IACHIMO.
If you seek
For further satisfying, under her breast
(Worthy the pressing) lies a mole, right proud
Of that most delicate lodging. By my life,
I kiss’d it; and it gave me present hunger
To feed again, though full. You do remember
This stain upon her?
POSTHUMUS.
Ay, and it doth confirm
Another stain, as big as hell can hold,
Were there no more but it.
IACHIMO.
Will you hear more?
POSTHUMUS.
Spare your arithmetic; never count the turns.
Once, and a million!
IACHIMO.
I’ll be sworn—
POSTHUMUS.
No swearing.
If you will swear you have not done’t, you lie;
And I will kill thee if thou dost deny
Thou’st made me cuckold.
IACHIMO.
I’ll deny nothing.
POSTHUMUS.
O that I had her here to tear her limb-meal!
I will go there and do’t, i’ th’ court, before
Her father. I’ll do something—
[Exit.]
PHILARIO.
Quite besides
The government of patience! You have won.
Let’s follow him and pervert the present wrath
He hath against himself.