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And with your queen: I am his cupbearer;
If from me he have wholesome beverage,
Account me not your servant.
Leon.

This is all :
Do't, and thou hast the one half of my heart ;
Do't not, thou split’st thy own.
Сат.

I'll do't, my lord. Leon. I will seem friendly, as thou hast advis'd me.

[Erit. Cam. O miserable lady!—But, for me, What case stand I in? I must be the poisoner Of good Polixenes : and my ground to do't Is the obedience to a master; 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 struck anointed kings, And flourish'd after, I'd not do't: but since Nor brass, nor stone, nor parchment, bears not one, Let villainy itself forswear't. I must Forsake the court: to do't, or no, is certain To me a break-neck. Happy star, reign now! Here comes Bohemia.

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'the 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 the contrary, and falling
A lip of much contempt, speeds from me; and

So leaves me, to consider what is breeding,
That changes thus his manners.

Cam. I dare not know, my lord.
Pol. How! dare not ? do not. Do you know, and

dare not
Be intelligent to me? 'Tis thereabouts ;
For, to yourself, what you do know, you must;
And cannot say, you dare not. Good Camillo,
Your chang'd complexions are to me a mirror,
Which shows me mine chang’d too: for I must be
A party in this alteration, finding
Myself thus alter'd with it.
Сат.

There is a sickness
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 sighted like the basilisk:
I have look'd on thousands, who have sped the better
By my regard, but kill'd none so. Camillo,
As you are certainly a gentleman ; thereto
Clerk-like, experienc'd, which no less adorns
Our gentry, than our parents' noble names,
In whose success we are gentle ?,-I beseech you,
If you know aught which does behove my knowledge
Thereof to be inform’d, imprison it not
In ignorant concealment.
Cam.

I may not answer.
Pol. A sickness caught of me, and yet I well !
I must be answer’d.—Dost thou hear, Camillo,
I cónjure thee, by all the parts of man,
Which honour does acknowledge,—whereof the least
Is not this suit of mine,—that thou declare
What incidency thou dost guess of harm

7 In whose success we are gentle,] Success here means succession. Gentle is evidently opposed to simple ; alluding to the distinction between the gentry and yeomanry.

Is creeping toward me; how far off, how near;
Which way to be prevented, if to be;
If not, how best to bear it.
| Cam.

Sir, I'll tell you ;
Since I'm charg'd in honour, and by him
That I think honourable: Therefore, mark my counsel;
Which must be even as swiftly follow'd, as
I mean to utter it; or both yourself and me
Cry, lost, and so good night.
Pol.

On, good Camillo.
Cam. I am appointed Him to murder you o.
Pol. By whom, Camillo ?
Cam.

By the king
Pol.

For what?
Cam. He thinks, nay, with all confidence he swears,
As he had seen't, or been an instrument
To vice you to't,—that you have touch'd his queen
Forbiddenly.

Pol. O, then my best blood turn
To an infected jelly; and my name
Be yok'd with his, that did betray the best t !
Turn then my freshest reputation to
A savour, that may strike the dullest nostril
Where I arrive ; and my approach be shunn’d,
Nay, hated too, worst than the great'st infection
That e'er was heard, or read !
Cam.

Swear his thought over
By each particular star in heaven, and
By all their influences, you may as well
Forbid the sea for to obey the moon,
As or, by oath, remove, or counsel, shake
The fabrick of his folly; whose foundation

8 I am appointed Him to murder you.] i. e. I am the person appointed by him to murder you.

9 To vice - ] i. e. to draw, persuade you ; probably for advise. + i. e. Judas.

Is pild upon his faith', and will continue
The standing of his body.
Pol.

How should this grow?
Cam. I know not : but, I am sure, 'tis safer to
Avoid what's grown, than question how 'tis born.
If therefore you dare trust my honesty,–
That lies enclosed in this trunk, which you
Shall bear along impawn’d,-away to-night.
Your followers I will whisper to the business ;
And will, by twos, and threes, at several posterns,
Clear them o'the city : For myself, I'll put
My fortunes to your service, which are here
By this discovery lost. Be not uncertain ;
For, by the honour of my parents, I
Have utter'd truth: which if you seek to prove,
I dare not stand by ; nor shall you be safer
Than one condemn’d by the king's own mouth, thereon
His execution sworn.
Pol.

I do believe thee;
I saw his heart in his face. Give me thy hand;
Be pilot to me, and thy places shall
Still neighbour mine: My ships are ready, and
My people did expect my hence departure
Two days ago.—This jealousy
Is for a precious creature: as she's rare,
Must it be great; and, as his person's mighty,
Must it be violent: and as he does conceive
He is dishonour'd by a man which ever
Profess’d to him, why, his revenges must
In that be made more bitter. Fear o'ershades me:
Good expedition be my friend, and comfort
The gracious queen, part of his theme, but nothing
Of his ill-ta'en suspicion ! Come, Camillo ;

1- - whose foundation

Is pild upon his faith,] This folly which is erected on the foundation of settled belief.

I will respect thee as a father ; if
Thou bear’st my life off hence: Let us avoid.

Cam. It is in mine authority, to command
The keys of all the posterns : Please your highness
To take the urgent hour: come, sir, away. [Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE 1.The same.

Enter HERMIONE, MAMILLIUS, and Ladies.
Her. Take the boy to you: he so troubles me,
'Tis past enduring.
1 Lady.

Come, my gracious lord.
Shall I be your play-fellow ?
Mam.

No, I'll none of you. 1 Lady. Why, my sweet lord ?

Mam. You'll kiss me hard ; and speak to me as if I were a baby still.—I love you better.

2 Lady. And why so, my good lord + ? Мат.

Not for because Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they say, Become some women best; so that there be not Too much hair there, but in a semi-circle, Or half-moon made with a pen. 2 Lady.

Who taught you this ? Mam. I learn’d it out of women's faces. —Pray now What colour are your eye-brows ? 1 Lady.

Blue, my lord. Mam. Nay, that's a mock: I have seen a lady's nose That has been blue, but not her eye-brows. 2 Lady.

Hark ye; The queen, your mother, rounds apace: we shall Present our services to a fine new prince,

+ “my lord?” Malone.

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