Pol.
Nine changes of the watry star hath been
The shepherd's note, since we have left our throne
Without a burthen, time as long again
Would be fill'd up, my brother, with our thanks,
And yet we should, for perpetuity,
Go hence in debt: and therefore, like a cypher,
Yet standing in rich place, I multiply
With one we thank you, many thousands more,
That go before it.

Leo.
Stay your thanks, a while,
And pay them when you part.

Pol.
Sir, that's to-morrow:
I'm question'd by my fears of what may chance,
Or breed upon our absence:
Besides, I have stay'd
To tire your royalty.

Leo.
We are tougher, brother,
Than you can put us to't.

Pol.
No longer stay.

Leo.
One sev'n-night longer.

Pol.
Very sooth, to-morrow.

Leo.
We'll part the time between's then: and in that
I'll no gain-saying.

Pol.
Press me not, beseech you, so;
There is no tongue that moves, none, i'th' world,
So soon as yours, could win me: so it should now,
Were there necessity in your request, altho'

'Twere needful I deny'd it. My affairs
Do even drag me homeward.

Leo.
Tongue-ty'd our queen? speak you.

Her.
You, Sir, charge him too coldly. Tell him you are sure
All in Bithynia's well: this satisfaction
The by-gone day proclaim'd; say this to him,
He's beat from his best ward.

Leo.
Well said, Hermione.

Her.
When at Bithynia
You take my lord, I'll give him my commission,
To let* ^note him there a month, behind the gest† ^note
Prefix'd for's parting: yet, good heed, Leontes;
I love thee not a jar o'th' clock behind
What lady she her lord. You'll stay?

Pol.
No, Madam.

Her.
Nay, but you will.

Pol.
I may not, verily.

Her.
Verily?
You shall not go; a lady's verily is
As potent as a lord's. Will you go yet?
Force me to keep you as a prisoner,
Not like a guest? How say you?
My prisoner? or my guest? by your dread verily,
One of them you shall be.

Pol.
Your guest then, Madam:
To be your prisoner, should import offending;
Which is for me less easy to commit,
Than you to punish.

Her.
Not your gaoler then,
But your kind hostess; come, I'll question you
Of my lord's tricks and your's, when you were boys:
You were pretty lordings, then?

Pol.
We were, fair queen,
Two lads, that thought there was no more behind,
But such a day to-morrow as to-day,
And to be boy eternal.

Her.
Was not my lord
The verier wag o'th' two?

Pol.
We were as twinn'd lambs, that did frisk i'th' sun,
And bleat the one at th'other: what we chang'd,
Was innocence for innocence; we knew not
The doctrine of ill-doing, no nor dream'd
That any did.

Leo.
Is he won yet?

Her.
He'll stay, my lord.

Leo.
At my request he would not:
Hermione, my dearest, thou ne'er spok'st
To better purpose.

Her.
Never?

Leo.
Never, but once.

Her.
What? have I twice said well? when was't before?
I pr'ythee tell me;
One good deed, dying tongue-less,
Slaughters a thousand, waiting upon that.
Our praises are our wages.
But once before I spake to th' purpose? when?
Nay, let me have't; I long.* ^note

Leo.
Why, that was when
Three crabbed months had sowr'd themselves to death,
Ere I could make thee open thy white hand,
And clepe thyself my love; then did'st thou utter,
I am yours for ever.

Her.
Why lo you now; I've spoke to th' purpose twice;
The one for ever earn'd a royal husband;
Th' other, for some while, a friend.

Leo.
Too hot, too hot—† ^note [Aside.

To mingle friendship far, is mingling bloods.
* ^noteI have tremor cordis on me—my heart dances;
But not for joy—not joy—This entertainment
May a free face put on; derive a liberty
From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosom,
And well becomes the agent: 't may, I grant:
But to the padling palms, and pinching fingers,
As now they are, and making practis'd smiles,
As in a looking-glass—
Oh, that is entertainment
My bosom likes not, nor my brows.

Pol.
What means Sicilia?

Her.
He something seems unsettled.
You look as if you held a brow of much distraction.
Are you mov'd, my lord?

Leo.
No, in good earnest.
How sometimes nature will betray its folly!
Its tenderness! and make it self a pastime,
To harder bosoms! looking on the lines
Of my boy's face, methoughts I did recoil
Twenty-three years, and saw myself again,
In my green velvet coat; my dagger muzzled,
Lest it should bite its master.
My good brother,
Are you so fond of your young prince, as we
Do seem to be of ours?

