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Enter Leontes, Hermione, Mamillius, Polixenes, Camillo, and Attendants.
|
Polixenes |
Nine changes of the watery star hath been
The shepherdâs note since we have left our throne
Without a burthen: time as long again
Would be fillâd up, my brother, with our thanks;
And yet we should, for perpetuity,
Go hence in debt: and therefore, like a cipher,
Yet standing in rich place, I multiply
With one âWe thank youâ many thousands moe
That go before it.
|
Leontes |
Stay your thanks a while;
And pay them when you part.
|
Polixenes |
Sir, thatâs to-morrow.
I am questionâd by my fears, of what may chance
Or breed upon our absence; that may blow
No sneaping winds at home, to make us say
âThis is put forth too truly:â besides, I have stayâd
To tire your royalty.
|
Leontes |
We are tougher, brother,
Than you can put us toât.
|
Polixenes |
No longer stay. |
Leontes |
One seven-night longer. |
Polixenes |
Very sooth, to-morrow. |
Leontes |
Weâll part the time betweenâs then; and in that
Iâll no gainsaying.
|
Polixenes |
Press me not, beseech you, so.
There is no tongue that moves, none, none iâ the world,
So soon as yours could win me: so it should now,
Were there necessity in your request, although
âTwere needful I denied it. My affairs
Do even drag me homeward: which to hinder
Were in your love a whip to me; my stay
To you a charge and trouble: to save both,
Farewell, our brother.
|
Leontes |
Tongue-tied, our queen? speak you. |
Hermione |
I had thought, sir, to have held my peace until
You have drawn oaths from him not to stay. You, sir,
Charge him too coldly. Tell him, you are sure
All in Bohemiaâs well; this satisfaction
The by-gone day proclaimâd: say this to him,
Heâs beat from his best ward.
|
Leontes |
Well said, Hermione. |
Hermione |
To tell, he longs to see his son, were strong:
But let him say so then, and let him go;
But let him swear so, and he shall not stay,
Weâll thwack him hence with distaffs.
Yet of your royal presence Iâll adventure
The borrow of a week. When at Bohemia
You take my lord, Iâll give him my commission
To let him there a month behind the gest
Prefixâd forâs parting: yet, good deed, Leontes,
I love thee not a jar oâ the clock behind
What lady-she her lord. Youâll stay?
|
Polixenes |
No, madam. |
Hermione |
Nay, but you will? |
Polixenes |
I may not, verily. |
Hermione |
Verily!
You put me off with limber vows; but I,
Though you would seek to unsphere the stars with oaths,
Should yet say âSir, no going.â Verily,
You shall not go: a ladyâs âVerilyâ âs
As potent as a lordâs. Will you go yet?
Force me to keep you as a prisoner,
Not like a guest; so you shall pay your fees
When you depart, and save your thanks. How say you?
My prisoner? or my guest? by your dread âVerily,â
One of them you shall be.
|
Polixenes |
Your guest, then, madam:
To be your prisoner should import offending;
Which is for me less easy to commit
Than you to punish.
|
Hermione |
Not your gaoler, then,
But your kind hostess. Come, Iâll question you
Of my lordâs tricks and yours when you were boys:
You were pretty lordings then?
|
Polixenes |
We were, fair queen,
Two lads that thought there was no more behind
But such a day to-morrow as to-day,
And to be boy eternal.
|
Hermione |
Was not my lord
The verier wag oâ the two?
|
Polixenes |
We were as twinnâd lambs that did frisk iâ the sun,
And bleat the one at the other: what we changed
Was innocence for innocence; we knew not
The doctrine of ill-doing, nor dreamâd
That any did. Had we pursued that life,
And our weak spirits neâer been higher rearâd
With stronger blood, we should have answerâd heaven
Boldly ânot guilty;â the imposition clearâd
Hereditary ours.
|
Hermione |
By this we gather
You have trippâd since.
|
Polixenes |
O my most sacred lady!
