Resides not in that man, that does not think it,) To have nor eyes, nor ears, nor thought,) then say, As deep as that, though true. Is whispering nothing? Leon. Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses? Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career Of laughter 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; 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. I Cam. No, no, my lord. Leon. It is; you lie, you lie: say, thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee; Pronounce thee a gross lout, a mindless slave; Or else a hovering temporizer, that 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 About his neck-Bohemia: Who,-if I Had servants true about me; that bare eyes To give mine enemy a lasting wink; Which draught to me were cordial. Cam. Sir, my lord, I could do this; and that with no rash potion, But with a ling'ring dram, that should not work Maliciously, like poison: But I cannot Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress, So sovereignly being honourable. I have lov'd thee,— Leon. Make't thy question, and Dost think, I am so muddy, so unsettled, go rot! To appoint myself in this vexation? sully Cam. I must believe you, sir; I do; and will fetch off Bohemia for't: Provided, that when he's remov'd, your highness Leon. Thou dost advise me, Even so as I mine own course have set 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 feasts, keep with Bohemia, And with your queen: I am his cupbearer; If from me he have wholsome beverage, Account me not your servant. Leon. 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. Leon. I will seem friendly, as thou hast advis'd me. Cam. O miserable lady!-But, for me, What case stand I in? I must be the poisoner [Exit. Of good Polixenes: and my ground to do't Who, in rebellion with himself, will have Forsake the court: to do't, or no, is certain · Pol. Enter Polixenes. This is strange! methinks, My favour here begins to warp. Not speak? Cam. Pol. What is the news i'the court? Cam. Hail, most royal sir! None rare, my lord. Pol. The king hath on him such a countenance, As he had lost 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 dare not Be intelligent to me? 'Tis thereabouts; с For, to yourself, what you do know, you must; Cam. There is a sickness Which puts some of us in distemper; but I cannot name the disease; and it is caught you, that yet are well. Of Pol. How! caught of me? Make me not sighted like the basilisk: I have look'd on thousands, who have sped the better Thereof to be inform'd, imprison it not In ignorant concealment. Cam. I may not answer. Pol. A sickness caught of me, and yet I well! I must be answer'd.-Dost thou hear, Camillo, I conjure thee, by all the parts of man, Which honour does acknowledge, — whereof the least Is not this suit of mine,-that thou declare What incidency thou dost guess of harm Is creeping toward me; how far off, how near; |