Pol.
Nine changes of the wat'ry star have been
The shepherd's note, since we have left our throne

Without a burden: 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.

Leon.
Stay your thanks a-while;
And pay them when you part.

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

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

Pol.
No longer stay.

Leon.
One seven-night longer.

Pol.
Very sooth, to-morrow.

Leon.
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, none i'the world,
So soon as yours, could win me: so it should now,
Were there necessity in your request, although
'Twere needful I deny'd it

Leon.
Tongue-ty'd, our queen? speak you.

Her.
I had thought, sir, to have held my peace, until
You had drawn oaths from him not to stay. You, sir,
Charge him too coldly: Tell him, you are sure,
All in Bithynia's well: this satisfaction
The by-gone day proclaim'd:^{4 note} say this to him,
He's beat from his best ward.

Leon.
Well said, Hermione.

Her.
To tell, he longs to see his son, were strong:
But let him say so then, and let him go;
But let him swear so, and he shall not stay.

Yet of your royal presence [To Polixenes.] I'll adventure
The borrow of a week. When at Bithynia
You take my lord, I'll give him my commission,
To let him there a month, behind the gest^{5 note}
Prefix'd for his parting: yet, good-deed,^{6 note} Leontes,
I love thee not a jar^{7 note} o'the clock behind
What lady she her lord.— [Enter Mamillius and Nurse,—Leontes goes up the stage to meet the Prince, his son.]
You'll stay?

Pol.
No, Madam.

Her.
Nay, but you will?

Pol.
I may not, verily.

Her.
Verily!
You put me off with limber^{8 note} vows: But I,
Though you would seek to unsphere the stars with oaths,
Should yet say, Sir, no going. 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; so you shall pay your fees,
When you depart, and save your thanks. 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 yours, when you were boys;
You were pretty lordings^{9 note} 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'the two?

Pol.
We were as twinn'd lambs, that did frisk i'the sun,
And bleat the one at the other: what we chang'd,
Was innocence for innocence; we knew not
The doctrine of ill-doing, no, nor dream'd
That any did: Had we pursued that life,
And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd
With stronger blood, we should have answer'd heaven
Boldly, Not guilty; the imposition clear'd,
Hereditary ours.^{10 note}

Her.
By this we gather,
You have tripp'd since.

Pol.
O, my most sacred lady,
Temptations have since then been born to us: for
In those unfledg'd days was my wife a girl;
Your precious self had then not cross'd the eyes
Of my young play-fellow.

Her.
Grace to boot!
Of this make no conclusion; lest you say,
Your queen and I are devils: Yet go on;
The offences we have made you do, we'll answer.

Leon.
Is he won yet? [Leontes advances.

Her.
He'll stay, my lord.

Leon.
At my request, he would not.
Hermione, my dearest, thou never spok'st
To better purpose.

Her.
Never?

Leon.
Never, but once.

Her.
What? have I twice said well? when was't before?
I pr'ythee, tell me: One good deed dying tongueless,
Slaughters a thousand, waiting upon that.
Our praises are our wages. But to the goal;—^{10A note}
My last good deed was to entreat his stay;
What was my first? it has an elder sister,
Or I mistake you;

But once before I spoke to the purpose: When?
Nay, let me have't; I long.

Leon.
Why that was when
Three crabbed months had sour'd themselves to death,
Ere I could make thee open thy white hand,
And clap^{11 note}
thyself my love; then didst thou utter,
I am yours for ever.

Her.
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.

Leon.
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's fertile bosom,
And well become the agent: it may, I grant:
But to be paddling 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;^{12 note} O, that is entertainment
My bosom likes not.—Mamillius,
Art thou my boy?

Mam.
Ay, my good lord.

Leon.
I'feck's?^{13 note}
Why, that's my bawcock.^{14 note} What, hast smutch'd thy nose?—
They say, it's a copy out of mine. Come, captain,
We must be neat,^{15 note} not neat, but cleanly, captain:

And yet the steer, the heifer, and the calf,
Are all call'd, neat.—Still virginalling^{16 note} [Observing Polixenes and Hermione.
Upon his palm?—How now, you wanton calf?
Art thou my calf?

Mam.
Yes, if you will, my lord.

Leon.
Thou want'st a rough pash, and the shoots that I have,^{17 note}
To be full like me:^{18 note} yet, they say, we are
Almost as like as eggs; women say so,
That will say any thing: But were they false
As wind, as waters; yet were it true
To say, this boy were like me.—Come, sir page,
Look on me with your welkin eye:^{19 note} Sweet villain!
Most dear'st! my collop!^{20 note}
—Can thy dam?—may't be?