Temptations have since then been born toâs; for
In those unfledged days was my wife a girl;
Your precious self had then not crossâd the eyes
Of my young playfellow.
|
Hermione |
Grace to boot!
Of this make no conclusion, lest you say
Your queen and I are devils: yet go on;
The offences we have made you do weâll answer,
If you first sinnâd with us and that with us
You did continue fault and that you slippâd not
With any but with us.
|
Leontes |
Is he won yet? |
Hermione |
Heâll stay my lord. |
Leontes |
At my request he would not.
Hermione, my dearest, thou never spokest
To better purpose.
|
Hermione |
Never? |
Leontes |
Never, but once. |
Hermione |
What! have I twice said well? when wasât before?
I prithee tell me; cramâs with praise, and makeâs
As fat as tame things: one good deed dying tongueless
Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that.
Our praises are our wages: you may rideâs
With one soft kiss a thousand furlongs ere
With spur we beat an acre. But to the goal:
My last good deed was to entreat his stay:
What was my first? it has an elder sister,
Or I mistake you: O, would her name were Grace!
But once before I spoke to the purpose: when?
Nay, let me haveât; I long.
|
Leontes |
Why, that was when
Three crabbed months had sourâd themselves to death,
Ere I could make thee open thy white hand
And clap thyself my love: then didst thou utter
âI am yours for ever.â
|
Hermione |
âTis grace indeed.
Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose twice:
The one for ever earnâd a royal husband;
The other for some while a friend.
|
Leontes |
Aside. Too hot, too hot!
To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods.
I have tremor cordis on me: my heart dances;
But not for joy; not joy. This entertainment
May a free face put on, derive a liberty
From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosom,
And well become the agent; ât may, I grant;
But to be paddling palms and pinching fingers,
As now they are, and making practised smiles,
As in a looking-glass, and then to sigh, as âtwere
The mort oâ the deer; O, that is entertainment
My bosom likes not, nor my brows! Mamillius,
Art thou my boy?
|
Mamillius |
Ay, my good lord. |
Leontes |
Iâ fecks!
Why, thatâs my bawcock. What, hast smutchâd thy nose?
They say it is a copy out of mine. Come, captain,
We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, captain:
And yet the steer, the heifer and the calf
Are all callâd neat.â âStill virginalling
Upon his palm!â âHow now, you wanton calf!
Art thou my calf?
|
Mamillius |
Yes, if you will, my lord. |
Leontes |
Thou wantâst a rough pash and the shoots that I have,
To be full like me: yet they say we are
Almost as like as eggs; women say so,
That will say anything but were they false
As oâer-dyed blacks, as wind, as waters, false
As dice are to be wishâd by one that fixes
No bourn âtwixt his and mine, yet were it true
To say this boy were like me. Come, sir page,
Look on me with your welkin eye: sweet villain!
Most dearâst! my collop! Can thy dam?â âmayât be?â â
Affection! thy intention stabs the centre:
Thou dost make possible things not so held,
Communicatest with dreams;â âhow can this be?â â
With whatâs unreal thou coactive art,
And fellowâst nothing: then âtis very credent
Thou mayst co-join with something; and thou dost,
And that beyond commission, and I find it,
And that to the infection of my brains
And hardening of my brows.
|
Polixenes |
What means Sicilia? |
Hermione |
He something seems unsettled. |
Polixenes |
How, my lord!
What cheer? how isât with you, best brother?
|
Hermione |
You look
As if you held a brow of much distraction:
Are you moved, my lord?
|
Leontes |
No, in good earnest.
