Cymbeline

and exactly wrought,
Since the true life on’t was⁠— Posthumus

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

Iachimo

More particulars
Must justify my knowledge.

Posthumus

So they must,
Or do your honour injury.

Iachimo

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

Posthumus

This is a thing
Which you might from relation likewise reap,
Being, as it is, much spoke of.

Iachimo

The roof o’ the chamber
With golden cherubins is fretted: her andirons⁠—
I had forgot them⁠—were two winking Cupids
Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely
Depending on their brands.

Posthumus

This is her honour!
Let it be granted you have seen all this⁠—and praise
Be given to your remembrance⁠—the description
Of what is in her chamber nothing saves
The wager you have laid.

Iachimo

Then, if you can, Showing 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.

Posthumus

Jove!
Once more let me behold it: is it that
Which I left with her?

Iachimo

Sir⁠—I thank her⁠—that:
She stripp’d it from her arm; I see her yet;
Her pretty action did outsell her gift,
And yet enrich’d it too: she gave it me, and said
She prized it once.

Posthumus

May be she pluck’d it off
To send it me.

Iachimo She writes so to you, doth she? Posthumus

O, no, no, no! ’tis true. Here, take this too; Gives the ring.
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 are made,
Than they are to their virtues; which is nothing.
O, above measure false!

Philario

Have patience, sir,
And take your ring again; ’tis not yet won:
It may be probable she lost it; or
Who knows if one of her women, being corrupted,
Hath stol’n it from her?

Posthumus

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 stolen.

Iachimo By Jupiter, I had it from her arm. Posthumus

Hark you, he swears; by Jupiter he swears.
’Tis true:⁠—nay, keep the ring⁠—’tis true: I am sure
She would not lose it: her attendants are
All sworn and honourable:⁠—they induced 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!

Philario

Sir, be patient:
This is not strong enough to be believed
Of one persuaded well of⁠—

Posthumus

Never talk on’t;
She hath been colted by him.

Iachimo

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?

Posthumus

Ay, and it doth confirm
Another stain, as big as hell can hold,
Were there no more but it.

Iachimo Will you hear more? Posthumus

Spare your arithmetic: never count the turns;
Once, and a million!

Iachimo I’ll be sworn⁠— Posthumus

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.

Iachimo I’ll deny nothing. Posthumus

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—Exit.

Philario

Quite besides
The government of patience! You have won:
Let’s follow him, and pervert the present wrath
He hath against himself.

Iachimo With an my heart. Exeunt.

Scene V

Another room in Philario’s house.

Enter Posthumus.

Posthumus

Is there no way for men to be but women Must be half-workers? We are all bastards; 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 pudency 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, Cried “O!” 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; Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers; Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain, Nice longing, slanders, mutability, All faults that may be named, 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.

Act III

Scene I

Britain. A hall in Cymbeline’s palace.

	Enter in state, Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, and Lords at one door, and at another, Caius Lucius and Attendants.
Cymbeline	Now say, what would Augustus Caesar with us?
Lucius	When Julius Caesar, 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 Caesar’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 Is left untender’d.
Queen	And, to kill the marvel, Shall be so ever.
Cloten	There be many Caesars, Ere such another Julius. Britain is A world by itself;