Cymbeline by William Shakespeare
Act 4 - Scene 1
Wales: near the cave of Belarius.
Cloten : I am near to the place where they should meet, if
[p]Pisanio have
mapped it truly. How fit his garments
[p]serve me! Why should his
mistress, who was made by
[p]him that made the tailor, not be fit too?
the
[p]rather--saving reverence of the word--for 'tis said
[p]a
woman's fitness comes by fits. Therein I must
[p]play the workman. I
dare speak it to myself--for it
[p]is not vain-glory for a man and his
glass to confer
[p]in his own chamber--I mean, the lines of my body
are
[p]as well drawn as his; no less young, more strong,
[p]not
beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in the
[p]advantage of the time,
above him in birth, alike
[p]conversant in general services, and more
remarkable
[p]in single oppositions: yet this imperceiverant
[p]thing
loves him in my despite. What mortality is!
[p]Posthumus, thy head,
which now is growing upon thy
[p]shoulders, shall within this hour be
off; thy
[p]mistress enforced; thy garments cut to pieces
before
[p]thy face: and all this done, spurn her home to
her
[p]father; who may haply be a little angry for my so
[p]rough
usage; but my mother, having power of his
[p]testiness, shall turn all
into my commendations. My
[p]horse is tied up safe: out, sword, and to
a sore
[p]purpose! Fortune, put them into my hand! This is
[p]the very
description of their meeting-place; and
[p]the fellow dares not
deceive me.
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Next: Act 4 - Scene 2