How sometimes nature will betray its folly,
Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime
To harder bosoms! Looking on the lines
Of my boyâs face, methoughts I did recoil
Twenty-three years, and saw myself unbreechâd,
In my green velvet coat, my dagger muzzled,
Lest it should bite its master, and so prove,
As ornaments oft do, too dangerous:
How like, methought, I then was to this kernel,
This squash, this gentleman. Mine honest friend,
Will you take eggs for money?
|
Mamillius |
No, my lord, Iâll fight. |
Leontes |
You will! why, happy man beâs dole! My brother,
Are you so fond of your young prince as we
Do seem to be of ours?
|
Polixenes |
If at home, sir,
Heâs all my exercise, my mirth, my matter,
Now my sworn friend and then mine enemy,
My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all:
He makes a Julyâs day short as December,
And with his varying childness cures in me
Thoughts that would thick my blood.
|
Leontes |
So stands this squire
Officed with me: we two will walk, my lord,
And leave you to your graver steps. Hermione,
How thou lovest us, show in our brotherâs welcome;
Let what is dear in Sicily be cheap:
Next to thyself and my young rover, heâs
Apparent to my heart.
|
Hermione |
If you would seek us,
We are yours iâ the garden: shallâs attend you there?
|
Leontes |
To your own bents dispose you: youâll be found,
Be you beneath the sky. Aside. I am angling now,
Though you perceive me not how I give line.
Go to, go to!
How she holds up the neb, the bill to him!
And arms her with the boldness of a wife
To her allowing husband! Exeunt Polixenes, Hermione, and Attendants. Gone already!
Inch-thick, knee-deep, oâer head and ears a forkâd one!
Go, play, boy, play: thy mother plays, and I
Play too, but so disgraced a part, whose issue
Will hiss me to my grave: contempt and clamour
Will be my knell. Go, play, boy, play. There have been,
Or I am much deceived, cuckolds ere now;
And many a man there is, even at this present,
Now while I speak this, holds his wife by the arm,
That little thinks she has been sluiced inâs absence
And his pond fishâd by his next neighbour, by
Sir Smile, his neighbour: nay, thereâs comfort inât
Whiles other men have gates and those gates openâd,
As mine, against their will. Should all despair
That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind
Would hang themselves. Physic forât there is none;
It is a bawdy planet, that will strike
Where âtis predominant; and âtis powerful, think it,
From east, west, north and south: be it concluded,
No barricado for a belly; knowât;
It will let in and out the enemy
With bag and baggage: many thousand onâs
Have the disease, and feelât not. How now, boy!
|
Mamillius |
I am like you, they say. |
Leontes |
Why thatâs some comfort.
What, Camillo there?
|
Camillo |
Ay, my good lord. |
Leontes |
Go play, Mamillius; thouârt an honest man. Exit Mamillius.
Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer.
|
Camillo |
You had much ado to make his anchor hold:
When you cast out, it still came home.
|
Leontes |
Didst note it? |
Camillo |
He would not stay at your petitions; made
His business more material.
|
Leontes |
Didst perceive it?
Aside. Theyâre here with me already, whispering, rounding
âSicilia is a so-forth:â âtis far gone,
When I shall gust it last. How cameât, Camillo,
That he did stay?
|
Camillo |
At the good queenâs entreaty. |
Leontes |
At the queenâs beât: âgoodâ should be pertinent;
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, isât,
But of the finer natures? by some severals
Of head-piece extraordinary? lower messes
Perchance are to this business purblind? say.
|
Camillo |
Business, my lord! I think most understand
Bohemia stays here longer.
|
Leontes |
Ha! |
Camillo |
Stays here longer. |
Leontes |
Ay, but why? |
Camillo |
To satisfy your highness and the entreaties
Of our most gracious mistress.
|
Leontes |
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 cleansed my bosom, I from thee departed
Thy penitent reformâd: but we have been
Deceived in thy integrity, deceived
In that which seems so.
|
Camillo |
Be it forbid, my lord! |
Leontes |
To bide uponât, thou art not honest, or,
If thou inclinest that way, thou art a coward,
Which hoxes honesty behind, restraining
From course required; or else thou must be counted
A servant grafted in my serious trust
And therein negligent; or else a fool
That seest a game playâd home, the rich stake drawn,
And takest it all for jest.
