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Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Taming of the Shrew


ACT II. SCENE III. —The same. A Room in the Palace 


other Attendants.

Leon. Nor night nor day no rest: it is but


To bear the matter thus,—mere weakness.  If

The cause were not in being,—part o’ the cause.

She the adultress; for the hariot king

Is quite beyond mine arm, out of the blank

And level of my brain, plot-proof; but she

I can hook to me:—say that she were gone,

Given to the fire, a moiety of my rest

Might come to me again.—Who’s there?

Atten. [Advancing.]                          My lord?

Leon. How does the boy?

1 Atten.              He took good rest to-night;

‘Tis hop’d his sickness is discharg’d.

Leon. To see his nobleness!

Conceiving the dishonour of his mother,

He straight declin’d, droop’d, took it deeply,

Fasten’d and fix’d the shame on’t in himself,

Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep,

And downright languish’d.—Leave me solely:


See how he fares. [Exit 1 Attend.]—Fie, fie! no

thought of him;

The very thought of my revenges that way

Recoil upon me: in himself too mighty,

And in his parties, his alliance,—let him be,

Until a time may serve: for present vengeance,

Take it on her. Camillo and Polixenes

Laugh at me; make their pastime at my sorrow.

They should not laugh if I could reach them;


Shall she, within my power.

Enter PAULINA, with a child.

Lord.                 You must not enter

Paul. Nay, rather, good my lords, be second

to me:

Fear you his tyrannous passion more, alas,

Than the queen’s life? a gorgeous innocent soul,

More free than he is jealous.

Ant.                                       That’s enough.

Attend. Madam, he hath not slept tonight;


None should come at him.

Paul.                                  Not so hot, good sir;

I come to bring him sleep. ‘Tis such as you,—

That creep like shadows by him, and do sigh

At each his needless heavings,—such as you

Nourish the cause of his awaking: I

Do come, with words as med’cinal as true,

Honest as either, to purge him of that humour

That presses him from sleep.

Leon.                              What noise there, ho?

Paul. No noise, my lord; but needful con-


About some gossips for your highness.

Leon.                                                    How!—

Away with that audacious lady!—Antigonus,

I charg’d thee that she should not come about


I knew she would.

Ant.                      I told her so, my lord,

On your displeasure’s peril, and on mine,

She should not visit you.

Leon.                       What, canst not rule her?

Paul. From all dishonesty, he can: in this,—

Unless he take the course that you have done,

Commit me for committing honour,—trust it,

He shall not rule me.

Ant.                            La you now, you hear!

When she will take the rein, I let her run;

But she’ll not stumble.

Paul.                        God my liege, I come,—

And, I beseech you, hear me, who profess

Myself your loyal servant, your physician,

Your most obedient counsellor; yet that dares

Less appear so, in comforting your evils,

Than such as most seem yours:—I say, I


From your good queen.

Leon.                             Good queen!

Paul. Good queen, my lord, good queen: I

say, good queen;

And would by combat make her good, so were I

A man, he worst about you.

Leon.                                   Force her hence!

Paul. Le him that make but trifles of his


First hand me: on mine own accord I’ll ogg;

But first I’ll do my errand.—The good queen,

For she is good, hath brought you forth a


Here ’tis; commends it to your blessing.

[Laying down the child.

Leon.                                                   Out!

A mankind-witch! Hence with her, out o’ door:

A most intelligencing bawd!

Paul.                                   Not so:

I am as ignorant in that as you

In so entitling me; and no less honest       [rant

Than you are mad; which is enough, I’ll war-

As this world goes, to pass for honest.

(On 10/1/14 – Join me for the continuation of “The Winter’s Tale”,

ACT II. SCENE III. —The same. A Room in the Palace.

Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Taming of the Shrew


ACT II. SCENE II. —The same. The outer Room of a 


Enter PAULINA and Attendants.

Paul. The keeper of the prison,—call to him;

Let him have knowledge who I am.

[Exit an Attendant.

No court in Europe is too good for thee;

What dost thou, then, in prison?

Re-enter Attendant, with the Keeper.

Now, good sir.

You know me, do you not?

Keep.                                 For a worthy lady,

And one who much I honour.

Paul.                                      Pray you, then,

Conduct me to the queen.

