LADY.
Who’s there that knocks?
CLOTEN.
A gentleman.
LADY.
No more?
CLOTEN.
Yes, and a gentlewoman’s son.
LADY.
That’s more
Than some whose tailors are as dear as yours
Can justly boast of. What’s your lordship’s pleasure?
CLOTEN.
Your lady’s person; is she ready?
LADY.
Ay,
To keep her chamber.
CLOTEN.
There is gold for you; sell me your good report.
LADY.
How? My good name? or to report of you
What I shall think is good? The Princess!
Enter Imogen.