POSTHUMUS.
I do believe
Statist though I am none, nor like to be,
That this will prove a war; and you shall hear
The legions now in Gallia sooner landed
In our not-fearing Britain than have tidings
Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen
Are men more order’d than when Julius Cæsar
Smil’d at their lack of skill, but found their courage
Worthy his frowning at. Their discipline,
Now mingled with their courages, will make known
To their approvers they are people such
That mend upon the world.
Enter Iachimo.
PHILARIO.
See! Iachimo!
POSTHUMUS.
The swiftest harts have posted you by land,
And winds of all the corners kiss’d your sails,
To make your vessel nimble.
PHILARIO.
Welcome, sir.
POSTHUMUS.
I hope the briefness of your answer made
The speediness of your return.
IACHIMO.
Your lady
Is one of the fairest that I have look’d upon.
POSTHUMUS.
And therewithal the best; or let her beauty
Look through a casement to allure false hearts,
And be false with them.
IACHIMO.
Here are letters for you.
POSTHUMUS.
Their tenour good, I trust.