Keep. I may not, madam: to the contrary

I have express commandment.

Paul.                                         Here’s ado,

To lock up honesty and honour from

The access of gentle visitors!—Is’t lawful,

Pray you, to see her women? any of them?


Keep. So please you, madam, to put

Apart these your attendants, I shall bring

Emilia forth.

Paul.           I pray now, call her.—

Withdraw yourselves.            [Exeunt Attend.

Keep.                          And, madam,

I must be present at your conference.

Paul. Well, be’t so, pr’ythee. [Exit Keeper.

Here’s such ado to make no stain in stain,

As passes colouring.

Re-enter Keeper, with EMILIA.

Dear gentlewoman, how fares our gracious lady?

Emil. As we as one so great and so forlorn

May hold together: on her frights and griefs,—

Which never tender lady hath borne greater,—

She is, something before her time, deliver’d.

Paul. A boy?

Emil.         A daughter; and a goodly babe,

Lusty, and like to live: the queen receives

Much comfort in’t; says, My poor prisoner,

I am innocent as you.

Paul.                           I date e sworn:—

These dangerous unsafe lunes i’ the king, be-

shrew them!

He must be told on’t, and he shall: the office

Becomes a woman best: I’ll take’t upon me:

If I prove honey-mouth’d, let my tongue glis-


And never to my red-look’d anger be

The trumpet any more.—Pray you, Emilia,

Commend my best obedience to the queen;

If she dares trust me with her little babe,

I’ll show’t the king, and undertake to be

Her advocate to the loud’st. We do not know

How he may soften at the sight o’ the child:

The silence often of pure innocence

Persuades, when speaking fails.

Eil.                                     Most worthy madam,

Your honour and your goodness is so evident,

That your free undertaking cannot miss

A thriving issue: there is no lady living

So meet for this great errand. Please your lady-


To visit the next room, I’ll presently

Acquaint the queen of your most noble offer.

Who but to-day hammer’d of this design,

But durst not tempt a minister of honour,

Lest she should be denied.

Paul.                                   Tell her, Emilia,

I’ll use that tongue I have: if wit flow from it,

As boldness from my bosom, let it not be


I shall do good.

Emil.                  Now be you bless’d for it!

I’ll to the queen: please you come something


Keep. Madam, if’t please the queen to send

the babe,

I know not what I shall incur to pass it?

Having no warrant.

Paul. Youl need not fear it, sir:

The child was prisoner to the womb, and is,

By law and process of great nature, thence

Freed and enfranchis’d, not a party to

The anger of the ing, nor guilty of,

If any be, the trespass of the queen.

Keep. I do believe it.

Paul. Do not you fear: upon mine honour, I

Will stand ‘twixt you and danger. [Exeunt.

(On 9/30/14 – Join me for the continuation of “The Winter’s Tale”,

ACT II. SCENE III. —The same. A Room in the Palace.

Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Taming of the Shrew


ACT II. SCENE I. —SICILIA. A Room in the Palace

Enter HERMIONE, MAMILLIUS, and Ladies.

Leon.                               Shall I be heard?

[To the Guards.

Her. Who is’t that goes with me?—Beseech

your highness,

My women may be with me; for you see,

My plight requires it.—Do not weep, good fools;

There is no cause: when you shall know your


Has deserv’d prison, then abound in tears

As I come out: this action I now go on

Is for my better grace.—Adieu, my lord:

I never wish’d to see you sorry; now    [leave.

I trust I shall.—My women, come; you have

Leon. Go, do our bidding; hence!

[Exeunt QUEEN and Ladies, with Guards.

Lord. Beseech your highness, call the

queen again.

Ant. Be certain what you do, sir, lest your

justice                                              [suffer,

Prove violence: in the which three great ones

Yourself, your queen, your son.

1 Lord.                                For her, my lord,—

I dare my life lay down, and will do’t, sir,

Please you to accept it, that the queen is spot-


I’ the eyes of heaven and to you; I mean

In this which you accuse her.

Ant.                                       If it prove

She’s otherwise, I’ll keep my stables where

I lodge my wife; I’ll go in couples with her;

Than when I feel and see her no further trust


For every inch of woman in the world,

Ay, every dram of woman’s flesh, is false,

If she be.

Leon. Hold your peaces.

Lord.                            Good my lord,—

Ant. It is for you we speak, not for ourselves:

You are abus’d and by some putter-on,

That will be damn’d for’t: would I knew the

villain,                                         [flaw’d—

I would land-damn him. Be she honour-

I have three daughters; the eldest is eleven;

The second and the third, nine and some five;

If this prove true, they’ll pay for’t: by mine


I’ll geld ‘em all: fourteen they shall not see,

To bring false generations: they are co-heirs;

And I had rather glib myself than they

Should not produce fair issue.

Leon.                                      Cease; no more.

You smell this business with a sense as cold

As if a dead man’s nose: but I do see’t and feel’t,

As you feel doing thus; and see withal

The instruments that feel.

Ant.                                  If it be so,

We need no grave to bury honesty;

There’s not a grain of it the face to sweeten

OF the whole dungy earth.

Leon.                                 What! lack I credit?

1 Lord. I had rather you did lack than I, my

lord,                                                       [me

Upon this ground: and more it would content

To have her honour true than your suspicion;

Be blam’d for’t how you might.

Leon.                                 Why, what need we

Commune with you of this, but rather follow

Our forceful instigation? Our prerogative

Calls not your counsels, but our natural good-


Imparts this: which, if you,—or stupefied

Or seeming so in skill,—cannot or will not

Relish a truth, like us, inform yourselves

We need no more of your advice: the matter,

The loss, the gain, the ordering on’t, is all

Properly ours.

Ant.                And I wish, my liege,

You had only in your silent judgment tried it,

Without more overture.

Leon.                            How could that be?

Either thou art most ignorant by age,

Or thou wert born a fool. Camillo’s flight,

Added to their familiarity,—

Which was a gross as ever touch’d conjecture,

That lack’d sight only, naught for approbation,

But only seeing, all other circumstances

Made up to the deed,—doth push on this pro-


Yet, for a greater confirmation,—

For, in an act of this importance, ’twere

Most piteous to be wild,000I have despatch’d in


To sacred Delphos, to Apollo’s temple,

Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know

Of stuff’d sufficiency: now, from the oracle

They will bring all; whose spiritual counsel had,

Shall stop or spur me. Have I done well?

1 Lord. Well done, my lord.

Leon. Though I am satisfied, and need no more

Than what I know, yet shall the oracle

Give rest to the minds of others such as he

Whose ignorant credulity will not              [good

Come up to the truth: so have we thought it

From our free person she should be confin’d;

Lest that the treachery of the two fled hence

Be left her to perform. Come, follow us;

We are to speak in public; for this business

Will raise us all.

Ant. [Aside.] To laughter, as I take it,

If the good truth were known         [Exeunt.

(On 9/28/14 – Join me for the continuation of “The Winter’s Tale”,

ACT II. SCENE II. —The same. The outer Room of a 


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Taming of the Shrew


ACT II. SCENE I. —SICILIA. A Room in the Palace

Enter HERMIONE, MAMILLIUS, and Ladies.

Leon.                   I know’t too well.—

Give me the boy:—I am glad you did not

nurse him:

Though he does bear some signs of me, yet you

Have too much blood in him.

Her.                                   What is this? sport?

Leon. Bear the boy hence; he shall not come

about her;

Away with him!—and let her sport herself

[Exit MAMILLIUS, with some of the Guards.

With that she’s big with;—for ’tis Polixenes

Hath made thee swell thus.

Her.                             But I’d say he had not,

And I’ll be sworn you would believe my saying,

Howe’er you learn the nayward.

Leon.                                         You, my lords,

Look on her, mark her well; be but about

To say, she is a goodly lady, and

The justice of your hearts will thereto add,

‘Tis pity she’s not honest, honourable:

Praise her but for this her without-door form,—

Which, on m faith, deserves high speech,—

and straight

The shrug, the hum, or ha,—these pretty brands,

That calumny doth use:—O, I am out,

That mercy does; for calumny will sear

Virtue itself:—these shrugs, these hums, and ha’s,

When you have said she’s goodly come between,

Ere you can say she’s honest: but be it known,

From him that has most cause to grieve it

should be,

She’s an adultress!

Her.                        Should a villain say so,

The most replenish’d villain in the world,

He were as much more villain: you, my lord,

Do but mistake.

