Chapter 62

Pol. Nine Changes of the Watry-Starre hath been The Shepheards Note, since we haue left our Throne Without a Burthen: Time as long againe Would be fill'd vp (my Brother) with our Thanks, And yet we should, for perpetuitie, Goe hence in debt: And therefore, like a Cypher (Yet standing in rich place) I multiply With one we thanke you, many thousands moe, That goe before it

Leo. Stay your Thanks a while, And pay them when you part

Pol. Sir, that's to morrow: I am question'd by my feares, of what may chance, Or breed vpon our absence, that may blow No sneaping Winds at home, to make vs say, This is put forth too truly: besides, I haue stay'd To tyre your Royaltie

Leo. We are tougher (Brother) Then you can put vs to't

Pol. No longer stay

Leo. One Seue' night longer

Pol. Very sooth, to morrow

Leo. Wee'le part the time betweene's then: and in that Ile no gaine-saying

Pol. Presse me not ('beseech you) so: There is no Tongue that moues; none, none i'th' World So soone as yours, could win me: so it should now, Were there necessitie in your request, although 'Twere needfull I deny'd it. My Affaires Doe euen drag me home-ward: which to hinder, Were (in your Loue) a Whip to me; my stay, To you a Charge, and Trouble: to saue both, Farewell (our Brother.) Leo. Tongue-ty'd our Queene? speake you

Her. I had thought (Sir) to haue held my peace, vntill You had drawne Oathes from him, not to stay: you (Sir) Charge him too coldly. Tell him, you are sure All in Bohemia's well: this satisfaction, The by-gone-day proclaym'd, say this to him, He's beat from his best ward

Leo. Well said, Hermione

Her. To tell, he longs to see his Sonne, were strong: But let him say so then, and let him goe; But let him sweare so, and he shall not stay, Wee'l thwack him hence with Distaffes. Yet of your Royall presence, Ile aduenture The borrow of a Weeke. When at Bohemia You take my Lord, Ile giue him my Commission, To let him there a Moneth, behind the Gest Prefix'd for's parting: yet (good-deed) Leontes, I loue thee not a Iarre o'th' Clock, behind What Lady she her Lord. You'le stay? Pol. No, Madame

Her. Nay, but you will? Pol. I may not verely

Her. Verely? You put me off with limber Vowes: but I, Though you would seek t' vnsphere the Stars with Oaths, Should yet say, Sir, no going: Verely You shall not goe; a Ladyes Verely 'is As potent as a Lords. Will you goe yet? Force me to keepe you as a Prisoner, Not like a Guest: so you shall pay your Fees When you depart, and saue your Thanks. How say you? My Prisoner? or my Guest? by your dread Verely, One of them you shall be

Pol. Your Guest then, Madame: To be your Prisoner, should import offending; Which is for me, lesse easie to commit, Then you to punish

Her. Not your Gaoler then, But your kind Hostesse. Come, Ile question you Of my Lords Tricks, and yours, when you were Boyes: You were pretty Lordings then? Pol. We were (faire Queene) Two Lads, that thought there was no more behind, But such a day to morrow, as to day, And to be Boy eternall

Her. Was not my Lord The veryer Wag o'th' two? Pol. We were as twyn'd Lambs, that did frisk i'th' Sun, And bleat the one at th' other: what we chang'd, Was Innocence, for Innocence: we knew not The Doctrine of ill-doing, nor dream'd That any did: Had we pursu'd that life, And our weake Spirits ne're been higher rear'd With stronger blood, we should haue answer'd Heauen Boldly, not guilty; the Imposition clear'd, Hereditarie ours

Her. By this we gather You haue tript since

Pol. O my most sacred Lady, Temptations haue since then been borne to's: for In those vnfledg'd dayes, was my Wife a Girle; Your precious selfe had then not cross'd the eyes Of my young Play-fellow

