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From course requir’d: or else thou must be counted
A servant grafted in my ferious truft,
And therein negligent; or elfe a fool,
That seest a game plaid home, the rich fake drawn,
And tak'it 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 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: thefe, my Lord,
Are fuch allow'd infirmities, that honefty
Is never free of. But, beseech your Grace,
Be plainer with me, let me know my trespass
By its own visage ; if I then deny it,
Tis none of mine.

Leo. Ha'not you feen, Camillo,
(But that's paft doubt, you have; or your eye-glass
Is thicker than a cuckold's horn ;) or heard,
(For a vision fo apparent, rumour
Cannot be mate ;) or thought, (for cogitation
Refides not in that man, that do's not think it ;)
(5) I may be negligent, foolish, and fearful;

In every one of these no man is free,
But ibat bis negligence, bis folly, fear,
Amongst tbe infinire doings of the world

Sometimes puts forth in your affairs, my Lord.] Moft accurate pointing this, and fine nonsense the result of it! - The old folio's first blunder'd thus, and Ms. Rowe by inadvertence (if he read the sheets at all,) overlook'd the fault. Mr. Pope, like a moft obsequions editor, has taken the passage on conteni, and pursued the track of Aup-dity. I dare say, every underfanding reader will allow, my re. formation of the pointing has entirely retricy'd the place from obScusily, and scconcil'd it 10 the author's meaning.

My

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 hobby-horse, deserves a name
As rank as any fax-wench, that puts to
Before her troth-plight: say't, and juftify't,

Cam. I would not be a ftander-by, to hear :
My sovereign Mistress clouded so, without
My present vengeance taken; 'fhrew my heart,
You never spoke what did become

you

less Thán this; which to reiterate, were fin As deep as that, tho' true.

Leo. Is whispering nothing?
Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meating noses?
Kifling with infide lip? ftopping the career
Of laughter with a figh? (a note infallible
Of breaking honefty :) horfing foot on foot ?
Skulking in corners ? withing clocks more swift?
Hours, minutes the 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.

Leo. Say it be, 'tis true.
Cam. No, no, my Lord.

Leo. It is; you lye, you lye:
I say, thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee ;
Pronounce thee a gross lowt, a mindless slaves
Or else a hovering temporizer, that
Canft with thine eyes at once fee 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 do's infect her ?
Leo. Why he, that wears her like his medal, hanging

About

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 : I, and thou
His cup-bearer, (whom I from meaner form
Have bench'd, and rear'd to worship; who may't see
Plainly, as heav'n fees earth, and earth sees heav'n,
How I am galld;) thou might'st be-spice a cup,
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 rafh potion,
But with a lingring dram, that should not work,
Maliciously, like poison : but I cannot (6)
Believe this crack to be in my dread miftress,
So fovereignly being honourable.
Leo.I've lov'd thee.

-Make't thy question, and go rots
Do'st think, I am so muddy, fo unsettled,
To appoint myself in this vexation? Sully
The purity and whiteness of my sheets,
(Which to preserve, is fleep; which being spotted,
Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps :)
Give scandal to the blood o'th' Prince, my son,
Who I do think, is mine, and love as mine,
(6)

but I cannot
Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress,
So sovereignly being bonourable.

I have lov'd thee. Leo. Make tbat tby question and go rop.] This paffage wants very little weighing, to determine safely upon it, that the laft Kemiftich affign'd. to Camilloz must have been mistakenly placed to him. It is a strange instance of disrespect and insolence in Camillo to his king and matter, to tell him that he has once lov'd him. But fenfe and reason will eafly acquit our Poet from such an impropriety. I have ventur'd at a transposition, which seems self-evident, Camillo will not be persuaded into a suspicion of the disoyalty imputed to his mis. tress. The King, who believes nothing but his jealousy, provok'd that Camillo is fo obftinatelv diffident, finely starts into a rage and cries;

I've lov'd bee.- - Make't iby question, and go ror. i. e. I have tender'd thee well, Camillo, but I here cancel ali former respect at

If thou any lon; er make a question of my wife's dislo ty ; go from my presence, and perdition overtake thee for thy stubboraness.

Without

once,

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

Cam. I muft believe you, Sir ;
I do, and will fetch off Bohemia for't':
Provided, that, when he's remov'd, your Highnele
Will take again your Queen, as yours at first,
Even for your son's fake, and thereby for sealing
The injury of tongues, in courts and kingdoms
Known and ally'd to yours.

Leo. Thou doft advise me,
Even lo as I mine own course 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 feasts, keep with Bohemia,
And with your Queen: I am his cup-bearer ;
If from me he have wholesome beveridge,
Account me not your servant.

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.
Leo. I will feem friendly, as thou hast advis'd me. (Exit.

Cam. O miserable Lady! but for me,
What case stand I in? I must be the poisoner
Of good Polixenes, and my ground to do's
Is the obedience to a master; one,
Who, in rebellion with himself, will have
All that are his, so too. To do this deed,
Promotion follows. If I could find example
Of thousands, that had struck anointed Kings,
And flourish'd after, I'd not do't : but since
Nor brass, nor itone, nor parchment, bears not one ;
Let villainy it felf forfweart. I muft
Forsake 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

heart;

My favour here begins to warp. Not speak ?
Good day, Camillo.

Cam. Hail, most royal Sir!
Pol. What is the news i'th' court?
Cam. 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 th' contrary, and falling
A lip. of much contempt, speeds from me, and
So leaves me to confider 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 : For to yourself, what you do know, you must, And cannot say, you dare not. Good Camillo, Your chang'd complexions are to me a mirror, Which thews me mine chang'd too; for I must be A party in this alteration, finding Myself thus alter'd with it.

Cam. There is a fickness Which puts fome of us in distemper; but I cannot name the disease, and it is caught Of you that

yet are well. Pol. How caught of me? Make me not fighted like the bafilisk. 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 whose success we are gentle ;) I beseech you, If you know ought, which does behove my knowledge Thereof to be inform’d, imprison't not In ignorant concealment.

Cam. I may not answer.'

Pol A fickness caught of me, and yet I well? I must be answer'd. Dost thou hear, Camillo,

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