Leon.                 You have mistook, my lady,

Polixenes for Leontes: O thou thing,

Which I’ll not call a creature of thy place,

Lest barbarism, making me the precedent,

Should a like language use to all degrees,

And mannerly distinguishment leave out

Betwixt the prince and beggar!—I have said,

She’s an adultress; I have said with whom:

More, she’s a traitor; and Camillo is

A federary with her; and one that knows

What she should shame to know herself

But with her most vile principal, that she’s

A bed-swerver, even as bad as those

That vulgars give boldest titles; ay, and privy

To this their late escape.

Her.                                 No, by my life,

Privy to none of this. How will this grieve you,

When you shall come to clearer knowledge, that

You thus have publish’d me! Gentle, my lord

You scarce can right me throughly then, to say

You did mistake.

Leon.                  No; if I mistake

In those foundations which I build upon,

The centre is not big enough to bear

A school-boy’s top—Away with her to


He who shall speak for her is afar off guilty

But that he speaks.

Her.                  There’s some ill planet reigns:

I must be patient till the heavens look

With an aspect more favourable.—Good my


I am not prone to weeping, as our sex

Commonly are; the want of which vain dew

Perchance shall dry your pities; but I have

That honourable grief lodg’d here, which burns

Worse than tears drown: beseech you all, my


With thoughts so qualified as your charities

Shall best instruct you, measure me;—and so

The king’s will be perform’d!

(On 9/28/14 – Join me for the continuation of “The Winter’s Tale”,

ACT II. SCENE I. —SICILIA. A Room in the Palace.

Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Taming of the Shrew


ACT II. SCENE I. —SICILIA. A Room in the Palace

Enter HERMIONE, MAMILLIUS, and Ladies.

Her. Take the boy to you: he so troubles me,

‘Tis past enduring.

Lady.                 Come, my gracious lord,

Shall I be your playfellow?

Mam.                               No, I’ll none of you.

Lady. Why, my sweet lord?

Mam. You’ll kiss me hard, and speak to me

as if

I were a baby still.—I love you better.

2 Lady. And why so, my lord?

Mam.                                  ot for because

Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they


Become some women best; so that there be not

Too much hair there, but in a semicircle,

Or a half-moon made with a pen.

2 Lady. I learn’d it out of women’s faces.—

Pray now,

What colour are you eyebrows?

Lady.                                      Blue, my lord.

Mam. Nay, that’s a mock: I have seen a

lady’s nose

That has been blue, but not her eyebrows.

Lady.                                                Hark ye;

The queen your mother rounds apace: we shall

Present our services to a fine new prince

One of these days; and then you’d wanton

with us,

If we would have you.

Lady.                       She is spread of late

Into a goodly bulk: good time encounter her!

Her.  What wisdom stirs amongst you?

Come, sir now

I am for you again: pray you, sit by us,

And tell’s a tale.

Mam.                  Merry or sad shall’t be?

Her. As merry as you will.

Mam.                 A sad tale’s best for winter:

I have one of sprites and goblins.

Her. Let’s have that, good sir.

Come on, sit down:—come on, and do your best

To fright me with your sprites: you’re powerful

at it.

Mam.    There was a man,—

Her.                 NAy, come, sit down: then on.

Mam. Dwelt by a churchyard:—I will tell it softly;

Yond crickets shall not hear it.

Her.                                          Come on, then,

And give’t me in mine ear.

Enter LEONTES, ANTIGONUS, Lords and Guards.

Leon. Was he met there? his train? Camillo

with him?                                             [never

Lord. Behind the tuft of pines I met them;

Saw I men scour so on their way: I ey’d them

Even to their ships.

Leon.                      How bless’d am I

In my just censure, in my true opinion!—

Alack, for lesser knowledge!—how accurs’d,

In being so blest!—There may be in the cup

A spider steep’d, and one may drink, depart,

And yet partake no venom; for his knowledge

Is not infected: but if one present

The abhorr’d ingredient to his eye, make

known                                              [sides

How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his

With violent hefts:—I have drunk, and seen

the spider.

Camillo was his help in this, his pander:—

There is a plot against my life, my crown:

All’s true that is mistrusted:—That false villain,

Whom I employ’d, was pre-employ’d by him:

He has discover’d my design, and I

Remain a pinch’d thing; yea, a very trick

For them to play at will.—How came the


So easily open?

