Go, play, boy, play; thy mother plays, and I
Play too; but so disgrac'd a part, whose issue
Will hiss me to my grave: contempt and clamour
Will be my knell. Go, play, boy, play. There

have been,

Or I am much deceiv'd, cuckolds ere now;

And many a man there is, even at this present,
Now, while I speak this, holds his wife by th' arm,
That little thinks she has been sluic'd in's absence,
And his pond fish'd by his next neighbour, by
Sir Smile, his neighbour. Nay, there's comfort in't,
Whiles other men have gates, and those gates open'd,
As mine, against their will. Should all despair
That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind
Would hang themselves. Physic for 't there's none;
It is a bawdy planet, that will strike

Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis powerful, think it,
From East, West, North, and South. Be it concluded,
No barricado for a belly; know 't;

It will let in and out the enemy,

With bag and baggage: many a thousand on's Have the disease, and feel 't not. - How now, boy? Mam. I am like you, [they] say.

Leon.

What! Camillo, there?

Why, that's some comfort.

Cam. Ay, my good lord.

Leon. Go play, Mamillius; thou'rt an honest

man.

[Exit MAMILLIUS.

Camillo, this great Sir will yet stay longer.

Cam. You had much ado to make his anchor hold:

When you cast out, it still came home.

Leon.

Didst note it?

Cam. He would not stay at your petitions; made His business more material.

Leon.

Didst perceive it?

They're here with me already; whisp'ring, rounding, • Sicilia is a so forth. 'Tis far gone,

When I shall gust it last.

That he did stay?

Cam.

Leon.

How came 't, Camillo,

At the good Queen's entreaty.

At the Queen's be 't: good, should be pertinent;

But so it is, it is not. Was this taken

By any understanding pate but thine?

For thy conceit is soaking, will draw in

More than the common blocks: - not noted, is 't,
But of the finer natures? by some severals

Of head-piece extraordinary? lower messes.
Perchance are to this business purblind? Say.
Cam. Business, my lord? I think most understand
Bohemia stays here longer.

Leon.

Ha!

Cam.

Stays here longer.

Leon. Ay, but why?

Cam. To satisfy your Highness, and the entreaties Of our most gracious mistress.

Leon.

Satisfy

Th' entreaties of your mistress? satisfy?

Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo, With all the nearest things to my heart; as well My chamber-counsels, wherein, priest-like, thou Hast cleans'd my bosom: I from thee departed Thy penitent reform'd. But we have been Deceiv'd in thy integrity, deceiv'd

In that which seems so.

Cam.

Be it forbid, my lord!

Leon. To bide upon 't, — thou art not honest; or, If thou inclin'st that way, thou art a coward;

Which hoxes honesty behind, restraining

From course requir'd. Or else thou must be counted

A servant grafted in my serious trust,

And therein negligent; or else a fool,

That see'st a game play'd home, the rich stake drawn,
And tak'st it all for jest.

Cam.
My gracious lord,
I may be negligent, foolish, and fearful;
In every one of these no man is free,
But that his negligence, his folly, fear,
Amongst the infinite doings of the world,
Sometime puts forth. In your affairs, my lord,
If ever I were wilful-negligent,

It was my folly; if industriously

I play'd the fool, it was my negligence,
Not weighing well the end; if ever fearful
To do a thing, where I the issue doubted,
Whereof the execution did cry out
Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear
Which oft infects the wisest: these, my lord,
Are such allow'd infirmities, that honesty
Is never free of. But, 'beseech your Grace,
Be plainer with me: let me know my trespass
By it's own visage: if I then deny it,

'Tis none of mine.

Leon.

Ha' not you seen, Camillo, (But that's past doubt you have; or your eye-glass

Is thicker than a cuckold's horn,) or heard

(For to a vision so apparent, rumour

Cannot be mute,) or thought, (for cogitation
Resides not in that man that does not think,)
My wife is slippery? If thou wilt confess,
(Or else be impudently negative,

To have nor eyes, nor ears, nor thought,) then say,
My wife's a hobby-horse; deserves a name

As rank as any flax-wench, that puts to
Before her troth-plight: say 't, and justify 't.

Cam. I would not be a stander-by, to hear
My sovereign mistress clouded so, without
My present vengeance taken. 'Shrew my heart,
You never spoke what did become you less
Than this; which to reiterate, were sin

As deep as that, though true.

Leon.

Is whispering nothing?

Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses?
Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career
Of laughter with a sigh? a note infallible

Of breaking honesty horsing foot on foot?
Skulking in corners ? wishing clocks more swift?
Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all eyes
Blind with the pin and web but theirs, theirs only
That would unseen be wicked? is this nothing?
Why, then the world, and all that's in 't, is nothing;
The covering sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing;
My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings,
If this be nothing.

Cam.

Good, my lord, be cur'd

Of this diseas'd opinion, and betimes;

For 'tis most dangerous.

Leon.

Cam. No, no, my lord.
Leon.

Say, it be; 'tis true.

It is; you lie, you lie :

I say, thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee ;
Pronounce thee a gross lout, a mindless slave;
Or else a hovering temporizer, that

Canst with thine eyes at once see good and evil,
Inclining to them both. Were my wife's liver
Infected as her life, she would not live

The running of one glass.

Cam.

Who does infect her?

Leon. Why, he that wears her, like her medal,

if I

About his neck, Bohemia : Who
Had servants true about me, that bare eyes
To see alike mine honour as their profits,
Their own particular thrifts, they would do that
Which should undo more doing. Ay, and thou,
His cup-bearer, whom I from meaner form
Have bench'd and rear'd to worship; who may'st see
Plainly, as Heaven sees Earth, and Earth sees Heaven,
How I am gall'd, — might'st bespice a cup,

To give mine enemy a lasting wink;

Which draught to me were cordial.

Cam.

Sir, my lord, I could do this; and that with no rash potion, But with a ling'ring dram, that should not work Maliciously like poison. But I cannot

Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress,
So sovereignly being honourable.

I have lov'd thee,

Leon.

Make that thy question, and go rot!

Dost think I am so muddy, so unsettled,
To appoint myself in this vexation, sully
The purity and whiteness of my sheets,
Which to preserve is sleep, which being spotted,
Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps?
Give scandal to the blood o' th' Prince my son,
Who I do think is mine, and love as mine,
Without ripe moving to 't? Would I do this?
Could man so blench?

Cam.

I must believe you, sir; I do; and will fetch off Bohemia for 't: Provided, that when he's remov'd, your Highness Will take again your Queen, as yours at first; Even for your son's sake; and, thereby, for sealing The injury of tongues, in courts and kingdoms Known and alli'd to yours.