Imo. He neuer can meete more mischance, then come
To be but nam'd of thee. His mean'st Garment
That euer hath but clipt his body; is dearer
In my respect, then all the Heires aboue thee,
Were they all made such men: How now Pisanio?
Enter Pisanio.
Clot. His Garments? Now the diuell
Imo. To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently
Clot. His Garment?
Imo. I am sprighted with a Foole,
Frighted, and angred worse: Go bid my woman
Search for a Iewell, that too casually
Hath left mine Arme: it was thy Masters. Shrew me
If I would loose it for a Reuenew,
Of any Kings in Europe. I do think,
I saw't this morning: Confident I am.
Last night 'twas on mine Arme; I kiss'd it,
I hope it be not gone, to tell my Lord
That I kisse aught but he
Pis. 'Twill not be lost
Imo. I hope so: go and search
Clot. You haue abus'd me:
His meanest Garment?
Imo. I, I said so Sir,
If you will make't an Action, call witnesse to't
Clot. I will enforme your Father
Imo. Your Mother too:
She's my good Lady; and will concieue, I hope
But the worst of me. So I leaue you Sir,
To'th' worst of discontent.
Enter.
Clot. Ile be reueng'd:
His mean'st Garment? Well.
Enter.