When you have given good morning to your mistress,

Attend the Queen and us. We shall have need

T’employ you towards this Roman. Come, our queen.

Exeunt all but Cloten

CLOTEN

If she be up, I’ll speak with her; if not,

Let her lie still and dream.

⌈He knocks⌉

By your leave, ho!—

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 th’ stand o’th’ stealer; and ’tis gold

Which makes the true man killed and saves the thief,

Nay, sometime hangs both thief and true man. 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.

Knocks. Enter a Lady

LADY

Who’s there that knocks?

CLOTEN

A gentleman.

LADY

No more?

CLOTEN

Yes, and a gentlewoman’s son.

LADY That’s more

⌈Aside⌉ Than some whose tailors are as dear as

yours

Can justly boast of. (To him) What’s your lordship’s

pleasure?

CLOTEN

Your lady’s person. Is she ready?

LADY Ay.

⌈Aside⌉ To keep her chamber.

CLOTEN

There is gold for you.

Sell me your good report.

LADY

How, my good name?—or to report of you

What I shall think is good?

Enter Innogen

The Princess.

⌈Exit⌉

CLOTEN

Good morrow, fairest. Sister, your sweet hand.

INNOGEN

Good morrow, sir. You lay out too much pains

For purchasing but trouble. The thanks I give

Is telling you that I am poor of thanks,

And scarce can spare them.

CLOTEN

Still I swear I love you.

INNOGEN

If you but said so, ’twere as deep with me.

If you swear still, your recompense is still

That I regard it not.

CLOTEN

This is no answer.

INNOGEN

But that you shall not say I yield being silent,

I would not speak. I pray you, spare me. Faith,

I shall unfold equal discourtesy

To your best kindness. One of your great knowing

Should learn, being taught, forbearance.

CLOTEN

To leave you in your madness, ’twere my sin.

I will not.

INNOGEN

Fools cure not mad folks.

CLOTEN

Do you call me fool?

INNOGEN

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 th’ 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.

CLOTEN

You sin against

Obedience which you owe your father. For

The contract you pretend with that base wretch,

One bred of alms and fostered with cold dishes,

With scraps o‘th’ court, it is no contract, none.

And though it be allowed 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-figured knot,

Yet you are curbed from that enlargement by

The consequence o’th’ crown, and must not foil

The precious note of it with a base slave,

A hilding for a livery, a squire’s cloth,

A pantler—not so eminent.

INNOGEN

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,

Even to the point of envy, if ’twere made

Comparative for your virtues to be styled

The under-hangman of his kingdom, and hated

For being preferred so well.

CLOTEN

The south-fog rot him!

INNOGEN

He never can meet more mischance than come

To be but named of thee. His meanest garment

That ever hath but clipped his body is dearer

In my respect than all the hairs above thee,

Were they all made such men. How now, Pisanio!

Enter Pisanio

CLOTEN His garment? Now the devil—

INNOGEN (to Pisanio)

To Dorothy, my woman, hie thee presently.

CLOTEN

His garment?

INNOGEN (to Pisanio) I am sprited with a fool,

Frighted, and angered worse. Go bid my woman

Search for a jewel that too casually

Hath left mine arm. It was thy master’s. ‘Shrew me

If I would lose it for a revenue

Of any king’s in Europe! I do think

I saw’t this morning; confident I am

Last night ’twas on mine arm; I kissed it.

I hope it be not gone to tell my lord

That I kiss aught but he.

PISANIO

’Twill not be lost.

INNOGEN

I hope so. Go and search.

Exit Pisanio

CLOTEN

You have abused me.

‘His meanest garment’?

INNOGEN

Ay, I said so, sir.

If you will make’t an action, call witness to’t.

CLOTEN

I will inform your father.

INNOGEN

Your mother too.

She’s my good lady, and will conceive, I hope,

But the worst of me. So I leave you, sir,

To th’ worst of discontent.

Exit

CLOTEN

I’ll be revenged.

‘His meanest garment’? Well! Exit

2.4 Enter Posthumus and Filario

POSTHUMUS

Fear it not, sir. I would I were so sure

To win the King as I am bold her honour