Puslapio vaizdai

To tire your Royalty.
Leo. We are tougher, brother,
Than you can put us to't.
Pol. No longer stay.
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!

There is no tongue that moves, none, none i'th'world
So foon as yours, could win me: so it should now
Were there neceffity in your request, altho'
'Twere needful I deny'd 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 fave both,
Farewel, our brother!

Leo. Tongue-ty'd our Queen? speak you.

Her. I had thought, Sir, to have held my peace, until You had drawn oaths from him not to ftay: you, Sir, Charge him too coldly.. Tell him you are fure All in Bitbynia's well this fatisfaction

The by-gone day proclaim'd; fay this to him,
He's beat from his beft ward,

Leo. Well faid, Hermione.

Her. To tell, he longs to fee his fon, were Arong; But let him fay fo then, and let him go

But let him fwear fo, and he fhall not stay,

We'll thwack him hence with diftaffs.

Yet of your royal prefence I'll adventure [To Polixenes, The borrow of a week. When at Bithynia

You take my Lord, I'll give you my commiffion
To let him there a month, behind the gefte
Prefix'd for's parting: yet, good heed, Leontes;
I love thee not a jar o' th' clock behind
What Lady'the her Lord, You'll ftay ?


Pol. No, Madam.

Her. Nay, but you
Pol. I may not verily.
Her, Verily?




You put me off with limber vows; but I,
Tho' you would feek t'unfphere the ftars with paths,
Should yet fay, Sir, no going: verily
You fhall not go ja Lady's verily is
As potent as a Lord's. Will you go yet?
Force me to keep you as a prifoner,
Not like a guest fo you fhall pay your fees
When you depart, and fave your thanks. How fay you 2a
My prifoner or my guest? by your dread verily,
One of them you fhall be.

Pol. Your gueft then, Madam :

To be your prifoner, should import offending
Which is for me lefs eafie to commit,
Than you to punish.

Her. Not your goaler then,

But your kind hoftefs; come, I'll question you
Of my Lord's tricks and yours, when you were boys.
You were pretty Lordings then ?

Pol. We were, fair Queen,

Two lads, that thought there was no more behind,
But fuch a day to-morrow as to-day,

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 frisk i'th' fun. And bleat the one at th'other : what we chang'di Was innocence for innocence; we knew not The doctrine of ill-doing, no nor dream'a That any did had we purfu'd that life, And our weak fpirits ne'er been higher rear'd With ftronger blood, we fhould have answer'd heaven Boldly, not guilty; th' impofition clear'd Hereditary ours.

Her. By this we gather You have tript fince.

Pol. O my moft facred Lady,

Temptations have fince then been born to's ; for
In those unfledg'd days was my wife a girl;
Your precious felf had then not cross'd the eyes
Of my young play-fellow.

Her Oh! Grace to boot!


Of this make no conclufion, left you fay
Your Queen and I are devils. Yet go on,
Th'offences we have made you do, we'll anfwer,
If you first finn'd with us, and that with us
You did continue fault; and that you flipt not
With any but with us...
Leo. Is he won yet?

Her. He'll ftay, my Lord.
Leo. At my requeft he would not:
Hermione, my dearest, thou ne'er fpok'ft
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 praise, and make's As fat as tame things: one good deed, dying tongueless, Slaughters a thousand, 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❜goal: My laft good deed was to intreat his ftay? What was my firft ? it has an elder fifter, Or I mistake you: O, would her name were Grace! But once before I fpake to th' purpose ? when? Nay, let me have't; I long.

Leo. Why, that was when

Three crabbed months had fowr'd themfelves to death,
Ere I could make thee open thy white hand,

And clepe thy felf my love; then didst thou utter,
I am yours for ever.

Her. This is grace indeed.

Why, lo you now; I've spoke to th' purpose twice ;
The one for ever earn'd a royal husband;
The other, for fome while a friend.

Leo. Too hot

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's fertile bofom;
B 3



And well become the Agent: 't may, I grant ;
But to be padling palms, and pinching fingers,
As now they are, and making practis'd fmiles
As in a looking-glafs-and then to figh, as 'twere
The mort o'th deer; oh, that is entertainment
My bofom likes not, nor my brows Mamillus,,
Art thou my boy?

Mam. Ay, my good Lord,

Lea. I'fecks!

Why, that's my bawcock; what has 't fmutch'd thy nofe A
They fay it is a copy out of mine. Come, captain,
We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, captain;

[Wipes the boy's face.

And yet the fteer, the heifer, and the calf,
Are all call'd neat. Still virginalling

[Obferving Polixenes and Hermione Upon his palm-how, now, you wanton calf! Art thou my calf?

Mam. Yes, if you will, my Lord.

Leo, Thou want'ft a rough path, and the shoots that have,

To be full like me. Yet they fay we are
Almoft as like as eggs; women fay fo,
That will fay any thing; but were they falfe,
As o'er-dy'd blacks, as winds, as waters; falfe
As dice are to be wifh'd, by one that fixes
No borne 'twixt his and mine; yet were it true,
To fay this boy is like me. Come, Sir page,
Look on me with your welking eye, fweet villain.
Moft dear'ft, my collop-can thy dam. may't be
Imagination! thou doft ftab to th' center.
Thou doft make poffible, things not to be fo held,
Communicat'ft with dreams, (how can this be?)
With what's unreal, thou coactive art!


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And fellow'ft nothings. Then 'tis 'very credent
Thou may'ft co-join with fomething, and thou doft,
And that beyond commiffion; and I find it,

* A leffon upon the horn at the death of the deer.

t A black dje being ufed in too great quantity doth not only make the cloth to rot upon which it is pus, but the colgar it felf to fade and grow fully much the footer.


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And that to the infection of my brains,
And hardning of my brows.

Pol. What means Sicilia ?
Her. He fomething feems unfettled.
Pol, How my Lord ?
What cheer? how is it with you, my beft brother
Her. You feem to hold a brow of much diftraction.
Are you not mov'd, my Lord ?

Lev. No, in good carneft,

How fometimes nature will betray its folly!
Its tenderness and make it felf a paftime
To harder bofoms! Looking on the lines
Of my boy's face, methoughts did recoil
Twenty three years, and faw my felf unbreech'd,
In my green velvet coat; my dagger muzzled,
Left it fhould bite its mafter, and fo prove,
As ornaments oft do, too dangerous ;.
How like, methought, I then was to this kernel,
This fquash, this gentleman! Mine honest friend,
Will you take eggs for mony?

Pol. If at home, Six,

He's all my exercife, my mirth, my matter;
Now my fworn friend, and then mine enemy
My parafite, my foldier, ftates-man, all;
He makes a July's day fhort as December,
And with his varying childifhnefs, cures in me
Thoughts that fhould thick my blood.

Leo. So ftands this Squire

Mam. No, I'll fight.


Lea. You will! why, happy man be's dole ! My brother, you fo fond of your young Prince, as we Do feem to be of ours?

Offic'd with me: we two will walk, my Lord,
And leave you to your graver Reps. Hermione,
How thou lov't us, fhew in our brother's welcome
Let what is dear in Sicily be cheap :

Next to thy felf, and my young rover,
Apparent to my heart.

Her. If you would feck us,

We are yours i' th' garden: hall's attend you there ?



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