|
Camillo |
My gracious lord,
I may be negligent, foolish and fearful;
In every one of these no man is free,
But that his negligence, his folly, fear,
Among 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 playâd the fool, it was my negligence,
Not weighing well the end; if ever fearful
To do a thing, where I the issue doubted,
Where of the execution did cry out
Against the non-performance, âtwas a fear
Which oft infects the wisest: these, my lord,
Are such allowâd infirmities that honesty
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,
âTis none of mine.
|
Leontes |
Haâ not you seen, Camilloâ â
But thatâs past doubt, you have, or your eye-glass
Is thicker than a cuckoldâs hornâ âor heardâ â
For to a vision so apparent rumour
Cannot be muteâ âor thoughtâ âfor cogitation
Resides not in that man that does not thinkâ â
My wife is slippery? If thou wilt confess,
Or else be impudently negative,
To have nor eyes nor ears nor thought, then say
My wifeâs a hobby-horse, deserves a name
As rank as any flax-wench that puts to
Before her troth-plight: sayât and justifyât.
|
Camillo |
I would not be a stander-by to hear
My sovereign mistress clouded so, without
My present vengeance taken: âshrew my heart,
You never spoke what did become you less
Than this; which to reiterate were sin
As deep as that, though true.
|
Leontes |
Is whispering nothing?
Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses?
Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career
Of laughing with a sigh?â âa note infallible
Of breaking honestyâ âhorsing 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 thatâs inât is nothing;
The covering sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing;
My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings,
If this be nothing.
|
Camillo |
Good my lord, be cured
Of this diseased opinion, and betimes;
For âtis most dangerous.
|
Leontes |
Say it be, âtis true. |
Camillo |
No, no, my lord. |
Leontes |
It is; you lie, you lie:
I 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 wifeâs liver
Infected as her life, she would not live
The running of one glass.
|
Camillo |
Who does infect her? |
Leontes |
Why, he that wears her like a 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-bearerâ âwhom I from meaner form
Have benchâd and rearâd to worship, who mayst see
Plainly as heaven sees earth and earth sees heaven,
How I am galledâ âmightst bespice a cup,
To give mine enemy a lasting wink;
Which draught to me were cordial.
|
Camillo |
Sir, my lord,
I could do this, and that with no rash potion,
But with a lingering 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 loved theeâ â
|
Leontes |
Make that thy question, and go rot!
Dost think I am so muddy, so unsettled,
To appoint myself in this vexation, sully
The purity and whiteness of my sheets,
Which to preserve is sleep, which being spotted
Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps,
Give scandal to the blood oâ the prince my son,
Who I do think is mine and love as mine,
Without ripe moving toât? Would I do this?
Could man so blench?
|
Camillo |
I must believe you, sir:
I do; and will fetch off Bohemia forât;
Provided that, when heâs removed, your highness
Will take again your queen as yours at first,
Even for your sonâs sake; and thereby for sealing
The injury of tongues in courts and kingdoms
Known and allied to yours.
|
Leontes |
Thou dost advise me
Even so as I mine own course have set down:
Iâll give no blemish to her honour, none.
|
Camillo |
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 beverage,
Account me not your servant.
|
Leontes |
This is all:
Doât and thou hast the one half of my heart;
Doât not, thou splitâst thine own.
|
Camillo |
Iâll doât, my lord. |
Leontes |
I will seem friendly, as thou hast advised me. Exit. |
Camillo |
O miserable lady! But, for me,
What case stand I in? I must be the poisoner
Of good Polixenes; and my ground to doât
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 flourishâd after, Iâld not doât; but since
Nor brass nor stone nor parchment bears not one,
Let villany itself forswearât. I must
Forsake the court: to doât, or no, is certain
To me a break-neck. Happy star, reign now!
Here comes Bohemia.
|
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Re-enter Polixenes.
|
Polixenes |
This is strange: methinks
My favour here begins to warp. Not speak?