Her. Grace to boot: Of this make no conclusion, least you say Your Queene and I are Deuils: yet goe on, Th' offences we haue made you doe, wee'le answere, If you first sinn'd with vs: and that with vs You did continue fault; and that you slipt not With any, but with vs

Leo. Is he woon yet? Her. Hee'le stay (my Lord.) Leo. At my request, he would not: Hermione (my dearest) thou neuer spoak'st To better purpose

Her. Neuer? Leo. Neuer, but once

Her. What? haue I twice said well? when was't before? I prethee tell me: cram's with prayse, and make's As fat as tame things: One good deed, dying tonguelesse, Slaughters a thousand, wayting vpon that. Our prayses are our Wages. You may ride's With one soft Kisse a thousand Furlongs, ere With Spur we heat an Acre. But to th' Goale: My last good deed, was to entreat his stay. What was my first? it ha's an elder Sister, Or I mistake you: O, would her Name were Grace. But once before I spoke to th' purpose? when? Nay, let me haue't: I long

Leo. Why, that was when Three crabbed Moneths had sowr'd themselues to death, Ere I could make thee open thy white Hand: A clap thy selfe, my Loue; then didst thou vtter, I am yours for euer

Her. 'Tis Grace indeed. Why lo-you now; I haue spoke to th' purpose twice: The one, for euer earn'd a Royall Husband; Th' other, for some while a Friend

Leo. Too hot, too hot: To mingle friendship farre, is mingling bloods. I haue Tremor Cordis on me: my heart daunces, But not for ioy; not ioy. This Entertainment May a free face put on: deriue a Libertie From Heartinesse, from Bountie, fertile Bosome, And well become the Agent: 't may; I graunt: But to be padling Palmes, and pinching Fingers, As now they are, and making practis'd Smiles As in a Looking-Glasse; and then to sigh, as 'twere The Mort o'th' Deere: oh, that is entertainment My Bosome likes not, nor my Browes. Mamillius, Art thou my Boy? Mam. I, my good Lord

Leo. I'fecks: Why that's my Bawcock: what? has't smutch'd thy Nose? They say it is a Coppy out of mine. Come Captaine, We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, Captaine: And yet the Steere, the Heycfer, and the Calfe, Are all call'd Neat. Still Virginalling Vpon his Palme? How now (you wanton Calfe) Art thou my Calfe? Mam. Yes, if you will (my Lord.) Leo. Thou want'st a rough pash, & the shoots that I haue To be full, like me: yet they say we are Almost as like as Egges; Women say so, (That will say any thing.) But were they false As o're-dy'd Blacks, as Wind, as Waters; false As Dice are to be wish'd, by one that fixes No borne 'twixt his and mine; yet were it true, To say this Boy were like me. Come (Sir Page) Looke on me with your Welkin eye: sweet Villaine, Most dear'st, my Collop: Can thy Dam, may't be Affection? thy Intention stabs the Center. Thou do'st make possible things not so held, Communicat'st with Dreames (how can this be?) With what's vnreall: thou coactiue art, And fellow'st nothing. Then 'tis very credent, Thou may'st co-ioyne with something, and thou do'st, (And that beyond Commission) and I find it, (And that to the infection of my Braines, And hardning of my Browes.) Pol. What meanes Sicilia? Her. He something seemes vnsetled

Pol. How? my Lord? Leo. What cheere? how is't with you, best Brother? Her. You look as if you held a Brow of much distraction: Are you mou'd (my Lord?) Leo. No, in good earnest. How sometimes Nature will betray it's folly? It's tendernesse? and make it selfe a Pastime To harder bosomes? Looking on the Lynes Of my Boyes face, me thoughts I did requoyle Twentie three yeeres, and saw my selfe vn-breech'd, In my greene Veluet Coat; my Dagger muzzel'd, Least it should bite it's Master, and so proue (As Ornaments oft do's) too dangerous: How like (me thought) I then was to this Kernell, This Squash, this Gentleman. Mine honest Friend, Will you take Egges for Money? Mam. No (my Lord) Ile fight

