Her. Never?

Leon. Never, but once.

Her. What? have I twice said well? when was't
before?

I pr'ythee, tell me ! Cram us with praise, and make us
As fat as tame things! One good deed, dying

tongueless,

Slaughters a thousand, waiting upon that.

Our praises are our wages: you may ride us,
With one soft kiss, a thousand furlongs, ere
With spur we heat an acre. But to the goal! -
My last good was, to entreat his stay;

What was my first? it has an elder sister,

Or I mistake you. O, would her name were Grace!
But once before I spoke to the purpose: When?

Nay, let me have't'; I long.

Leon. Why, that was, when

Three crabbed months had sour'd themselves to death,
Erel could make thee open thy white hand,

And clap thyself my love; then didst thou utter,

I am yours for ever.

Her. It is Grace, indeed.

Pol. How, my lord?

What cheer? how is't with you, best brother?
Her. Youlook,

As if you held a brow of much distraction:
Are you mov'd, my lord?

Leon. No, in good earnest.

How sometimes nature will betray its folly,
Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime
To harder bosoms! Looking on the lines
Of my boy's face, methoughts, I did recoil
Twenty-three years, and saw myselfunbreech'd,
In my green velvet coat, my dagger muzzled,
Lest it should bite its master, and so prove,
As ornaments oft do, too dangerous.
Howlike, methought, I then was to this kernel,
This quash, this gentleman :-mine honest friend,
Will you take eggs for money?

Mam. No, my lord, I'll fight.

Leon. You will? why, happy man be's dole! - My

brother,

Are you so fond of your young prince, as we

Do seem to be of ours?

Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose twice, Pol. If at home, sir,

The one for ever earn'd a royal husband;

[Giving her hand to Polixenes.

[Aside.

He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter:
Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy,
My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all:
He makes a July's day short as December,
And, with his varying childness, cures in me
Thoughts, that would thick my blood.
Leon. So stands this squire

The other, for some while a friend.

Leon. Too hot, too hot!

To mingle friendship far, is mingling bloods.
I have tremor cordis on me: -my heart dances;
But not for joy,-notjoy. -This entertainment
May a free face put on; derive a liberty

From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosom,
And well become the agent: it may, I grant:

But to be paddling palms, and pinching fingers,

Offic'd with me. Wetwo will walk, my lord,
And leave you to your graver steps.-Hermione,
How thou lov'stus, showin our brother's welcome;
Let what is dear in Sicily, be cheap!

As now they are, and making practis'd smiles,
As in a looking-glass; and then to sigh, as 'twere
The mort o'the deer; O, that is entertainment,
My bosom likes not, normy brows. Mamillius,

Art thou my boy?

Mam. Ay, my good lord.

Leon. I'fecks?

Next to thyself, and my young rover, he's

We are yoursi'the garden: shall's attend you there?
Leon. To your own bents dispose you: you'll be

Be you beneath the sky! -I am angling now,

Why, that's my bawcock. What, hast smutch'd thy Though you perceive me not how I give line.

Apparent to my heart.

Her. If you would seek us,

found,

Leon. Thou want'st a rough pash, and the shoots that Play too; but so disgrac'da part, whose issue

I have,

To be full like me: - yet, they say, we are
Almost as like, as eggs; women say so,
That will say any thing: but were they false,
As o'er-died blacks, as wind, as waters, false,
As dice are to be wish'd, by one that fixes
No bourn 'twixt his and mine; yet were it true
To say this boy were like me.-Come, sir page,
Look on me with your welkin eye: sweet villain!
Most dear'st! my collop!- Can thy dam?-may't be?
Affection! thy intention stabs the centre:
Thou dost make possible things not so held,
Communicat'st with dreams ms;-(How can this be
With what's unreal thou coactive art,

And fellow'st nothing: then 'tis very credent,

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 the 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. Physic for't there is none;
It is a bawdy planet, that will strike

Thou may'st co-join with something; and thou dost; From east, west, north, and south. Be it concluded,

That he did stay?

Cam. At the good queen's entreaty.

W

Er

Th

L

E

Cannot bemute,) 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 hobbyhorse; 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,

)

Co

You never spoke what did become you less
Than this; which to reiterate, were sin

As deep as that, though true.

L

Leon. Is whispering nothing?
Isleaning cheek to cheek, is meeting noses,
Kissing with inside lip, stopping the career

C
L

Leon. At the queen's, be't: good, should be pertinent; Of laughter with a sigh, (a note infallible

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,

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.

Leon. Ha?

Cam. Stays here longer.

Leon. Ay, but why?

Cam. To satisfy your highness, and the entreaties

Of our most gracious mistress.

Leon. Satisfy

The entreaties of your mistress?-satisfy?-
Let that suffice. I havetrusted thee, Camillo,
With all the nearest things to my heart, as well

My chamber-councils, wherein, priest-like, thou

Hast 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 so.

Cam. Be it forbid, mylord!