Pol.
If at home, Sir,
He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter;
Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy;
My parasite, my soldier, states-man, all;
He makes a July's day short as December,
And with his varying childishness, cures in me
Thoughts that should thick my blood.† ^note

Leo.
So stands this squire
Offic'd with me: we two will walk, my lord,
And leave you to your graver steps. Hermione,
How thou lov'st us, shew in our brother's welcome.
Let what is dear in Sicily be cheap:
Next to thy self, and my young rover, he's
Apparent to my heart.

Her.
If you would seek us,
We are yours i'th garden: shall's attend you there?

Leo.
To your own bents dispose you;
I am angling now,
Tho' you perceive me not how I give line,
Go to, go to. [Aside, observing Her.
How she holds up the neb! the bill to him!
And arms her with the boldness of a wife [Exeunt Polix. Her. and attendants. Manent Leo. Mam. and Cam.
To her allowing husband. Gone, already!
Inch thick, knee deep; o'er head and ears a fork'd one.
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—† ^note
What? Is Camillo there?

Cam.
Ay, my good lord.

Leo.
Go play, Mamillus—thou'rt an honest man: [Ex. Mamil.
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.

Leo.
Didst note it?

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

Leo.
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. 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! lower messes
Perchance are to this business purblind? say.* ^note

Cam.
Business, my lord? I think most understand
Bithynia stays here longer.

Leo.
Ay, but why?

Cam.
To satisfie your highness, and th' entreaties
Of our most gracious mistress.

Leo.
Satisfie?
Th' entreaties of your mistress? satisfie?—
Let that suffice. I've trusted thee, Camillo,
With all the things nearest my heart, as well
My chamber counsels, wherein, priest-like, thou
Hast cleans'd my bosom: but we have been
Deceiv'd in thy integrity, deceiv'd
In that which seems so.

Cam.
Be it forbid, my lord.

Leo.
Thou art not honest; or,
Thou art a coward,
Or else thou must be counted
A servant grafted in my serious trust,
And therein negligent; or else a fool,
That seest a game play'd home, the rich stake drawn,
And tak'st it all for jest.

Cam.
My gracious 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* ^note

Leo.
Ha' not you seen Camillo?
Or thought my wife is slippery? if thou wilt, confess,
Or else be impudently negative,
To have nor eyes, nor ears, nor thought.

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.

Leo.† ^note
Is whispering nothing?
Is leaning cheek to cheek? stopping the career
Of laughter with a sigh? a note infallible
Of breaking honesty?
Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more swift?
Hours minutes? the noon midnight? and all eyes
Blind with the pin and web, but theirs;
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,
If this be nothing.

Cam.
Good my lord, be cur'd
Of this diseas'd opinion, and betimes;
For 'tis most dangerous.

Leo.
Say it be, 'tis true.

Cam.
Who does 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,

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 sees earth, and earth sees 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 portion,
But with a lingring dram, that should not work,
Maliciously, like poison: but I cannot
Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress.

Leo.
Do'st think I am so muddy, so unsettled,
To appoint myself in this vexation?
Sully the purity and whiteness of my sheets,
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?

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 first.
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 dost advise me,
Even so as I mine own course have set down* ^note:
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'st thine own.

Cam.
I'll do't, my lord. [Exit.
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 villany itself forswear't. Happy star, reign now!
Here comes Bithynia. 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 '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 consider what is breeding,
That changes thus his manners* ^note.

Cam.
I dare not know, my lord.

Pol.
How, dare not? do not? do you know, and dare not?
Good Camillo,
Your chang'd complexions are to me a mirror,
Which shews me mine chang'd too.

Cam.
I may not answer.

Pol.
I must be answer'd. Dost thou hear, Camillo,
I conjure thee by all the parts of man,
Which honour does acknowledge, that thou declare
What incidency thou dost guess of harm,
Is creeping towards 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 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 yourself and me
Cry lost; and so good-night.

Pol.
On, good Camillo.

Cam.
I am appointed to murder you.

Pol.
By whom, Camillo?

Cam.
By the king.

Pol.
For what?

Cam.
He thinks, nay with all confidence he swears,
That you have toucht his queen forbiddenly.

Pol.
Oh then, my best blood turn
To an infected jelly, and my name
Be yok'd with his that did betray the best.

Cam.
Swear this thought over
By each particular star in heav'n, 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 fabric of his folly.

Pol.
How should this grow?

Cam.
I know not; but I'm sure 'tis safer to
Avoid what's grown, than question how 'tis born.
If therefore you dare trust my honesty,
That lies inclosed 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'th' 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.

Pol.
I do believe thee:
I saw his heart in's 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.

Cam.
My authority commands
The keys of all the posterns. Please your highness,
To take the urgent hour.

Pol.
I go, Camillo.
Good expedition be our friend, and comfort
The gracious innocent queen's! [Exeunt* ^note