Leo. You will: why happy man be's dole. My Brother Are you so fond of your young Prince, as we Doe seeme to be of ours? Pol. If at home (Sir) He's all my Exercise, my Mirth, my Matter; Now my sworne Friend, and then mine Enemy; My Parasite, my Souldier: States-man; all: He makes a Iulyes day, short as December, And with his varying childnesse, cures in me Thoughts, that would thick my blood

Leo. So stands this Squire Offic'd with me: We two will walke (my Lord) And leaue you to your grauer steps. Hermione, How thou lou'st vs, shew in our Brothers welcome; Let what is deare in Sicily, be cheape: Next to thy selfe, and my young Rouer, he's Apparant to my heart

Her. If you would seeke vs, We are yours i'th' Garden: shall's attend you there? Leo. To your owne bents dispose you: you'le be found, Be you beneath the Sky: I am angling now, (Though you perceiue me not how I giue Lyne) Goe too, goe too. How she holds vp the Neb? the Byll to him? And armes her with the boldnesse of a Wife To her allowing Husband. Gone already, Ynch-thick, knee-deepe; ore head and eares a fork'd one. Goe play (Boy) play: thy Mother playes, and I Play too; but so disgrac'd a part, whose issue Will hisse me to my Graue: Contempt and Clamor Will be my Knell. Goe play (Boy) play, there haue been (Or I am much deceiu'd) Cuckolds ere now, And many a man there is (euen at this present, Now, while I speake this) holds his Wife by th' Arme, That little thinkes she ha's been sluyc'd in's absence, And his Pond fish'd by his next Neighbor (by Sir Smile, his Neighbor:) nay, there's comfort in't, Whiles other men haue Gates, and those Gates open'd (As mine) against their will. Should all despaire That haue reuolted Wiues, the tenth of Mankind Would hang themselues. Physick for't, there's none: It is a bawdy Planet, that will strike Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis powrefull: thinke 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 Haue the Disease, and feele't not. How now Boy? Mam. I am like you say

Leo. Why, that's some comfort. What? Camillo there? Cam. I, my good Lord

Leo. Goe play (Mamillius) thou'rt an honest man: Camillo, this great Sir will yet stay longer

Cam. You had much adoe to make his Anchor hold, When you cast out, it still came home

Leo. Didst note it? Cam. He would not stay at your Petitions, made His Businesse more materiall

Leo. Didst perceiue it? They're here with me already; whisp'ring, rounding: Sicilia is a so-forth: 'tis farre gone, When I shall gust it last. How cam't (Camillo) That he did stay? Cam. At the good Queenes entreatie

Leo. At the Queenes be't: Good should be pertinent, But so it is, it is not. Was this taken By any vnderstanding Pate but thine? For thy Conceit is soaking, will draw in More then the common Blocks. Not noted, is't, But of the finer Natures? by some Seueralls Of Head-peece extraordinarie? Lower Messes Perchance are to this Businesse purblind? say

Cam. Businesse, my Lord? I thinke most vnderstand Bohemia stayes here longer

Leo. Ha? Cam. Stayes here longer

Leo. I, but why? Cam. To satisfie your Highnesse, and the Entreaties Of our most gracious Mistresse

Leo. Satisfie? Th' entreaties of your Mistresse? Satisfie? Let that suffice. I haue trusted thee (Camillo) With all the neerest things to my heart, as well My Chamber-Councels, wherein (Priest-like) thou Hast cleans'd my Bosome: I, from thee departed Thy Penitent reform'd: but we haue been Deceiu'd in thy Integritie, deceiu'd In that which seemes so

Cam. Be it forbid (my Lord.) Leo. To bide vpon't: thou art not honest: or If thou inclin'st that way, thou art a Coward, Which hoxes honestie behind, restrayning From Course requir'd: or else thou must be counted A Seruant, grafted in my serious Trust, And therein negligent: or else a Foole, That seest a Game play'd home, the rich Stake drawne, And tak'st it all for ieast