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. Goodmy lord, be cur'd

Of this diseas'd opinion, and betimes;

For 'tis most dangerous.

Leon. Say, it be; 'tis true.

Cam. No, no, mylord.

Leon. It is; you lie, you lie:

I say, thouliest, Camillo, and I hate thee,

Pronounce thee a grosslout, a mindless slave,
Or else a hovering temporizer, that
Canst with thine eyes at once see good and evil,
Inclining to them both. Weremy wife's liver
Infected as herlife, she would not live

The running of one glass.

Cam. Who does infect her?

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

Leon. Tho bide upon't; - thou art not honest: or, About his neck, Bohemia; who - if I

That seest a game play'd home, therich stake drawn, Have bench'd, and rear'd to worship, who may'st see

Cam. My gracious lord,

I may be negligent, foolish, and fearful;

In every one of these no man is free,

But that his negligence, his folly, fear,
Amongst the infinite doings of the world,

Sometimes puts forth. In your affairs, mylord,

If ever I were wilful-negligent,

It was my folly; ifindustriously

I play'd the fool, it was my negligence,
Not weighing well the end: if ever fearful
To do athing, wherel theissue doubted,
Whereof the execution did cry out

Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear
Which oft affects the wisest: these, my lord,
Are such allow'd infirmities, that honesty
Is never free of. But, 'beseech your grace,
Be plainer with me; let me know my trespass
Byits own visage! If I then deny it,

'Tis none of mine.

Leon. Have not you seen, Camillo,

(But that's past doubt: you have; or your eyeglass Is thicker than a cuckold's horn;) or heard,

(For, to a vision so apparent, rumour

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.

I have lov'd thee,

Leon. 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'sremov'd, your highness

AL

10

A

N

L

Fe

T

H

(

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 advis'd me.

Cam. Omiserable 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. IfI could find example
Of thousands that have struck anointed kings,
And flourish'd after, I'd not do't: but since
Nor brass,

[Exit.

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.

Enter POLIXENES.

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'the court?

Cam. None rare, mylord.

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.

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 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 counsel,

Which must be even as swiftly follow'd, as

I mean to utterit; or both yourself and me

Cry, lost, and sogood-night.

Pol. On, good Camillo!

Cam. Iamappointed 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!
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 counsel, shake
The fabric 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 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,

Pol. How! dare not? do not. Do you know, and dare Clear them of the city. For myself, I'll put

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 shows me mine chang'd too: for I must be

A party in this alteration, finding

Myself thus alter'd with it.

Cam. This is a sickness,

Which puts some of us in distemper; but

I cannot name the disease; and it is caught

My fortunes to your service, which are here
By this discovery lost. Benot 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

Of you, that yet are well.

Still neighbour miné. My ships are ready, and

Pol. How! caught of me?

My people did expect my hence departure

Make me not sighted like the basilisk:

Two days ago.- This jealousy

I have look'd on thousands, who have sped the better Is for a precious creature: as she's rare,

By my regard, but kill'd none so. Camillo,

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

As you are certainly a gentleman; thereto

Clerk-like, experienc'd, which no less adorns

Our gentry, than our parents' noble names,

In whose success we are gentle, -I beseech you,

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:

If you know aught, which does behove my knowledge

Thereof to be inform'd, imprison it not

In ignorant concealment!

Good expedition be my friend, and comfort
The gracious queen, part of his theme, but nothing
Of his ill-ta'en suspicion! Come, Camillo;

Ha

Though he does bear some sign of me, yet you
Have too much blood in him.

Her. What is this? sport?

Leon. Bear the boy hence, he shall not come about her;

A way with him!-and let her sport herself
With that she's big with; for 'tis Polixenes

Has made thee swell thus.

Her. But I'd say, he had not,

And, I'll be sworn, you would believe my saying,

Howe'er you lean to the nayward.

it

L

1

Leon. You, my lords,

Look on her, mark her well; be but about

Praise her but for this her without-door form,
(Which, on my faith, deserves high speech,) and

That calumny doth use. -O, I am out,

Mam. Nay, that's a mock: I have seen a lady's nose That mercy does; for calumny will sear

To fright me with your sprites: you're powerful at it. More, she's a traitor; and Camillo is

A federary with her, and one that knows,

What she should shame to know herself,

Mam. Dwelt by a church-yard:- I will tell it softly; But with her most vile principal, that she's

With thoughts so qualified, as your charities
Shall best instruct you, measure me;

The king's will be perform'd!

Leon. Shall I be heard?

and so

[To the Guards.

Her. Who is't, that goes with me?- 'Beseech your highness,

My women may be with me; for, you see,

My plight requires it. Do not weep, good fools!
There is no cause; when you shall know, your mistress

Had deserv'd prison, then abound in tears,

As I come out; this action I now go on,

Is for my better grace. - Adieu, my lord:

I never wish'd to see you sorry; now,

I trust, I shall.-My women, come! you have leave.
Leon. Go, do your bidding; hence!

