CAMILLO Act I Scene II Flashcards
LEONTES: Why thats some comfort. What, Camillo there?
Ay my good lord.
LEONTES: Go play Mamillius; thou’rt an honest man
Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer.
You had much ado to make his anchor hold
LEONTES: Dist note it?
He would not stay at your petitions: made his business more material.
LEONTES: Dist perceive it?…
How came’t, Camillo, that he did stay?
At the good queen’s entreaty
LEONTES: A 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?
Lower Messes perchance are to this business purblind? say.
Business my lord! I think most understand Bohemia stays here longer.
LEONTES: Ha!
Stays here longer
LEONTES: Ay, but why?
To satisfy your highness and the entreaties
Of our most gracious mistress.
LEONTES: Satisfy! The entreaties of your mistress! Satisfy!…
We have been deceived in thy integrity, deceived in that which seems so.
My gracious lord, I may be negligent, foolish and fearful; In every one of these no man is free, 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, –
My wife is slippery?
Say’ and justify’t
I would not 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?…
if THIS be nothing.
Good my lord, be cured
of this diseased opinion, and betimes;
For ‘tis most dangerous.
LEONTES: Say it be, tis true.
No, no my lord
LEONTES: it is you lie, you lie…
were my wife’s liver
INFECTED as her life, she would not live
The running of one glass.
Who does INFECT her?
LEONTES: Why, he that wears her like a medal , hanging
About his neck, Bohemia…
…and THOU
His CUPBEARER…
…might BESPICE a cup,
To give mine enemy a LASTING WINK
Which draught to me were cordial.
Sir, my lord,
I could do this, and that with no rash potion
But with lingering dram that should not work
Maliciously like poison: but I cannt
Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress,
So sovereignly being honourable.
I have loved thee,—
LEONTES: Make that thy question, and go rot!…
…. Without ripe moving to’t? Would I do this?
Could man blench so?
I must belive you, sir:
I do; and will fetch off Bohemia for’t;
Provided that, when he’s removed, 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
Know 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.
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.