Her.
It is Grace, indeed.—
Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose twice:
The one for ever earn'd a royal husband;
The other, for some while a friend. [Giving her hand to Polixenes.

Leo.
Too hot, too hot: [Aside.
To mingle friendship far, is mingling bloods.
I 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 become the agent: it may, I grant:
But to be padling palms, and pinching fingers,
As now they are; and making practis'd smiles,
As in a looking-glass;—and then to sigh, as 'twere
The mort o'the deer^{8 note}

Mam.
Ay, my good lord.

Leo.
I'fecks?
Why, that's my bawcock^{9 note}. What, hast smutch'd thy nose?—

They say, it's a copy out of mine. Come, captain,
We must be neat^{1 note}

Mam.
Yes, if you will, my lord.

Leo.
Thou want'st a rough pash, and the shoots that I have^{3 note}

To be full like me:—yet, they say, we are
Almost as like as eggs; women say so,
That will say any thing: But were they false
^{4 note}

Thou dost make possible things not so held^{9 note},
Communicat'st with dreams,—How can this be?—
With what's unreal; thou coactive art,
And fellow'st nothing: Then, 'tis very credent^{1 note}
,
Thou may'st co-join with something; and thou dost;
And that beyond commission; and I find it,
And that to the infection of my brains,
And hardning of my brows.

Pol.
What means Sicilia?

Her.
He something seems unsettled.

Pol.
How? my lord?

Leo.
What cheer? how is't with you, best brother^{2 note}?

Her.
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 itself a pastime
To harder bosoms!—Looking on the lines

Of my boy's face, methoughts, I did recoil
Twenty three years; and saw myself unbreech'd,
In my green velvet coat; my dagger muzzled,
Lest it should bite its master,9Q0455 and so prove,
As ornament oft does, too dangerous.
How like, methought, I then was to this kernel,
This squash, this gentleman:—Mine honest friend,
Will you take eggs for money^{3 note}

Mam.
No, my lord, I'll fight.

Leo.
You will? why, ^{4 note}

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 childness, cures in me
Thoughts that would thick my blood.

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 thyself, and my young rover, he's
Apparent^{5 note}to my heart.

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

Leo.
To your own bents dispose you: you'll be found,
Be you beneath the sky:—I am angling now,
Though you perceive me not how I give line; [Aside, observing Hermione.
Go to, go to!
How she holds up the neb, the bill to him!
And arms her with the boldness of a wife [Exeunt Polixenes, Hermione, and attendants.
To her allowing husband! Gone already;
Inch-thick, knee-deep; o'er head and ears a fork'd one^{6 note}.—
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;—There have been,
Or I am much deceiv'd, cuckolds ere now;
And many a man there is, even at this present,
Now, while I speak this, holds his wife by the arm,
That little thinks she hath been sluic'd in his absence,
And his pond fish'd by his next neighbour, by
Sir Smile, his neighbour: nay, there's comfort in't,

Whiles other men have gates; and those gates open'd,
As mine, against their will: Should all despair,
That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind
Would hang themselves. Physick for't there is none;
It is a bawdy planet, that will strike
Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis powerful, think it,
From east, west, north, and south: Be it concluded,
No barricado for a belly; know it;
It will let in and out the enemy,
With bag and baggage: many a thousand of us
Have the disease, and feel't not.—How now, boy?

Mam.
I am like you, they say.

Leo.
Why, that's some comfort.—
What? Camillo there?

Cam.
Ay, my good lord.

Leo.
Go play, Mamillius; thou'rt an honest man.— [Exit Mamillius.
Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer.

Cam.
You had much ado to make his anchor hold;
When you cast out, ^{7 note}it still came home.

Leo.
Didst note it?

Cam.
He would not stay at your petitions; made
His business more material^{8 note}
.

Leo.
Didst perceive it?—
^{9 note}They're here with me already; whispering, rounding^{1 note}

Sicilia is a so-forth: 'Tis far gone,
When I shall gust it last^{2 note}
.—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^{3 note}, 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^{4 note}

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

Leo.
Ha?

Cam.
Stays here longer.

Ay, but why?

To satisfy your highness, and the entreaties
Of our most gracious mistress.

Satisfy
The entreaties of your mistress?—satisfy?—
Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo,
With all the nearest things to my heart, as well
My chamber-councils: wherein, priest like, thou
Hath cleans'd my bosom; I from thee departed
Thy penitent reform'd: but we have been
Deceiv'd in thy integrity, deceiv'd
In that which seems so.

Cam.
Be it forbid, my lord!

Leo.
To bide upon't;—Thou art not honest: or,
If thou inclin'st that way, thou art a coward;
Which hoxes honesty behind^{5 note}

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 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^{6 note}

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.
Have not you seen, Camillo,
(But that's past doubt: you have; or your eye-glass
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 it)
My wife is slippery? if thou wilt, confess;
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 it, and justify it.

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
Than this; which to reiterate, were sin^{7 note}

As deep as that, though true.

Leo.
Is whispering nothing?
Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses^{8 note}?
Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career
Of laughter with a sigh? (a note infallible
Of breaking honesty:) horsing foot on foot?
Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more swift 9Q0456
Hours, minutes? the noon, midnight? and all eyes
Blind with the pin and web^{9 note} 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; Bohemia 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 most dangerous.

Leo.
Say, it be; 'tis true.

Cam.
No, no, my lord.

Leo.
It is; you lie, you lie:
I say, thou liest, 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 see 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 does infect her?

Leo.
Why he, that wears her like her medal, 9Q0457 hanging
About his neck, Bohemia: Who,—if I
Had servants true about me; that bare eyes
To see alike mine honour as their profits,
Their own particular thrifts,—they would do that
Which should undo more doing: Ay, and thou,
His cup-bearer,—whom I, from meaner form
Have bench'd, and rear'd to worship; who may'st see
Plainly, as heaven sees earth, and earth sees heaven,
How I am gall'd,—thou might'st be-spice a cup,
To give mine enemy a lasting wink^{1 note}

;
Which draught to me were cordial.

Cam.
Sir, my lord,
I could do this; and that with no rash potion,

But with a ling'ring dram, that should not work^{2 note}

Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress,
So sovereignly being honourable.
I have lov'd thee—^{4 note}

Leo.
Make that thy question, and go rot!
Dost 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 sleep; which being spotted,
Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps?
Give scandal to the blood o'the 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^{5 note}

Cam.
I must believe you, sir;
I do; and will fetch off Bohemia 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:
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 Bohemia,
And with your queen: I am his cup-bearer;
If from me he have wholsome 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.

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
All that are his, so too.—To do this deed,
Promotion follows: If I could find example 9Q0458
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^{6 note}
? '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 shews me mine chang'd too: for I must be
A party in this alteration, finding
Myself thus alter'd with it.

Cam.
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^{7 note}

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 conjure 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
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 am 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^{8 note}.

Pol.
By whom, Camillo?

Cam.
By the king.

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^{9 note}

Pol.
Oh, then my best blood turn
To an infected jelly; and my name
Be yok'd with his, that did betray the best!
Turn then my freshest reputation to
A savour, that may strike the dullest nostril
Where I arrive; and my approach be shun'd,
Nay, hated too, worse than the great'st infection
That e'er was heard, or read!

Cam.
Swear his thought over^{1 note}

As or, by oath, remove, or counsel, shake,
The fabrick of his folly; whose foundation^{2 note}

Is pil'd 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 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'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'er-shades me:

Good expedition be my friend, and comfort^{3 note}