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 welkiut eye: Sweet villain!
Most dear'st! my collop!-Can thy dam?-may't be?
Affection! thy intention stabs the center:

Thou dost make possible, things not so held,
Communicat'st with dreams ;-(How can this be :)—
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 hardening of my brows.

Pol.

What means Sicilia?

How, my lord?

Her. He something seems unsettled.
Pol.

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! Looking on the lines
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 squashý, this gentleman:-Mine honest friend,

Will you take eggs for money ||?

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

Leon. You will? why, happy man be his dole¶!—

May his share of life be a happy one!

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 you graver steps.-Hermione, How thou lov'st us, show in our brother's welcome; 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,
Though you perceive me not how I give line.
Go to, go to!

[Aside. Observing Polixenes and Hermione. How she holds up the nebt, 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 hiss 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;

* Heir apparent, next claimant.

Approving.

+ Mouth.

§ A horned one, a cuckold.

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 has 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,
As mine, against their will: Should all despair
That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind
Would hang themselves. Physick for't there is none;
It is a bawdy planet, that will strike

Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis powerful, think it,
From east, west, north, and south: Be it concluded,
No barricado for a belly; know it;

It will let in and out the enemy,

With bag and baggage: many a thousand of us Have the disease, and feel't not.-How now, boy?

Mam. Lam like you, they say.

Leon. et

What! Camillo there?

Why, that's some comfort.

Leon. Go play, Mamillius;

thou'rt an honest

man.

[Erit Mamillius,

Cam. Ay, my good lord.

Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer.

Cam. You had much ado to make his anchor hold:

When you cast out, it still came home.

Leon.

Didst note it?

Cam. He would not stay at your petitions; made

His business more material.

Sicilia is a so-forth: 'Tis far gone,

When I shall gust it last.-How came't, Camillo, That he did stay?

Cam.

At the good queen's entreaty. Leon. At the queen's, be't: good, should be per.

tinent;

But so it is, it is not. Was this taken

* To round in the ear was to sell secretly. Taste.

Scene II.

WINTER'S TALE.

By any understanding pate but thine?
For thy conceit is soaking, will draw in

207

More than the common blocks:-Not noted, is't,
But of the finer natures? by some severals,
Of head-piece extraordinary? lower messes*,
Perchance, are to this business purblind: say.
Cam. Business, my lord? I think, most under-

stand

'Bohemia stays here longer.

Leon.

Cam.

Leon. Ay, but why?

Ha?

Stays here longer.

Cam. To satisfy your highness, and the entreaties Of our most gracious mistress.

Leon.
Satisfy
The entreaties of your mistress?satisfy?-
Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo,
With all the nearest things to my heart, as well
My chamber-counsels: wherein, priest-like, thou
Hast cleans'd my bosom; I from thee departed
Thy penitent reform'd: but we have been
Deceiv'd in thy integrity, deceiv'd

In that which seems, so.

Cam.

Be it forbid, my lord!

Leon. To bide upon't;-Thou art not honest; or, If thou inclin'st that way, thou art a coward; Which hoxest 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 drawn,
And tak'st it all for jest.

Cam.
My gracious lord,
I may be negligent, foolish, and fearful;
In every one of these no man is free,
But that his negligence, his folly, fear,
Amongst the infinite doings of the world,

Inferiors in rank.

t. To hox is to hamstring.

Sometime puts forth: In your affairs, my lord,
If ever I were wilful-negligent,

It was my folly; if industriously

I play'd the fool, it was my negligence,
Not weighing well the end; if ever fearful
To do a thing, where I the issue doubted,
Whereof the execution did cry out

Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear
Which oft affects the wisest: these, my lord,
Are such allow'd infirmities, that honesty
Is never free of. But, 'beseech your grace,
Be plainer with me; let me know my trespass
By its own visage: if I then deny it,

'Tis none of mine.

Leon.

Have not you seen, Camillo,

(But that's past doubt: you have; or your eye-glass

Is thicker than a cuckold's horn); or heard

(For, to a vision so apparent, rumour

Cannot be mute), or thought (for cogitation

Resides not in that man, that does hot think it),
My wife is slippery? If thou wilt confess,
(Or else be impudently negative,

To have nor eyes, nor ears, nor thought), then say,
My wife's a hobbyhorse; deserves a name
As rank as any flax-wench, that puts to
Before her troth-plight: say it, and justify it.
Cam. I would not be a stander-by, to hear
My sovereign mistress clouded so, without
My present vengeance taken: 'Shrew my heart,
You never spoke what did become you less
Than this: which to reiterate, were sin
As deep as that, though true.

Leon.
Is whispering nothing?
Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses?
Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career
Of laughter with a sigh? (a note infallible
Of breaking honesty): horsing foot on foot?
Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more swift?

Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all eyes blind