All sworn and honourable :---They induc'd to steal it!

And by a stranger ?-No, he hath enjoy'd her:
The cognizance 4 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.

She hath been colted by him.
Iach.

Never talk on't;

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 kiss'd 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.

If you will swear you have not done't, you lie ;

And I will kill thee, if thou dost deny

)

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.

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 stamp'd; some coiner with his tools Made me a counterfeit: Yet my mother seem'd The Dian of that time: so doth my wife The nonpareil of this.-O vengeance, vengeance! Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd, And pray'd me, oft, forbearance: did it with A pudencys so rosy, the sweet view on't

Might well have warm'd old Saturn; that I thought

her

As chaste as unsunn'd 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-acorn'd boar, a German one,
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 it lying, note it,
The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, 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 ev'n 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.

ACT III.

[Exit.

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 Augustus 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 conquer'd 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

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 unscaleable, and roaring waters;
With sands, that will not bear your enemies' boats,
But suck them up to the top-mast. A kind of con-

quest

Cæsar made here; but made not here his brag Of, came, and saw, and overcame: with shame (The first that ever touch'd him,) he was carried From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping, (Poor ignorant baubles!) on our terrible seas, Like egg-shells mov'd upon their surges, erack'd As easily 'gainst our rocks: for joy whereof,

The fam'd Cassibelan, who was once at point
(O, 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 ambi

tion,

(Which swell'd so much, that it did almost stretch
The sides o'the world,) against all colour, 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

Ordain'd 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,

• Strumpet.