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They're here with me already; whispering, round
ing, Sicilia is a so-forth: 'Tis far gone, When I shall gust it last.—How came't, Camillo, That he did stay? Cam,
At the good queen's entreaty. Leon. At the queen's, be't: good, should be per
tinent; But so it is, it is not. Was this taken By any understanding pate but thine? For thy conceit is soaking, will draw in More than the common blocks:-Not noted, is't, But of the finer natures? by some severals, Of head-piece extraordinary? lower messes, Perchance, are to this business purblind: say.
Cam. Business, my lord? I think, most understand Bohemia stays here longer. Leon.
Stays here longer. Leon. Ay, but why?
Cam. To satisfy your highness, and the entreaties Of our most gracious mistress. Leon.
Satisfy The entreaties of your mistress ?
-satisfy?Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo, With all the nearest things to my heart, as well My chamber-councils: wherein, priest-like, thou Hast cleans'd my bosom; I from thee departed Thy penitent reform’d: but we have been Deceiv'd in thy integrity, deceiv’d In that which seems so. Cam.
Be it forbid, my lord !
Leon. To bide upon't;—Thou art not honest: or, If thou inclin'st that way, thou art a coward; Which hoxes honesty behind, restraining From course requir'd: Or else thou must be counted A servant, grafted in my serious trust, And therein negligent; or else a fool, That seest a game play'd home, the rich stake drawn, And tak'st it all for jest. Cam.
My gracious lord,
may be negligent, foolish, and fearful;
Have not you seen, Camillo, (But that's past doubt: you have; or your eye-glass Is thicker than a cuckold's horn;) or heard, (For, to a vision so apparent, rumour Cannot be mute,) or thought, (for cogitation
Resides not in that man, that does not think it)
Cam. I would not be a stander-by, to hear
Is whispering nothing? 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 no
Good my lord, be cur'd
Say, it be; 'tis true.
Cam. No, no, my lord.
It is; you lie, you lie: I
say, thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee;
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 see 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 see Plainly, as heaven sees earth, and earth sees heaven, How I am galled,-might'st bespice a cup, To give mine enemy a lasting wink; Which draught to me were cordial. Сат. .
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 go rot! Dost think, I am so muddy, so unsettled,
To appoint myself in this vexation? sully
I must believe you, sir;
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,
This is all:
I'll do't, my lord. Leon. I will seem friendly, as thou hast advis'd
[E.rit. Cam. O miserable lady!—But, for me, What case stand I in? I must be the poisoner