affection, which cannot choose but branch now. Since their more mature dignities and royal necessities made separation of their society, their encounters, though not personal, have been royally attorneyed,1 with interchange of gifts, letters, loving embassies; that they have seemed to be together, though absent; shook hands, as over a vast; and embraced, as it were, from the ends of opposed winds. The Heavens continue their loves!

Arch. I think there is not in the world either malice, or matter, to alter it. You have an unspeakable comfort of your young prince Mamillius; it is a gentleman of the greatest promise, that ever came into my note.

Cam. I very well agree with you in the hopes of him. It is a gallant child; one that, indeed, physics the subject, makes old hearts fresh. They that went on crutches ere he was born, desire yet their life, to see him a man.

Arch. Would they else be content to die?

Cam. Yes; if there were no other excuse why they should desire to live.

Arch. If the king had no son, they would desire to live on crutches till he had one. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. The same.

A Room of State in the

Palace.

Enter LEONTES, POLIXENES, HERMIONE, MAMILLIUS, CAMILLO, and Attendants.

Pol. Nine changes of the watery star have been The shepherd's note, since we have left our throne Without a burden. Time as long again

Would be filled up, my brother, with our thanks;

And yet we should, for perpetuity,
Go hence in debt. And therefore, like a cipher,

Yet standing in rich place, I multiply,

With one we-thank-you, many thousands more

That go before it.

Leon.

Stay your thanks awhile ;

Sir, that's to-morrow.

And pay them when you part.
Pol.

I am questioned by my fears, of what may chance,

Or breed upon our absence: that1 may blow

No sneaping winds at home, to make us say,

3

This is put forth too truly! Besides, I have staid

To tire your royalty.

Leon. We are tougher, brother,

Than you can put us to't.

Pol.

No longer stay.

Very sooth, to-morrow.

Leon. One sevennight longer.

Pol.

Leon. We'll part the time between 's then; and in

that

I'll no gainsaying.

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

1 That for Oh that! is not uncommon in old writers.

2 Sneaping, nipping.

3 i. e. to make me say, I had too good reason for my fears concerning

what may happen in my absence from home.

The by-gone day proclaimed; 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 swear so, and he shall not stay;

We'll thwack him hence with distaffs.

Yet of your royal presence [To POL.] 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 gest1
Prefixed 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?

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
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,

Pol.

Your guest, then, madam:

One of them you shall be.

To be your prisoner, should import offending;

Which is for me less easy to commit,

Than you to punish.

Not your jailer, then,

But your kind hostess. 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 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 twinned lambs, that did frisk

i'the sun,

And bleat the one at the other. What we changed, Was innocence for innocence; we knew not

The doctrine of ill doing, nor dreamed

That any did. Had we pursued that life,

And our weak spirits ne'er been higher reared

With stronger blood, we should have answered Heaven

Boldly, Not Guilty; the imposition cleared,1

Hereditary ours.

O, my most sacred lady,

You have tripped since.
Pol.
Temptations have since then been born to us; for
In those unfledged days was my wife a girl;
Your precious self had then not crossed the eyes

Of my young play-fellow.

Her.

Grace to boot!2

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 sinned with us, and that with us

You did continue fault, and that you slipped not

Her.

Leon.

Never?

Never, but once.

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 tongueless,
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 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 soured themselves to death,

Ere I could make thee open thy white hand,

And clap1 thyself my love; then didst thou utter,

I am yours forever.

Her.

It is grace, indeed.

Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose twice.

The one forever earned 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 ;-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,2
And well become the agent. It may, I grant:
But to be paddling palms, and pinching fingers,

1 At entering into any contract, or plighting of troth, this clapping of hands together set the seal. Numerous instances of allusion to the custom have been adduced by the editors; one shall suffice, from the old play of Ram Alley: "Come, clap hands, a match." The custom is not yet disused in common life.

2 "from bounty, fertile bosom." Malone thinks that a letter has been omitted, and that we should read