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.


Scena Quarta.

Enter Posthumus, and Philario.

Post. Feare it not Sir: I would I were so sure
To winne the King, as I am bold, her Honour
Will remaine her's

Phil. What meanes do you make to him?
Post. Not any: but abide the change of Time,
Quake in the present winters state, and wish