear sir,

Thus raps you? Are you well? Iach. Thanks, madam; well:-'Beseech you, sir, desire (To Pisanio.) My man's abode, where I did leave him: he Is strange and peevish.

Pis.

To give him welcome.

I was going, sir,

[Exit Pisanio.

Imo. Continues well my lord? His health be

seech you?

Iach. Well, madam.

Imo. Is he dispos'd to mirth? I hope, he is.
Iach. Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there

So merry and so gamesome: he is call'd
The Briton reveller.

Iach. I never saw him sad. There is a Frenchman his companion, one,

An eminent monsieur, that, it seems, much loves A Gallian girl at home: he furnaces

The thick sighs from him; whiles the jolly Briton (Your lord, I mean,) laughs from's free lungs, cries, O!

Can my sides hold, to think, that man,—who knows
By history, report, or his own proof,
What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose
But must be,-will his free hours languish for
Assured bondage?

Imo. Will my lord say so?

[laughter. Iach. Ay, madam; with his eyes in flood with It is a recreation to be by, [know, And hear him mock the Frenchman: But, heavens Some men are much to blame.

Imo. Not he, I hope,

Iach. Not he: But yet heaven's bounty towards him might

Be us'd more thankfully. In himself, 'tis much;
In you, which I count his, beyond all talents,-
Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound
To pity too.
Imo. What do you pity, sir?
Iach. Two creatures, heartily.
Imo.

Am I one, sir?

You look on me: What wreck discern you in me, Deserves your pity?

Iach.

Lamentable! What! To hide me from the radiant sun, and solace I'the dungeon by a snuff?

I pray you, sir,

Imo.
Deliver with more openness your answers
To my demands. Why do you pity me?
Iach. That others do,

I was about to say, enjoy your-But
It is an office of the gods to venge it,
Not mine to speak on't.

Imo.

You do seem to know

Something of me, or what concerns me ; 'Pray you,
(Since doubting things go ill, often hurts more
Than to be sure they do: For certainties
Either are past remedies; or, timely knowing,
The remedy then born,) discover to me
What both you spur and stop.

Iach.

Had I this cheek

To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch,
Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul
To the oath of loyalty; this object, which
Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,
Fixing it only here: should I (damn'd then,)
Slaver with lips as common as the stairs
That mount the Capitol; join gripes with hands
Made hard with hourly falsehood (falsehood, as
With labour;) then lie peeping in an eye,
Base and unlustrous as the smoky light
That's fed with stinking tallow; it were fit,
That all the plagues of hell should at one time
Encounter such revolt.
Imo.

My lord, I fear,

And himself. Not I,

Inclin'd to this intelligence, pronounce

The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces, That from my mutest conscience, to my tongue, Charms this report out.

Imo.

Let me bear no more.

[beart Iach. O dearest soul! your cause doth strike my With pity, that doth make me sick. A lady So fair, and fasten'd to an empery, Would make the great'st king double! to be partner'd

With tomboys, hir'd with that self-exhibition, Which your own coffers yield! with diseas'd ventures,

That play with all infirmities for gold,

Which rottenness can lend nature; such boil'd staff,
As well might poison poison! Be reveng'd;
Or she, that bore you, was no queen, and you
Recoil from your great stock.

Imo.
Reveng'd!
How should I be reveng'd? If this be true,
(As I have such a heart, that both mine ears
Must not in haste abuse,) if it be true,
How should I be reveng'd?
Iach.

Should be make me Live like Diana's priest, betwixt cold sheets; Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps,

In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge it.
I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure;
More noble than that runagate to your bed;
And will continue fast to your affection,
Still lose, as sure.

Imo.

What ho, Pisanio!
Iach. Let me my service tender on your lips.
Imo. Away!-I do condemn mine ears, that have
So long attended thee.-If thou wert honourable,
Thou would'st have told this tale for virtue, not
For such an end thou seek'st; as base, as strange.
Thou wrong'st a gentleman, who is as far
From thy report, as thou from honour; and
Solicit'st here a lady, that disdains

Thee and the devil alike.-What, ho! Pisanio!—
The king my father shall be made acquainted
Of thy assault: if he shall think it fit,
A saucy stranger, in his court, to mart
As in a Romish stew, and to expound
His beastly mind to us; he hath a court
He little cares for, and a daughter whom
He not respects at all.-What ho, Pisanio!—
Iach. O happy Leonatus! I may say;
The credit that thy lady hath of thee,
Deserves thy trust; and thy most perfect goodness
Her assur'd credit!-Blessed live you long!
A lady to the worthiest sir, that ever
Country call'd his! and you his mistress, only
For the most worthiest fit! Give me your pardon.
I have spoke this, to know if your affiance
Were deeply rooted; and shall make your lord,
That which he is, new o'er: And he is one
The truest manner'd; such a holy witch,
That he enchants societies unto him:
Half all men's hearts are his.

