The Bodleian First Folio

A digital facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Bodleian Arch. G c.7.



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Reference: aaa1v - Tragedies, p. 378

Left Column


The Tragedy of Cymbeline.
[1060]
The consequence o'th'Crowne, and must not foyle The precious note of it; with a base Slaue, A Hilding for a Liuorie, a Squires Cloth, A Pantler; not so eminent.
Imo. Prophane Fellow:
[1065]
Wert thou the Sonne of Iupiter, and no more, But what thou art besides: thou wer't too base, To be his Groome: thou wer't dignified enough Euen to the point of Enuie. If 'twere made Comparatiue for your Vertues, to be stil'd
[1070]
The vnder Hangman of his Kingdome; and hated For being prefer'd so well.
Clot. The South‑Fog rot him. Imo. He neuer can meete more mischance, then come To be but nam'd of thee. His mean'st Garment
[1075]
That euer hath but clipt his body; is dearer In my respect, then all the Heires aboue thee, Were they all made such men: How now Pisanio?
Enter Pisanio, Clot. His Garments? Now the diuell. Imo. To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently. Clot.
[1080]
His Garment?
Imo. I am sprighted with a Foole, Frighted, and angred worse: Go bid my woman Search for a Iewell, that too casually Hath left mine Arme: it was thy Masters. Shrew me
[1085]
If I would loose it for a Reuenew, Of any Kings in Europe. I do think, I saw't this morning: Confident I am. Last night 'twas on mine Arme; I kiss'd it, I hope it be not gone, to tell my Lord
[1090]
That I kisse aught but he.
Pis. 'Twill not be lost. Imo. I hope so: go and search. Clot. You haue abus'd me: His meanest Garment? Imo.
[1095]
I, I said so Sir, If you will make't an Action, call witnesse to't.
Clot. I will enforme your Father. Imo. Your Mother too: She's my good Lady; and will concieue, I hope
[1100]
But the worst of me. So I leaue you Sir, To'th'worst of discontent.
Exit. Clot. Ile be reueng'd: His mean'st Garment? Well. Exit.
Scena Quarta. [Act 2, Scene 4] Enter Posthumus, and Philario. Post. Feare it not Sir: I would I were so sure
[1105]
To winne the King, as I am bold, her Honour Will remaine her's.
Phil. What meanes do you make to him ? Post. Not any: but abide the change of Time, Quake in the present winters state, and wish
[1110]
That warmer dayes would come: In these fear'd hope I barely gratifie your loue; they fayling I must die much your debtor.
Phil. Your very goodnesse, and your company, Ore‑payes all I can do. By this your King,
[1115]
Hath heard of Great Augustus: Caius Lucius, Will do's Commission throughly. And I think

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Right Column


Hee'le grant the Tribute: send th'Arrerages, Or looke vpon our Romaines, whose remembrance Is yet fresh in their griefe. Post.
[1120]
I do beleeue (Statist though I am none, nor like to be) That this will proue a Warre; and you shall heare The Legion now in Gallia, sooner landed In our not‑fearing‑Britaine, then haue tydings
[1125]
Of any penny Tribute paid. Our Countrymen Are men more order'd, then when Iulius Cæsar Smil'd at their lacke of skill, but found their courage Worthy his frowning at. Their discipline, (Now wing‑led with their courages) will make knowne
[1130]
To their Approuers, they are People, such That mend vpon the world.
Enter Iachimo. Phi. See Iachimo. Post. The swiftest Harts, haue posted you by land; And Windes of all the Corners kiss'd your Sailes,
[1135]
To make your vessell nimble.
Phil. Welcome Sir. Post. I hope the briefenesse of your answere, made The speedinesse of your returne. Iachi. Your Lady,
[1140]
Is one of the fayrest that I haue look'd vpon An ink mark follows the end of this line.
