When you caft out, it ftill came home.
Cam. He would not stay at your petitions made; His business more material.
They're here with me already; whifp'ring round, Afide Sicilia is a-fo forth; 'tis far gone,
When I fhall guft it laft. How came't, Camillo,
That he did ftay?
Cam. At the good Queen's entreaty.
Leo. At the Queen's be't; good should be pertinent; But fo it is, it is not. Was this taken
By any understanding pate but thine ? For thy conceit is foaking, 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 meffes Perchance are to this bufinefs purblind? fay.
Cam. Bufinefs, my Lord? I think most understand Bithynia ftays here longer.
Leo. Ha ftays here longer. Ay, but why? Cam. To fatisfie your Highness, and th entreaties Of our moft gracious mistress.
Th' entreaties of your mistress? fatisfie? Let that fuffice. I've trufted thee, Camillo, With all the things nearest my heart, with all My chamber-councels, wherein, prieft-like, thou Haft cleans'd my bofom; I from thee departed Thy penitent reform'd: but we have been Deceiv'd in thy integrity, deceiv'd
In that which feems fo.
Cam. Be it forbid, my Lord!
Leo. To bide upon't-thou art not honest, or, If thou inclin'ft that way, thou art a coward, Which hockles honefty behind, reftraining From course requir'd; or elfe thou must be counted A fervant grafted in my serious truft, And therein negligent; or elfe a fool,
That feeft a game plaid home, the rich stake drawn,
And tak'ft 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 injuriously
I play'd the fool, it was my negligence, Not weighing well the end; if ever fearful To do a thing, where I the iffue doubted, Whereof the execution did cry out
Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear Which oft infects the wifeft: thefe, my Lord, Are fuch allow'd infirmities, that honesty Is never free of. But 'befeech your Grace, Be plainer with me, let me know my trespass By its own vifage; if I then deny it,
'Tis none of mine.
Leo. Ha' not you feen, Camillo,
(But that's paft doubt; you have, or your eye-glass Is thicker than a cuckold's horn) or heard,
(For to a vifion fo apparent, rumour
Cannot be mute) or thought, (for cogitation Refides not in that man, and does not think't) My wife is flippery? if thou wilt, confefs, (Or elfe 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: fay't and juftify't. Cam. I would not be a ftander-by, to hear My fovereign mistress clouded fo, without My prefent vengeance taken; 'fhrew my heart, You never spoke what did become you lefs 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? ftopping the career Of laughter with a figh? (a note infallible Of breaking honefty :) horfing foot on foot? Skulking in corners? wifhing clocks more swift? Hours minutes? the noon midnight? and all eyes Blind with the pin and web, but theirs; theirs only, That would unfeen be wicked? is this nothing? Why then the world, and all that's in't, is nothing; The covering fky is nothing, Bithynia nothing,
My wife is nothing, nor nothing have thefe nothings If this be nothing.
Cam. Good my lord, be cur'd
Of this difeas'd opinion, and betimes, For 'tis moft dangerous.
Leo. Say it be, 'tis true. Cam. No, no, my Lord. Leo. It is; you lie, you lie:
I fay thou lieft, Camillo, and I hate thee, Pronounce thee a grofs lowt, a mindless slave, Or else a hovering temporizer, that
Canft with thine eyes at once fee good and evil, Inclining to them both: were my wife's liver Infected, as her life, fhe would not live The running of one glafs.
Cam. Who do's infect her?
Leo. Why, he that wears her like her medal, hanging About his neck, Bithynia; who, if I
Had fervants 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'ft fee. Plainly, as heav'n fees earth, and earth fees heav'n, How I am gall'd, thou might'ft be-fpice a cup,
To give mine enemy a lafting 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 fhould not work,
Like a malicious poifon : but I cannot Believe this crack to be in my dread miftress, So fovereignly being honourable,
Leo. Make that thy queftion, and go rot: Do't think I am fo muddy, fo unfettled, To appoint myself in this vexation? Sully The purity and whitenefs of my fheets, Which to preserve, is fleep; which being spotted, Is goads, and thorns, nettles, and tails of wafps s Give fcandal to the blood o'th' Prince, my fon, Who, I do think, is mine, and love as mine Without 'ripe moving to't would I do this? Could man fo blench?
Cam. I must believe, you, Sir,
I do, and will fetch off Bithynia for't: Provided that when he's remov'd, your Highness Will take again your Queen, as yours at firft, 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 fo as I mine own courfe have fet down: I'll give no blemish to her honour, none. Cam. My Lord,
Go then; and with a countenance as clear
As friendship wears at feafts, keep with Bithynia, And with your Queen: I am his cup-bearer; If from me he have wholesome beveridge, Account me not your fervant.
Do't, and thou haft the one half of my heart;
Do't not, thou split'ft 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 cafe ftand 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, fo too. 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 brafs, nor ftone, nor parchment bears not one, Let villainy itself forfwear't. I must Forfake the Court; to do't, or no, is certain To me a break-neck. Happy ftar, reign now! Here comes Bithynia..
SCENE IV. Enter Polixenes..
Pol. This is ftrange! methinks
My favour here begins to warp.
Good day, Camillo !
Cam. Hail, moft royal Sir ?
Pol. What is the news i'th' Court?
Cam. None rare, my Lord.
Pol. The King hath on him fuch a countenance, As he had loft fome province, and a region Lov'd, as he loves himfelf: even now I met him With customary compliment, when he Wafting his eyes to th' contrary, and falling A lip of much contempt, fpeeds from me, and So leaves me to confider what is breeding, That changes thus his manners.
Pol. How, dare not? dare not? you do know and dare Be intelligent to me: 'tis thereabouts:
For to yourself, what you do know, you must, And cannot fay, you dare not. Good Camillo, Your chang'd complexions are to me a mirror, Which fhews me mine chang'd too; for I must be A party in this alteration, finding Myfelf thus alter'd with it.
Cam. There is a fickness
Which puts fome of us in diftemper; 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 thoufands who have fped the better VOL. IV.
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