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. 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? 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. 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. 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 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. Will you heare more? Post. Spare your Arethmaticke, Neuer count the Turnes: Once, and a Million
Iach. Ile be sworne
Post. No swearing: 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: I will go there and doo't, i'th' Court, before Her Father. Ile do something. Enter.
Phil. Quite besides The gouernment of Patience. You haue wonne: Let's follow him, and peruert the present wrath He hath against himselfe
Iach. With all my heart.
Exeunt.
Enter Posthumus.
Post. Is there no way for Men to be, but Women Must be halfe-workers? We are all Bastards, And that most venerable man, which I Did call my Father, was, I know not where When I was stampt. Some Coyner with his Tooles Made me a counterfeit: yet my Mother seem'd The Dian of that time: so doth my Wife The Non-pareill of this. Oh Vengeance, Vengeance! Me of my lawfull pleasure she restrain'd, And pray'd me oft forbearance: did it with A pudencie so Rosie, the sweet view on't Might well haue warm'd olde Saturne; That I thought her As Chaste, as vn-Sunn'd Snow. Oh, all the Diuels! This yellow Iachimo in an houre, was't not? Or lesse; at first? Perchance he spoke not, but Like a full Acorn'd Boare, a Iarmen on, Cry'de oh, and mounted; found no opposition But what he look'd for, should oppose, and she Should from encounter guard. Could I finde out The Womans part in me, for there's no motion That tends to vice in man, but I affirme It is the Womans part: be it Lying, note it, The womans: Flattering, hers; Deceiuing, hers: Lust, and ranke thoughts, hers, hers: Reuenges hers: Ambitions, Couetings, change of Prides, Disdaine, Nice-longing, Slanders, Mutability; All Faults that name, nay, that Hell knowes, Why hers, in part, or all: but rather all. For euen to Vice They are not constant, but are changing still; One Vice, but of a minute old, for one Not halfe so old as that. Ile write against them, Detest them, curse them: yet 'tis greater Skill In a true Hate, to pray they haue their will: The very Diuels cannot plague them better. Enter.