Imo.
You make amends.
Iach. He sits 'mongst men, like a descended ged:
He hath a kind of honour sets him off,
More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry,
Most mighty princess, that I have adventur'd
To try your taking of a false report; which hath
Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment
In the election of a sir so rare,

Which you know cannot err: The love I bear him Made me to fan you thus; but the gods made you, Unlike all other, chaffless. Pray, your pardon.

Imo. All's well, sir: Take my power i'the court

for yours.

Iach. My humble thanks. I had almost forgot To entreat your grace but in a small request, And yet of moment too, for it concerns Your lord; myself, and other noble friends, Are partners in the business.

Imo.
Pray, what is't?
Iach. Some dozen Romans of us, and your lord,
(The best feather of our wing) have mingled sums,
To buy a present for the emperor:

Which I, the factor for the rest, have done
In France: 'Tis plate, of rare device; and jewels,
Of rich and exquisite form; their values great;
And I am something curious, being strange,
To have them in safe stowage: May it please you
To take them in protection?

Attended by my men: I will make bold To send them to you, only for this night; I must aboard to-morrow.

O, no, no.

Imo.
Iach. Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my word,
By length'ning my return. From Gallia

I cross'd the seas on purpose, and on promise
To see your grace.
Imo.
I thank you for your pains;
But not away to-morrow?
Iach.
O, I must, madam:
Therefore, I shall beseech you, if you please
To greet your lord with writing, do't to-night.
I have outstood my time; which is material
To the tender of our present.

Imo.
I will write.
Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept,
And truly yielded you: You are very welcome.
[Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-Court before Cymbeline's Palace.
Enter CLOTEN and two Lords.

Clo. Was there ever man had such luck! when I kissed the jack upon an up-cast, to be hit away! I had an hundred pound on't: And then a whoreson jackanapes must take me up for swearing; as if I borrowed mine oaths of him, and might not spend them at my pleasure.

1 Lord. What got he by that? You have broke his pate with your bowl.

2 Lord. If his wit had been like him that broke it, it would have ran all out.

(Aside.) Clo. When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths: Ha? 2 Lord. No, my lord; nor (Aside.) crop the ears of them.

Clo. Whoreson dog!-I give him satisfaction? 'Would, he had been one of my rank!

2 Lord. To have smelt like a fool. (Aside.) Clo. I am not more vexed at any thing in the earth,-A pox on't! I had rather not be so noble as I am; they dare not fight with me, because of the queen my mother: every jack-slave hath his belly full of fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that no body can match.

2 Lord. You are a cock and capon too; and you crow, cock, with your comb on. (Aside.)

Clo. Sayest thou?

1 Lord. It is not fit, your lordship should undertake every companion that you give offence to. Clo. No, I know that: but it is fit, I should commit offence to my inferiors.

2 Lord. Ay, it is fit for your lordship only. Clo. Why, so I say.

1 Lord. Did you hear of a stranger, that's come to court to-night?

Clo. A stranger! and I not know on't! 2 Lord. He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it not. (Aside.) 1 Lord. There's an Italian come; and, 'tis thought, one of Leonatus' friends.

Clo. Leonatus! a banished rascal; and he's another, whatsoever he be. Who told you of this stranger?

1 Lord. One of your lordship's pages. Clo. Is it fit, I went to look upon him? Is there no derogation in't?

1 Lord. You cannot derogate, my lord.
Clo. Not easily, I think.

2 Lord. You are a fool granted; therefore your issues being foolish, do not derogate. (Aside.) Clo. Come, I'll go see this Italian: What I have lost to-day at bowls, I'll win to-night of him. Come, go.

2 Lord, I'll attend your lordship. [Exeunt Cloten and first Lord. That such a crafty devil as is his mother Should yield the world this ass! a woman, that Bears all down with her brain; and this her son

Cannot take two from twenty for his heart,
And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess,
Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'st!
Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern'd;
A mother hourly coining plots; a wooer,
More hateful than the foul expulsion is
Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act
Of the divorce he'd make! The heavens hold firm
The walls of thy dear honour; keep unshak'd
That temple, thy fair mind; that thou may'st stand,
To enjoy thy banish'd lord, and this great land!

[Exit.

Repairs itself by rest: Our Tarquin thus
Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken'd
The chastity he wounded.-Cytherea,
How bravely thou becom'st thy bed! fresh lily!
And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch!
But kiss; one kiss! Rubies unparagon'd,
How dearly they do't.-Tis her breathing that
Perfumes the chamber thus: The flame o'the taper
Bows toward her; and would under-peep her lids,
To see the enclosed lights, now canopied
Under these windows: White and azure, lac'd
With blue of heaven's own tinct. But my design?
To note the chamber:-I will write all down :-
Such, and such, pictures :-There the window :--
Such
The adornment of her bed ;-The arras, figures,
Why, such, and such :-And the contents o'the
story,-