Post. And therewithall the best, or let her beauty Looke thorough a Casement to allure false hearts, And be false with them. Iachi. Heere are Letters for you. Post.
[1145]
Their tenure good I trust.
Iach. 'Tis very like. Post. Was Caius Lucius in the Britaine Court, When you were there? Iach. He was expected then,
[1150]
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 haue lost it,
[1155]
I should haue lost the worth of it in Gold, Ile make a iourney twice as farre, t'enioy A second night of such sweet shortnesse, which Was mine in Britaine, for the Ring is wonne.
Post. The Stones too hard to come by. Iach.
[1160]
Not a whit, Your Lady being so easy.
Post. Make note Sir Your losse, your Sport: I hope you know that we Must not continue Friends. Iach.
[1165]
Good Sir, we must If you keepe Couenant: had I not brought The knowledge of your Mistris home, I grant We were to question farther; but I now Professe my selfe the winner of her Honor,
[1170]
Together with your Ring; and not the wronger Of her, or you hauing proceeded but By both your willes.
Post. If you can mak't apparent That you haue tasted her in Bed; my hand,
[1175]
And Ring is yours. If not, the foule opinion You had of her pure Honour; gaines, or looses, Your Sword, or mine or Masterlesse leaue both To who shall finde them.
Iach. Sir, my Circumstances
[1180]
Being so nere the Truth, as I will make them, Must first induce you to beleeue; whose strength I will confirme with oath, which I doubt not You'l

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Scena Quarta. [Act 2, Scene 4] Enter Posthumus, and Philario. Post. Feare it not Sir: I would I were so sure
[1105]
To winne the King, as I am bold, her Honour Will remaine her's.
Phil. What meanes do you make to him ? Post. Not any: but abide the change of Time, Quake in the present winters state, and wish
[1110]
That warmer dayes would come: In these fear'd hope I barely gratifie your loue; they fayling I must die much your debtor.
Phil. Your very goodnesse, and your company, Ore‑payes all I can do. By this your King,
[1115]
Hath heard of Great Augustus: Caius Lucius, Will do's Commission throughly. And I think Hee'le grant the Tribute: send th'Arrerages, Or looke vpon our Romaines, whose remembrance Is yet fresh in their griefe.
Post.
[1120]
I do beleeue (Statist though I am none, nor like to be) That this will proue a Warre; and you shall heare The Legion now in Gallia, sooner landed In our not‑fearing‑Britaine, then haue tydings
[1125]
Of any penny Tribute paid. Our Countrymen Are men more order'd, then when Iulius Cæsar Smil'd at their lacke of skill, but found their courage Worthy his frowning at. Their discipline, (Now wing‑led with their courages) will make knowne
[1130]
To their Approuers, they are People, such That mend vpon the world.
Enter Iachimo. Phi. See Iachimo. Post. The swiftest Harts, haue posted you by land; And Windes of all the Corners kiss'd your Sailes,
[1135]
To make your vessell nimble.
Phil. Welcome Sir. Post. I hope the briefenesse of your answere, made The speedinesse of your returne. Iachi. Your Lady,
[1140]
Is one of the fayrest that I haue look'd vpon An ink mark follows the end of this line.
Post. And therewithall the best, or let her beauty Looke thorough a Casement to allure false hearts, And be false with them. Iachi. Heere are Letters for you. Post.
[1145]
Their tenure good I trust.
Iach. 'Tis very like. Post. Was Caius Lucius in the Britaine Court, When you were there? Iach. He was expected then,
[1150]
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 haue lost it,
[1155]
I should haue lost the worth of it in Gold, Ile make a iourney twice as farre, t'enioy A second night of such sweet shortnesse, which Was mine in Britaine, for the Ring is wonne.
Post. The Stones too hard to come by. Iach.
[1160]
Not a whit, Your Lady being so easy.
Post. Make note Sir Your losse, your Sport: I hope you know that we Must not continue Friends. Iach.
