Act IV · Scene I
Wales: near the cave of Belarius.
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Enter CLOTEN
CLOTEN
I am near to the place where they should meet, ifPisanio have mapped it truly. How fit his garmentsserve me! Why should his mistress, who was made byhim that made the tailor, not be fit too? therather--saving reverence of the word--for 'tis saida woman's fitness comes by fits. Therein I mustplay the workman. I dare speak it to myself--for itis not vain-glory for a man and his glass to conferin his own chamber--I mean, the lines of my body areas well drawn as his; no less young, more strong,not beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in theadvantage of the time, above him in birth, alikeconversant in general services, and more remarkablein single oppositions: yet this imperceiverantthing loves him in my despite. What mortality is!Posthumus, thy head, which now is growing upon thyshoulders, shall within this hour be off; thymistress enforced; thy garments cut to pieces beforethy face: and all this done, spurn her home to herfather; who may haply be a little angry for my sorough usage; but my mother, having power of histestiness, shall turn all into my commendations. Myhorse is tied up safe: out, sword, and to a sorepurpose! Fortune, put them into my hand! This isthe very description of their meeting-place; andthe fellow dares not deceive me.
Exit