Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Britain. He was then of a crescent

note, expected to prove so worthy as since he hath been allowed the

name of. But I could then have look’d on him without the help of

admiration, though the catalogue of his endowments had been tabled by

his side, and I to peruse him by items.

You speak of him when he was less furnish’d than now he is with that

which makes him both without and within.

I have seen him in France; we had very many there could behold the sun

with as firm eyes as he.

This matter of marrying his king’s daughter, wherein he must be weighed

rather by her value than his own, words him, I doubt not, a great deal

from the matter.

And then his banishment.

Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this lamentable divorce

under her colours are wonderfully to extend him, be it but to fortify

her judgement, which else an easy battery might lay flat, for taking a

beggar, without less quality. But how comes it he is to sojourn with

you? How creeps acquaintance?

His father and I were soldiers together, to whom I have been often

bound for no less than my life.

Here comes the Briton. Let him be so entertained amongst you as suits

with gentlemen of your knowing to a stranger of his quality. I beseech

you all be better known to this gentleman, whom I commend to you as a

noble friend of mine. How worthy he is I will leave to appear

hereafter, rather than story him in his own hearing.

Sir, we have known together in Orleans.

Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies, which I will be

ever to pay and yet pay still.

Sir, you o’errate my poor kindness. I was glad I did atone my

countryman and you; it had been pity you should have been put together

with so mortal a purpose as then each bore, upon importance of so

slight and trivial a nature.

By your pardon, sir. I was then a young traveller; rather shunn’d to go

even with what I heard than in my every action to be guided by others’

experiences; but upon my mended judgement (if I offend not to say it is

mended) my quarrel was not altogether slight.

Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords, and by such two

that would by all likelihood have confounded one the other or have

fall’n both.

Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference?

Safely, I think. ’Twas a contention in public, which may, without

contradiction, suffer the report. It was much like an argument that

fell out last night, where each of us fell in praise of our country

mistresses; this gentleman at that time vouching (and upon warrant of

bloody affirmation) his to be more fair, virtuous, wise, chaste,

constant, qualified, and less attemptable, than any the rarest of our

ladies in France.

That lady is not now living, or this gentleman’s opinion, by this, worn

out.

She holds her virtue still, and I my mind.

You must not so far prefer her ’fore ours of Italy.

Being so far provok’d as I was in France, I would abate her nothing,

though I profess myself her adorer, not her friend.

As fair and as good—a kind of hand-in-hand comparison—had been

something too fair and too good for any lady in Britain. If she went

before others I have seen as that diamond of yours outlustres many I

have beheld, I could not but believe she excelled many; but I have not

seen the most precious diamond that is, nor you the lady.

I prais’d her as I rated her. So do I my stone.

What do you esteem it at?

More than the world enjoys.

Either your unparagon’d mistress is dead, or she’s outpriz’d by a

trifle.

You are mistaken: the one may be sold or given, if there were wealth

enough for the purchase or merit for the gift; the other is not a thing

for sale, and only the gift of the gods.

Which the gods have given you?

Which by their graces I will keep.

You may wear her in title yours; but you know strange fowl light upon

neighbouring ponds. Your ring may be stol’n too. So your brace of

unprizable estimations, the one is but frail and the other casual; a

cunning thief, or a that-way-accomplish’d courtier, would hazard the

winning both of first and last.

Your Italy contains none so accomplish’d a courtier to convince the

honour of my mistress, if in the holding or loss of that you term her

frail. I do nothing doubt you have store of thieves; notwithstanding, I

fear not my ring.

Let us leave here, gentlemen.

Sir, with all my heart. This worthy signior, I thank him, makes no

stranger of me; we are familiar at first.

With five times so much conversation I should get ground of your fair

mistress; make her go back even to the yielding, had I admittance and

opportunity to friend.

No, no.

I dare thereupon pawn the moiety of my estate to your ring, which, in

my opinion, o’ervalues it something. But I make my wager rather against

your confidence than her reputation; and, to bar your offence herein

too, I durst attempt it against any lady in the world.

You are a great deal abus’d in too bold a persuasion, and I doubt not

you sustain what y’are worthy of by your attempt.

What’s that?

A repulse; though your attempt, as you call it, deserve more; a

punishment too.

Gentlemen, enough of this. It came in too suddenly; let it die as it

was born, and I pray you be better acquainted.

Would I had put my estate and my neighbour’s on th’ approbation of what

I have spoke!

What lady would you choose to assail?

Yours, whom in constancy you think stands so safe. I will lay you ten

thousand ducats to your ring that, commend me to the court where your

lady is, with no more advantage than the opportunity of a second

conference, and I will bring from thence that honour of hers which you

imagine so reserv’d.

I will wage against your gold, gold to it. My ring I hold dear as my

finger; ’tis part of it.

You are a friend, and therein the wiser. If you buy ladies’ flesh at a

million a dram, you cannot preserve it from tainting. But I see you

have some religion in you, that you fear.

This is but a custom in your tongue; you bear a graver purpose, I hope.

I am the master of my speeches, and would undergo what’s spoken, I

swear.

Will you? I shall but lend my diamond till your return. Let there be

covenants drawn between’s. My mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness

of your unworthy thinking. I dare you to this match: here’s my ring.

I will have it no lay.

By the gods, it is one. If I bring you no sufficient testimony that I

have enjoy’d the dearest bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand

ducats are yours; so is your diamond too. If I come off, and leave her

in such honour as you have trust in, she your jewel, this your jewel,

and my gold are yours: provided I have your commendation for my more

free entertainment.

I embrace these conditions; let us have articles betwixt us. Only, thus

far you shall answer: if you make your voyage upon her, and give me

directly to understand you have prevail’d, I am no further your enemy;

she is not worth our debate; if she remain unseduc’d, you not making it

appear otherwise, for your ill opinion and th’ assault you have made to

her chastity you shall answer me with your sword.

Your hand, a covenant! We will have these things set down by lawful

counsel, and straight away for Britain, lest the bargain should catch

cold and starve. I will fetch my gold and have our two wagers recorded.

Agreed.

Will this hold, think you?

Signior Iachimo will not from it. Pray let us follow ’em.