[1165]
Good Sir, we must If you keepe Couenant: had I not brought The knowledge of your Mistris home, I grant We were to question farther; but I now Professe my selfe the winner of her Honor,
[1170]
Together with your Ring; and not the wronger Of her, or you hauing proceeded but By both your willes.
Post. If you can mak't apparent That you haue tasted her in Bed; my hand,
[1175]
And Ring is yours. If not, the foule opinion You had of her pure Honour; gaines, or looses, Your Sword, or mine or Masterlesse leaue both To who shall finde them.
Iach. Sir, my Circumstances
[1180]
Being so nere the Truth, as I will make them, Must first induce you to beleeue; whose strength I will confirme with oath, which I doubt not You'l giue me leaue to spare, when you shall finde You neede it not.
Post.
[1185]
Proceed.
Iach. First, her Bed‑chamber (Where I confesse I slept not, but professe Had that was well worth watching) it was hang'd With Tapistry of Silke, and Siluer, the Story
[1190]
Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman, And Sidnus swell'd aboue the Bankes, or for The presse of Boates, or Pride. A peece of Worke So brauely done, so rich, that it did striue In Workemanship, and Value, which I wonder'd
[1195]
Could be so rarely, and exactly wrought Since the true life on't was⸺
Post. This is true: And this you might haue heard of heere, by me, Or by some other. Iach.
[1200]
More particulars Must iustifie my knowledge.
Post. So they must, Or doe your Honour iniury. Iach. The Chimney
[1205]
Is South the Chamber, and the Chimney‑peece Chaste Dian, bathing: neuer saw I figures So likely to report themselues; the Cutter Was as another Nature dumbe, out‑went her, Motion, and Breath left out.
Post.
[1210]
This is a thing Which you might from Relation likewise reape, Being, as it is, much spoke of.
Iach. The Roofe o'th'Chamber, With golden Cherubins is fretted. Her Andirons
[1215]
(I had forgot them) were two winking Cupids Of Siluer, each on one foote standing, nicely Depending on their Brands.
Post. This is her Honor: Let it be granted you haue seene all this (and praise
[1220]
Be giuen to your remembrance) the description Of what is in her Chamber, nothing saues The wager you haue laid.
Iach. Then if you can Be pale, I begge but leaue to ayre this Iewell: See,
[1225]
And now 'tis vp againe: it must be married To that your Diamond, Ile keepe them.
Post. Ioue⸺ Once more let me behold it: Is it that Which I left with her? Iach.
[1230]
Sir (I thanke her) that She stript it from her Arme: I see her yet: Her pretty Action, did out‑sell her guift, And yet enrich'd it too: she gaue it me, And said, she priz'd it once.
Post.
[1235]
May be, she pluck'd it off To send it me.
Iach. She writes so to you? doth shee ? Post. O no, no, no, 'tis true. Heere, take this too, It is a Basiliske vnto mine eye,
[1240]
Killes me to looke on't: Let there be no Honor, Where there is Beauty: Truth, where semblance: Loue, Where there's another man. The Vowes of Women, Of no more bondage be, to where they are made, Then they are to their Vertues, which is nothing:
[1245]
O, aboue measure false.
Phil. Haue patience Sir, And take your Ring againe, 'tis not yet wonne: It may be probable she lost it: or Who knowes if one her women, being corrupted
[1250]
Hath stolne it from her.
Post. Very true, And so I hope he came by't: backe my Ring, Render to me some corporall signe about her More euident then this: for this was stolne. Iach.
[1255]
By Iupiter, I had it from her Arme.
Post. Hearke you, he sweares: by Iupiter he sweares. 'Tis true, nay keepe the Ring; 'tis true: I am sure She would not loose it: her Attendants are All sworne, and honourable: they induc'd to steale it?
[1260]
And by a Stranger? No, he hath enioy'd her, The Cognisance of her incontinencie Is this: she hath bought the name of Whore, thus deerly There, take thy hyre, and all the Fiends of Hell Diuide themselues betweene you.