Cam. My gracious Lord, I may be negligent, foolish, and fearefull, In euery one of these, no man is free, But that his negligence, his folly, feare, Among the infinite doings of the World, Sometime puts forth in your affaires (my Lord.) If euer I were wilfull-negligent, It was my folly: if industriously I play'd the Foole, it was my negligence, Not weighing well the end: if euer fearefull To doe a thing, where I the issue doubted, Whereof the execution did cry out Against the non-performance, 'twas a feare Which oft infects the wisest: these (my Lord) Are such allow'd Infirmities, that honestie Is neuer free of. But beseech your Grace Be plainer with me, let me know my Trespas By it's owne visage; if I then deny it, 'Tis none of mine

Leo. Ha' not you seene Camillo? (But that's past doubt: you haue, or your eye-glasse Is thicker then a Cuckolds Horne) or heard? (For to a Vision so apparant, Rumor Cannot be mute) or thought? (for Cogitation Resides not in that man, that do's not thinke) My Wife is slipperie? If thou wilt confesse, Or else be impudently negatiue, To haue nor Eyes, nor Eares, nor Thought, then say My Wife's a Holy-Horse, deserues a Name As ranke as any Flax-Wench, that puts to Before her troth-plight: say't, and iustify't

Cam. I would not be a stander-by, to heare My Soueraigne Mistresse clouded so, without My present vengeance taken: 'shrew my heart, You neuer spoke what did become you lesse Then this; which to reiterate, were sin As deepe as that, though true

Leo. Is whispering nothing? Is leaning Cheeke to Cheeke? is meating Noses? Kissing with in-side Lip? stopping the Cariere Of Laughter, with a sigh? (a Note infallible Of breaking Honestie) horsing foot on foot? Skulking in corners? wishing Clocks more swift? Houres, Minutes? Noone, Mid-night? and all Eyes Blind with the Pin and Web, but theirs; theirs onely, That would vnseene be wicked? Is this nothing? Why then the World, and all that's in't, is nothing, The couering Skie is nothing, Bohemia nothing, My Wife is nothing, nor Nothing haue 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 lyest Camillo, and I hate thee, Pronounce thee a grosse Lowt, a mindlesse Slaue, Or else a houering Temporizer, that Canst with thine eyes at once see good and euill, Inclining to them both: were my Wiues Liuer Infected (as her life) she would not liue The running of one Glasse

Cam. Who do's infect her? Leo. Why he that weares her like her Medull, hanging About his neck (Bohemia) who, if I Had Seruants true about me, that bare eyes To see alike mine Honor, as their Profits, (Their owne particular Thrifts) they would doe that Which should vndoe more doing: I, and thou His Cup-bearer, whom I from meaner forme Haue Bench'd, and rear'd to Worship, who may'st see Plainely, as Heauen sees Earth, and Earth sees Heauen, How I am gall'd, might'st be-spice a Cup, To giue mine Enemy a lasting Winke: Which Draught to me, were cordiall

Cam. Sir (my Lord) I could doe this, and that with no rash Potion, But with a lingring Dram, that should not worke Maliciously, like Poyson: But I cannot Beleeue this Crack to be in my dread Mistresse (So soueraignely being Honorable.) I haue lou'd thee, Leo. Make that thy question, and goe rot: Do'st thinke I am so muddy, so vnsetled, To appoint my selfe in this vexation? Sully the puritie and whitenesse of my Sheetes (Which to preserue, is Sleepe; which being spotted, Is Goades, Thornes, Nettles, Tayles of Waspes) Giue scandall to the blood o'th' Prince, my Sonne, (Who I doe thinke is mine, and loue as mine) Without ripe mouing to't? Would I doe this? Could man so blench? Cam. I must beleeue you (Sir) I doe, and will fetch off Bohemia for't: Prouided, that when hee's remou'd, your Highnesse Will take againe your Queene, as yours at first, Euen for your Sonnes sake, and thereby for sealing The Iniurie of Tongues, in Courts and Kingdomes Knowne, and ally'd to yours

