The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

Inch-thick, knee-deep, o‘er head and ears a forked

  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 th’arm,

  That little thinks she has been sluiced in’s absence,

  And his pond fished by his next neighbour, by

  Sir Smile, his neighbour. Nay, there’s comfort in‘t,

  Whiles other men have gates, and those gates opened,

  As mine, against their will. Should all despair

  That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind

  Would hang themselves. Physic for’t there’s none.

  It is a bawdy planet, that will strike

  Where ’tis predominant; and ‘tis powerful. Think it:

  From east, west, north, and south, be it concluded,

  No barricado for a belly. Know’t,

  It will let in and out the enemy

  With bag and baggage. Many thousand on’s

  Have the disease and feel’t not.—How now, boy?

  MAMILLIUS

  I am like you, they say.

  LEONTES

  Why, that’s some comfort.

  What, Camillo there!

  CAMILLO [coming forward] Ay, my good lord.

  LEONTES

  Go play, Mamillius, thou’rt 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) They’re here with me already, whisp‘ring,

  rounding,

  ‘Sicilia is a so-forth’. ’Tis far gone

  When I shall gust it last.—How came’t, Camillo,

  That he did stay?

  CAMILLO

  At the good Queen’s entreaty.

  LEONTES

  ‘At the Queen’s’ be’t. ‘Good’ 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, is’t,

  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?

  Th‘entreaties of your mistress? Satisfy?

  Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo,

  With all the near’st things to my heart, as well

  My chamber-counsels, wherein, priest-like, thou

  Hast cleansed my bosom, I from thee departed

  Thy penitent reformed. But we have been

  Deceived in thy integrity, deceived

  In that which seems so.

  CAMILLO

  Be it forbid, my lord.

  LEONTES

  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 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 played home, the rich stake drawn,

  And tak’st 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 played 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 wisest. These, my lord,

  Are such allowed 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,

  ’Tis none of mine.

  LEONTES

  Ha’ 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—

  My wife is slippery? 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 flax-wench that puts to

  Before her troth-plight. Say’t, and justify’t.

  CAMILLO

  I would not be a stander-by to hear

  My sovereign mistress clouded so without

  My present vengeance taken. ’Shrew 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 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 nothings

  If this be nothing.

  CAMILLO

  Good my lord, be cured

  Of this diseased opinion, and betimes,

  For ’tis most dangerous.

  LEONTES

  Say it be, ’tis 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 wife’s 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 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<
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  Which should undo more doing. Ay, and thou

  His cupbearer, whom I from meaner form

  Have benched, and reared to worship, who mayst see

  Plainly as heaven sees earth and earth sees heaven,

  How I am galled, mightst 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 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 loved thee—

  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 o’th’ prince, my son—

  Who I do think is mine, and love as mine—

  Without ripe moving to’t? Would I do this?

  Could man so blench?

  CAMILLO

  I must believe you, sir. I do, and will fetch off Bohemia for’t,

  Provided that when he’s removed your highness

  Will take again your queen as yours at first,

  Even for your son’s 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.

  I’ll 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 cupbearer.

  If from me he have wholesome beverage,

  Account me not your servant.

  LEONTES

  This is all. Do‘t, and thou hast the one half of my heart;

  Do’t not, thou splitt’st thine own.

  CAMILLO

  I’ll do’t, 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 do’t

  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 flourished after, I’d not do’t. But since

  Nor brass, nor stone, nor parchment bears not one,

  Let villainy itself forswear’t. I must

  Forsake the court. To do’t, or no, is certain

  To me a break-neck.

  Enter Polixenes

  Happy star reign now!

  Here comes Bohemia.

  POLIXENES (aside)

  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 i’th’ 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 th’ contrary, and falling

  A lip of much contempt, speeds from me, and

  So leaves me to consider what is breeding

  That changes 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. ‘Tis 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 altered with’t.

  CAMILLO

  There is a sickness

  Which puts some of us in distemper, but

  I cannot name th’ 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 looked on thousands who have sped the better

  By my regard, but killed none so. Camillo,

  As you are certainly a gentleman, thereto

  Clerk-like experienced, which no less adorns

  Our gentry than our parents’ noble names,

  In whose success we are gentle: I beseech you,

  If you know aught which does behove my knowledge

  Thereof to be informed, imprison’t not

  In ignorant concealment.

  CAMILLO

  I may not answer.

  POLIXENES

  A sickness caught of me, and yet I well?

  I must be answered. 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 e’en as swiftly followed 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 seen‘t, or been an instrument

  To vice you to’t, that you have touched 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 shunned,

  Nay hated, too, worse than the great‘st infection

  That e’er 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 ‘tis safer to

  Avoid what’s grown than question how ’tis born.

  If therefore you dare trust my honesty,

  That lies enclosed in this trunk which you

  Shall bear along impawned, away tonight!


  Your followers I will whisper to the business,

  And will by twos and threes at several posterns

  Clear them o’th’ city. For myself, I’ll 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 uttered truth; which if you seek to prove,

  I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer

  Than one condemned by the King’s own mouth,

  Thereon his execution sworn.

  POLIXENES

  I do believe thee, I saw his heart in’s 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 she’s rare

  Must it be great; and as his person’s mighty

  Must it be violent; and as he does conceive

  He is dishonoured by a man which ever

  Professed to him, why, his revenges must

  In that be made more bitter. Fear o‘ershades me.

  Good expedition be my friend and comfort

  The gracious Queen, part of his theme, but nothing

  Of his ill-ta’en suspicion. Come, Camillo,

  I will respect thee as a father if

  Thou bear’st 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

  2.1 Enter Hermione, Mamillius, and Ladies

  HERMIONE

  Take the boy to you. He so troubles me

  ’Tis past enduring.

  FIRST LADY

  Come, my gracious lord,

  Shall I be your play-fellow?

  MAMILLIUS No, I’ll none of you.

  FIRST LADY Why, my sweet lord?

  MAMILLIUS

  You’ll kiss me hard, and speak to me as if

  I were a baby still. (To Second Lady) I love you better.

  SECOND LADY

  And why so, my lord?

  MAMILLIUS

  Not for because

  Your brows are blacker—yet black brows they say

  Become some women best, so that there be not

  Too much hair there, but in a semicircle,

  Or a half-moon made with a pen.

  SECOND LADY

  Who taught ’this?

  MAMILLIUS

  I learned it out of women’s faces. Pray now,

  What colour are your eyebrows?

  FIRST LADY

  Blue, my lord.

  MAMILLIUS

  Nay, that’s a mock. I have seen a lady’s nose

  That has been blue, but not her eyebrows.

  FIRST LADY

  Hark ye, The Queen your mother rounds apace. We shall

  Present our services to a fine new prince

  One of these days, and then you’d wanton with us,