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 allowed 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

Or heard,

past doubt: you have ;-)

(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
As deep as that, though true.

Leon. Is whispering nothing?

Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses?
Kissing with inside lip? 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, 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.

Leon. Say, it be; 'tis true.

Cam. No, no, my lord.

Leon. You lie, you lie; 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.

Cam. Who does infect her?

Leon. Why, he, that wears her like her medal, hanging

About his neck, Bohemia:-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 potion,
But with a ling'ring dram, that should not work
Maliciously, like poison:-But I cannot

Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress,
So sovereignly being honourable.

Leon. I've lov'd thee,-make't 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?

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 allied to yours.

Leon. Thou dost advise me,

Even so, as I my 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 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 splitt'st thine own.-

I will seem friendly, as thou hast advis'd me.
[Exit LEONTES.

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 villany 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 POLIXEN ES.

Pol. This is strange! Methinks,

My favour here begins to warp.

Good day, Camillo.

Cam. Hail, most royal sir!

Not speak ?--

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've 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 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 coun-

sel;

Which must be even as swiftly followed, 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

To vice you to't,-that you have touch'd his queen Forbiddenly.

Pol. O, 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, though over

By each particular star in heaven,-
You may as well