Phil.
[1265]
Sir, be patient: This is not strong enough to be beleeu'd Of one perswaded well of.
Post. Neuer talke on't: She hath bin colted by him. Iach.
[1270]
If you seeke For further satisfying, vnder her Breast (Worthy her pressing) lyes a Mole, right proud Of that most delicate Lodging. By my life I kist it, and it gaue me present hunger
[1275]
To feede againe, though full. You do remember This staine vpon her?
Post. I, and it doth confirme Another staine, as bigge as Hell can hold, Were there no more but it. Iach.
[1280]
Will you heare more ?
Post. Spare your Arethmaticke, Neuer count the Turnes: Once, and a Million. Iach. Ile be sworne. Post. No swearing:
[1285]
If you will sweare you haue not done't, you lye, And I will kill thee, if thou do'st deny Thou'st made me Cuckold.
Iach. Ile deny nothing. Post. O that I had her heere, to teare her Limb‑meale:
[1290]
I will go there and doo't, i'th'Court, before Her Father. Ile do something.
Exit. Phil. Quite besides The gouernment of Patience. You haue wonne: Let's follow him, and peruert the present wrath
[1295]
He hath against himselfe.
Iach. With all my heart. Exeunt.
 

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<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<div type="scene" n="4">
   <head rend="italic center">Scena Quarta.</head>
   <head type="supplied">[Act 2, Scene 4]</head>
   <stage rend="center" type="entrance">Enter Posthumus, and Philario.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1104">Feare it not Sir: I would I were so sure</l>
      <l n="1105">To winne the King, as I am bold, her Honour</l>
      <l n="1106">Will remaine her's.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-phi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Phil.</speaker>
      <l n="1107">What meanes do you make to him<c rend="italic">?</c>
      </l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1108">Not any: but abide the change of Time,</l>
      <l n="1109">Quake in the present winters state, and wish</l>
      <l n="1110">That warmer dayes would come: In these fear'd hope</l>
      <l n="1111">I barely gratifie your loue; they fayling</l>
      <l n="1112">I must die much your debtor.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-phi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Phil.</speaker>
      <l n="1113">Your very goodnesse, and your company,</l>
      <l n="1114">Ore‑payes all I can do. By this your King,</l>
      <l n="1115">Hath heard of Great<hi rend="italic">Augustus</hi>:<hi rend="italic">Caius Lucius</hi>,</l>
      <l n="1116">Will do's Commission throughly. And I think</l>
      <cb n="2"/>
      <l n="1117">Hee'le grant the Tribute: send th'Arrerages,</l>
      <l n="1118">Or looke vpon our Romaines, whose remembrance</l>
      <l n="1119">Is yet fresh in their griefe.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1120">I do beleeue</l>
      <l n="1121">(Statist though I am none, nor like to be)</l>
      <l n="1122">That this will proue a Warre; and you shall heare</l>
      <l n="1123">The Legion now in Gallia, sooner landed</l>
      <l n="1124">In our not‑fearing‑Britaine, then haue tydings</l>
      <l n="1125">Of any penny Tribute paid. Our Countrymen</l>
      <l n="1126">Are men more order'd, then when<hi rend="italic">Iulius Cæsar</hi>
      </l>
      <l n="1127">Smil'd at their lacke of skill, but found their courage</l>
      <l n="1128">Worthy his frowning at. Their discipline,</l>
      <l n="1129">(Now wing‑led with their courages) will make knowne</l>
      <l n="1130">To their Approuers, they are People, such</l>
      <l n="1131">That mend vpon the world.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="entrance">Enter Iachimo.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-cym-phi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Phi.</speaker>
      <l n="1132">See<hi rend="italic">Iachimo</hi>.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1133">The swiftest Harts, haue posted you by land;</l>
      <l n="1134">And Windes of all the Corners kiss'd your Sailes,</l>
      <l n="1135">To make your vessell nimble.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-phi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Phil.</speaker>
