Cam. He would not stay at your petitions; made His business more material. Leon. Didst perceive it? When I shall gust it last.- How came't, Camillo, 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, Leon. Cam. Leon. Ay, but why? Ha? Stays here longer. Cam. To satisfy your highness, and the entreaties Of our most gracious mistress. Leon. Satisfy 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 boxes honesty behind, restraining From course required; or else thou must be counted A servant, grafted in my serious trust, And therein negligent; or else a fool, That seest a game played home, the rich stake drawn, Cam. Sometime puts forth. In your affairs, my lord, It was my folly; if industriously I played the fool, it was my negligence, Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear 'Tis none of mine. Leon. Have not you seen, Camillo, Cannot be mute,) or thought,-(for cogitation To have nor eyes, nor ears, nor thought,) then say, As deep as that, though true. Leon. Is whispering nothing? Is leaning cheek to check? Is meeting noses? 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? Hours, minutes? 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; Bohemia nothing; My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings, If this be nothing. Cam. VOL. II.-6 Good my lord, be cured Of this diseased opinion, and betimes; For 'tis most dangerous. Leon. Cam. No, no, my lord. Say, it be; 'tis true. It is; you lie, you lie: I say, thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee; Canst with thine eyes at once see good and evil, The running of one glass. Cam. Who does infect her? Leon. Why, he that wears her like his medal, hanging About his neck, Bohemia. Who-if I Had servants true about me, that bare eyes To see alike mine honor as their profits, Their own particular thrifts, they would do that His cupbearer,-whom I from meaner form Have benched, and reared to worship; who mayst see Plainly, as heaven sees earth, and earth sees heaven, How I am galled,-mightst 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 potion, Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress, I have loved thee, Leon. Make't thy question, and go rot! Dost think I am so muddy, so unsettled, To appoint myself in this vexation? sully Give scandal to the blood o' the prince, my son, Cam. I must believe you, sir. Even for your son's sake; and thereby, for sealing Leon. Even so as I mine own course have set down. Thou dost advise me, My lord, I'll give no blemish to her honor, none. Cam. Go then; and with a countenance as clear Account me not your servant. This is all; Leon. Cam. Cam. O miserable lady-But, for me, [Exit. What case stand I in? I must be the poisoner Forsake the court: to do't, or no, is certain Pol. Enter POLIXenes. This is strange! Methinks My favor here begins to warp. Not speak? Cam. Hail, most royal sir! Pol. What is the news i'the court? Cam. Wafting his eyes to the contrary, and falling So leaves me to consider what is breeding, Cam. I dare not know, my lord. dare not Do not. Do you know, and Be intelligent to me? 'Tis thereabouts; For, to yourself, what you do know, you must; Myself thus altered with it. Cam. Pol. How! caught of me? Make me not sighted like the basilisk. I have looked on thousands, who have sped the better As you are certainly a gentleman; thereto In whose success we are gentle,-I beseech you, In ignorant concealment. Cam. I may not answer. Pol. A sickness caught of me, and yet I well! I must be answered.-Dost thou hear, Camillo, I conjure thee, by all the parts of man, Which honor 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; If not, how best to bear it. Cam. Sir, I'll tell you; Since I am charged in honor, and by him That I think honorable. Therefore, mark my counsel; Which must be even as swiftly followed, as I mean to utter it; or both yourself and me Cry, lost, and so good-night. On, good Camillo. Pol. |