Scene I.

Wales. Near the cave of BELARIUS

Enter CLOTEN alone

I am near to th' place where they should meet, if Pisanio
have mapp'd it truly. How fit his garments serve me! Why should
his mistress, who was made by him that made the tailor, not be
fit too? The rather- saving reverence of the word- for 'tis said
a woman's fitness comes by fits. Therein I must play the workman.
I dare speak it to myself, for it is not vain-glory for a man and
his glass to confer in his own chamber- I mean, the lines of my
body are as well drawn as his; no less young, more strong, not
beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in the advantage of the time,
above him in birth, alike conversant in general services, and
more remarkable in single oppositions. Yet this imperceiverant
thing loves him in my despite. What mortality is! Posthumus, thy
head, which now is growing upon thy shoulders, shall within this
hour be off; thy mistress enforced; thy garments cut to pieces
before her face; and all this done, spurn her home to her father,
who may, haply, be a little angry for my so rough usage; but my
mother, having power of his testiness, shall turn all into my
commendations. My horse is tied up safe. Out, sword, and to a
sore purpose! Fortune, put them into my hand. This is the very
description of their meeting-place; and the fellow dares not
deceive me.