      <l n="1136">Welcome Sir.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1137">I hope the briefenesse of your answere, made</l>
      <l n="1138">The speedinesse of your returne.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-iac">
      <speaker rend="italic">Iachi.</speaker>
      <l n="1139">Your Lady,</l>
      <l n="1140">Is one of the fayrest that I haue look'd vpon</l>
      <note type="physical" resp="#ES">An ink mark follows the end of this line.</note>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1141">And therewithall the best, or let her beauty</l>
      <l n="1142">Looke thorough a Casement to allure false hearts,</l>
      <l n="1143">And be false with them.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-iac">
      <speaker rend="italic">Iachi.</speaker>
      <l n="1144">Heere are Letters for you.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1145">Their tenure good I trust.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-iac">
      <speaker rend="italic">Iach.</speaker>
      <l n="1146">'Tis very like.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1147">Was<hi rend="italic">Caius Lucius</hi>in the Britaine Court,</l>
      <l n="1148">When you were there?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-iac">
      <speaker rend="italic">Iach.</speaker>
      <l n="1149">He was expected then,</l>
      <l n="1150">But not approach'd.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1151">All is well yet,</l>
      <l n="1152">Sparkles this Stone as it was wont, or is't not</l>
      <l n="1153">Too dull for your good wearing?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-iac">
      <speaker rend="italic">Iach.</speaker>
      <l n="1154">If I haue lost it,</l>
      <l n="1155">I should haue lost the worth of it in Gold,</l>
      <l n="1156">Ile make a iourney twice as farre, t'enioy</l>
      <l n="1157">A second night of such sweet shortnesse, which</l>
      <l n="1158">Was mine in Britaine, for the Ring is wonne.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1159">The Stones too hard to come by.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-iac">
      <speaker rend="italic">Iach.</speaker>
      <l n="1160">Not a whit,</l>
      <l n="1161">Your Lady being so easy.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1162">Make note Sir</l>
      <l n="1163">Your losse, your Sport: I hope you know that we</l>
      <l n="1164">Must not continue Friends.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-iac">
      <speaker rend="italic">Iach.</speaker>
      <l n="1165">Good Sir, we must</l>
      <l n="1166">If you keepe Couenant: had I not brought</l>
      <l n="1167">The knowledge of your Mistris home, I grant</l>
      <l n="1168">We were to question farther; but I now</l>
      <l n="1169">Professe my selfe the winner of her Honor,</l>
      <l n="1170">Together with your Ring; and not the wronger</l>
      <l n="1171">Of her, or you hauing proceeded but</l>
      <l n="1172">By both your willes.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1173">If you can mak't apparent</l>
      <l n="1174">That you haue tasted her in Bed; my hand,</l>
      <l n="1175">And Ring is yours. If not, the foule opinion</l>
      <l n="1176">You had of her pure Honour; gaines, or looses,</l>
      <l n="1177">Your Sword, or mine<gap extent="1"
              unit="chars"
              reason="illegible"
              agent="inkBlot"
              resp="#ES"/>or Masterlesse leaue both</l>
      <l n="1178">To who shall finde them.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-iac">
      <speaker rend="italic">Iach.</speaker>
      <l n="1179">Sir, my Circumstances</l>
      <l n="1180">Being so nere the Truth, as I will make them,</l>
      <l n="1181">Must first induce you to beleeue; whose strength</l>
      <l n="1182">I will confirme with oath, which I doubt not</l>
      <pb facs="FFimg:axc0889-0.jpg" n="389"/>
      <cb n="1"/>
      <l n="1183">You'l giue me leaue to spare, when you shall finde</l>
      <l n="1184">You neede it not.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1185">Proceed.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-iac">
      <speaker rend="italic">Iach.</speaker>
      <l n="1186">First, her Bed‑chamber</l>
      <l n="1187">(Where I confesse I slept not, but professe</l>
