Would hang themselves. Phyfick for't there is none; It is a bawdy planet, that will strike

Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis powerful, think it, From east, weft, north, and fouth: Be it concluded, No barricado for a belly; know it;

It will let in and out the enemy,

With bag and baggage; many a thousand of us
Have the disease, and feel't not.-How now, boy?
MAM. I am like you, they say.

LEON. Why, that's fome comfort.-
What! Camillo there?

CAM. Ay, my good lord.

LEON. Go play, Mamillius; thou'rt an honeft man.

[Exit MAMILLIUS.

Camillo, this great fir will yet stay longer.

CAM. You had much ado to make his anchor hold;

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

LEON. Didft perceive it ?—

They're here with me already; whispering, rounding,

Sicilia is a fo-forth: 'Tis far gone,

When I fhall guft it laft.-How came't, Camillo,

That he did stay?

CAM. At the good queen's entreaty.

LEON. 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 naturals? by fome severals,
Of head-piece extraordinary? lower meffes,

Perchance, are to this business purblind: fay.

CAM. Business, my lord? I think, most understand

Bohemia stays here longer,

LEON. Ha?

CAM. Stays here longer.

LEON. Ay, but why?

CAM. To fatisfy your highness, and the entreaties

Of our most gracious mistress.

LEON. Satisfy

The entreaties of your mistress?
mistress ?fatisfy?
Let that fuffice. I have trufted thee, Camillo,
With all the nearest things to 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!

LEON. To bide upon't ;-Thou art not honeft: or, If thou inclin'ft that way, thou art a coward; Which hoxes honefty behind, reftraining

From courfe required: Or elfe thou must be counted

A fervant, grafted in my ferious trust,

And therein negligent; or elfe a fool,

'I

That feest a game play'd home, the rich ftake drawn, And tak'st it all for jest.

CAM. My gracious lord,

may be negligent, foolish, and fearful;

In every one of thefe 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,

G g iiij

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 wifeft: these, my lord,
Are fuch allow'd infirmities, that honesty
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.

LEON. Have not you feen, Camillo,

(But that's past doubt: you have; or your eye-glass 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 does not think it,)
My wife is flippery? If thou wilt confess,

(Or else be impudently negative,

To have nor eyes, nor ears, nor thought,) then say, My wife's a hobbyhorfe; deserves a name

As rank as any flax-wench, that

puts to

Before her troth-plight: fay it, and justify it.

CAM. I would not be a stander-by, to hear
My fovereign mistress clouded fo, without
My present vengeance taken: 'Shrew my heart,
You never spoke what did become you lefs
Than this; which to reiterate, were fin

As deep as that, though true.

LEON. Is whifpering nothing?

Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses?
Kiffing with infide lip? ftopping the career

blind

Of laughter with a figh? (a note infallible
Of breaking honesty :) horfing foot on foot?
Skulking in corners? wifhing clocks more swift?
Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all eyes
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;
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 cur'd

Of this diseas'd opinion, and betimes;

For 'tis most dangerous.

LEON. Say, it be; 'tis true.

CAM. No, no, my lord.

LEON. It is; you lie, you lie :

I say, thou lieft, Camillo, and I hate thee;
Pronounce thee a grofs lout, a mindless slave;
Or else a hovering temporifer, 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 glass.

CAM. Who does infect her?

LEON. Why he, that wears her like her 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 should undo more doing: Ay, and thou,
His cup-bearer,-whom I, from meaner form
Have bench'd, and rear'd to worship; who may'st fee
Plainly, as heaven fees earth, and earth fees heaven,

How I am galled,-might'ft befpice 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 rafh potion,
But with a ling'ring dram, that fhould not work
Maliciously, like poison: But I cannot
Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress,
So fovereignly being honourable,

I have lov'd thee,

LEON. Make't thy question, and go rot!
Doft think, I am fo muddy, fo unsettled,
To appoint myself in this vexation? fully
The purity and whiteness of my fheets,
Which to preserve, is fleep; which being spotted,
Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wafps?

Give fcandal to the blood o'the prince my fon,
Who, I do think, is mine, and love as mine;
Without ripe moving to't; Would I do this?
Could man fo blench?

CAM. I must believe you, fir;

I do; and will fetch off Bohemia for't:

Provided, that when he's remov'd, your highness
Will take again your queen, as yours at firft;
Even for your fon's fake; and, thereby, for fealing
The injury of tongues, in courts and kingdoms
Known and allied to yours.

LEON. Thou doft advife me,

Even fo as I mine own courfe have fet down:

I'll give no blemish to her honour, none.

CAM. My lord,

Go then; and with a countenance as clear

As friendship wears at feafts, keep with Bohemia,