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 advised 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'ld not do't; but since Nor brass nor stone nor parchment bears not one, 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.
Re-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' the court? CAMILLO
None rare, my lord. POLIXENES
The king hath on him such a countenance As he had lost some province and a region Loved 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 contempt, speeds from me and So leaves me to consider what is breeding That changeth
thus his manners. CAMILLO
I dare not know, my lord.
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