IMOGEN.
Your mother too.
She’s my good lady and will conceive, I hope,
But the worst of me. So I leave you, sir,
To th’ worst of discontent.
[Exit.]
CLOTEN.
I’ll be reveng’d.
‘His mean’st garment’! Well.
[Exit.]
SCENE IV. Rome. Philario’s house.
Enter Posthumus and Philario.
POSTHUMUS.
Fear it not, sir; I would I were so sure
To win the King as I am bold her honour
Will remain hers.
PHILARIO.
What means do you make to him?
POSTHUMUS.
Not any; but abide the change of time,
Quake in the present winter’s state, and wish
That warmer days would come. In these fear’d hopes
I barely gratify your love; they failing,
I must die much your debtor.
PHILARIO.
Your very goodness and your company
O’erpays all I can do. By this your king
Hath heard of great Augustus. Caius Lucius
Will do’s commission throughly; and I think
He’ll grant the tribute, send th’ arrearages,
Or look upon our Romans, whose remembrance
Is yet fresh in their grief.