And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd With stronger blood, we should have answer'd heaven

1

Boldly, Not guilty; the imposition clear'd,

Hereditary ours.

Her. By this we gather,

You have tripp'd since.

Pol. O my most sacred lady,

Temptations have since then been born to us:

for

C

In those unfledg'd days was my wife a girl; Your precious self had then not crofs'd the boy eyes

Of my young play-fellow.

Her. Grace to boot! it

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 an

If you first sinn'd with us, and that with us You did continue fault, and that you slipp'd

With

any

not

but with us.

Leon. Is he won yet?

Her. He'll stay, my lord.

Leon. At my request, he would not. Hermione, my dearest, thou never spok'st To better purpose.

Her.

Never?

Leon. 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

tonguelefs,

Slaughters a thousand, waiting upon that,

Our praises are our wages:

You may

ride U.S

With one soft kiss a thousand furlongs, ere W
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 Imistake you: 0, would her name were
Grace!

But once before I spoke to the purpose:

When?

Nay, let me have't: I long.

Leo. 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. [giving her
hand to Pol.T
Leo. 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,
This entertain-

ment

not joy.

May a free face put on; derive a liberty A From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosom,o.¡T And well become the agent: it may, I grant: But to be padling palms, and pinching fingers, As now they are; and making practis'd smiles, As in a looking- glass: and then to sigh,bast

'twere

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

millius, 1

Art thou my boy?

Mam. Ay, my good lord.

Leon.

I'fecks ?

Why, that's my bawcock. What, hath smutch'd thy nose?

They say, it's a copy out of mine. Come, captain, We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, cap

tain:

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

[observing Polixenes and Hermione.] Upon his palm? How now, you wanton calf ? Art thou my calf?

Mam. Yes, if you will, my lord.

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

To be full like me: - yet, they say, we are
Almost as like as eggs; women say so, i
That will say any thing: But were they false
As o'er-dy'd 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 vil

Affection! thy intention stabs the center:
Thou dost make possible, things not so held,
Communicat'st with dreams;

be?)

--

(How can this

With what's unreal thou coactive 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 hard'ning of my brows,

Pol. What means Sicilia?

Her. He something seems unsettled.
Pol. How, my lord?

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! (aside.]

lines

Looking on the

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,
Lest it should bite its master, and so prove,
As ornaments oft do, too dangerous.

How like, methought, I then was to this kernel,
This squash, this gentleman:

friend,

Will you take eggs for money?

Mam. No, my lord, I'll fight.

Mine honest

Leon. You will? why, happy man be his dole! My brother,

Are you so fond of your young prince, as we
Do seem to be of ours?

Pol. If at home, sir,

He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter:
Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy;
My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all:
He makes a July's day short as December;
And, with his varying childness, cures in me
Thoughts that would thick my blood.

Leon. So stands this squire

Offic'd with me: We two will walk, my lord, And leave you to your graver steps.

mione,

Her

How thou lov'st us, shew in our brother's wei

come;

Let what is dear in Sicily, be cheap:

Next to thyself, and my young rover, he's
Apparent to my heart.

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:

I am angling now,

1

[aside.] Though you perceive me not how I give line. Go to, go to! [observing Polix. and Her.] 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; Inch-thick, knee deep; o'er head and ears a fork'd one.

[Exeunt POLIXENES, HERMIONE, and Attendants.] Go, play, boy, play; thy mother plays, and I Play too; but so disgrac'd a part, whose issue Will hifs me to my grave; contempt and clamour Will be my knell. Go, play, boy, play; There have been,

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 the

arm,

That little thinks she hath been sluic'd in his absence,

And his pond fish'd by his next neighbour, by Sir Smile, his neighbour: nay, there's comfort

in't,

Whiles other men have gates; and those gates open'd,

T

As mine, against their will: Should all despair, That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind