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 soaking, 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 messes, Perchance, are to this bufinefs purblind? fay. Cam. Bufinefs, my lord! I think, most underfland Behemia ftays here longer. Leo. Ha? Cam. Stays here longer. Cam. To fatisfe your Highness, and th' intreaties Of our most gracious mistress. Leo. Satisfie Th' intreaties of your mistress? fatisfie? Cam. Be it forbid, my lord Leo. To bide upon't ;-Thou art not honest; or, From courfe requir'd: or elfe thou must be counted. And therein negligent; or elfe a fool, That feeft à game plaid home, the rich fake drawn, Cam. My gracious lord, I may be negligent, foolish and fearful; (3) (3) I may be negligent, foolish, and fearful; In Some In every one of these no man is free, It was my folly; if industriously I play'd the fool, it was my negligence, Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear But, 'beseech your Grace, 'Tis none of mine. Leo Ha'not you seen, Camillo, (But that's paft doubt, you have; or your eye glass Cannnot be mute;) or thought, (for cogitation To have nor eyes nor ears, nor thought,) then say, Sometimes puts forth in your Affairs, my Lord.] Most accurate Pointing this, and fine Nonfenfe the Refult of it! The old Folio's first blunder'd thus, and Mr. Rowe by Inadvertence (if he read the Sheets at all,) overlook'd the Fault. Mr. Pope, like a moft obfequious Editor, has taken the Paffage on Content, and pursued the Track of Stupidity. I dare fay, every understanding Reader will allow, my Reformation of the Pointing has entirely retriev'd the Place from Obscurity, and reconcil'd it to the Author's Meaning. My Leo. At the Queen's be't; good, fhould be pertinent; By any understanding pate but thine? Cam. Bufinefs, my lord! I think, most underfland Leo. Ha? Cam. Stays here longer. Leo. Ay, but why? Cam. To fatisfie your Highness, and th' intreaties Of our most gracious mistress. Leo. Satisfie Th' intreaties of your mistress? fatisfie? Let That fuffice. I've trufted thee, Camillo, Cam. Be it forbid, my lord Leo. To bide upon't;-Thou art not honeft; or, From courfe requir'd: or elfe thou must be counted And therein negligent; or elfe a fool, That feeft & game plaid home, the rich fake drawn, I Cam. My gracious lord, may be negligent, foolish and fearful; (3) (3) I may be negligent, foolish, and fearful; In every one of these no man is free, In Some In every one of these no man is free, It was my folly; if industriously I play'd the fool, it was my negligence, Leo Ha'not you feen, Camillo, (But that's paft doubt, you have; or your eye glafs Cannnot be mute;) or thought, (for cogitation To have nor eyes nor ears, nor thought,) then say, Sometimes puts forth in your Affairs, my Lord.] Moft accurate Pointing this, and fine Nonfenfe the Refult of it! The old Folio's firft blunder'd thus, and Mr. Rowe by Inadvertence (if he read the Sheets at all,) overlook'd the Fault. Mr. Pope, like a moft obfequious Editor, has taken the Paffage on Content, and purfued the Track of Stupidity. I dare fay, every understanding Reader will allow, my Reformation of the Pointing has entirely retriev'd the Place from Obfcurity, and reconcil'd it to the Author's Meaning. My My prefent vengeance taken; 'fhrew my heart, Leo. Is whispering nothing? Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meating noses? Cam. Good my lord, be cur'd Of this difeas'd Opinion, and betimes; Leo. Say it be, 'tis true. Cam. No, no, my lord. Leo. It is; you lie, you lie : I fay, thou lieft, Camillo, and I hate thee ; Canft with thine eyes at once fee good and evil, The running of one glass. Cam. Who does infect her? Lea. Why he, that wears her like his medal, hanging About his neck; Bohemia, who, if I Had servants true about me, that bare eyes To fee alike mine honour, as their profits, Their own particular thrifts, they would do That How |