Act II · Scene V
Another room in Philario's house.
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Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS
POSTHUMUS LEONATUS
Is there no way for men to be but womenMust be half-workers? We are all bastards;And that most venerable man which IDid call my father, was I know not whereWhen I was stamp'd; some coiner with his toolsMade me a counterfeit: yet my mother seem'dThe Dian of that time so doth my wifeThe nonpareil of this. O, vengeance, vengeance!Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'dAnd pray'd me oft forbearance; did it withA pudency so rosy the sweet view on'tMight well have warm'd old Saturn; that I thought herAs chaste as unsunn'd snow. O, all the devils!This yellow Iachimo, in an hour,--wast 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 oppositionBut what he look'd for should oppose and sheShould from encounter guard. Could I find outThe woman's part in me! For there's no motionThat tends to vice in man, but I affirmIt 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 viceThey are not constant but are changing stillOne vice, but of a minute old, for oneNot half so old as that. I'll write against them,Detest them, curse them: yet 'tis greater skillIn a true hate, to pray they have their will:The very devils cannot plague them better.
Exit