Leo. Thou do'st aduise me, Euen so as I mine owne course haue set downe: Ile giue no blemish to her Honor, none

Cam. My Lord, Goe then; and with a countenance as cleare As Friendship weares at Feasts, keepe with Bohemia, And with your Queene: I am his Cup-bearer, If from me he haue wholesome Beueridge, Account me not your Seruant

Leo. This is all: Do't, and thou hast the one halfe of my heart; Do't not, thou splitt'st thine owne

Cam. Ile do't, my Lord

Leo. I wil seeme friendly, as thou hast aduis'd me.

Exit

Cam. O miserable Lady. But for me, What case stand I in? I must be the poysoner Of good Polixenes, and my ground to do't, Is the obedience to a Master; one, Who in Rebellion with himselfe, will haue All that are his, so too. To doe this deed, Promotion followes: If I could find example Of thousand's that had struck anoynted Kings, And flourish'd after, Il'd not do't: But since Nor Brasse, nor Stone, nor Parchment beares not one, Let Villanie it selfe forswear't. I must Forsake the Court: to do't, or no, is certaine To me a breake-neck. Happy Starre raigne now, Here comes Bohemia. Enter Polixenes.

Pol. This is strange: Me thinkes My fauor here begins to warpe. Not speake? Good day Camillo

Cam. Hayle most Royall Sir

Pol. What is the Newes i'th' Court? Cam. None rare (my Lord.) Pol. The King hath on him such a countenance, As he had lost some Prouince, and a Region Lou'd, as he loues himselfe: euen now I met him With customarie complement, when hee Wafting his eyes to th' contrary, and falling A Lippe of much contempt, speedes from me, and So leaues me, to consider what is breeding, That changes thus his Manners

Cam. I dare not know (my Lord.) Pol. How, dare not? doe not? doe you know, and dare not? Be intelligent to me, 'tis thereabouts: For to your selfe, what you doe know, you must, And cannot say, you dare not. Good Camillo, Your chang'd complexions are to me a Mirror, Which shewes me mine chang'd too: for I must be A partie in this alteration, finding My selfe thus alter'd with't

Cam. There is a sicknesse Which puts some of vs 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 sighted like the Basilisque. I haue look'd on thousands, who haue sped the better By my regard, but kill'd none so: Camillo, As you are certainely a Gentleman, thereto Clerke-like experienc'd, which no lesse adornes Our Gentry, then our Parents Noble Names, In whose successe we are gentle: I beseech you, If you know ought which do's behoue my knowledge, Thereof to be inform'd, imprison't not In ignorant concealement

Cam. I may not answere

Pol. A Sicknesse caught of me, and yet I well? I must be answer'd. Do'st thou heare Camillo, I coniure thee, by all the parts of man, Which Honor do's acknowledge, whereof the least Is not this Suit of mine, that thou declare What incidencie thou do'st ghesse of harme Is creeping toward me; how farre off, how neere, Which way to be preuented, if to be: If not, how best to beare it

Cam. Sir, I will tell you, Since I am charg'd in Honor, and by him That I thinke Honorable: therefore marke my counsaile, Which must be eu'n as swiftly followed, as I meane to vtter it; or both your selfe, and me, Cry lost, and so good night

Pol. On, good Camillo

Cam. I am appointed him to murther you

Pol. By whom, Camillo? Cam. By the King

Pol. For what? Cam. He thinkes, nay with all confidence he sweares, As he had seen't, or beene an Instrument To vice you to't, that you haue toucht his Queene Forbiddenly

