crutches, ere he was born, defire yet their life to fee him a man. Arch. Would they elfe be content to die! Cam. Yes, if there were no other excufe why they fhould defire to live. Arch. If the King had no fon, they would defire to live on crutches 'till he had one. SCENE opens to the Prefence. Enter Leontes, Hermione, Mamillius, Polixenes, and Attendants. Pol. Nine changes of the watry star hath been Would be fill'd up, my brother, with our thanks Go hence in debt: and therefore, like a cypher, With one, we thank you, many thousands more Leo. Stay your thanks awhile; Pol, Sir, that's to-morrow: I'm queftion'd by my fears, of what may chance, Leo. We are tougher, brother, Than you can put us to't. Pol. No longer ftay. Leo. One fev'n-night longer. Pol. Very footh, to-morrow. Leo. We'll part the time between's then: and in that, I'll no gain-faying. Pol. Prefs me not, 'befeech you, fo; There is no tongue that moves, none, none i'th' world, 'Twere "Twere needful I deny'd it. My affairs Lea. Tongue-ty'd, our Queen? fpeak you. Her. I had thought, Sir, to've held my peace, untik The by-gone day proclaim'd; fay this to him, Leo. Well faid, Hermione. Her. To tell, he longs to fee his fon, were ftrong, But let him fay fo then, and let him go; But let him fwear fo, and he fhall not stay; Yet of your royal prefence I'll adventure [To Polixenes. What Lady the her Lord. Pal. No, madam. Her. Nay, but you will. Pol. I may not, verily. You'll stay? You put me off with limber vows; but I, Tho' you would feek t'unfphere the flars with oaths, (2) -bebind the geft Preferib'd for's parting:] I have not ventur'd to alter the text, tho', I feely own, I can neither trace, nor understand, the phrase. I have suspected, that the peet wrote; -bebind the just Preferib'd for's parting. i.e. the juft, precife, time; the inftant; (where time is likewife underflood) by an Ellipfis practis'd in all us to fay, I'll do fuch a thing juft now. French use their adverb justement (eo ipfo 1.omme. tongues. It is familiar with And in the fame manner the tempore) precisement, a point Should Should yet fay," Sir, no going: verily, Not like a gueft? fo you fhall pay your fees, When you depart, and fave your thanks. How fay you? Pol. Your gueft then, madam : To be your prifoner, fhould import offending; Than you to punish. Her. Not your goaler then, But your kind hoftefs; come, I'll question you Pol. We were, fair Queen, Two lads, that thought there was no more behind, And to be boy eternal. Her. Was not my Lord The verier wag o'th' two? Pol. We were as twinn'd lambs, that did frifk i'th' fun, And bleat the one at th' other: what we chang'd, Was innocence for innocence; we knew not Her. By this we gather, You have tript fince. Pol. O my moft facred Lady, Temptations have fince then been born to's: for (3) th' impofition clear'd, Hereditary ours. i. e. fetting afide original fin: bating that im pofition from the offence of our firft parents, we might have boldly protefted our innocence to heaven, against any guilt committed y Qurfelves. In thofe unfledg'd days was my wife a girl; Her. 'Grace to boot! Of this make no conclufion, left you say, Leo. Is he won yet? Her. He'll stay, my Lord. Leo. At my requeft he would not: Hermione, my deareft, thou ne'er spok'st To better purpose. Her. Never? Leo. Never, but once. Her. What? have I twice faid well ? when was't before? I pr'ythee, tell me; cram's with praife, and make's As fat as tame things: one good deed, dying tongueless, Slaughters a thoufand, waiting upon that. Our praises are our wages. You may ride's With one foft kifs a thousand furlongs, ere With fpur we heat an acre. But to th' gaol : My laft good deed was to intreat his ftay; Or 1 mistake you; O, would her name were Grace! Nay, let me hav't; I long. Leo. Why, that was when Three crabbed months had fower'd themselves to death, Ere I could make thee open thy white hand, And clepe thyfelf my love; then didst thou utter, "I am yours forever." Her. 'Tis grace, indeed. Why, lo you now; I've fpoke to th' purpose twice; Th' other, for fome while a friend. Leo. Too hot, too hot To mingle friendship far, is mingling bloods. [Afide I have tremor cordis on me-my heart dances ; From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bofom, Mam. Ay, my good Lord. Leon. I' fecks! Why, that's my bawcock; what? haft fmutch'd thy nofe? Are all call'd neat. Upon his palm Art thou my calf? Still virginalling [Obferving Polixenes and Hermione. how now, you wanton calf! Mam. Yes, if you will, my Lord. Leo. Thou want'ft a rough pafh, and the shoots that I To be full like me. Yet they fay, we are Almost as like as eggs; women fay fo, [have, That will fay any thing;- but were they false, And fellow't nothing. Then 'tis very credent, (4) The mort o' th' deer.] To blow a mort, is a hunting phrafe, ignifying, to found a particular air, call'd a mort, to give notice that the deer, which was hunted, is run down, and killing, or kill'd. L 6 Thou |