Go hence in debt: And therefore, like a cipher, With one we-thank-we, many thousands more Leon. Stay your thanks awhile; And pay them when you part. Sir, that's to-morrow. Pol. I am question'd by my fears, of what may chance, Or breed upon our absence: That may blow No sneaping winds at home, to make us say, This is put forth too truly! Besides, I have stay'd To tire your royalty. Leon. We are tougher, brother, Than you can put us to❜t. Leon. One seven-night longer. Pol. No longer stay. Very sooth, to-morrow. Leon. We'll part the time between's then: and in that I'll no gain-saying. Pol. Press me not, 'beseech you, so; There is no tongue that moves, none, none i'the world, So soon as yours, could win me: so it should now, Do even drag me homeward; which to hinder, Leon. Tongue-tied, our queen? speak you. Her. I had thought, sir, to have held my peace, until You had drawn oaths from him, not to stay. You, sir, Charge him too coldly: Tell him, you are sure, The by-gone day proclaim'd; say this to him, * Nipping. He's beat from his best ward. Leon. Well said, Hermione. Her. To tell, he longs to see his son, were strong: But let him say so then, and let him go; But let him swear so, and he shall not stay, Yet of your royal presence [To Polixenes] I'll ad venture The borrow of a week. When at Bohemia Pol. Her. Nay, but you will? Pol. Her. Verily! No, madam. I may not, verily. You put me off with limber § vows: But I, Though you would seek to unsphere the stars with oaths, Should yet say, Sir, no going. Verily, You shall not go; a lady's verily is Not like a guest; so you shall pay your fees, When you depart, and save your thanks. How say you? My prisoner? or my guest? by your dread verily, One of them you shall be. Your guest then, madam: Pol. Than you to punish. Her. Not your gaoler then, But your kind hostess. Come, I'll question you, Of my lord's tricks, and yours, when you were boys; * Gests were the names of the stages where the king appointed to lie, during a royal progress. + Indeed. Tick. § Flimsy. You were pretty lordlings then.. We were, Pol. fair queen, Two lads, that thought there was no more behind, But such a day to-morrow as to-day, And to be boy eternal. Her. Was not my lord the verier wag o'the two? Pol. We were as twinn'd lambs, that did frisk i'the sun, And bleat the one at the other: what we chang'd, Boldly, Not guilty; the imposition clear'd, Hereditary ours †. Her. By this we gather, You have tripp'd since. Pol. O my most sacred lady, Temptations have since then been born to us: for In those unfledg'd days was my wife a girl; Your precious self had then not cross'd the eyes Of my young play-fellow. Her. Grace to boot! Of this make no conclusion; lest you say, Leon. Is he won yet? Her. He'll stay, my lord. At my request, he would not. Hermione, my dearest, thou never spok'st To better purpose. Her. Never? Leon. Never, but once. * A diminutive of lords. Setting aside original sin. Her. What? have I twice said well? when was't before? I pr'ythee, tell me : Cram us with praise, and make us As fat as tame things: One good deed, dying tongue less, Slaughters a thousand, waiting upon that. What was my first? it has an elder sister, Or I mistake you: O, would her name were Grace! But once before I spoke to the purpose. When? Nay, let me hav't; I long. Leon. Why, that was when Three crabbed months had sour'd themselves to death, Ere I could make thee open thy white hand, And clap thyself my love; then didst thou utter, I am yours for ever. Her. It is Grace, indeed. Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose twice: The one for ever earn'd a royal husband; The other, for some while a friend. [Giving her hand to Polixenes. Too hot, too hot: [Aside. Leon. To mingle friendship far, is mingling bloods. I have tremor cordis* on me : my heart dances; But not for joy,—not joy.—This entertainment May a free face put on; derive a liberty From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosom, And well become the agent: it may, I grant: But to be paddling palms, and pinching fingers, As now they are; and making practis'd smiles, As in a looking-glass ;-and then to sigh, as 'twere The mort o'the deer†; O, that is entertainment * Trembling of the heart. + The tune played at the death of the deer. My bosom likes not, nor my brows.-Mamillius, Art thou my boy? Mam. Leon. Ay, my good lord. I'fecks? Why that's my bawcock*. What, hast smutch'd thy nose? They say, it's a copy out of mine. Come, captain, [Observing Polixenes and Hermione. Upon his palm?-How now, you wanton calf? Mam. Yes, if you will, my lord. Leon. Thou want'st a rough pash, and the shoots that I have 1, To be full like me :-yet, they say, we are And fellow'st nothing :-Then, 'tis very credent T, And hardening of my brows. Pol. What means Sicilia? Her. He something seems unsettled. * Hearty fellow. ti. e. Playing with her fingers as if on a spinnet. Thou wantest a rough head, and the budding horns that I have. § Boundary. || Blue. ¶ Credible. |