The Winters Tale | Page 6

I speak this, holds his wife by the arm That little thinks she has been sluic'd in his absence, And his pond fish'd by his next neighbour, by Sir Smile, his neighbour; nay, there's comfort in't, Whiles other men have gates, and those gates open'd, As mine, against their will: should all despair That hath 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 of us 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. 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?-- They're here with me already; whispering, 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 nearest things to my heart, as well My chamber-councils, wherein, priest-like, thou Hast cleans'd my bosom; I from thee departed Thy penitent reform'd: but we have been Deceiv'd in thy integrity, deceiv'd 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 requir'd; or else thou must be counted A servant grafted in my serious trust, And therein negligent; or else a fool That seest a game play'd 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 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 affects the wisest: these, my lord, Are such allow'd 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. Have 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 it,-- 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 is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings, If this be nothing.
CAMILLO. Good my lord, be cur'd Of this diseas'd opinion, and betimes; For 'tis most dangerous.
LEONTES. Say it be, 'tis