First, her bedchamber

Iachimo
First, her bedchamber—
Where I confess I slept not, but profess
Had that was well worth watching—it was hanged
With tapestry of silk and silver, the story
Proud Cleopatra when she met her Roman
And Cydnus swelled above the banks, or for
The press of boats or pride. A piece of work
So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive
In workmanship and value, which I wondered
Could be so rarely and exactly wrought
Since the true life on ’t was—

Let there be no honor
Where there is beauty, truth where semblance, love
Where there’s another man.

Posthumus
This is true,
And this you might have heard of here, by me
Or by some other.
Iachimo
More particulars
Must justify my knowledge.
Posthumus
So they must,
Or do your honor injury.
Iachimo
The chimney
Is south the chamber, and the chimney-piece
Chaste Dian bathing. Never saw I figures
So likely to report themselves; the cutter
Was as another Nature, dumb, outwent her,
Motion and breath left out.
Posthumus
This is a thing
Which you might from relation likewise reap,
Being, as it is, much spoke of.
Iachimo
The roof o’ th’ chamber
With golden cherubins is fretted. Her andirons—
I had forgot them—were two winking Cupids
Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely
Depending on their brands.
Posthumus
This is her honor?
Let it be granted you have seen all this—and praise
Be given to your remembrance—the description
Of what is in her chamber nothing saves
The wager you have laid.
Iachimo
Then if you can
Be pale, I beg but leave to air this jewel. See—
 He shows the bracelet.
And now ’tis up again. It must be married
To that your diamond. I’ll keep them.
Posthumus
Jove!
Once more let me behold it. Is it that
Which I left with her?
Iachimo
Sir, I thank her, that.
She stripped it from her arm. I see her yet.
Her pretty action did outsell her gift
And yet enriched it too. She gave it me
And said she prized it once.
Posthumus
Maybe she plucked it off
To send it me.
Iachimo
She writes so to you, doth she?
Posthumus
O, no, no, no, ’tis true. Here, take this too.
 He gives Iachimo the ring.
It is a basilisk unto mine eye,
Kills me to look on ’t. Let there be no honor
Where there is beauty, truth where semblance, love
Where there’s another man. The vows of women
Of no more bondage be to where they are made
Than they are to their virtues, which is nothing.
O, above measure false!
Philario
Have patience, sir,
And take your ring again. ’Tis not yet won.
It may be probable she lost it; or
Who knows if one her women, being corrupted,
Hath stol’n it from her.
Posthumus
Very true,
And so I hope he came by ’t.—Back, my ring!
 He takes back the ring.
Render to me some corporal sign about her
More evident than this, for this was stol’n.
Iachimo
By Jupiter, I had it from her arm.
Posthumus
Hark you, he swears! By Jupiter he swears.
’Tis true—nay, keep the ring—’tis true.
 He holds out the ring.
I am sure
She would not lose it. Her attendants are
All sworn and honorable. They induced to steal it?
And by a stranger? No, he hath enjoyed her.
The cognizance of her incontinency
Is this. She hath bought the name of whore thus dearly.
There, take thy hire, and all the fiends of hell
Divide themselves between you!
 He gives the ring to Iachimo.
Philario
Sir, be patient.
This is not strong enough to be believed
Of one persuaded well of.
Posthumus
Never talk on ’t.
She hath been colted by him.
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 kissed 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.
 He exits.
Philario
Quite beside
The government of patience. You have won.
Let’s follow him and pervert the present wrath
He hath against himself.
Iachimo
With all my heart.
 They exit.