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Page 8
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
Which should undo more doing: ay, and thou,
His cupbearer,--whom I from meaner form
Have bench'd and rear'd 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 lov'd 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' the 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 remov'd, 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 advis'd 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 flourish'd 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. Happy star reign now!
Here comes Bohemia.
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