_Leon._ Satisfy! The entreaties of your mistress! satisfy! Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo, 235 With all the nearest things to my heart, as well My chamber-councils; wherein, priest-like, thou Hast cleansed my bosom, I from thee departed Thy penitent reform'd: but we have been Deceived in thy integrity, deceived 240 In that which seems so. _Cam._ Be it forbid, my lord! _Leon._ To bide upon't, thou art not honest; or, If thou inclinest that way, thou art a coward, Which hoxes honesty behind, restraining From course required; or else thou must be counted 245 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 takest it all for jest. _Cam._ My gracious lord, I may be negligent, foolish and fearful; 250 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 wilful-negligent, 255 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 260 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 265 By its own visage: if I then deny it, 'Tis none of mine. _Leon._ 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 270 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 275 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. _Cam._ I would not be a stander-by to hear My sovereign mistress clouded so, without 280 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.