Read it through once

HERMIONE. More than mistress of Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not At all acknowledge. For Polixenes, With whom I am accus’d, I do confess I lov’d him as in honour he requir’d, With such a kind of love as might become A lady like me; with a love even such, So and no other, as yourself commanded: Which not to have done, I think had been in me Both disobedience and ingratitude To you and toward your friend, whose love had spoke, Ever since it could speak, from an infant, freely, That it was yours. Now, for conspiracy, I know not how it tastes, though it be dish’d For me to try how: all I know of it Is that Camillo was an honest man; And why he left your court, the gods themselves, Wotting no more than I, are ignorant.