Good day, Camillo.
|
Camillo |
Hail, most royal sir! |
Polixenes |
What is the news iâ the court? |
Camillo |
None rare, my lord. |
Polixenes |
The king hath on him such a countenance
As he had lost some province and a region
Loved 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 changeth thus his manners.
|
Camillo |
I dare not know, my lord. |
Polixenes |
How! dare not! do not. Do you know, and dare not?
Be intelligent to me: âtis thereabouts;
For, to yourself, what you do know, you must,
And cannot say, you dare not. Good Camillo,
Your changed complexions are to me a mirror
Which shows me mine changed too; for I must be
A party in this alteration, finding
Myself thus alterâd withât.
|
Camillo |
There is a sickness
Which puts some of us in distemper, but
I cannot name the disease; and it is caught
Of you that yet are well.
|
Polixenes |
How! caught of me!
Make me not sighted like the basilisk:
I have lookâd on thousands, who have sped the better
By my regard, but killâd none so. Camilloâ â
As you are certainly a gentleman, thereto
Clerk-like experienced, which no less adorns
Our gentry than our parentsâ noble names,
In whose success we are gentleâ âI beseech you,
If you know aught which does behove my knowledge
Thereof to be informâd, imprisonât not
In ignorant concealment.
|
Camillo |
I may not answer. |
Polixenes |
A sickness caught of me, and yet I well!
I must be answerâd. 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;
Which way to be prevented, if to be;
If not, how best to bear it.
|
Camillo |
Sir, I will tell you;
Since I am charged in honour and by him
That I think honourable: therefore mark my counsel,
Which must be even as swiftly followâd as
I mean to utter it, or both yourself and me
Cry lost, and so good night!
|
Polixenes |
On, good Camillo. |
Camillo |
I am appointed him to murder you. |
Polixenes |
By whom, Camillo? |
Camillo |
By the king. |
Polixenes |
For what? |
Camillo |
He thinks, nay, with all confidence he swears,
As he had seenât or been an instrument
To vice you toât, that you have touchâd his queen
Forbiddenly.
|
Polixenes |
O, then my best blood turn
To an infected jelly and my name
Be yoked with his that did betray the Best!
Turn then my freshest reputation to
A savour that may strike the dullest nostril
Where I arrive, and my approach be shunnâd,
Nay, hated too, worse than the greatâst infection
That eâer was heard or read!
|
Camillo |
Swear his thought over
By each particular star in heaven and
By all their influences, you may as well
Forbid the sea for to obey the moon
As or by oath remove or counsel shake
The fabric of his folly, whose foundation
Is piled upon his faith and will continue
The standing of his body.
|
Polixenes |
How should this grow? |
Camillo |
I know not: but I am sure âtis safer to
Avoid whatâs grown than question how âtis born.
If therefore you dare trust my honesty,
That lies enclosed in this trunk which you
Shall bear along impawnâd, away to-night!
Your followers I will whisper to the business,
And will by twos and threes at several posterns
Clear them oâ the city. For myself, Iâll put
My fortunes to your service, which are here
By this discovery lost. Be not uncertain;
For, by the honour of my parents, I
Have utterâd truth: which if you seek to prove,
I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer
Than one condemnâd by the kingâs own mouth, thereon
His execution sworn.
|
Polixenes |
I do believe thee:
I saw his heart inâs face. Give me thy hand:
Be pilot to me and thy places shall
Still neighbour mine. My ships are ready and
My people did expect my hence departure
Two days ago. This jealousy
Is for a precious creature: as sheâs rare,
Must it be great, and as his personâs mighty,
Must it be violent, and as he does conceive
He is dishonourâd by a man which ever
Professâd to him, why, his revenges must
In that be made more bitter. Fear oâershades me:
Good expedition be my friend, and comfort
The gracious queen, part of his theme, but nothing
Of his ill-taâen suspicion! Come, Camillo;
I will respect thee as a father if
Thou bearâst my life off hence: let us avoid.
|
Camillo |
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.
|