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 knel. Go, play, boy, play thore
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 th' arm,
That little thinks, she has been sluic'd in's 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 fouth, be it concluded,
No barricado for a belly. Know't,
It will let in and out the enemy,
With bag and baggage: many a thousand of's
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:
[Ex. Mamil
Camillo, this Great Sir will yet ftay longer.
Cam. You had much ado to make his anchor hold;
When you caft out, it still came home.
Cam. He would not stay at your petitions made;
His business more material.
Leo. Didst perceive it?
They're here with me already; whispring, rounding:
Sicilia is a fo-forth; 'tis far gone,
When I shall gust it last. How cam't, Camillo,
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 foaking, 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,
Perchance, are to this business purblind? say.
Cam. Business, my lord? I think, most understand
Bohemia stays here longer.
Leo. Ha?
Cam. Stays here longer.
Leo. Ay, but why?
Cam. To fatisfie your Highness, and th' entreaties
Of our most gracious mistress.
Th'entreaties of your mistress? fatisfie?
Let That suffice. I've trusted thee, Camillo,
With all the things nearest my heart; as well
My chamber-councels, wherein, prieft like, thou
Haft 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 fo.
Cam. Be it forbid, my lord
Leo. To bide upon't; - Thou art not honeft; or,
If thou inclin'st that way, thou art a coward;
Which hoxes honesty behind, restraining
From course requir'd: or elfe thou must be counted
A fervant grafted in my ferious Truft,
And therein negligent; or else a fool,
That seest a game plaid home, the rich stake drawn,
And tak'st it all for jeft.
Cam. My gracious lord,
I may be negligent, foolish and fearful; (3)
(3) I may be negligent, foolish, and fearfuls
In every one of these no Man is free,
But that his Negligence, his Folly, Fear,
Amongst the infinite Doings of the World
In every one of these no man is free,
But that his negligence, his folly, fear,
Amongit 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 industrioufly
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
Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear
Which oft infects the wisest: these, my lord,
Are fuch 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.
Leo. Ha'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 do's not think it ;)
My wife is flippery? 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't, and justify't.
Cam. I would not be a stander-by, to hear
My fovereign Mistress clouded fo, without
Sometimes puts forth in your Affairs, my Lord.] Most accurate Pointing This, and fine Nonfenfe the Result of it! The old Folio's first blunder'd thus, and Mr. Rowe by Inadvertence (if he read the Sheets at all,) overlook'd the Fault. Mr. Pope, like a most obsequious Editor, has taken the Passage on Content, and pursued the Track of Stupidity. I dare fay, every understanding Reader will allow, my Reformation of the Pointing has entirely retriev'd the Place from Obscurity, and reconcil'd it to the Author's Meaning,
My present vengeance taken; 'shrew my heart,
You never spoke what did become you lefs
Than this; which to reiterate, were fin
As deep as that, tho' true.
Leo. Is whispering nothing?
Is leaning cheek to cheek ? is meating noses ?
Kissing with infide lip? stopping the career
Of laughter with a figh? (a note infallible
Of breaking honesty :) horfing foot on foot ?
Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more swift?
Hours, minutes? the 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..
Leo. Say it be, 'tis true.
Cam. No, no, my lord.
Leo. It is you lie, you lie:
I say, thou lieft, Camillo, and I hate thee;
Pronounce thee a gross lowt, a mindless slave,
Or elfe 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 do's infect her?
Leo. 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 fee alike mine honour, as their profits,
Their own particular thrifts, they would do That
Which should undo more Doing: I, and thou
His cup-bearer, (whom I from meaner forme
Have bench'd, and rear'd to worship; who may'st see
Plainly, as heav'n fees earth, and earth fees heav'n,
How I am gall'd ;) thou might'st be-spice a cup,
To give mine enemy a lasting wink;
Which draught to me were cordial.
I could do this, and that with no rash potion,
But with a lingring dram, that should not work,
Maliciously, like poison: but I cannot (4)
Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress,
So sovereignly being honourable.
Leo. I've lov'd thee. - Make't thy Question, and
Do't think, I am so muddy, so unfettled,
To appoint my self 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'th' Prince, my fon,
Who, I do think, is mine, and love as mine,
Without ripe moving to't? would I do this?
Could man so blench?
Believe this Crack to be in my dread Mistress,
So Sovereignly being honourable.
I have lov'd thee.
Leo. Make that thy Question and go rot.] This passage wants very little weighing, to determine safely upon it, that the laft Hemistich affign'd to Camillo, must have been mistakenly placed to him. It is a strange Instance of Disrespect and Infolence in Camille to his King and Master, to tell him that He has once lov'd him. But Sense and Reason will eafily aoquit our Poet from such an Impropriety. I have ventur'd at a Transposition, which seems self-evident. Camillo will not be perfuaded into a Suspicion of the Disloyalty imputed to his Mistress. The King, who believes Nothing but his Jealousy, provok'd that Camillo is so obstinately diffident, finely starts into a Rage and cries;
I've lov'd thee. Make't thy Question, and go rot. i. e. I have tender'd thee well, Camillo, but I here cancel all former Ref. pect at once. If Thou any longer make a Question of my Wife's Difloyalty; go from my Prefence, and Perdition overtake thee for thy Stubbornness.
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