Lord.            By his great authority;

Which often hath no less prevail’d than so,

On your command.

(On 9/27/14 – Join me for the continuation of “The Winter’s Tale”,

ACT II. SCENE I. —SICILIA. A Room in the Palace.

Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Taming of the Shrew


SCENE,—Sometimes in SICILIA; sometimes in BOHEMIA.


SCENE II.—The same. A Room of State in

the Palace.


Pol.                           This is strange! methinks

My favour here begins to warp. Not speak?—.

Good-day, Camillo.

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 counten-


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 the contrary, and falling

A lip of much contemp, speeds from me; and

So leaves me, to consider what is breeding

That changes thus his manners.

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,

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


A party in this alteration, finding

Myself thus alter’d with it.

Cam.                               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.

Pol.                                How! caught of me!

Make me not sighted like the basilisk:

I have loo’d on thousands, who have sped the


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


Thereof to be inform’d, imprison’t not

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


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.

Cam.                                Sir, I will tell you;

Since I am charg’d in honour, and by him

That I think honourable: therefore mark my


Which must be even as swiftly follow’d as

I mean to utter it, or both yourself and me

Cry lost, and so good-night!

Pol.                                      On, good Camillo,

Cam. I am appointed him to murder you.

Pol. By whom, Camillo?

Cam.                             By the king.

Pol.                                             For what?

Cam. He thinks, nay, with all confidence he


As he had seen’t or been an instrument

To vice you to’t, that you have touch’d his queen


Pol.               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!

Cam.                             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.

Pol.                                How should this grow?

Cam. I know not: but I am sure ’tis safer to

Avoid what’s grown than question how ’tis


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 pos-


Clearm them o’ the 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 utter’d truth: which if you seek to prove,

I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer

Than one condemn’d y the king’s own mouth,


His execution sworn.

Pol.                           I do believe thee;

I saw his heart in his face. Give me thy hand;

Be pilot to me, and thy places shall

Still neighbor 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 bitter. Fear o’ershades


Good expedition be my friend, and comfort

The gracious queen, part of his theme, but no-


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.

Cam. It is in mine authority to command

The keys of all the posterns: please you high-


To take the urgent hour: come, sir, away.


(On 9/26/14 – Join me for the continuation of “The Winter’s Tale”,

ACT II. SCENE I. —SICILIA. A Room in the Palace.

Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Taming of the Shrew


SCENE,—Sometimes in SICILIA; sometimes in BOHEMIA.


SCENE II.—The same. A Room of State in

the Palace.

Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career

Of laughter with a sigh?—a note infallible

Of breaking honesty;—horsing food 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


That would unseen be wicked?—is this nothing?

Why, then the world and all that’s in’t is no-


The converting sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing;

My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these no-


If this be nothing.

Cam.                   Good my lord, be cur’d

Of this diseas’d opinion, and bedtimes;

For ’tis most dangerous.

Leon.                               Say it be, ’tis true.

Cam. No, no, my lord!

Leon.                           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.

Cam.                             Who does infect her?

Leon. Why, he that wears her ie her medal,


Abou 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


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                                     [heaven,

Plainly, as heaven sees earth, and earth sees

How I am galled,—mightst bespice a cup,

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,

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,—

Leon. 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?

Cam.                            I must believe you, sir:

I do; and will fetch off Bohemia for’t;          [ness

Provided that, when he’s remov’d, your high-

Will take again your queen as yours at first,

Even for your son’s sake; and thereby for seal-


The injury of tongues in courts and kingdoms

Known and allied to yours.

Leon.                               Thou dost advise me

Even so as I mine own course have set down:

I’ll give no blemish to her honour, none.

Cam. 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.

Leon.                                       This is all:

Do’t and thou hast the one-half of my heart;

Do’t not, thou splitt’st thine own.

Cam.                                  I’ll do’t my lord.

Leon. I will seem friendly, as thou hast

advis’d me.                                   [Exit.

Cam. 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


Let villany 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.

(On 9/25/14 – Join me for the continuation of “The Winter’s Tale”,

ACT I. SCENE II. (cont’d)—The same. A Room of State in the Palace.