- Can thy dam?-may't be Affection thy intention stabs the centre? And fellow'st nothing? Then 't is very credent, Thou mayst co-join with something; &c.] "Affection" here means imagination; "intention" signifies intencion or intensity: and the allusion, though the commentators have all missed it, is plainly to that mysterious principle of nature by which a parent's features are transmitted to the offspring. Pursuing the train of thought induced by the acknowledged likeness between the boy and himself, Leontes asks, "Can it be possible a mother's vehement imagination should penetrate even to the womb, and there imprint upon the embryo what stamp she chooses? Such apprehensive fantasy, then," he goes on to say, "we may believe will readily co-join with something tangible, and it does," &c. &c. And that beyond commission:] "Commission" here, as in a former passage of the scene, "I'll give him my commission," means warrant, permission, authority. HER. You look as if you held a brow of much Are distraction: you mov'd, my lord ? (2) LEON. No, in good earnest.— [Aside.] How sometimes nature will betray its folly, Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime What cheer? how is 't with you, best brother?] "In the folio, the words What cheer? how is 't with you, best brother?' have the prefix 'Leo.; Hanmer assigned them to Polixenes. Mr. Collier and Mr. Knight restore them-very injudiciously, I think-to Leontes. (I suspect that the true reading here is, 'POL. Ho, my lord! What cheer? how is 't with you?' &c.for Leontes is standing apart from Polixenes and Hermione; and 'how,' as I have already noticed, was frequently the old spelling of 'ho."")-DYCE. d-methought I did recoil-] Mr. Collier, upon the strength of a MS. annotation in Lord Ellesmere's copy of the first folio, prints "my thoughts I did recoil;" but "methoughts" of the original was often used for "methought." So, in the folio text of "Richard III." Act I. Sc. 4, "Me thoughts that I had broken from the tower," &c. And in the same scene, "Me thoughts I saw a thousand fearfull wrackes," &c Lest it should bite its master, and so prove, How like, methought, I then was to this kernel, This squash, this gentleman:-Mine honest friend, money ?b Will you take eggs for LEON. You will? why, happy man be 's dole! My brother, Are you so fond of your young prince, as we POL. HER. If you would seek us, We are yours i' the garden: shall's attend you there? LEON. To your own bents dispose you: you'll be found, Be you beneath the sky.-[Aside.] I am angling now, Though you perceive me not how I give line. [Observing POLIXENES and HERMIONE. How she holds up the neb, the bill to him! And arms her with the boldness of a wife To her allowing husband! Gone already !— [Exeunt POLIXENES, HERMIONE, and Attendants. Inch-thick, knee-deep, o'er head and ears a fork'd one. Go play, boy, play;-thy mother plays, and I Play too; but so disgrac'd a part, whose issue Will hiss me to my grave; contempt and clamour Will be my knell.-Go play, boy, play.-There have been, a This squash,-] A" squash" is an immature pea-pod. The word occurs again in "Twelfth Night," Act I. Sc. 5, "As a squash before it is a peascod," and in "A Midsummer Night's Dream," Act III. Sc. 1. b Will you take eggs for money?] This was a proverbial phrase, implying, Will you suffer yourself to be cajoled? Apparent to my heart.] Nearest to my affections. d To her allowing husband!] That is, probably, her allowed, her lawful husband. ea fork'd one.] A horned one. So, in "Othello," Act III. Sc. 3, "Even then this forked plague is fated to us Or I am much deceiv'd, cuckolds ere now; And many a man there is, even at this present, (Now, while I speak this) holds his wife by th' arm, That little thinks she has been sluic'd in's absence, open'd, As mine, against their will. Should all despair That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind Would hang themselves. Physic for't there's none; It is a bawdy planet, that will strike Where 't is predominant; and 't is powerful, think it, From east, west, north, and south: be it concluded, No barricado for a belly; know't, It will let in and out the enemy, With bag and baggage: many a thousand on's Have the disease, and feel't not.-How now, boy! MAM. I am like you, they f LEON. What, Camillo there? CAM. Ay, my good lord. LEON. Go play, Mamillius; thou'rt an honest man. [Exit MAMILLIUS, LEON. Didst perceive it ?— [Aside.] They're here with me already; whisp'ring, rounding, Sicilia is a-so-forth: 'Tis far gone, When I shall gust it last.