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When you caft out, it ftill came home.

Leo. Didit note it?

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

Leo. Didst perceive it?

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Sicilia is afo forth; 'tis far gone,
When I shall gust it last, How came't, Camillo,
That he did stay?

Cam. At the good Queen's entreaty.

Leo. 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 moft understand Bitbynia stays here longer.

Léo. Ha ? stays here longer. Ay, but why?

Cam. To satisfie your Highness, and th* entreaties
Of our most gracious mistress.

Leò. Satisfie?
Th' entreaties of your mistress ? satisfie?
Let that suffice. I've trusted thee, Camillo,
With all the things nearest my heart, with all
My chamber-councels, wherein, priest-like, thou
Haft cleans'd my bosom ; I from thee departed
Thy penitent reformid: but we have been
Deceiv'd in thy integrity, deceiv'd
In that which seems 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 honesty behind, reftraining 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 seeft a game plaid home, the rich stake drawn,

And

And tak ft it all for jeft.

Cam. My gracious Lord,
I may be negligent, foolihh and fearful;
In every one of these no man iş 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 issue doubted,
Whereof the execution did cry out
Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear
Which oft infects the wiseft: 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,
'Tis none of mine.

Leo. Ha not you seen, Camillo,
(But that's paft doubt ; you have, or your eye-glass
Is thicker than a cuckold's horn) or heard,
(For to a vision fo apparent, rumour
Cannot be mute) or thought, (for cogitation
Resides not in that man, and does not think’t)
My wife is slippery ? 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 sovereign mistress clouded fo, 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?

Killing

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Kisling with inside 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 cur'd
Of this diseas'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 say thou lieft, Camillo, and I hate thee,
Pronounce thee a gross lowt, a mindless llave,
Or elle 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, 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 see 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 reard to worship, who may't see
Plainly, as heav'n sees earth, and earth fees heav'n,
How I am gallid, 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

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Like a malicious poison : but I cannot
Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress,
So sovereignly being honourable,
So lov'd.

Leo. Make that thy question, and go rot:
Do'& 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 Deep; which being spotted,
Is goads, and thorns, nettles, and tails of walps i
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 Bitbynia for't:
Provided that when he's remov’d, your Highness
Will take again your Queen, as yours at firft,
Even for your son's sake, and thereby for sealing
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 set 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 feasts, keep with Bithynia,
And with your Queen: I am his cup-bearer;
If from me he have wholesome beveridge,
Account me not your servant.

Leo. This is all.
Do't, and thou hast the one half of my heart ;
Do't not, thou split’ft thine own.

Cam. I'll do't, my Lord.
Leo. I will seem friendly, as thou hast advis’d me. (Exit,

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

1

All that are bis, fo too. To do this deed
Promotion follows. If I could find example
Of thousands that had struck anointed Kings,
And fiourish'd after, I'd not do't : but since
Nor brafs, 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 Bitbynia.,

SCEN E IV. Enter Polixenes.
Pol. This is strange ! methịnks
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 loft 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 consider what is breeding,
That changes thus his manners.
Cam. I dare not know

[not
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 say, you dare not. Good Camillo,
Your chang'd complexions are to me a mirror,
Which Mews me mine chan:'d too ; for I must be
A party in this alteration, finding
Myself thus alter'd with it.

Cam. There is a fickness
Which puts some of us in distemper ; but
1 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 basilisk.
I've look'd on thousands who have sped the better
VoĻ. IV.

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