[Exeunt Queen and Ladies.

1 Lord. 'Beseech your highness, call the queen again!
Ant. Be certain what you do, sir; lest your justice
Prove violence; in the which three great ones suffer,
Yourself, your queen, your son.

1 Lord. Forher, my lord,

I dare my life lay down, and will do't, sir,

Please you to accept it, that the queen is spotless
I'the eyes of heaven, and to you; I mean,
In this which you accuse her.

Ant. If it prove

She's otherwise, I'll keep my stables, where
Ilodge my wife: I'll go in couples with her;

Than when I feel, and see her, no further trust her;

For every inch of womaninthe world,

Ay, every dram of woman's flesh, is false,

If she be.

Leon. Hold your peaces!

1 Lord. Good my lord,

Ant. It is for you we speak, not for ourselves:

You are abus'd, and by some putter-on,

That will be damn'd for't; 'would I knew the villain,
I would land-damn him. Be she honour-flaw'd, -
I have three daughters; the eldest is eleven;

The second, and the third, nine and some five;
If this prove true, they'll pay for't: by mine honour,
I'll geld them all; fourteen they shall not see,
To bring false generations: they are co-heirs;
And I had rather glib myself, than they

Should not produce fair issue.

Leon. Cease; no more!

You smell this business with a sense aș cold,

As is a dead man's nose: I see't, and feel't,

As you feel doing thus; and see withal

The instruments that feel.

Ant. Ifit be so,

We need no grave to bury honesty;

There's not a grain of it, the face to sweeten
Of the whole dungy earth.

Leon. What! lack I credit?

1 Lord. I had rather you did lack, than I, my lord,
Upon this ground: and more it would content me
To have her honour true, than your suspicion;
Be blam'd for't how you might.

Leon. Why, what need we

Commune with you of this? but rather follow
Our forceful instigation? Our prerogative
Calls not your counsels; but our natural goodness
Imparts this: which, - if you, (or stupified,
Or seeming so in skill,) cannot, or will not,
Relish as truth, like us; inform yourselves,
We need no more of your advise: the matter,
The loss, the gain, the ordering on't, is all
Properly ours.

Ant. And I wish, my liege,

You had only in your silent judgement tried it,
Without more overture.

Leon. How could that be?

Either thou art most ignorant by age,
Or thou wert born a fool. Camillo's flight,
Added to their familiarity,

(Which was as gross, as ever touch'd conjecture,
That lack'd sight only, nought for approbation,
But only seeing, all other circumstances

Made up to the deed,) doth push on his proceeding:
Yet, for a greater confirmation,

(For, in an act of this importance, 'twere

Most piteous to be wild,) I have despatch'd in post,
To sacred Delphos, to Apollo's temple,
Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know

Of stuff'd sufficiency: now, from the oracle
They will bring all; whose spiritual counsel had,
Shall stop or spurme. Have I done well?
1 Lord. Well done, my lord.

Leon. Though I am satisfied, and need no more
Than what I know, yet shall the oracle
Giverest to the minds of others; such as he,
Whose ignorant credulity will not

Come up to the truth. So have we thought it good,
From our free person she should be confin'd:
Lest that the treachery of the two, fled hence,
Be left her to perform. Come, follow us!
We are to speak in public: for this business
Will raise us all.

Ant. [Aside.] To laughter, as I take it,
If the good truth were known.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. - The same. The outer room of a prison.
Enter PAULINA and Attendants.

Paul. The keeper of the prison, -call to him;

[Exit an Attendant.

Let him have knowledge, who I am.-Good lady!
No court in Europe is too good for thee;
What dost thou then in prison?-Now, good sir,

You know me, do you not?

Re-enter Attendant, with the Keeper.

And one whom I much honour.

Keep. For a worthy lady,

Paul. Pray you then,

Conduct me to the queen!

Keep. I may not, madam; to the contrary

I have express commandment.

Paul, Here's ado,

To lock up honesty and honour from

The access of gentle visitors ! - Is it lawful,

Pray you, to see her women? any of them?

Emilia?

Keep. So please you, madam, to put
Apart these your attendants, I shall bring

Emilia forth.

Paul. I pray now, call her!

Withdraw yourselves!

I must be present at your conference.

Keep. And, madam,

Paul. Well, be it so, pr'ythee.

[Exeunt Attend.

[Exit Keeper.

Here's such ado to make no stain a stain,
As passes colouring.

Re-enter Keeper, with EMILIA.

Dear gentlewoman, how fares our gracious lady?
Emil. As well, as one so great, and so forlorn,
May hold together: on her frights, and griefs,
(Which never tender lady hath borne greater,)
Sheis, something before her time, deliver'd.
Paul. A boy?

Emil. A daughter; and a goodly babe,
Lusty, and like to live: the queen receives
Much comfort in't: says, My poor prisoner,
I am innocent, as you.

Paul. I dare be sworn:

These dangerous unsafe lunes o'the king! beshrew