That seest a game play'd home, the rich stake drawn, Cam. My gracious lord, In every one of these no man is free, It was my folly; if industriously I play'd the fool, it was my negligence, 'Tis none of mine. Leon. 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,) To have nor eyes, nor ears, nor thought,) then say, As rank as any flax-wench, that puts to a Whereof the execution did cry of out Against the non-performance,] This is one of the expressions by which Shakspeare too frequently clouds his meaning. This sounding phrase means, I think, no more than a thing necessary to be done.-JOHNSON. I leave this note, but believe the author means to say that Camillo never omitted to do any thing for the service of Leontes unless the execution of the act appeared so perilous, as to render the non-performance of it a matter of prudence rather than neglect or timidity. My sovereign mistress clouded so, without Than this; which to reiterate, were sin As deep as that, though true. Is whispering nothing? Leon. 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. Cam. Of this diseas'd opinion, and betimes; For 'tis most dangerous. Leon. Good my lord, be cur'd Say, it be; 'tis true. It is; you lie, you lie : Cam. No, no, my lord. Leon. I say, thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee; Canst with thine eyes at once see good and evil, The running of one glass. Cam. Who does infect her? Leon. 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, r the pin and web,] A disorder of the eye, consisting of some excrescence growing on the ball of the eye.-NARES. her medal,] i. e. Her portrait. 2 B 2 Their own particular thrifts,-they would do that Have bench'd, and rear'd to worship; who may'st see To give mine enemy a lasting wink: Which draught to me were cordial. Cam. Sir, my lord, I could do this; and that with no rash potion, Believe this crack to be my dread mistress, I have lov'd thee," Leon. Make't thy question, and Dost think, I am so muddy, so unsettled, To appoint myself in this vexation? sully go rot! Which to preserve, is sleep; which being spotted, you, sir; Cam. Leon. Thou dost advise me, rash potion-maliciously like poison:] Rash is hasty, maliciously is malignantly, with effects openly hurtful.-JOHNSON. u I have lov'd thee,- -] I believe that Theobald and Tyrwhitt were right in attributing these words to Leontes. They then mean, I love you no longer:Make that thy question, thy subject of consideration, and go rot. If we retain the old reading, the words of Leontes Make't thy question and go rot, must refer to what Camillo has said relative to the queen's chastity. x1 blench?] i. e. Start off, shrink. Even so as I mine own course have set down : Go then; and with a countenance as clear As friendship wears at feasts, keep with Bohemia, If from me he have wholesome beverage, Account me not your servant. Leon. This is all: Do't, and thou hast the one half of my heart; Cam. I'll do't, my lord. Leon. I will seem friendly, as thou hast advis'd me. Cam. O miserable lady!-But, for me, What case stand I in? I must be the poisoner Forsake the court: to do't, or no, is certain To me a break-neck. Happy star, reign now! [Exit. Pol. Enter POLIXENES. This is strange! methinks, My favour here begins to warp. Not speak? Cam. Hail, most royal sir! Pol. What is the news i'the court? Cam. None rare, my lord. Pol. The king hath on him such a countenance, With customary compliment; when he, Wafting his eyes to the contrary, and falling Cam. I dare not know, my lord. Pol. 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; Cam. There is a sickness Which puts some of us in distemper; but Pol. How! caught of me? Make me not sighted like the basilisk: I have look'd on thousands, who have sped the better By my regard, but kill'd none so. Camillo, As you are certainly a gentleman; thereto Clerk-like, experienced, which no less adorns In ignorant concealment. Cam. I may not answer. Pol. A sickness caught of me, and yet I well! I must be answer'd.-Dost thou hear, Camillo, I conjure thee, by all the parts of man, Which honour does acknowledge,-whereof the least What incidency thou dost guess of harm Is creeping toward me; how far off, how near; If not how best to bear it. y In whose success we are gentle,-] i. e. By whose success in life we are gentlemen. |