Were there necessity in your request, although
'Twere needful I denied it. My affairs

Do even drag me homeward: which to hinder,
Were, in your love, a whip to me; my stay,
To you a charge, and trouble: to save both,
Farewell, our brother.

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,

Charge him too coldly: Tell him, you are sure,
All in Bohemia's well: this satisfaction

The by-gone day proclaim'd; say this to him,
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 say so, and he shall not stay, We'll thwack him hence with distaffs.

Yet of your royal presence [To POLIXENES.] I'll adventure

The borrow of a week. When at Bohemia
You take my lord, I'll give him my commission,
To let him there a month, behind the gest 5
Prefix'd for his parting: yet, good deed, Leontes,
I love thee not a jar o' the clock behind
What lady she her lord. You'll stay?

Pol.

No, madam.

You put me off with limber vows: But I,

Though you would seek to unsphere the stars with

oaths,

5 Gests were the names of the stages where the King appointed to lie, during a royal progress.

• Indeed.

Should yet say, Sir, no going. Verily,
You shall not go; a lady's verily is
As potent as a lord's. Will you go yet?
Force me to keep you as a prisoner,

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.

Pol.

Your guest then, madam:

To be your prisoner, should import offending;
Which is for me less easy to commit,

Than you to punish.

Her.

But your kind hostess. Of my lord's tricks, boys:

Not your gaoler then,
Come, I'll question you

and yours, when you were

You were pretty lordings' then.

Pol. We were, 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,
Was innocence for innocence; we knew not
The doctrine of ill-doing, no, nor dream'd
That any did: Had we pursued that life,
And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd
With stronger blood, we should have answer'd heaven
Boldly, Not guilty; the imposition clear'd,
Hereditary ours.

Her.
By this we gather,
You have tripp'd since.

7 A diminutive of lords.
8 Setting aside original sin.

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,
Your queen and I are devils: Yet, go on;
The offences we have made you do, we'll answer;
If you first sinn'd with us, and that with us

You did continue fault, and that you slipp'd not
With any but with us.

Leon.

Is he won yet?

Her. He'll stay, my lord.

Leon.

At my request, he would not.

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.
Our praises are our wages: You may ride us,
With one soft kiss, a thousand furlongs, ere
With spur we heat an acre. But to the goal ;-
My last good deed was, to entreat his stay;
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 have'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.

Leon.

[Giving her hand to POLIXENES.
Too hot, too hot: [Aside.

To mingle friendship far, is mingling bloods.
I have tremor cordis on me:
9

- 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 as now they are making practis'd smiles, As in a looking-glass; and then to sigh, as

'twere

The mort o' the deer'; O, that is entertainment
My bosom likes not, nor my brows.

Art thou my boy?

Mam.

Leon.

Mamillius,

2

Why that's my bawcock. What, hast smutch'd thy

nose?

They say, it's a copy out of mine. Come, captain,
We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, captain:
And yet the steer, the heifer, and the calf,
Are all call'd, neat. Still virginalling 3

[Observing POLIXENES and HERMIONE. Upon his palm?-How now, you wanton calf? Art thou my calf?

Mam.

Yes, if you will, my lord.

9 Trembling of the heart.

The tune played at the death of the deer.

2 Hearty fellow.

3 i. e. Playing with her fingers as if on a spinnet.

Leon. Thou want'st a rough pash, and the shoots that I have 4,

To be full like me:- yet, they say, we are
Almost as like as eggs; women say so,
That will say any thing: But were they false
As o'er-died blacks, as wind, as waters; false
As dice are to be wish'd, by one that fixes
No bourn 'twixt his and mine; yet were it true
To say this boy were like me. Come, sir page,
Look on me with your welkin' eye: Sweet villain!
Most dear'st! my collop!- Can thy dam?-may't
be?

Affection! thy intention stabs the center:
Thou dost make possible, things not so held,
Communicat'st with dreams; (How can this
be?) -

With what's unreal thou co-active art,

And fellow'st nothing: Then, 'tis very credent",
Thou may'st co-join with something; and thou dost ;
(And that beyond commission; and I find it,)
And that to the infection of my brains,

And hardening of my brows.

Pol.

What means Sicilia ?

How, my lord?

Her. He something seems unsettled.
Pol.

What cheer? how is't with you, best brother?
Her.

You look,

As if you held a brow of much distraction:
Are you mov'd, my lord?

Leon.
No, in good earnest.
How sometimes nature will betray its folly,
Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime
To harder bosoms! Looking on the lines
Of my boy's face, methoughts, I did recoil
Twenty-three years; and saw myself unbreech'd,
In my green velvet coat; my dagger muzzled,

4 Thou wantest a rough head, and the budding horns that I have. 6 Credible.

s Blue, like the sky.