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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. Grace to boot!
Of this make no conclufion, left you say,
Your Queen and I are devils. Yet, go on;.
Th' offences we have made you do, we'll answer;
If you firft 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 deareft, thou ne'er fpok'st To better purpose.
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 tongue
Slaughters a thousand, waiting upon That.
Our praises are our wages. You may ride's
With one foft kiss a thousand furlongs, ere
With fpur we heat an acre.
But to th' goal:
My laft good deed was to intreat his stay;
What was my firft? it has an elder fifter,
Or I miftake 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 themselves to death, Ere I could make thee open thy white hand,
And clepe thy felf my love; then didft thou utter, "I am yours for ever.
Her. 'Tis grace, indeed.
Why, lo you now; I've spoke to th' purpose twice;
The one for ever earn'd a royal husband;
Th'other, for fome while a friend.
Leo. Too hot, 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, fertile bofom,
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; (4) oh, that is entertainment
My bofom likes not, nor my brows
Art thou my boy?
Mam. Ay, my good lord.
Leon. I' fecks!
Why, that's my bawcock; what? has't smutch'd thy nofe?
They fay, it is a copy out of mine. Come, captain, We muit be neat, not neat, but cleanly, captain; And yet the fteer, the heifer, and the calf, Still virginalling [Obferving Polixenes and Hermione, how now, you wanton calf!
Are all call'd neat.
Upon his palm?
Art thou my calf?
Mam. Yes, if you will, my lord.
Leo. Thou want'st a rough pash, and the shoots that
To be full like me. Yet they say, 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 bourne 'twixt his and mine; yet were it true
To fay, this boy were like me. Come, Sir page,
Look on me with your welkin-eye, fweet villain.
Moft dear'ft, my collop- can thy dam? may't be--
Imagination! thou doft ftab to th' center.
(4) The Mort o'th' Deer.] To blow a Mort, is a hunting Phrafe, fignifying, to found a particular Air, call'd a Mort, to give notice that the Deer, which was hunted, is run down, and killing, or kill'd.
Thou doft make poffible things not be fo held,
Communicat'ft with dreams-(how can this be?)
With what's unreal, Thou coactive art,
And fellow'ft Nothing. Then 'tis very credent,
Thou may'ft co-join with fomething, and thou doft,
And That beyond commiffion; and I find it,
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?
Leo. What cheer? how is't with you, best brother?
Her. You look,
As if you held a brow of much Distraction.
Are not you mov'd, my lord?
Leo. No, in good earnest.
How fometimes nature will betray its folly!
Its tenderness! and make it self a pastime
To barder bofoms! Looking on the lines
Of my boy's face, methoughts, I did recoil
Twenty three years, and faw my felf unbreech'd,
In my green velvet coat; my dagger muzzled,
Left it should bite its mafter; and fo prove,
As ornaments oft do, too dangerous;
How like, methought, I then was to this kernel,
This fquafh, this gentleman. Mine honest friend,
Will you take eggs for mony?
Mam. No, my lord, I'll fight.
Leo. You will! why, happy man be's dole.——
Are you fo fond of your young Prince, as we
Do feem to be of ours?
Pol. If at home, Sir,
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 childness, cures in me
Thoughts that fhould thick my blood.
Leo. So ftands this Squire
Offic'd with me: we two will walk, my lord,
And leave you to your graver fteps. Hermione,
How thou lov'ft us, fhew in our brother's welcome:
Let what is dear in Sicily, be cheap:
Next to thy felf, and my young rover, he's
Apparent to my heart.
Her. If you will feek us,
We are yours i'th' garden: fhall's attend you there?
Leo. To your own bents difpofe you; you'll be found,
Be you beneath the sky: I am angling now,
Tho' you perceive me not, how I give line;
Go to, go to.
[Afide, obferving Her.
How the holds up the neb! the bill to him!
And arms her with the boldness of a wife
[Exe. Polix. Her. and attendants. Manent Leo. Mam. and Cam.
To her allowing husband. Gone already,
Inch thick, knee deep; o'er head and ears, a fork'd
Go, play, boy, play thy mother plays, and I
Play too; but fo difgrac'd a part, whofe iffue
Will hifs me to my grave: contempt and clamour
Will be my knel. Go, play, boy, play-
Or I am much deceiv'd, cuckolds ere now;
And many a man there is, even at this prefent,
Now while I fpeak this, holds his wife by th' arm,
That little thinks, fhe has been fluic'd in's abfence;
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 thofe gates open'd,
As mine, against their will. Should all defpair,
That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind
Would hang themselves. Phyfick for't, there is none:
It is a bawdy planet, that will ftrike
Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis powerful: think it.
From caft, weft, north and fouth, 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 of's
Have the disease, and feel't not. How now, boy?
Mam. I am like you, they fay.
Leo. Why that's fome comfort.
What? Camillo there?
Cam. Ay, my good lord.
Leo. Go play, Mamillius
thou'rt an honeft man
Camillo, this Great Sir will yet ftay longer.
Cam. You had much ado to make his anchor hold;
out, it ftill came home.
Leo. Didft note it?
Cam. He would not ftay at your petitions made;
His business more material.
Leo. Didit perceive it?
They're here with me already; whisp'ring, rounding
Sicilia is a fo-forth; tis far gone,
When I fhall guft it laft. How came't, Camillo,
That he did ftay?
Cam. At the good Queen's entreaty.
Leo. At the Queen's be't; good, fhould be perti
But fo it is, it is not. Was this taken
By any understanding pate but thine?
For thy conceit is foaking, will draw in
More than the common blocks; not noted, is't,
But of the finer natures? by fome feverals
Of head-piece extraordinary; lower meffes,
Perchance, are to this bufinefs purblind? fay.
Cam. Bufinefs, my lord? I think, most understand
Bohemia ftays here longer,
Cam. Stays here longer.
Leo. Ay, but why?
Cam. To fatisfie your Highness, and th' entreaties Of our most gracious mistress.
Th' entreaties of your mistress? fatisfie?
Let That fuffice. I've trufted thee, Camillo,
With all the things nearest my heart; as well