      <l n="1188">Had that was well worth watching) it was hang'd</l>
      <l n="1189">With Tapistry of Silke, and Siluer, the Story</l>
      <l n="1190">Proud<hi rend="italic">Cleopatra</hi>, when she met her Roman,</l>
      <l n="1191">And<hi rend="italic">Sidnus</hi>swell'd aboue the Bankes, or for</l>
      <l n="1192">The presse of Boates, or Pride. A peece of Worke</l>
      <l n="1193">So brauely done, so rich, that it did striue</l>
      <l n="1194">In Workemanship, and Value, which I wonder'd</l>
      <l n="1195">Could be so rarely, and exactly wrought</l>
      <l n="1196">Since the true life on't was⸺</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1197">This is true:</l>
      <l n="1198">And this you might haue heard of heere, by me,</l>
      <l n="1199">Or by some other.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-iac">
      <speaker rend="italic">Iach.</speaker>
      <l n="1200">More particulars</l>
      <l n="1201">Must iustifie my knowledge.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1202">So they must,</l>
      <l n="1203">Or doe your Honour iniury.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-iac">
      <speaker rend="italic">Iach.</speaker>
      <l n="1204">The Chimney</l>
      <l n="1205">Is South the Chamber, and the Chimney‑peece</l>
      <l n="1206">Chaste<hi rend="italic">Dian</hi>, bathing: neuer saw I figures</l>
      <l n="1207">So likely to report themselues; the Cutter</l>
      <l n="1208">Was as another Nature dumbe, out‑went her,</l>
      <l n="1209">Motion, and Breath left out.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1210">This is a thing</l>
      <l n="1211">Which you might from Relation likewise reape,</l>
      <l n="1212">Being, as it is, much spoke of.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-iac">
      <speaker rend="italic">Iach.</speaker>
      <l n="1213">The Roofe o'th'Chamber,</l>
      <l n="1214">With golden Cherubins is fretted. Her Andirons</l>
      <l n="1215">(I had forgot them) were two winking Cupids</l>
      <l n="1216">Of Siluer, each on one foote standing, nicely</l>
      <l n="1217">Depending on their Brands.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1218">This is her Honor:</l>
      <l n="1219">Let it be granted you haue seene all this (and praise</l>
      <l n="1220">Be giuen to your remembrance) the description</l>
      <l n="1221">Of what is in her Chamber, nothing saues</l>
      <l n="1222">The wager you haue laid.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-iac">
      <speaker rend="italic">Iach.</speaker>
      <l n="1223">Then if you can</l>
      <l n="1224">Be pale, I begge but leaue to ayre this Iewell: See,</l>
      <l n="1225">And now 'tis vp againe: it must be married</l>
      <l n="1226">To that your Diamond, Ile keepe them.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1227">Ioue⸺</l>
      <l n="1228">Once more let me behold it: Is it that</l>
      <l n="1229">Which I left with her?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-iac">
      <speaker rend="italic">Iach.</speaker>
      <l n="1230">Sir (I thanke her) that</l>
      <l n="1231">She stript it from her Arme: I see her yet:</l>
      <l n="1232">Her pretty Action, did out‑sell her guift,</l>
      <l n="1233">And yet enrich'd it too: she gaue it me,</l>
      <l n="1234">And said, she priz'd it once.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1235">May be, she pluck'd it off</l>
      <l n="1236">To send it me.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-iac">
      <speaker rend="italic">Iach.</speaker>
      <l n="1237">She writes so to you? doth shee<c rend="italic">?</c>
      </l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1238">O no, no, no, 'tis true. Heere, take this too,</l>
      <l n="1239">It is a Basiliske vnto mine eye,</l>
      <l n="1240">Killes me to looke on't: Let there be no Honor,</l>
      <l n="1241">Where there is Beauty: Truth, where semblance: Loue,</l>
      <l n="1242">Where there's another man. The Vowes of Women,</l>
      <l n="1243">Of no more bondage be, to where they are made,</l>
      <l n="1244">Then they are to their Vertues, which is nothing:</l>
      <l n="1245">O, aboue measure false.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-phi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Phil.</speaker>