Pol. Oh then, my best blood turne To an infected Gelly, and my Name Be yoak'd with his, that did betray the Best: Turne then my freshest Reputation to A sauour, that may strike the dullest Nosthrill Where I arriue, and my approch be shun'd, Nay hated too, worse then the great'st Infection That ere was heard, or read

Cam. Sweare his thought ouer By each particular Starre in Heauen, and By all their Influences; you may as well Forbid the Sea for to obey the Moone, As (or by Oath) remoue, or (Counsaile) shake The Fabrick of his Folly, whose foundation Is pyl'd vpon his Faith, and will continue The standing of his Body

Pol. How should this grow? Cam. I know not: but I am sure 'tis safer to Auoid what's growne, then question how 'tis borne. If therefore you dare trust my honestie, That lyes enclosed in this Trunke, which you Shall beare along impawnd, away to Night, Your Followers I will whisper to the Businesse, And will by twoes, and threes, at seuerall Posternes, Cleare them o'th' Citie: For my selfe, Ile put My fortunes to your seruice (which are here By this discouerie lost.) Be not vncertaine, For by the honor of my Parents, I Haue vttred Truth: which if you seeke to proue, I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer, Then one condemnd by the Kings owne mouth: Thereon his Execution sworne

Pol. I doe beleeue thee: I saw his heart in's face. Giue 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 dayes agoe. This Iealousie Is for a precious Creature: as shee's rare, Must it be great; and, as his Person's mightie, Must it be violent: and, as he do's conceiue, He is dishonor'd by a man, which euer Profess'd to him: why his Reuenges must In that be made more bitter. Feare ore-shades me: Good Expedition be my friend, and comfort The gracious Queene, part of his Theame; but nothing Of his ill-ta'ne suspition. Come Camillo, I will respect thee as a Father, if Thou bear'st my life off, hence: Let vs auoid

Cam. It is in mine authoritie to command The Keyes of all the Posternes: Please your Highnesse To take the vrgent houre. Come Sir, away.

Exeunt.

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter Hermione, Mamillius, Ladies: Leontes, Antigonus, Lords.

Her. Take the Boy to you: he so troubles me, 'Tis past enduring

Lady. Come (my gracious Lord) Shall I be your play-fellow? Mam. No, Ile none of you

Lady. Why (my sweet Lord?) Mam. You'le kisse me hard, and speake to me, as if I were a Baby still. I loue you better

2.Lady. And why so (my Lord?) Mam. Not for because Your Browes are blacker (yet black-browes they say Become some Women best, so that there be not Too much haire there, but in a Cemicircle, Or a halfe-Moone, made with a Pen.) 2.Lady. Who taught 'this? Mam. I learn'd it out of Womens faces: pray now, What colour are your eye-browes? Lady. Blew (my Lord.) Mam. Nay, that's a mock: I haue seene a Ladies Nose That ha's beene blew, but not her eye-browes

Lady. Harke ye, The Queene (your Mother) rounds apace: we shall Present our seruices to a fine new Prince One of these dayes, and then youl'd wanton with vs, If we would haue you

2.Lady. She is spread of late Into a goodly Bulke (good time encounter her.) Her. What wisdome stirs amongst you? Come Sir, now I am for you againe: 'Pray you sit by vs, And tell's a Tale

Mam. Merry, or sad, shal't be? Her. As merry as you will

Mam. A sad Tale's best for Winter: I haue one of Sprights, and Goblins

Her. Let's haue that (good Sir.) Come-on, sit downe, come-on, and doe your best, To fright me with your Sprights: you're powrefull at it

Mam. There was a man

Her. Nay, come sit downe: then on

Mam. Dwelt by a Church-yard: I will tell it softly, Yond Crickets shall not heare it

Her. Come on then, and giu't me in mine eare

Leon. Was hee met there? his Traine? Camillo with him? Lord. Behind the tuft of Pines I met them, neuer Saw I men scowre so on their way: I eyed them Euen to their Ships