Page 491 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

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 [110]
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 [115]
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 me some corporal sign about her
More evident than this: for this was stol’n. [120]

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 induc’d to steal it? [125]
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: [130]

This is not strong enough to be believed