And fellow'st nothing: then 'tis very credent

Thou mayst co-join with something; and thou dost,

And that beyond commission, and I find it,

And that to the infection of my brains

And hardening of my brows.

Pol.

What means Sicilia?

Her. He something seems unsettled.
Pol.

How, my lord!

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

You look

As if you held a brow of much distraction:
Are you moved, my lord?
Leon.
No, in good earnest. 150
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 myself unbreech'd,
In my green velvet coat, my dagger muzzled,
Lest it should bite its master, and so prove,
As ornaments oft do, too dangerous:

How like, methought, I then was to this kernel,
This squash, this gentleman. Mine honest friend,
Will you take eggs for money?

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

161

Leon. You will! why, happy man be's dole!* My brother,

*Portion.

Are you so fond of your young prince as we
Do seem to be of ours?

If at home, sir,

Pol.
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.

170

So stands this squire

Officed with me: we two will walk, my lord,
And leave you to your graver steps. Hermione,
How thou lovest us, show in our brother's wel-

come;

Let what is dear in Sicily be cheap:

Next to thyself and my young rover, he's

Apparent* to my heart.

Her.

*Heir-apparent. If you would seek us,

We are yours 'i the garden: shall's attend you

there?

Leon. To your own bents dispose you: you'll be found,

Be you beneath the sky. [Aside] I am angling

now,

Though you perceive me not how I give line.
Go to, go to!

180

How she holds up the neb,* the bill to him! *Beak. And arms her with the boldness of a wife

To her allowing husband!

[Exeunt Polixenes, Hermione, and Attendants.

Gone already!

Inch-thick, knee-deep, o'er head and ears a fork'd*

one!

*Horned.

Go, play, boy, play: thy mother plays, and I
Play too, but so disgraced a part, whose issue
Will hiss me to my grave: contempt and clamour
Will be my knell. Go, play, boy, play. There
have been,

190

Or I am much deceived, 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 sluiced 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

200

Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis powerful, think it,

From east, west, north and south: be it concluded, No barricado for a belly; know't;

It will let in and out the enemy

With bag and baggage: many thousand on's Have the disease, and feel't not. How now, boy! Mam. I am like you, they say.

Leon.

What, Camillo there?

Why, that's some comfort.

Cam. Ay, my good lord.

Leon. Go play, Mamillius;

man.

Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer. Cam. You had much ado to make his anchor hold:

When you cast out, it still came home.

Leon.

Didst note it?

Cam. He would not stay at your petitions; made

His business more material.

Leon.

Didst perceive it?

[Aside] They're here with me already, whisper

ing, rounding

'Sicilia is a so-forth:' 'tis far gone,

When I shall gust* it last. How came't, Camillo, That he did stay?

Cam.

*Taste.

At the good queen's entreaty. 220 Leon. At the queen's be't: 'good' should be pertinent;

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 un-
derstand

Bohemia stays here longer.

Leon.

Cam.

Leon. Ay, but why?

Ha!

Stays here longer. 230

Cam. To satisfy your highness and the en

treaties

Of our most gracious mistress.

Leon.

Satisfy!

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 cleansed my bosom, I from thee departed
Thy penitent reform'd: but we have been
Deceived in thy integrity, deceived
In that which seems so.

Cam.

240

Be it forbid, my lord! Leon. To bide upon't, thou art not honest, or, If thou inclinest that way, thou art a coward, Which hoxes* honesty behind, restraining From course required; or else thou must be counted

A servant grafted in my serious trust

And therein negligent; or else a fool

*Hamstrings.

That seest a game play'd home, the rich stake

drawn,

And takest it all for jest.

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,
Among the infinite doings of the world,

250

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 issue doubted,
Whereof the execution did cry out
Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear
Which oft infects 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
By its own visage: if I then deny it,

'Tis none of mine.

260

Leon. Ha' 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 Cannot be mute,-or thought,-for cogitation Resides not in that man that does not think,

270

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 hobby-horse, deserves a name
As rank as any flax-wench that puts to
Before her troth-plight: say't and justify't.
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.

280

Leon. Is whispering nothing? Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses? Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career Of laughing 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* but theirs, theirs only, That would unseen be wicked? is this nothing? Why, then the world and all that's in't is nothing;

*Cataract.

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 cured

Of this diseased opinion, and betimes;

For 'tis most dangerous.

Leon.

Say it be, 'tis true.

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

300

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,*

hanging

**Portrait in locket.