Camillo, this Great Sir will yet ftay longer.
Cam. You had much ado to make his anchor hold;
When you caft out, it ftill came home.

Leo. Didit note it?

Cam. He would not stay at your petitions made; His business more material.

Leo. Didft perceive it?

*They're here with me already; whisp'ring, rounding: Sicilia is a fo-forth; 'tis far gone,

When I fhall guft it laft.

That he did ftay?

How cam't, Camillo,

Cam. At the good Queen's entreaty.

Leo. At the Queen's be't; good, fhould be pertinent; But fo 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 fome severals
Of head-piece extraordinary; lower meffes',
Perchance, are to this business purblind? fay.

Cam. Bufinefs, my Lord? I think, most understand Bohemia stays here longer.

Leo. Ha?

Cam. To fatisfy your Highness, and th' entreaties Of our most gracious miftrefs.

Leo. Satisfy

Th' entreaties of your mistress ?-fatisfy?—
Let that fuffice. I've trufted thee, Camillo,
With all the things nearest my heart; as well
My chamber-councils, wherein, priest-like, thou
Haft cleans'd my bofom: I from thee departed
Thy Penitent reform'd; but we have been
Deceiv'd in thy integrity; deceiv'd
In that, which feems fo.

Cam. Be it forbid, my Lord.

Leo. To bide upon't;-Thou art not honeft; or, If thou inclin'ft that way, thou art a coward; Which hoxes honesty behind, restraining

From courfe requir'd: or else thou must be counted A fervant grafted in my ferious Trust,

And therein negligent; or elfe a fool,

That feeft a game play'd home, the rich stake drawn, And tak'it it all for jeft.

I

Cam. My gracious Lord,

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,

Sometime puts forth. In your affairs, my Lord,
If ever I were wilful negligent,

It was my folly; if industriously

I play'd the fool, it was my negligence,
Not weighing well the end, if ever fearful
To do a thing, where I the iffue doubted,
Whereof the execution did cry out'
Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear

Which oft infects the wifeft: thefe, my Lord,
Are fuch allow'd infirmities, that honefty
Is never free of. But, 'befeech your Grace,
Be plainer with me, let me know my trespass
By its own vifage; if I then deny it,
'Tis none of mine.

Leo, Ha'not you feen, Camillo,

(But that's past doubt, you have; or your eye-glafs
Is thicker than a cuckold's horn ;) or heard,
(For to a vifion fo apparent, rumour

Cannot be mute;) or thought, (for cogitation
Refides not in that man, that do's not think it ;)
My wife is flippery! if thou wilt, confess;
(Or elfe be impudently negative,

To have nor eyes nor ears, nor thought,) then fey,
My wife's a hobby-horfe, deferves a name
As rank as any flax-wench, that puts to
Before her troth plight: fay't, and justify't.
Cam. I would not be a ftander-by, to hear
My fovereign Mistress clouded fo, without
My prefent vengeance taken; 'fhrew 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 meeting nofes?
Kiffing with infide lip? ftopping the career
Of laughter with a figh? (a note infallible
Of breaking honesty:) horfing foot on foot?
Skulking in corners? wifhing clocks more fwift?
Hours, minutes? the noon, midnight? and all eyes
Blind with the pin and web, but theirs; theirs only,
That would, unfeen, be wicked? is this nothing?
Why, then the world, and all that's in't, is nothing;
were fin for which you suspect her,

2

As deep as that, tho' true.] i. e. Your fufpicion is as great a fin as would be that (if committed)

WARBURTON. meeting nofes ?] Dr. Thirlby reads, meting nofes; that is, measuring nofes. The

The covering fky 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 difeas'd Opinion, and betimes;
For 'tis most dangerous.

Leo. Say it be, 'tis true.

Cam. No, no, my Lord.
Leo. It is; you lye, you lye:

I fay, thou lieft, Camillo, and I hate thee;
Pronounce thee a grofs lowt, a mindless flave,
Or elfe a hovering temporizer, that

Canft with thine eyes at once fee good and evil,
Inclining to them both were my wife's liver
Infected, as her life, fhe would not live

The running of one glafs.

Cam. Who does infect her?

Leo. Why he, that wears her like his medal, hanging

About his neck; Bohemia,-who, if I

Had fervants true about me, that bare eyes
To fee alike mine honour, as their profits,
Their own particular thrifts, they would do that
Which fhould undo more Doing: I, and thou
His cup-bearer, (whom I from meaner form
Have bench'd, and rear'd to worship; who may'ft fee
Plainly, as heav'n fees earth, and earth fees heav'n,
How I am gall'd;) thou might'ft be-fpice a cup,
To give mine enemy a lafting wink;
Which draught to me were cordial.

Cam. Sir, my Lord,

I could do this, and that with no rash potion,
But with a lingring dram, that fhould not work 3,

3 But with a lingring dram, that should not work, Maliciously, like poijon: -] The thought is here beautifully

Maliciously,

Maliciously, like poifon. But I cannot 4
Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress,
So fovereignly being honourable.

Do'ft think, I am fo muddy, fo unfettled,
To appoint myself in this vexation? Sully
The purity and whiteness of my fheets,

(Which to preferve, is fleep; which being spotted,
Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wafps :)
Give fcandal 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?