Cymbeline Translation Act 4, Scene 1
I am near to the place where they should meet, if Pisanio have mapped it truly. How fit his garments serve me! Why should his mistress, who was made by him that made the tailor, not be fit too? the rather—saving reverence of the word—for 'tis said a woman's fitness comes by fits. Therein I must play the workman. I dare speak it to myself—for it is not vain-glory for a man and his glass to confer in his own chamber— I mean, the lines of my body are as well drawn as his; no less young, more strong, not beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in the advantage of the time, above him in birth, alike conversant in general services, and more remarkable in single oppositions: yet this imperceiverant thing loves him in my despite. What mortality is! Posthumus, thy head, which now is growing upon thy shoulders, shall within this hour be off; thy mistress enforced; thy garments cut to pieces before thy face: and all this done, spurn her home to her father; who may haply be a little angry for my so rough usage; but my mother, having power of his testiness, shall turn all into my commendations. My horse is tied up safe: out, sword, and to a sore purpose! Fortune, put them into my hand! This is the very description of their meeting-place; and the fellow dares not deceive me.
I'm near the place where they're supposed to meet, if Pisanio's map is right. His clothes fit me really well! Why shouldn't his wife, who was made by the same god who made the tailor who made the clothes, fit me just as well? Or rather, as it were, it's said women have fits when you fit well. I will have to do some work. If I say so myself—and it's not vanity for a man to look in a mirror in his own room—my body is as attractive as his. I'm as young, stronger, not less rich than he is, more powerful, more noble, able to do the same things, and better at fighting. But this dimwitted thing loves him instead of me. Humans are such fools! Posthumus, your head, which is now growing on top of your shoulders, will come off within an hour, your wife will be raped, your clothes will be cut to pieces in front of your face, and all of this done to kick her home to her father. He may be a little angry at me for my rough treatment of her. But my mother is able to calm him and will make him see that this reflects well on me. My horse is safely tied up. Out, sword, and do terrible things! Luck, give them to me! This is exactly the meeting place he described, and that fellow doesn't dare lie to me.