Cymbeline | Page 6

a DUTCHMAN, and
a
SPANIARD.]
IACHIMO.
Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Britain. He was then of
a crescent note, expected to prove so worthy as since he hath been

allowed the name of; but I could then have look'd on him without the
help of admiration, though the catalogue of his endowments had been
tabled by his side and I to peruse him by items.
PHILARIO.
You speak of him when he was less furnish'd than now
he
is with that which makes him both without and within.
FRENCHMAN.
I have seen him in France. We had very many there
could
behold the sun with as firm eyes as he.
IACHIMO.
This matter of marrying his king's daughter, wherein he

must be weighed rather by her value than his own, words him, I
doubt not, a great deal from the matter.
FRENCHMAN.
And then his banishment.
IACHIMO.
Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this
lamentable
divorce under her colours are wonderfully to extend him;
be it but to fortify her judgement, which else an easy battery might lay
flat, for taking a beggar without less quality. But how comes it he is to
sojourn with you? How creeps acquaintance?
PHILARIO.
His father and I were soldiers together; to whom I have
been often bound for no less than my life.
[Enter POSTHUMUS.]
Here comes the Briton. Let him be so entertained amongst you as suits
with gentlemen of your knowing to a stranger of his
quality.--I
beseech you all, be better known to this gentleman, whom I commend
to you as a noble friend of mine. How worthy he is I will leave to
appear hereafter, rather than story him in his own hearing.
FRENCHMAN.
Sir, we have known together in Orleans.
POSTHUMUS.
Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies,

which I will be ever to pay and yet pay still.

FRENCHMAN.
Sir, you o'er-rate my poor kindness. I was glad I did
atone my countryman and you. It had been pity you should have been
put together with so mortal a purpose as then each bore, upon

importance of so slight and trivial a nature.
POSTHUMUS.
By your pardon, sir, I was then a young traveller;
rather shunn'd to go even with what I heard than in my every action to
be guided by others' experiences: but upon my mended judgement--if I
offend [not] to say it is mended--my quarrel was not altogether slight.
FRENCHMAN.
Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords,
and by such two that would by all likelihood have confounded one the
other, or have fallen both.
IACHIMO.
Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference?
FRENCHMAN.
Safely, I think; 'twas a contention in public, which
may, without contradiction, suffer the report. It was much like an
argument that fell out last night, where each of us fell in praise of our
country-mistresses; this gentleman at that time vouching--and upon
warrant of bloody affirmation--his to be more fair, virtuous, wise,
chaste, constant, qualified, and less attemptable than any the rarest of
our ladies in France.
IACHIMO.
That lady is not now living, or this gentleman's opinion
by this worn out.
POSTHUMUS.
She holds her virtue still, and I my mind.
IACHIMO.
You must not so far prefer her 'fore ours of Italy.
POSTHUMUS.
Being so far provok'd as I was in France, I would
abate her nothing, though I profess myself her adorer, not her friend.
IACHIMO.
As fair and as good--a kind of hand-in-hand
comparison--had been something too fair and too good for any lady in
Britain. If she went before others I have seen, as that diamond of yours

outlustres many I have beheld, I could not [but] believe she excelled
many. But I have not seen the most precious diamond that is, nor you
the lady.
POSTHUMUS.
I prais'd her as I rated her; so do I my stone.
IACHIMO.
What do you esteem it at?
POSTHUMUS.
More than the world enjoys.
IACHIMO.
Either your unparagon'd mistress is dead, or she's
outpriz'd by a trifle.
POSTHUMUS.
You are mistaken. The one may be sold, or given, if
there were wealth enough for the purchase, or merit for the gift; the
other is not a thing for sale, and only the gift of the gods.
IACHIMO.
Which the gods have given you?
POSTHUMUS.
Which, by their graces, I will keep.
IACHIMO.
You may wear her in title yours; but, you know, strange
fowl light upon neighbouring ponds. Your ring may be stolen too; so
your brace of unprizable estimations, the one is but frail and the other
casual. A cunning thief, or a that-wayaccomplish'
d courtier, would
hazard the winning both of first
and last.
POSTHUMUS.
Your Italy contains none so accomplish'd a courtier
to convince the honour of my mistress, if, in the holding or loss of that,
you term her frail. I do nothing doubt you have store of thieves;
notwithstanding, I fear not my ring.
PHILARIO.
Let us leave here, gentlemen.