      <l n="1246">Haue patience Sir,</l>
      <l n="1247">And take your Ring againe, 'tis not yet wonne:</l>
      <l n="1248">It may be probable she lost it: or</l>
      <cb n="2"/>
      <l n="1249">Who knowes if one her women, being corrupted</l>
      <l n="1250">Hath stolne it from her.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1251">Very true,</l>
      <l n="1252">And so I hope he came by't: backe my Ring,</l>
      <l n="1253">Render to me some corporall signe about her</l>
      <l n="1254">More euident then this: for this was stolne.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-iac">
      <speaker rend="italic">Iach.</speaker>
      <l n="1255">By Iupiter, I had it from her Arme.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1256">Hearke you, he sweares: by Iupiter he sweares.</l>
      <l n="1257">'Tis true, nay keepe the Ring; 'tis true: I am sure</l>
      <l n="1258">She would not loose it: her Attendants are</l>
      <l n="1259">All sworne, and honourable: they induc'd to steale it?</l>
      <l n="1260">And by a Stranger? No, he hath enioy'd her,</l>
      <l n="1261">The Cognisance of her incontinencie</l>
      <l n="1262">Is this: she hath bought the name of Whore, thus deerly</l>
      <l n="1263">There, take thy hyre, and all the Fiends of Hell</l>
      <l n="1264">Diuide themselues betweene you.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-phi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Phil.</speaker>
      <l n="1265">Sir, be patient:</l>
      <l n="1266">This is not strong enough to be beleeu'd</l>
      <l n="1267">Of one perswaded well of.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1268">Neuer talke on't:</l>
      <l n="1269">She hath bin colted by him.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-iac">
      <speaker rend="italic">Iach.</speaker>
      <l n="1270">If you seeke</l>
      <l n="1271">For further satisfying, vnder her Breast</l>
      <l n="1272">(Worthy her pressing) lyes a Mole, right proud</l>
      <l n="1273">Of that most delicate Lodging. By my life</l>
      <l n="1274">I kist it, and it gaue me present hunger</l>
      <l n="1275">To feede againe, though full. You do remember</l>
      <l n="1276">This staine vpon her?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1277">I, and it doth confirme</l>
      <l n="1278">Another staine, as bigge as Hell can hold,</l>
      <l n="1279">Were there no more but it.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-iac">
      <speaker rend="italic">Iach.</speaker>
      <l n="1280">Will you heare more<c rend="italic">?</c>
      </l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1281">Spare your Arethmaticke,</l>
      <l n="1282">Neuer count the Turnes: Once, and a Million.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-iac">
      <speaker rend="italic">Iach.</speaker>
      <l n="1283">Ile be sworne.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1284">No swearing:</l>
      <l n="1285">If you will sweare you haue not done't, you lye,</l>
      <l n="1286">And I will kill thee, if thou do'st deny</l>
      <l n="1287">Thou'st made me Cuckold.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-iac">
      <speaker rend="italic">Iach.</speaker>
      <l n="1288">Ile deny nothing.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-leo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Post.</speaker>
      <l n="1289">O that I had her heere, to teare her Limb‑meale:</l>
      <l n="1290">I will go there and doo't, i'th'Court, before</l>
      <l n="1291">Her Father. Ile do something.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-cym-phi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Phil.</speaker>
      <l n="1292">Quite besides</l>
      <l n="1293">The gouernment of Patience. You haue wonne:</l>
      <l n="1294">Let's follow him, and peruert the present wrath</l>
      <l n="1295">He hath against himselfe.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cym-iac">
      <speaker rend="italic">Iach.</speaker>
      <l n="1296">With all my heart.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exeunt.</stage>
</div>

        
        

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