Cymbeline (Folio 1, 1623)
Peer Reviewed
¶
Enter Posthumus.
¶Post. Is there no way for Men to be, but Women
1340And that most venerable man, which I
¶Did call my Father, was, I know not where
¶When I was stampt. Some Coyner with his Tooles
¶Made me a counterfeit: yet my Mother seem'd
¶The Dian of that time: so doth my Wife
1345The Non-pareill of this. Oh Vengeance, Vengeance!
¶And pray'd me oft forbearance: did it with
¶Might well haue warm'd olde Saturne;
1350That I thought her
¶As Chaste, as vn-Sunn'd Snow. Oh, all the Diuels!
¶This yellow Iachimo in an houre, was't not?
¶Like a full Acorn'd Boare, a Iarmen on,
1355Cry'de oh, and mounted; found no opposition
¶Should from encounter guard. Could I finde out
¶The Womans part in me, for there's no motion
¶That tends to vice in man, but I affirme
1360It is the Womans part: be it Lying, note it,
¶The womans: Flattering, hers; Deceiuing, hers:
¶Lust, and ranke thoughts, hers, hers: Reuenges hers:
¶Ambitions, Couetings, change of Prides, Disdaine,
¶Nice-longing, Slanders, Mutability;
1365All Faults that name, nay, that Hell knowes,
¶Why hers, in part, or all: but rather all._For euen to Vice
¶One Vice, but of a minute old, for one
¶In a true Hate, to pray they haue their will:
¶The very Diuels cannot plague them better.
Exit.
