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 injurioufly
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 its own visage; if I then deny it,
Leo. Ha' not you seen, Camillo,
(But that's past doubt; you have, or your eye-glafs
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't)
My wife is flippery? if thou wilt, confefs,
(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 fovereign 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 fin
As deep as that, tho' true.
Leo. Is whispering nothing?
Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses ?
Kiffing with infide lip? stopping the career
Of laughter with a figh? (a note infallible
Of breaking honesty:) horfing foot on foot ?
Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more swift ?
Hours minutes? the 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, Bithynia nothing,
My wife is nothing, nor nothing have these nothings,
If this be nothing.
Cam. Good my Lord, be car'd
Of this diseas'd opinion, and betimes,
For 'tis most dangerous.
Leo. Say it be, 'tis trues
Cam. No, no, my Lord.
Leo. It is; you lie, you lie
I say thou lieft, Camillo, and I hate thee,
Pronounce thee a gross lowt, a mindless slave,
Or else a hovering temporizer, that
Canst with thine eyes at once fee 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 do's infect her ?
Leo. Why, he that wears her like her medal, hanging
About his neck, Bithynia; who, if I
Had servants true about me, that bear eyes
To fee alike mine honour, as their profits,
Their own particular thrifts; they would do that
Which should undo more doing: I, and thou
His cup-bearer, whom I from meaner form
Have bench'd, and rear'd to worship, who may'st see
Plainly, as heav'n fees earth, and earth fees heav'n,
How I am gall'd, thou might'st be-spice 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 lingring dram, that should not work,
Like a malicious poisen: but I cannot
Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress,
So fovereignly being honouratile,
So lov'd.
Leo. Make that thy question, an
Do'st think I am so muddy, fo unfettled,
To appoint my felf in this vexation S Sully
The purity and whiteness of my sheets,
Which to preferve, is fleep; which be being fpetted,
Is goads, and thorns, nettles, and tails of
Give scandal to the blood o'th' Prince, my fon,
I do think, is mine, and love as 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 Bithynia fort
Provided that when he's remov'd your Highnes
Will take again your Queen, as yours at first,
Even for your fon's fake, and thereby for fealing
The injury of tongues, in Courts and Kingdoms
Known and ally'd to yours
Leo. Thou doft advise me
Even so as I mine own course have fet down:
I'll give no blernish to her honour, none.
Go then; and with a countenance as clear
As friendship wears at feafts, keep with Bithynia,
And with your Queen: Fam his cup-bearer;
If from me he have wholesome beveridge,
Account me not your fervant.
Leo. This is all.
Do't, and thou haft the one half of my heart;
Do't not, thou split'st thine own.
Cam. I'll do't, my Lord.
Leo. I will feem friendly, as thou haft advis'd me. [Exit.
Cam. O miferable Lady! but for me,
What case stand I in? I must be the poifoner
Of good Polixenes, and my ground to do't
Is the obedience to a mafter, one,
Who in rebellion with himself, will have
All that are his, so too. To do this deed
Promotion follows. If I could find example
Of thousands that had ftruck anointed Kings,
And flourish'd after, I'd not do't: but fince
Nor brass, nor ftone, nor parchment bears not one,
Let villainy it self forswear't. I must
Forfake the Court; to do't or no, is certain
To me a break-neck. Happy star, reign now!
Here comes Bitbynia.
SCENE IV. Enter Polixenes,
Pol. This is strange ! methinks
My favour here begins to warp. Not speak?
Good day, Camillo !
Cam. Hail, most royal Sir!
Pol. What is the news i'th' Court?
Cam. None rare, my Lord.
Pol. The King hath on him such a countenance,
As he had lost some province, and a region
Lov'd, as he loves himself: even now I met him
With customary compliment, when he
Wafting his eyes to th' contrary, and falling
A lip of much contempt, speeds from me, and
So leaves me to confider what is breeding,
That changes thus his manners.
Cam. I dare not know.
Pol. How, dare not? dare not? you do know, and dare
Be intelligent to me: 'tis thereabouts :
For to your felf, what you do know, you must,
And cannot say, you dare not. Good Camillo,
Your chang'd complexions are to me a mirror,
Which shews me mine chang'd too; for I must be
A party in this alteration, finding
My self thus alter'd with it.
Cam. There is a fickness
Which puts some of us in distemper; but
I cannot name the disease, and it is caught
Of you that yet are well.
Pol. How caught of me ?
Make me not fighted like the bafilisk.
I've look'd on thousands, who have sped the better
VOL. IV.
By my regard, but kill'd none fo: Camillo,
As you are certainly a gentleman,
Clerk-like experienc'd, (which no less adorns
Our gentry, than our parents noble names,
In whose success we are gentle) I befeech you,
If you know ought which does behove my knowledge
Thereof to be inform'd, imprifon't not
In ignorant concealment.
Cam. I may not answer.
Pol. A ficknefs caught of me, and yet I well?
I must be answer'd. Doft thou hear, Camillo,
I conjure thee by all the parts of man,
Which honour does acknowledge, whereof the leaft
Is not this suit of mine, that thou declare
What incidency thou doft guess of harm
Is creeping towards me; how far off, how near,
Which way to be prevented, if to be ;
If not, how beft to bear it.
Since I am charg'd in honour, and by him
That I think honourable; therefore mark my counsel,
Which must be ev'n as swiftly follow'd as
I mean to utter it; or both your felf and me
Cry lost, and so good night.
Pol. On, good Camillo.
Cam. I am appointed, Sir, to murder you.
Pol. By whom, Camillo?
Cam. By the King.
Pol. For what?
Cam. He thinks, nay, with all confidence he swears,
Ashe had feen't, or been an inftrument
To vice you to't, that you have toucht his Queen
Pol. Oh then, my best blood turn To an infected gelly, and my name
Be yoak'd with his that did betray the best!
Turn then my freshest reputation to
A' favour, that may strike the dullest noftril
Where I arrive; and my approach be shun'd,
• Success here is to be understood in the same sense as Succeffiom.
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