ACT I. SCENE I. Sicilia. The palace of LEONTES  Enter CAMILLO and ARCHIDAMUS    ARCHIDAMUS. If you shall chance, Camillo, to visit Bohemia, on the     like occasion whereon my services are now on foot, you shall see,     as I have said, great difference betwixt our Bohemia and your     Sicilia.   CAMILLO. I think this coming summer the King of Sicilia means to     pay Bohemia the visitation which he justly owes him.   ARCHIDAMUS. Wherein our entertainment shall shame us we will be     justified in our loves; for indeed-   CAMILLO. Beseech you-   ARCHIDAMUS. Verily, I speak it in the freedom of my knowledge: we     cannot with such magnificence, in so rare- I know not what to     say. We will give you sleepy drinks, that your senses,     unintelligent of our insufficience, may, though they cannot     praise us, as little accuse us.   CAMILLO. You pay a great deal too dear for what's given freely.   ARCHIDAMUS. Believe me, I speak as my understanding instructs me     and as mine honesty puts it to utterance.   CAMILLO. Sicilia cannot show himself overkind to Bohemia. They were     train'd together in their childhoods; and there rooted betwixt     them then such an affection which cannot choose but branch now.     Since their more mature dignities and royal necessities made     separation of their society, their encounters, though not     personal, have been royally attorneyed with interchange of gifts,     letters, loving embassies; that they have seem'd to be together,     though absent; shook hands, as over a vast; and embrac'd as it     were from the ends of opposed winds. The heavens continue their     loves!   ARCHIDAMUS. I think there is not in the world either malice or     matter to alter it. You have an unspeakable comfort of your young     Prince Mamillius; it is a gentleman of the greatest promise that     ever came into my note.   CAMILLO. I very well agree with you in the hopes of him. It is a     gallant child; one that indeed physics the subject, makes old     hearts fresh; they that went on crutches ere he was born desire     yet their life to see him a man.   ARCHIDAMUS. Would they else be content to die?   CAMILLO. Yes; if there were no other excuse why they should desire     to live.   ARCHIDAMUS. If the King had no son, they would desire to live on     crutches till he had one.                                                           Exeunt     SCENE II. Sicilia. The palace of LEONTES  Enter LEONTES, POLIXENES, HERMIONE, MAMILLIUS, CAMILLO, and ATTENDANTS    POLIXENES. Nine changes of the wat'ry star hath been     The shepherd's note since we have left our throne     Without a burden. Time as long again     Would be fill'd up, my brother, with our thanks;     And yet we should for perpetuity     Go hence in debt. And therefore, like a cipher,     Yet standing in rich place, I multiply     With one 'We thank you' many thousands moe     That go before it.   LEONTES. Stay your thanks a while,     And pay them when you part.   POLIXENES. Sir, that's to-morrow.     I am question'd by my fears of what may chance     Or breed upon our absence, that may blow     No sneaping winds at home, to make us say     'This is put forth too truly.' Besides, I have stay'd     To tire your royalty.   LEONTES. We are tougher, brother,     Than you can put us to't.   POLIXENES. No longer stay.   LEONTES. One sev'night longer.   POLIXENES. Very sooth, to-morrow.   LEONTES. We'll part the time between's then; and in that     I'll no gainsaying.   POLIXENES. Press me not, beseech you, so.     There is no tongue that moves, none, none i' th' world,     So soon as yours could win me. So it should now,     Were there necessity in your request, although     'Twere needful I denied it. My affairs     Do even drag me homeward; which to hinder     Were in your love a whip to me; my stay     To you a charge and trouble. To save both,     Farewell, our brother.   LEONTES. Tongue-tied, our Queen? Speak you.   HERMIONE. I had thought, sir, to have held my peace until     You had drawn oaths 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 proclaim'd. Say this to him,     He's beat from his best ward.   LEONTES. Well said, Hermione.   HERMIONE. To tell he longs to see his son were strong;     But let him say so then, and let him go;     But let him swear so, and he shall not stay;     We'll thwack him hence with distaffs.     [To POLIXENES]  Yet of your royal presence I'll     adventure the borrow of a week. When at Bohemia     You take my lord, I'll give him my commission     To let him there a month behind the gest     Prefix'd for's parting.- Yet, good deed, Leontes,     I love thee not a jar o' th' clock behind     What lady she her lord.- You'll stay?   POLIXENES. No, madam.   HERMIONE. Nay, but you will?   POLIXENES. I may not, verily.   HERMIONE. Verily!     You put me off with limber vows; but I,     Though you would seek t' unsphere the stars with oaths,     Should yet say 'Sir, no going.' Verily,     You shall not go; a lady's 'verily' is     As potent as a lord's. Will go yet?     