Ah, but some natural notes about her body,
Above ten thousand meaner moveables
Would testify, to enrich mine inventory:
O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her!
And be her sense but as a monument,
Thus in a chapel lying!-Come off, come off;-
(Taking off her bracelet.)
As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard!-
'Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly,
As strongly as the conscience does within,
To the madding of her lord. On her left breast
A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops
I'the bottom of a cowslip. Here's a voucher,
Stronger than ever law could make this secret
Will force him think I have picked the lock, and
ta'en
[end?
The treasure of her honour. No more.-To what
Why should I write this down, that's rivetted,
Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late
The tale of Tereus: here the leaf's turn'd down,
Where Philomel gave up ;-I have enough:
To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it.
Swift, swift, you dragons of the night!-that
dawning

May bare the raven's eye: I lodge in fear;
Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here.
(Clock strikes.)

One, two, three,-Time, time!

(Goes into the trunk. The scene closes.)

Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus 'gins arise,

His steeds to water at those springs
On chalic'd flowers that lies;

And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes;

With every thing that pretty bin:
My lady sweet, arise;
Arise, arise.

So, get you gone: If this penetrate, I will consider your music the better: if it do not, it is a vice in her ears, which horse-hairs, and cat-guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to boot, can never amend. [Exeunt Musicians.

Enter CYMBELINE and Queen.

2 Lord. Here comes the king. Clo. I am glad, I was up so late; for that's the reason I was up so early: He cannot choose but take this service I have done, fatherly-Goodmorrow to your majesty, and to my gracious mother. [daughter? Cym. Attend you here the door of our stern Will she not forth?

Clo. I have assailed her with music, but she vouchsafes no notice.

Cym. The exile of her minion is too new; She hath not yet forgot him: some more time Must wear the print of his remembrance out, And then she's yours.

Queen. You are most bound to the king; Who let's go by no vantages, that may Prefer you to his daughter: Frame yourself To orderly solicits; and be friended With aptness of the season: make denials Increase your services: so seem, as if You were inspir'd to do those duties, which You tender to her; that you in all obey her, Save when command to your dismission tends, And therein you are senseless. Clo. Enter a Messenger. Mess. So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome; The one is Caius Lucius.

Senseless? not so.

Cym. A worthy fellow, Albeit he comes on angry purpose now; But that's no fault of his: We must receive him According to the honour of his sender; And towards himself, his goodness forespent on us, We must extend our notice.-Our dear son, When you have given good morning to your mistress,

Attend the queen, and us; we shall have need To employ you towards this Roman.-Come, our queen.

[Exeunt. Cym. Queen, Lords, and Mess.

Clo. 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
If I do line one of their hands? 'Tis gold,
Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and makes
Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up
Their deer to the stand of the stealer; and 'tis gold
Which makes the true man kill'd, and saves the
Nay, sometimes, hangs both thief and true man:
thief;
[What
Can it not do, and undo? I will make
One of her women lawyer to me; for
I yet not understand the case myself.
By your leave.
Enter a Lady.

(KRocks.)

Lady. Who's there, that knocks? Clo. Lady. Clo. Yes, and a gentlewoman's son. Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours, Lady. Can justly boast of: What's your lordship's pleasure?

That's more

Clo. Your lady's person: Is she ready? Lady.

To keep her chamber.

Av,

[report. Clo. There's gold for you; sell me your good Lady. How! my good name? or to report of you What I shall think is good?-The princessEnter IMOGEN.

Clo. Good-morrow, fairest sister: Your sweet

hand.

[pains Imo. Good-morrow, sir: You lay out too much For purchasing but trouble; the thanks I give, Is telling you that I am poor of thanks, And scarce can spare them. Clo. Still, I swear, I love you. Imo. If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me: If you swear still, your recompence is still That I regard it not. This is no answer.

Clo.

Imo. But that you shall not say I yield, being

silent,

I would not speak. I pray you, spare me : i'faith, I shall unfold equal discourtesy

To your best kindness; one of your great knowing Should learn, being taught, forbearance.

Clo. To leave you in your madness, 'twere my sin: I will not.

Imo. Fools are not mad folks.
Clo.

Do you call me fool?

Imo. As I am mad, I do : If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad; That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir, You put me to forget a lady's manners, By being so verbal: and learn now, for all, That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce, By the very truth of it, I care not for you; And am so near the lack of charity,

(To accuse myself) I hate you: which I had rather You felt, than make't my boast.

Clo.

You sin against Obedience, which you owe your father. For 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: And though it be allow'd in meaner parties, (Yet who, than he, more mean?) to knit their souls (On whom there is no more dependency But brats and beggary) in self-figur'd knot;

Yet
you are curb'd from that enlargement by
The consequence o'the crown; and must not soil
The precious note of it with a base slave,
A hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth,
A pantler, not so eminent."

Imo.
Profane fellow!
Wert thou the son of Jupiter, and no more,
But what thou art, besides, thou wert too base
To be his groom; thou wert dignified enough,