-How came't, Camillo, CAM. But so it is, it is not.h Was this taken f I am like you, they say.] So the second folio; the first reads, "I am like you say." g They're here with me already; whisp'ring, &c.] That is, say the modern editors, "Not Polixenes and Hermione, but casual observers" or "They are aware of my condition"! Strange forgetfulness of a common form of speech. By "They're here with me already," the King means,-the people are already mocking me with this opprobrious gesture (the cuckold's emblem with their fingers), and whispering, &c. So in "Coriolanus," Act III. Sc. 2, "Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand; And thus far having stretch'd it, (here be with them). See also note (a), p. 161 of the present Volume. h But so it is, it is not.] But as you apply the word, it is not pertinent. LEON. To bide upon 't-thou art not honest: or, If thou inclin'st that way, thou art a coward, Which hoxes honesty behind, restraining From course requir'd; or else thou must be counted A servant grafted in my serious trust, And therein negligent; or else a fool, That seest a game play'd home, the rich stake And tak'st it all for jest. [drawn, САМ. I play'd the fool, it was my negligence, Camillo, LEON. Have not you seen, (But that's past doubt,-you have, or your eyeglass Is thicker than a cuckold's horn) or heard, To have nor eyes, nor ears, nor thought) then say LEON. Is whispering nothing? Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses? CAM. Good my lord, be cur'd Of this diseas'd opinion, and betimes; For 't is most dangerous. LEON. CAM. No, no, my lord. LEON. Say it be; 'tis true. It is; you lie, you lie ! I say thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee; Canst with thine eyes at once see good and evil, The running of one glass. САМ. Who does infect her? LEON. Why, he that wears her like her medal, (*) Old text, Holy-Horse. Winter's Tale" was one of the poet's latest productions. See note (3), p. 330, Vol. I. e-that does not think it-] The lection of the second folio, at least in some copies of that edition; the first has, "that do's not thinke," &c. f the pin and web,-] Has before been explained to mean the disorder of the sight called a cataract. I have lov'd thee,b go rot! LEON. Make that thy question, and Dost think I am so muddy, so ur settled, To appoint myself in this vexation? sully The purity and whiteness of my sheets,Which to preserve is sleep; which being spotted, Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps? Give scandal to the blood o' the prince my son,— Who I do think is mine, and love as mine,Without ripe moving to 't ?-Would I do this? Could man so blench? Сам. I must believe sir you, ; I do; and will fetch off Bohemia for’t; Provided that, when he's remov'd, your highness Will take again your queen as yours at first, Even for your son's sake; and thereby for sealing The injury of tongues, in courts and kingdoms Known and allied to yours. LEON. Thou dost advise me, Even so as I mine own course have set down: I'll give no blemish to her honour, none. CAM. My lord, Go then; and with a countenance as clear As friendship wears at feasts, keep with Bohemia, If from me he have wholesome beverage, This is all; LEON. CAM. O miserable lady!-But, for me, a Sir, my lord,-] With his usual ignorance of Shakespearian phraseology, Mr. Collier's ever-meddling annotator, both here and in Act III. Sc. 1, where Perdita says-"Sir, my gracious lord," &c., for "Sir," reads "Sure." And Mr. Collier, mindless of Paulina's "Sir, my liege, your eye hath too much youth," &c. in Act. V. Sc. 1, of this very play; of Prospero's,-"Sir, my liege, do not infest your mind," &c.; of Hamlet's,-"Sir, my good friend," &c., chooses to adopt the substitution, and tells us, "Sure" is "evidently the true text"! All that are his so too.-To do this deed, POL. Re-enter POLIXENES. This is strange! methinks My favour here begins to warp. Not speak?— Good day, Camillo. САМ. Hail, most royal sir! POL. What is the news i' the court? САМ. None rare, my lord. POL. The king hath on him such a countenance As he had lost some province, and a region Lov'd as he loves himself: even now I met him With customary compliment; when he, Wafting his eyes to the contrary, and falling A lip of much contempt, speeds from me; and So leaves me to consider what is breeding That changes thus his manners. CAM. I dare not know, my lord. POL. How dare not do not? Do you know, Be intelligent to me? 'Tis thereabouts; CAM. I cannot name the disease, and it is caught POL. How! caught of me? Make me not sighted like the basilisk: I have look'd on thousands who have sped the better As he had seen 't, or been an instrument b To vice you to't,-that you have touch'd his O, then my best blood turn queen A savour that may strike the dullest nostril Where I arrive, and my approach be shunn'd, Nay, hated too, worse than the great'st infection That e'er was heard or read! CAM. Swear his thought overd By each particular star in heaven, and By all their influences, you may as well Forbid the sea for to obey the moon, As, or by oath remove, or counsel shake The fabric of his folly, whose foundation Is pil'd upon his faith, and will continue The standing of his body. POL. How should this grow ? CAM. I know not: but I am sure 't is safer to Avoid what's grown than question how 'tis born. If therefore you dare trust my honesty,That lies enclosed in this trunk, which you Shall bear along impawn'd,-away to-night! Your followers I will whisper to the business; And will, by twos and threes, at several posterns, c Be yok'd with his that did betray the Best!] That is, with the name of Judas. d Swear his thought over-] Theobald suggested,-"Swear this though, over," which, besides being foreign to the mode of expression in Shakespeare's time, is a change quite uncalled for; to swear over over-swear, is merely to out-swear. |