Camillo, this great Sir will yet ftay longer.

Cam. You had much ado to make his anchor hold; When you caft out, it ftill came home.

Leo. Didft note it?

Cam. He would not ftay at your petitions made; His bufinefs more material..

Leo. Didft perceive it?

They're here with me already; whifp'ring, rounding: Sicilia is a fo-forth; 'tis far gone,

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

That he did ftay?

Cam. At the good Queen's entreaty.

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 foaking, 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 meffes,
Perchance, are to this bufinefs purblind? fay.

Cam. Bufinefs, my Lord I think, most understand Bohemia ftays here longer..

Leo. Ha?

Cam. Stays here longer..

Leo. Ay, but why?

Cam. To fatisfy your Highnefs, and th' intreaties Of our most gracious miftrefs.

Leo. Satisfy

Th' entreaties of your mistress ? fatisfy ?-
Let that fuffice. I've trufted thee, Camillo,
With all the things neareft my heart; as well

My chamber-councils, wherein, priest like, thou
Haft cleans'd by 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

Leo. 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

From courfe requir'd; or else thou must be counted
A fervant grafted in my ferious truft,

And therein negligent; or else a fool,

That feeft a game plaid home, the rich stake drawn,
And tak'st it all for jeft.

Cam. My gracious Lord,

I may be negligent, foolish and fearful; (5)
In every one of these 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,

It was my folly; if induftrionfly

I play'd the fool, it was my negligence,
Not weighing well the end; if ever fearful
To do a thing, where I the iffue doubted,
Whereof the execution did cry out

Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear
Which oft infects the wifeft: thefe, my Lord,
Are fuch allow'd infirmities, that honefty
Is never free of. But, befeech your Grace,
Be plainer with me, let me know my trefpafs
By its own vifage; if I then deny it,

'Tis none, of mine.

Leo. Ha'not you feen, Camillo,

(But that's past doubt, you have; or your eye-glafs
Is thicker than a cuckold's horn ;) or heard,
(For a vifion fo apparent, rumour

Cannot be mute;) or thought, (for cogitation
Refides not in that man, that do's not think it ;).

་ ་ ན

(5) I may be negligent, foolish, and fearful;

In every one of thefe no man is free,

But that his negligence, his folly, fear,
Among the infinite doings of the world

Semetimes puts forth in your affairs, my Lord.] Moft 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 purfued the track of ftupidity. 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 wife is flippery? if thou wilt, confefs;

(Or else be impudently negative,

To have nor eyes, nor ears, nor thought;) then say,.
My, wife's a hobby-horfe, deferves a name
As rank as any flax-wench, that puts to
Before her troth-plight: fay't, and justify't.
Cam. I would not be a ftander-by, to hear
My fovereign Miftrefs clouded fo, without
My prefent vengeance taken; 'fhrew my heart;
You never fpoke what did become you lefs
Than this; which to reiterate, were fin
As deep as that, tho' true.

Leo. Is whifpering nothing?

Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meating noses ?
Kiffing with infide lip? ftopping the career
Of laughter with a figh? (a note infallible
Of breaking honefty :) horfing foot on foot?
Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more fwift?:
Hours, minutes? the noon, midnight, and all eyes -
Blind 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 fky 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.

Leo. Say it be,,'tis true.

Cam. No, no, my Lord.

Leo. It is; you lye, you lye:

I fay, thou lieft, Camillo, and I hate thee;
Pronounce thee a grofs lowt, a mindless flave,
Qr elfe a hovering temporizer, that

Ganft 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 do's infect her?

Leo. Why he, that wears her like his medal, hanging:

About

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 fhould undo more doing: I, and thou
His cup-bearer, (whom I from meaner form
Have bench'd, and rear'd to worship; who may'ft fee
Plainly, as heav'n fees earth, and earth fees heav'n,
How I am gall'd ;) thou might'ft be-fpice 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 rash potion,
But with a lingring dram, that should not work,
Malicioufly, like poifon : but I cannot (6)
Believe this crack to be in my dread miftrefs,
So fovereignly being honourable.

Leo. I've lov'd thee.-Make't thy question, and gorot:: Do'ft think, I am fo muddy, fo unfettled,

To appoint myself in this vexation? Sully.
The purity and whitenefs.of my fheets,

(Which to preferve, is fleep; which being spotted,
Is goads, thorns,, nettles, tails of wafps :)
Give fcandal to the blood o'th' Prince, my fon,
Who, I do think, is mine, and love as mine,

Bel eve this crack to be in my dread mistress,

So fovereignly being bonourable.

I have lov'd thee.

Leo. Make that thy queftion and go ret.] This paffage wants very little weighing, to determine fafely upon it, that the laft hemiftich affign'd to Camillo, muft have been mistakenly placed to him. It is a ftrange inftance of difrefpect and infolence in Camille to his king and mafter, to tell him that he has once lov'd him.- But fenfe and reafon will eafily acquit our Poet from fuch an impropriety. I have ventur'd at a tranfpofition, which feems felf evident. Camillo will not be perfuaded into a fufpicion of the difloyalty imputed to his miftrefs. The King, who believes nothing but his jealoufy, provok'd that Camillo is fo obftinately diffident, finely ftarts into a rage and cries; I've lov'd thee.Make't thy question, and go rot. i. e. I have tender'd thee well, Camille, but I here cancel all former refpect at If thou any longer make a question of my wife's difloyalty; go from my prefence, and perdition overtake thee for thy ftubbornness. Without

ance.

Without ripe moving to't? would I do this ??
Could man fo blench?

Cam. I must believe you, Sir;

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 first,
Even for your fon's fake, and thereby for fealing
The injury of tongues, in courts and kingdoms
Known and ally'd to yours.

Leo. Thou doft advise 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,,
And with your Queen: I am his cup-bearer;
If from me he have wholesome beveridge,
Account me not your fervant.

Leo. This is all;

Do't, and thou haft the one half of my

Do't not, thou split'st thine own.

Cam. I'll do't, my Lord.

heart;

Leo. I will feem friendly, as thou haft advis'd me [Exit.

Cam. O miferable Lady! but for me,

What cafe ftand I in? I must be the poifoner

Of good Polixenes, and my ground to do't
Is the obedience to a mafter; one,

Who, in rebellion with himself, will have
All that are his, fo too.

To do this deed,

Promotion follows. If I could find example

Of thousands, that had ftruck anointed Kings,
And flourish'd after, I'd not do't: but fince

Nor brafs, nor ftone, nor parchment, bears not one;
Let villany itself forfwear't. I muft

Forfake the court; to do't, or no, is certain

To me a break-neck. Happy ftar, reign now!
Here comes Bohemia.

Enter Polixenes.

Pol. This is ftrange! methinks,

My