Force me to keep you as a prisoner,     Not like a guest; so you shall pay your fees     When you depart, and save your thanks. How say you?     My prisoner or my guest? By your dread 'verily,'     One of them you shall be.   POLIXENES. Your guest, then, madam:     To be your prisoner should import offending;     Which is for me less easy to commit     Than you to punish.   HERMIONE. Not your gaoler then,     But your kind. hostess. Come, I'll question you     Of my lord's tricks and yours when you were boys.     You were pretty lordings then!   POLIXENES. We were, fair Queen,     Two lads that thought there was no more behind     But such a day to-morrow as to-day,     And to be boy eternal.   HERMIONE. Was not my lord     The verier wag o' th' two?   POLIXENES. We were as twinn'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 weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd     With stronger blood, we should have answer'd heaven     Boldly 'Not guilty,' the imposition clear'd     Hereditary ours.   HERMIONE. By this we gather     You have tripp'd since.   POLIXENES. O my most sacred lady,     Temptations have since then been born to 's, for     In those unfledg'd days was my wife a girl;     Your precious self had then not cross'd the eyes     Of my young playfellow.   HERMIONE. Grace to boot!     Of this make no conclusion, lest you say     Your queen and I are devils. Yet, go on;     Th' offences we have made you do we'll answer,     If you first sinn'd with us, and that with us     You did continue fault, and that you slipp'd not     With any but with us.   LEONTES. Is he won yet?   HERMIONE. He'll stay, my lord.   LEONTES. At my request he would not.     Hermione, my dearest, thou never spok'st     To better purpose.   HERMIONE. Never?   LEONTES. Never but once.   HERMIONE. What! Have I twice said well? When was't before?     I prithee tell me; cram's with praise, and make's     As fat as tame things. One good deed dying tongueless     Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that.     Our praises are our wages; you may ride's     With one soft kiss a thousand furlongs ere     With spur we heat an acre. But to th' goal:     My last good deed was to entreat his stay;     What was my first? It has 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 have't; I long.   LEONTES. Why, that was when     Three crabbed months had sour'd themselves to death,     Ere I could make thee open thy white hand     And clap thyself my love; then didst thou utter     'I am yours for ever.'   HERMIONE. 'Tis Grace indeed.     Why, lo you now, I have spoke to th' purpose twice:     The one for ever earn'd a royal husband;     Th' other for some while a friend.                                   [Giving her hand to POLIXENES]   LEONTES.  [Aside]  Too hot, too hot!     To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods.     I have tremor cordis on me; my heart dances,     But not for joy, not joy. This entertainment     May a free face put on; derive a liberty     From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosom,     And well become the agent. 'T may, I grant;     But to be paddling palms and pinching fingers,     As now they are, and making practis'd smiles     As in a looking-glass; and then to sigh, as 'twere     The mort o' th' deer. O, that is entertainment     My bosom likes not, nor my brows! Mamillius,     Art thou my boy?   MAMILLIUS. Ay, my good lord.   LEONTES. I' fecks!     Why, that's my bawcock. What! hast smutch'd thy nose?     They say it is a copy out of mine. Come, Captain,     We must be neat- not neat, but cleanly, Captain.     And yet the steer, the heifer, and the calf,     Are all call'd neat.- Still virginalling     Upon his palm?- How now, you wanton calf,     Art thou my calf?   MAMILLIUS. Yes, if you will, my lord.   LEONTES. Thou want'st a rough pash and the shoots that I have,     To be full like me; yet they say we are     Almost as like as eggs. Women say so,     That will say anything. But were they false     As o'er-dy'd blacks, as wind, as waters- false     As dice are to be wish'd by one that fixes     No bourn 'twixt his and mine; yet were it true     To say this boy were like me. Come, sir page,     Look on me with your welkin eye. Sweet villain!     Most dear'st! my collop! Can thy dam?- may't be?     Affection! thy intention stabs the centre.     Thou dost make possible things not so held,     Communicat'st with dreams- how can this be?-     With what's unreal thou coactive art,     And fellow'st nothing. Then 'tis very credent     Thou mayst co-join with something; and thou dost-     And that beyond commission; and I find it,     And that to the infection of my brains     And hard'ning of my brows.   POLIXENES. What means Sicilia?   HERMIONE. He something seems unsettled.   POLIXENES. How, my lord!     