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 follow’d 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?