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'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.

Cam.
I dare not know, my Lord.

Pol.
How, dare not? do not? do you know, and dare not?
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 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've look'd on thousands, who have sped the better

By my regard, but kill'd none so: Camillo,
As you are certainly a gentleman,
Clerk-like experienc'd, (which no less adorns
Our gentry, than our parents' noble names,
In whose success we are gentle;) I beseech you,
If you know aught, which does behove my knowledge
Thereof to be inform'd, imprison't 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 towards me; how far off, how near;
Which way to be prevented, if it 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 Him to murder you.

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
^{7 note}To vice you to't, that you have toucht his Queen
Forbiddenly.

Pol.
Oh, then, my best blood turn
To an infected gelly, and my name

Be yoak'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 (a) ^notethis though over
By each particular star in heaven, 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 fabrick of his folly; whose foundation
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'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 twoes, 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; which if you seek to prove,
I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer,
Than one condemned by the King's own mouth;
Thereon his execution sworn.

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.—This jealousie
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:
^{8 note}

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.

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