What cheer? How is't with you, best brother?   HERMIONE. You look     As if you held a brow of much distraction.     Are you mov'd, my lord?   LEONTES. No, in good earnest.     How sometimes nature will betray its folly,     Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime     To harder bosoms! Looking on the lines     Of my boy's face, methoughts I did recoil     Twenty-three years; and saw myself unbreech'd,     In my green velvet coat; my dagger muzzl'd,     Lest it should bite its master and so prove,     As ornaments oft do, too dangerous.     How like, methought, I then was to this kernel,     This squash, this gentleman. Mine honest friend,     Will you take eggs for money?   MAMILLIUS. No, my lord, I'll fight.   LEONTES. You will? Why, happy man be's dole! My brother,     Are you so fond of your young prince as we     Do seem to be of ours?   POLIXENES. If at home, sir,     He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter;     Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy;     My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all.     He makes a July's day short as December,     And with his varying childness cures in me     Thoughts that would thick my blood.   LEONTES. So stands this squire     Offic'd with me. We two will walk, my lord,     And leave you to your graver steps. Hermione,     How thou lov'st us show in our brother's welcome;     Let what is dear in Sicily be cheap;     Next to thyself and my young rover, he's     Apparent to my heart.   HERMIONE. If you would seek us,     We are yours i' th' garden. Shall's attend you there?   LEONTES. To your own bents dispose you; you'll be found,     Be you beneath the sky.  [Aside]  I am angling now,     Though you perceive me not how I give line.     Go to, go to!     How she holds up the neb, the bill to him!     And arms her with the boldness of a wife     To her allowing husband!                        Exeunt POLIXENES, HERMIONE, and ATTENDANTS      Gone already!     Inch-thick, knee-deep, o'er head and ears a fork'd one!     Go, play, boy, play; thy mother plays, and I     Play too; but so disgrac'd 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 deceiv'd, 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 sluic'd in's 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 pow'rfull, 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. 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 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 wilfull-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 infects 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. 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 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 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 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     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 gall'd- 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' 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 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 split'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.                       Enter POLIXENES    POLIXENES. 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     Lov'd 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;     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 chang'd complexions are to me a mirror     Which shows me mine chang'd too; for I must be     A party in this alteration, finding     Myself thus alter'd with't.   CAMILLO. There is a sickness     Which puts some of us in distemper; but     I cannot name the 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 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 experienc'd, 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 inform'd, imprison't not     In ignorant concealment.   CAMILLO. I may not answer.   POLIXENES. 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     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 charg'd in honour, and by him     That I think honourable. Therefore mark my counsel,     Which must be ev'n as swiftly followed as     I mean to utter it, or both yourself and me     Cry lost, and so goodnight.   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 touch'd his queen     Forbiddenly.   POLIXENES. O, then my best blood turn     To an infected jelly, and my name     Be yok'd 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 shunn'd,     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 pil'd 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 impawn'd, away to-night.     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 utt'red truth; which if you seek to prove,     I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer     Than one condemn'd 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 dishonour'd by a man which ever     Profess'd 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 this 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