Act 2 - Scene 4
Rome. Philario's house.
Enter POSTHUMUS and PHILARIO
Fear it not, sir: I would I were so sure
To win the king as I am bold her honour
Will remain hers.
What means do you make to him?
Not any, but abide the change of time,
Quake in the present winter's state and wish
That warmer days
would come: in these sear'd hopes,
I barely gratify your love; they failing,
I must die much your debtor.
Your very goodness and your company
O'erpays all I can do. By this, your king
Hath heard of great Augustus: Caius
Will do's commission throughly: and I think
He'll grant the tribute, send the arrearages,
Or look upon
our Romans, whose remembrance
Is yet fresh in their grief.
I do believe,
Statist though I am none, nor like to be,
That this will prove a war; and you shall hear
legions now in Gallia sooner landed
In our not-fearing Britain than have tidings
Of any penny tribute paid.
Are men more order'd than when Julius Caesar
Smiled at their lack of skill, but found
Worthy his frowning at: their discipline,
Now mingled with their courages, will make known
approvers they are people such
That mend upon the world.
The swiftest harts have posted you by land;
And winds of all the comers kiss'd your sails,
To make your
I hope the briefness of your answer made
The speediness of your return.
Is one of the fairest that I have look'd upon.
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