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

As deep as that, though true.

Is whispering nothing?

Leon. 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 :) horsing foot on foot? Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more swift? Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all eyes Blind with the pin and web,a 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 't is most dangerous.

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.

6
a See King Lear,' Act III., Scene 4.

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,
Their own particular thrifts,-they would do that
Which should undo more doing: Ay, and thou,
His cupbearer,-whom I from meaner form
Have bench'd and rear'd 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,
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 that thy question, and go rot !a

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.

a

Disregarding Camillo's "I have lov'd thee," Leontes is enraged at his making

a question of the alleged dishonour of his "dread mistress."

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 cupbearer;

If from me he have wholesome beverage,

Account me not your servant.

Do't, and thou hast the one half of my heart;
Do't not, thou splitt'st thine own.

Cam.

I'll do 't, my

lord.

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

Pol. What is the news i' the court?

Cam.

Hail, most royal sir!

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? do not? Do you know, and dare not Be intelligent to me. "T is thereabouts;

a

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.

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 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, experienc'd, which no less adorns
Our gentry, than our parents' noble names,
In whose success b 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, 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

a We point this as in the original. The general reading is,

"Do you know, and dare not

Be intelligent to me?"

b Success-succession.

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 will 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 utter it; or both yourself and me
Cry "lost," and so good night.

Pol.
On, good Camillo.
Cam. I am appointed him to murther

Pol. By whom, Camillo?

Cam.

Pol.

you.

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 yok'd with his that did betray the Best! a
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.
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.

Swear his thought over b

• We print Best with a capital as in the folio. The allusion is to Judas. The sentence against excommunicated persons contains a clause that they should have part with that betrayer.

b Over-swear his thought.