Pol.
What means Sicilia?

Her.
He something seems unsettled.

Pol.
How, my lord?
What cheer? how is't with you, best brother?

Her.
You look,
As if you held a brow of much distraction:
Are you mov'd, my lord?

Leon.
No, in good earnest.
How sometimes nature will betray its folly,
Its tenderness: and make itself a pastime
To harder bosoms! [Aside.]—Looking on the lines
Of my boy's face, methought, I did recoil
Twenty-three years; with my dagger muzzled,
Lest it should bite its master, and so prove,
As ornaments oft do, too dangerous.
How like, methought, I then was to this kernel,

This squash,^{21 note} this gentleman:—Mine honest friend,
Will you take eggs for money?^{22 note}

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

Leon.
You will? why, happy man be his dole!—^{23 note} My 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, statesman, all:
He makes a July's day short as December;
And, with his varying childness, cures in me
Thoughts that would thick my blood.

Leon.
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, show in our brother's welcome;
Next to thyself, and my young rover, he's
Apparent to my heart.^{24 note}

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

Leon.
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.
Go to, go to! [Aside. Observing Polixenes and Hermione.
How she holds up the neb,^{25 note} the bill to him!

And arms her with the boldness of a wife
To her allowing^{26 note} husband! Gone already; [Exeunt Polixenes, Hermione, and Guests.
Inch thick, knee deep; o'er head and ears a fork'd one.^{27 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 kneel.—Go, play, boy, play;—There have been,
And many a man there is, even at this present,^{28 note}
Now, while I speak this, holds his wife by the arm,
That little thinks—should all despair
That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind
Would hang themselves. Physick for't there is none:
Many a thousand of us
Have the disease, and feel't not. How now, boy?

Mam.
I am like you, they say.

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

Cam.
Ay, my good lord.

Leon.
Go play, Mamillius; thou'rt an honest man.— [Exeunt Mamillius and Nurse.
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.^{29 note}

Leon.
Didst note it?

Cam.
He would not stay at your petitions; made
His business more material.^{30 note}

Leon.
Didst perceive it?—
They're here with me already;^{31 note} whispering, rounding,^{32 note}
Sicilia is a so-forth:^{33 note} How came't, Camillo,
That he did stay?

Cam.
At the good queen's entreaty.

Leon.
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,^{34 note}
Perchance, are to this business purblind: say.

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

Leon.
Ha?

Cam.
Stays here longer.

Leon.
Ay, but why?

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

Leon.
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; but we have been
Deceiv'd in thy integrity, deceiv'd
In that which seems so.

Cam.
Be it forbid, my lord!

Leon.
To bide upon't;—thou art not honest: or,
If thou inclin'st that way, thou art a coward;
Which hoxes^{35 note} honesty behind, restraining
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 seest a game play'd home, the rich stake drawn,
And tak'st it all for jest.

Cam.
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, '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
By its own visage; if I then deny it,
'Tis none of mine.

Leon.
Have not you seen, Camillo
(But that's past doubt; you have); 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,
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
As deep as that, though true.

Leon.
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?—noon, midnight? and all eyes blind
With the pin and web,^{36 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; 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 most dangerous.

Leon.
Say, it be; 'tis true.

Cam.
No, no, my lord.

Leon.
It is;
I say, thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee:
Pronounce thee a gross lout, 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.^{37 note}

Cam.
Who does infect her?

Leon.
Why he that wears her like a medal hanging
About his neck—Bithynia: Who,—if I
Had servants true about me; that bare eyes
To see alike mine honour as their profits, they would do that
Which should undo more doing: Ay, and thou
His cup-bearer, who may'st see
Plainly, as heaven sees earth, and earth sees heaven,
How I am galled: might'st bespice 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^{38 note} potion,
But with a ling'ring dram, that should not work
Maliciously, like poison.^{39 note} But I cannot
Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress,
So sovereignly being honourable.

Leon.
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 honour,
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?^{40 note}

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 allied to yours.

Leon.
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 Bithynia,
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 thine own.

Cam.
I'll do't, my lord.

Leon.
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
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 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 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?

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,—.
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.
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
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.^{41 note}

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,^{42 note}—that you have approach'd his queen
Forbiddenly.

Pol.
O, then my best blood turn
To an infected jelly; and my approach be shunn'd,
Nay, hated too, worse than the great'st infection
That e'er was heard, or read!

Cam.
Swear this thought over
By each particular star in heaven—
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.

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.
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. Fear o'ershades me:
Good expedition be my friend—Heaven comfort
The gracious queen. Come, Camillo;
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. END OF ACT FIRST.

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