Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wafps): Give scandal 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! Could man so blench ?
Cam. I must believe you, Sir; I do, and will fetch off Bithynia for 't: Provided, that, when he's remov'd, your Highness Will take again your Queen, as your's at first, Even for your fon's fake, and thereby for fealing The injury of tongues, in courts and kingdoms Known and ally'd to your's.
Leo. Thou doft advise me, Even so as I mine own course have fet down: I'll give no blemish to her honour, none.
Go then; and with a countenance as clear As friendship wears at feasts, keep with Bithynia, And with your Queen. I am his cup-bearer;
If from me he have wholsome beveridge,
Account me not your servant.
Leo. 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.
Leo. I will feem friendly, as thou haft advis'd me.
Cam. O miferable Lady! but, for me, What case stand I in ? I must be the poifoner 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 fince Nor brass, nor stone, nor parchment, bears not one; Let villany itself forswear't. I must Forfake the court; to do't or no, is certain To me a break-neck. Happy star reign now! Here comes Bithynia,
Pol. This is strange! methinks My favour here begins to warp. Not speak? Good day, Camillo.
Cam. Hail, Moft Royal Sir!
Pol. What is the news i' th' court?
Cam. None rare, my Lord.
Pol. The King hath on him such a countenance,
As he had loft 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
Be intelligent to me, 'tis thereabouts :
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 shews 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 fickness
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 it of me? Make me not fighted like the bafilisk. I've look'd on thousands, who have sped the better By my regard, but kill'd none so. Camillo, As you are certainly a gentleman, Clerk-like experienc'd, (which no less adorns Our gentry, than our parents' noble names, In whose success * we are gentle), I besecch you, If you know aught which does behove my knowledge
Thereof to be inform'd, imprison 't not In ignorant concealment.
Cam. I may not anfwer.
Pol. A fickness caught of me, and yet I well? I must be answer'd. Doft thou hear, Camillo, I conjure thee by all the parts of man,
Which honour does acknowledge, (whereof the leaft Is not this fuit of mine), that thou declare, What incidency thou doft guess of harm
Is creeping towards me; how far off, how near; Which way to be prevented, if it be; If not, how best to bear it.
Cam. Sir, I'll tell you.
Since I am charg'd in honour, and by him
That I think honourable; therefore mark my counsel; Which must be ev'n as swiftly follow'd as
I mean to utter it; or both yourself and me
Cry loft, and fo good night.
Pol. On, good Camillo.
Cam. I am appointed him to murder you.
Pol. By whom, Camillo?
Cam. By the King.
Pol. For what?
Gam. He thinks, nay, with all confidence he swears,
As he had feen't, or been an inftrument
To vice you to't *, that you have touch'd his Queen Forbiddenly.
Pol. Oh, then, my best blood turn To an infected gelly, and my name Be yok'd with his that did betray the best! Turn then my freshest reputation to A favour 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. Swear this though over By each particular star in heaven, and By all their influences; you may as well Forbid the fea for to obey the moon, As or by oath remove, or counsel shake,
* i. e. to draw, perfuade you. The character called the Vices in the old plays, was the Tempter to evil,
The fabric of his folly; whose foundation Is pil'd upon his faith, and will continue The ftanding of his body.
Pol. How should this grow?
Cam, I know not; but I'm fure 'tis safer to Avoid what's grown, than question how 'tis born. If therefore you dare trust my honesty, That lies inclosed in this trunk, which you Shall bear along impawn'd, away to-night; Your followers I will whisper to the business; And will by twoes and threes, at several posterns, Clear them o'th' city. For myself, I'll put My fortunes to your service, which are here By this discovery loft. Be not uncertain; For, by the honour of my parents, I
Have utter'd truth; which if you feek to prove, I dare not stand by; nor shall you be fafer, Than one condemned by the King's own mouth; Thereon his execution fworn.
I faw his heart in's face. Give me thy hand; Be pilot to me, and thy places shall Still neighbour mine. My ships are ready, and My people did expect my hence departure Two days ago. This jealoufy Is for a precious creature; as she's rare, Must it be great; and, as his perfon's mighty, Must it be violent; and as he does conceive He is dishonour'd by a man which ever Profess'd to him, why, his revenges muft In that be made more bitter. Fear o'er-shades me: Good expedition be my friend, and comfort The gracious Queen's; part of his theme, but nothing Of his ill-ta'en fufpicion! Come, Camillo, I will respect thee as a father, if
Thou bear'ft my life off hence. Let us avoid. Cam. It is in mine authority to command The keys of all the posterns: please your Highness To take the urgent hour. Come, Sir, away. [Exeunt.
I Lady. Come, my gracious Lord.
Shall I be your play-fellow?
Mam. No, I'll none of you.
I Lady. Why, my sweet Lord?
Mam. You'll kiss me hard, and speak to me as if
I were a baby still; I love you better.
2 Lady. And why fo, my Lord?
Mam. Not for becaufe
Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they say, Become fome women beft; so that there be not
Too much hair there, but in a femicircle,
Or a half-moon made with a pen.
2 Lady. Who taught you this?
Mam. I learn'd it out of womens' faces: pray now,
What colour be your eye-brows?
1 Lady. Blue, my Lord.
Mam. Nay, that's a mock: I've seen a lady's nose
That has been blue, but not her eye-brows.
The Queen your mother rounds apace: we shall Prefent our fervices to a fine new prince
One of these days; and then you'll wanton with us, If we would have you.
2 Lady. She is spread of late
Into a goodly bulk, (good time encounter her!)
Her. What wifdom ftirs amongst you? come, Sir, now
I am for you again. Pray you fit by us,
And tell's a tale.
Mam. Merry, or fad, shall't be? Her. As merry as you will. Mam. A fad tale 's best for winter.
I have one of fprights and goblins. Her. Let's have that, good Sir. Come on, fit down. Come on, and do your best
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