Britain. A public place.
(Cloten; First Lord; Second Lord)
Cloten, attended by two sycophantic lords boasts of what he would have done to Posthumus had they not been separated. He reveals himself as a braggart and a fool. (21 lines)
Enter Cloten and two Lords.
Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the violence of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice. Where air comes out, air comes in; there’s none abroad so wholesome as that you vent.
If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Have I hurt him?
No, faith; not so much as his patience.
Hurt him? His body’s a passable carcass, if he be not hurt; it is a throughfare for steel, if it be not hurt.
His steel was in debt, it went o’ th’ backside the town.
The villain would not stand me.
No, but he fled forward still, toward your face.
Stand you? You have land enough of your own, but he added to your having, gave you some ground.
As many inches as you have oceans. Puppies!
I would they had not come between us.
So would I, till you had measur’d how long a fool you were upon the ground.
And that she should love this fellow, and refuse me!
If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damn’d.
Sir, as I told you always; her beauty and her brain go not together. She’s a good sign, but I have seen small reflection of her wit.
She shines not upon fools, lest the reflection should hurt her.
Come, I’ll to my chamber. Would there had been some hurt done!
I wish not so, unless it had been the fall of an ass, which is no great hurt.
You’ll go with us?
I’ll attend your lordship.
Nay, come, let’s go together.
Well, my lord.