Cam. To satisfy your highness, and the entreaties Of our most gracious mistress. Satisfy Leon. The entreaties of your mistress ?-satisfy?— Let that suffice. I have trusted 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, my lord! Leon. To bide upon't;-Thou art not honest: or, If thou inclin'st that way, thou art a coward; Which hoxes? honesty behind, restraining From course requir'd: Or else thou must be counted 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, Cam. In every one of these no man is free, Amongst the infinite doings of the world, It was my folly; if industriously I play'd the fool, it was my negligence, To hox is to hamstring. Whereof the execution did cry out Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear "Tis none of mine. Leon. Have 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 does not think it,) To have nor eyes, nor ears, nor thought,) then say, 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 If this be nothing. Cam. Good my lord, be cur'd Of this diseas'd opinion, and betimes; For 'tis most dangerous. Leon. Cam. No, no, my lord. Leon. Say, it be; 'tis true. It is; you lie, you lie: I say, thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee; Canst with thine eyes at once see good and evil, The running of one glass.2 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 Have bench'd, and rear'd to worship; who may'st see 2 Hour-glass. ■ Disorders of the eye. 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 rash3 potion, 4 Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress, I have lov'd thee, Leon. Make't thy question, and go rot! Dost think, I am so muddy, so unsettled, Cam. I must believe you, sir; I do; and will fetch off Bohemia for't: Provided, that when he's remov'd, your highness Even for your son's sake; and, thereby, for sealing Leon. Thou dost advise me, Even so as I mine own course have set down: 3 Hasty. 4 Maliciously, with effects openly hurtful. si.e. Could any man so start off from propriety? I'll give no blemish to her honour, none. 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 wholsome 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 split'st thine own. Cam. I'll do't, my lord. Leon. I will seem friendly, as thou hast advis'd me. 1 [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! Pol. Enter POLIXEN ES. This is strange! methinks, My favour here begins to warp. Not speak? Good-day, Camillo. |