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.
Good my lord, be cured

Cam.

Of this diseased opinion, and betimes;
For 'tis most dangerous.
Leon.

Say, it be; 'tis true.

It is; you lie, you lie :

Cam. No, no, my lord.

Leon
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, hangAbout his neck, Bohemia: who-if I

Had servants true about me, that bare eyes

To see alike mine honour as their profits,

Their own particular thrifts,-they would do that,
Which should undo more doing: Ay, and thou,

His cup-bearer,-whom I from meaner form

Have bench'd, and rear'd to worship; 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.

Cum.

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.

I have loved thee

Make't thy question, and go rot!

Leon.
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, thorus, 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 removed, your highness
Will take again your queen, as yours at first;
Even for your son's sake; and, thereby, for seal ng
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 Bohemia,
And with your queen: I am his cup-bearer;
If from me he have wholesome beverage,

Account me not your servant.

This is all :"

Leon.
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 advised me

Cam. O miserable lads-But for me,
What case stand I in? 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 have 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 Bohemia.

Pol.

Enter POLIXENES.

This is strange? methinks,

My favour here begins to warp. Not speak ?-
Good day, Camillo.
Cam.

Hail, most royal sir!

None rare, my lord

Pol. What is the news i' the court?

Cam.

Pol. The king hath on him such a countenance, As he had lost some province, and a region,

c

Loved 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 ? do not.

dare not

Do you know, and

Be intelligent to me? 'Tis thereabouts :
For, to yourself, what you do know, you must;
And cannot say, you dare not. Good Canillo,
Your changed complexions are to me a mirror,
Which shews me mine changed 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
1 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,-
As you are certainly a gentleman; thereto
Clerk-like, experienced, 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 it 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, Camilla

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 charged 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.
Pol. By whom, Camillo ?

Cam.

Pol.

By the king.

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 yoked 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 shunn'd,
Nay, hated too, worse than the great'st infection
That e'er was heard or read!

Cam.

Swear his thought 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 counse! shake,
The fabric of his folly; whose foundation
Is piled upon his faith, and will continue
The standing of his body.

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.
Your followers I will whisper to the business;
And will, by twos and threes, at several posterns,
Clear them of the 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 condemn'd by the king's own mouth, thereon His execution sworn.

Pol.

I do believe thee:

Give me thy hand;

I saw his heart in his face.

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 jealousy

Is for a precious creature: as she's rare,

Must it be great; and, as his person's mighty,

VCL. HI.

2

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'ershades me;
Good expedition be my friend, and comfort

The gracious queen, part of his theme, but nothing
Of his ill-ta'en suspicion! 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.

ACT II.

SCENE 1.-The same.

Enter HERMIONE, MAMILLIUS, and Ladies.

Her. Take the boy to you: he so troubles me,

'Tis past enduring.

1 Lady.

Come, my gracious lord,

No, I'll none of you."

Shall I be your play-fellow ?
Mam.

1 Lady. Why, my sweet lord ?

Mam. You'll kiss me hard; and speak to me as if I were a baby still.-I love you better.

2 Lady. And why so, my good lord?

Mam. Not for because Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they say, Become some women best; so that there be not

Too much hair there, but in a semi-circle,

Or half-moon made with a pen.

2 Lady.

Who taught you this?

Mam. I learn'd it out of women's faces.-Pray now, What colour are your eye-brows?

I Lady.

Blue, my lord.

Mam. Nay, that's a mock: I have seen a lady's nose That has been blue, but not her eye-brows.

2 Lady.

Hark ye:

The queen, your mother, rounds apace: we shall
Present our services to a fine new prince,

One of these days: and then you'd wanton with us,
If we would have you.

She is spread of late

1 Lady. Into a goodly bulk: Good time encounter her! [now Iler. What wisdom stirs amongst you? Come, sir,