Peace, peace! see further; he eyes us not; forbear;
Creatures may be alike: were 't he, I am sure
He would have spoke to us.
But we saw him dead.
Be silent; let's see further.
It is my mistress:
Since she is living, let the time run on
To good or bad.
Come, stand thou by our side;
Make thy demand aloud.
Sir, step you forth;
Give answer to this boy, and do it freely;
Or, by our greatness and the grace of it,
Which is our honour, bitter torture shall
Winnow the truth from falsehood. On, speak to him.
My boon is, that this gentleman may render
Of whom he had this ring.
What's that to him?
That diamond upon your finger, say
How came it yours?
Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that
Which, to be spoke, would torture thee.
How! me?
I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that
Which torments me to conceal. By villany
I got this ring: 'twas Leonatus' jewel;
Whom thou didst banish; and--which more may
grieve thee,
As it doth me--a nobler sir ne'er lived
'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord?
All that belongs to this.
That paragon, thy daughter,--
For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits
Quail to remember--Give me leave; I faint.
My daughter! what of her? Renew thy strength:
I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will
Than die ere I hear more: strive, man, and speak.
Upon a time,--unhappy was the clock
That struck the hour!--it was in Rome,--accursed
The mansion where!--'twas at a feast,--O, would
Our viands had been poison'd, or at least
Those which I heaved to head!--the good Posthumus--
What should I say? he was too good to be
Where ill men were; and was the best of all
Amongst the rarest of good ones,--sitting sadly,
Hearing us praise our loves of Italy
For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast
Of him that best could speak, for feature, laming
The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva.
Postures beyond brief nature, for condition,
A shop of all the qualities that man
Loves woman for, besides that hook of wiving,
Fairness which strikes the eye--
I stand on fire:
Come to the matter.
All too soon I shall,
Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This Posthumus,
Most like a noble lord in love and one
That had a royal lover, took his hint;
And, not dispraising whom we praised,--therein