My favour here begins to warp. Cam. Hail, most royal Sir ! Not speak? Pol. What is the news i'th' court? Pol. The King hath on him fuch a countenances. Cam. I dare not know, my Lord. Pol. How, dare not? do not? do you know, and dare not? Be inteligent to me, 'tis thereabouts: For to yourself, what you do know, you must, Cam. There is a fickness Which puts fome of us in diftemper;, but Pol. How caught of me? Make me not fighted like the bafilifk. I've look'd on thousands, who have sped the better By my regard, but kill'd none fo: Camillo, As you are certainly a gentleman, Clerk-like experienc'd, (which no less adorns Our gentry, than our parents' noble names, In whofe fuccefs we are gentle ;) I beseech you, In ignorant concealment. Cam. I may not answer. Pol. A fickness caught of me, and yet I well? I must be anfwer'd. Doft thou hear, Camillo, I conjure thee by all the parts of man, Which honour does acknowledge, (whereof the leaft Is creeping towards me; how far off, how near ;, Cam. Sir, I'll tell you, Since I am charg'd in honour, and by him I mean to utter it; or both yourself and me. Pol. On, good Camillo. Cam. I am appointed him to murder you. Cam. By the King. Pol. For what? Cam. He thinks, nay, with all confidence he fwears As he had feen't, or been an inftrument To vice you to't, that you have toucht his Queen. Pol. Oh, then my best blood turn To an infected gelly, and my name Be yoak'd with his, that did betray the best!: A favour, that may ftrike the dulleft noftril Cam. Swear this though over (7) By each particular ftar in heaven, and Swear his thought over Forbid By each particular far in heaven, &c.] The tranfpofition of a fingle letter reconciles this paffage to good fenfe, which is not fo, as the text ftands in all the printed copies. Polixenes, in the preced. ing fpeech, had been laying the deepest imprecations on himself, if he had ever abus'd Leontes in any familiarity with the Queen. which Camillo very pertinently replies: Swear this though over, &c. To Forbid the fea for to obey the moon, Pol. How fhould this grow? Cam. I know not; but, I'm fure, 'tis fafer to Avoid what's grown, than question how 'tis born. If therefore you dare truft my honefty, That lies inclofed in this trunk, which you Have utter'd truth; which if you feek to prove, Pol. I do believe thee; I faw his heart in's face. Give me thy hand; Still neighbour mine. My fhips are ready, and Is for a precious creature; as fhe's rare, Fear o'er-fhades me: i. e. Sir, though you should proteft your innocence never fo often, and 1 I will refpect 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. T ACT II. SCENE, the Palace. Enter Hermione, Mamillius, and Ladies. HERMIONE. AKE the boy to you; he fo troubles me, Lady. Come, my gracious Lord. Shall I be your play-fellow? Mam. No, I'll none of you. 1 Lady. Why, my fweet Lord ? Mam. You'll kiss me hard, and speak to me as if I were a baby ftill; I love you better. 2 Lady. And why fo, my Lord? Mam. Not for because Your brows are blacker; (yet black brows, they fay, Too much hair there, but in a femicircle, 2 Lady. Who taught you this? Mam. I learn'd it out of women's 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 nofe That has been blue, but not her eye-brows. 1 Lady. Hark ye, The Queen, your mother, rounds apace: we fhall One of thefe days; and then you'll wanton with 'us, If we would have you. 2 Lady. She is fpread of late Into a goodly bulk; (good time encounter her!) Her. What wisdom ftirs amongft you? come, Sir, now I am for you again. Pray you fit by us, And tell's a tale. Mam. Merry, or fad, fhall't be? Mam. A fad tale's best for winter. Come on, fit down. Come on, and do your best Her. Nay, come fit down; then on. Mam. Dwelt by a church-yard;-I will tell it foftly: Yond crickets fhall not hear it. Her. Come on then, and give't me in mine ear. Enter Leontes, Antigonus, and Lords. Leo. Was he met there his train? Camillo with him? Lord. Behind the tuft of pines I met them; never Saw I men fcowr fo on their way: I ey'd them Even to their fhips. Leo. How blest am I In my juft cenfure! in my true opinion! Th' abhorr'd ingredient to his eye, make known For |